Tired of Hearing about "Breakthrough"

Why is it always 'breakthrough'?

It seems like every prophetic word that is published since the New Year is about breakthrough.

'This is your year…' 'Your breakthrough is near…' etc.

I have to confess, after a while—I stopped reading them.

I've subscribed or followed all these time-tested servants for good reason. I have watched their messages and their lives. These are not flakes.

But this year, on and on popped up the 'breakthrough' messages. 

Frankly, I got sick of it.

 I've had to take a good look at my jaded heart.

How did this happen?

I have to trace back the steps to find where I left my soft heart.

I'm still tracing those steps, so I'm writing this 'in process'.

Part of the problem is: I know too much. Yep. That's it. My Mom would call it 'being too smart for my own good.' (Wow. I haven't thought of that indictment in a while.)

Exactly how do you get too SMART for your own GOOD?

Isn't more 'smart' supposed to lead to more 'good'?

For me, the steps have brought me to remember and consider several things:

• Knowing something doesn't equal possessing it.
• Knowing something doesn't mean you have the wisdom to take it deeper—further into action.
• Knowing something can lead to just being satisfied with 'knowing'.
• Knowing something isn't good enough.
• Knowing is just knowing. It is a good start, but only the start.

Mom knew:  I knew plenty—but it didn't change my life. For my own good.

You can sit down on your 'knower' and not reach your own 'good'.

I know this—no one wants to listen to a knower. We want to hear from those who know, understand, act and can speak from depth. Inside of me, there are both mountains and valleys. People talk about the courage of climbing a mountain—but I want to tell you that it takes a WHOLE lot of courage to go down in your valleys and have a good look at what you have only 'known'. Mannnnn, I have a lot of shallow places.

I don't want to be “...always learning but never coming to the knowledge of the truth...” 2 Timothy 3: 7

These backwards steps to retrace where I left the softness of my heart… led me to a pond of disappointment and sadness in my life. I have grief—real grief—that has clogged the spring that once fed life into that pond.

The lingering of these things, I can see, gave place to eventually being jaded.

“Hope deferred makes the heart sick but desire realized is a tree of life.” Proverbs 13: 12

A tree of life. Softness is there. Relationship is there. Renewed hope to hope again...is there.

So, when was that last time a desire realized was a tree of life for me? I won't list those things here, but I had to visit those beautiful places. Give thanks. I needed to remember when I have hoped in the past and then experienced the fruit of hope. 

Sit for a while under all those trees of life and reflect.

Softness.

There was a young prophet who dropped a borrowed axe-head in a river. Elisha asked him, “Where did it fall?” They went back to the place where it fell. Elisha threw a stick in the water and the miracle of the axe-head floating is recorded. (2 Kings 6)

I've dropped some things. I have to go back to those places.

“Lift it out,” /Elisha said/ and the man reached out his hand and took it.” v 7

Have you ever dropped something that you wouldn't recover again?--much less expect it to float??

The axe-head was borrowed. A trusted friend knew how to help him get it back. Oh, my. I've been too isolated. I know better than to do that. Isolation is not for my own good. A wise, close friend is a gift.

Hope is given to us. It is on loan… for us to mix it with faith and see something to completion. Miraculously. Through prayer. “Faith is the substance of things hoped for; the evidence of things not seen.” Heb 11: 1

A stick has been thrown in my water. And borrowed hope that was trusted to me… is floating now where I can see it and retrieve it. With joy. I'm reaching out my hand...to take it.

I'm brushing the dust off of the hopes one-by-one. I'm asking for the breath of God to visit those things; those places. As I pray. As I sing. As I hope and wait. I am willing to be comforted. Relief is here.

So, go ahead, all you who shout 'Breakthrough'! I'll read it and add my 'yes'. I will read them and believe again. I'll allow myself to shake off deferred hope and water the tree of life with song.

My heart is getting softer and softer.

  Well, whatta ya know……...

Looking back... (the ranch story)

A lot of people would tell you not to look back. But, today--I need to.

Let me back up...while I'm looking back.

In the fall of 2015, Dudley INSISTED that I go with him to look at a small ranch that was for sale just down the road from his cousin's house.

I had a headache. It was raining. The only two things I need to say “No.”

But how do you refuse Dudley? (Well, more on that in another post…)

We go to the ranch and when we are in sight of the house, I can only tell you it was like the house 'went inside of me'. It charmed me. Little 2-story shack with no utilities, no septic; cows coming out from under it. Wild hogs scattering.

The house went into my heart...and I said the words, “If you fix this up (hahaha) I could live here!”

Dudley was shocked. --Well, so was I!

Then, Practical Marcie began thinking, “Wait. We can't have two houses. We can't have two mortgages. We...” But I was so charmed. Shocking. Didn't make sense. 

How can we have 2 houses? We are not “2 houses; city house/country house” people. (Love y'all...but cash challenged here...)

Then the journey began. (How corny is that?) Turns out Dudley can retire in 1.5 years. Here we GOOOO!!!!

"Ohhhh it is for sale...along with 297 acres." (Crap. We can't afford that.) Well, would they sell the house and the tract it is on? "Oh, that is 80 acres and the house." WHO NEEDS 80 ACRES? Ridiculous.

The realtor didn't want to even TALK to us. We hunted her down (Dudley Style) and insisted she present an offer on the house and 80 acres, only. Maybe she did. Maybe she didn't. We don't know. She wouldn't give us a written offer to sign for her to present. She said she had several and we were 'in a stack of offers'. We offered over listing price (which was like kicking Dudley in the gut—if you know him!) and waited.

I told Dudley, “I think we have the right property but the wrong seller!?”

The owner had just inherited the 297 acres with the 'cabin' and he—perhaps at the realtor's advice—wanted to sell the whole thing; not in parts.

As months crawled on, we were told an investor bought the whole thing and might divide it—with a profit, of course. We were worried he would do 'improvements' we wouldn't want and the price would triple...

Next realtor. Next SELLER.

Next REALTOR! She didn't want to talk to us, either! Again, we offered over listing price and actually got a written offer to submit that time! (We were like "We like you, lady!!")

It was countered. “Buy it all or no thank you.”

Now, what kind of sick cosmic joke is this? Get this dang house out of my heart, then!!!

Somehow, by prayer, by grace, and probably by offering over listing price to begin with—this realtor began to want us to have this property.

Nice.

Shortening this—for any of you still reading—the realtor said, “Well, if you purchase the 80 acres, the house and an adjoining 30 acres of the hay field, we might have a deal!”

(Sure. Let me just get my checkbook and change that amount to your gazillion number.) Thirty more acres ...of HAY? Sure. That's in my future and my WALLET.  (I want to be a hay farmer??)

We looked at it. Same thing happened. “Dudley. We need to sell something, move something or SOMEthing to get this whole thing.” We submit an offer. (again)

We wait.

At church, the following Sunday, I had a little vision. (Rare for me…) I saw the throne of God coming down and taking the place of the house on the land. I couldn't see the house anymore...just a bright seat of government descending and landing. I began 'ugly crying' in church. I tell Dudley about it.

The next day, we have the news our offer is accepted and we are under contract with a house and 109 acres. Happy. Terrified. Happy. Terrified.

From sight to contract was ONE YEAR. A year!!!

That is a long time in Marcie Years. Like 20 or so. (I don't like to wait…)

I also don't like to give up!

Something Dudley had never considered was to sell one of his rental properties...but now that was necessary to have money to go forward. (Dudley collects people...and houses...) The house we decided to sell, was the first house Dudley and his first wife bought in the 80s. (Good Lawd.) #bye

Dudley was a broker/agent in the 80s, has a degree in Real Estate, we know a LOT of realtors that we love...and even have a family member who is a local realtor. But, #blessit, we need to net as much as possible from this sale to go for the dream. Finally, one of our rentals--as for sale by owner, the little house with the cracked foundation--sold in time to meet the closing deadline for the ranch. (I was the office manager for a real estate brokerage for 3 years and FSBO was like a bad word...but, life can humble you!)

Remember the BLUE BATHTUB in the bedroom??

Then, we close. Enter JULIO!!!! July 21, 2016!!!

Here we are: January 2017. Our primary residence is on the market for sale. It's only been 2 weeks and we've had some activity but I feel antsy. We were in the business enough and bought/sold enough property over the last 40 years to know all the questions… Primarily: Is the price too high? Is the market slow? Etc. Both of those may be true—but we had enough research data and faith to get us to this current phase. We'll see where it goes!

Would you pray that our house sells to the right person and the right price? And, by the way, we love paying realtors for buyers…

A couple of months ago, I had another one of those rare little visions. I was facing a snowy, rugged terrain, looked down at the snow in front of me, and noted that there were no footprints in the snow. I looked up a little bit and saw jagged places in the ground – just not a pleasant, easy landscape. I heard the words “You will go through this and I will be with you.” (Gulp.)

 

This photo is EXACTLY what the vision looked like. (Can't believe I found this....!!!) >>>>

I believe we are in that now. No footprints, just the Voice. And a rugged land ahead.

Would you pray for us? (Really??!!)

“Suddenly” is one of my favorite words in scripture. “Wait”--not so much. But...

If any of you are between Promise and Promise, I want to tell you—you are not alone. You have the voice of the Lord to guide you.

And… You might need to remind me of that. :)

BONUS: For those of you who appreciate real estate humor...this is for you:

 

Trinkets of a Life

When my Mom went to be with Jesus…my sister, brother and I had to clear out her apartment. When she was ill, we provided an apartment for her near my sister. I was living in Denver and my brother, in Houston. But there was a lease deadline on Mom's apartment and the clearing had to be done just days after the funeral.

The three of us went through all of her belongings even though we didn't feel invited. Never had we gone through all of her private things...or gone further than to admire what was on display.

She would have felt vulnerable in that time as we looked at everything, divided what we wanted and talked about personal things we found. It was right. It was not right. We were forced, not invited. We were intruders. We looked through it all. Divided between us what we thought was right. We all agreed on things quietly. There was no arguing.

No will guided us. There were no written instructions, just the three of us—mourning as we sifted what was left behind. We needed every last piece of her to stay with us. Maybe this vase, this cup and saucer, this candy dish, this…. Would be like a part of her. All of her.

Then there was her jewelry box.

Jewelry is personal. You choose it. Wear it. It is on display. People know you chose that 'thing' to say to those who look… “This is what I like.”

My Mother. 

OUR Mother.

Mom had a small jewelry box with several beautiful things. Some we had seen and knew the stories—like the dragon ring that one of her brothers gave her. It was inset with jade and rubies. He brought it to her after being overseas in WWII. Those things, we knew.

The things we didn't know had even more of an impact.

There was a pair of earrings...dangling with a single pearl set in gold. They were so lovely. I had never seen them and felt I was intruding to discover them. "Why didn't she wear these??"

There was the engagement ring our father gave her in 1955.

There was the wedding ring her second husband gave her...ages later. He broke her heart. DAMN.

Looking at history is not easy. There are things you cannot coldly inventory or assign value.

This piece of furniture; that piece of furniture. This appliance; that appliance… Steadily we went through all the belongings of our Mother.

She was in it but not in it.

Trinkets.

Evidence of shopping she had done which made the 'thing' valuable to us because it was something she had chosen.

We can't divide it up. NO! Leave it as we found it! It's HERS! Leave it!

No...we had to empty the apartment. All the possessions….

On my gosh...there's her red purse. What's in it?? Her cell phone! A collapsible umbrella...a wallet. 

Oh, no.

She was gone.

Is it possible?

Just take all this stuff and burn it. She's gone.

No, wait! She loved that!

Oh, she kept all the birthday cards I sent her!

I wish she was here.

Is she here?

That was her Mother's!

Stop.

And yet, we had to continue. The apartment deadline. And we had to get back to Denver, to Houston, to home. But...SHE was our home. Ugh.

We each took what was agreed was something we would have to remember her.

It was wrong.

It was right.

It was fast.

It was horrible.

Now we move to our houses with our trinkets. Pieces of her life.

Things that were valuable—but she never used—waiting for a special occasion. 

Yet, LIFE is a special occasion.

Things that were of little value, we cherished. I mean, there were things that had they been spread out in a garage sale, would have brought in a pittance.

But they were hers.

Hers.

Valuable.

Meaningless.

Meaning everything.

Everything she had represented a choice she had made. “Do I want this?” “How much does it cost?” “Do I keep it?” 

Decor with redbirds. She loved redbirds.

Dammit.

Her Russian tea set. Oh, she bought that when she came to visit me in Siberia. And her Russian mink hat! Oh, my gosh. No... Just no.

And there we were.

Yes, I want it.

I know it didn't cost much.

Yes, I'll keep it.

It was hers.

Trinkets.

Treasures.

Live fully. Life is a special occasion. Don't store away things for 'another day'. Use what you have.

And, like my Mother did—live with your heart. She worked hard, loved her friends, sang in the choir, loved when we were all together. Those things are eternal.

Eternal love trinkets.

"...and the greatest of these, is LOVE." I Corinthians 13: 13

Trophies of God

This morning, I have been reading about when Saul turned on David. Even while being hunted...HUNTED...by Saul, David did not curse Saul.

When David first begins to run for his life from Saul, he went to Ahimelek--a priest.

Then something extraordinarily beautiful happens. David--who fled without arming himself, asks the priest if he has a spear or sword  he can use!
 
1 Samuel 21:
⁹ The priest replied, “The sword of Goliath the Philistine, whom you killed in the Valley of Elah, is here; it is wrapped in a cloth behind the ephod. If you want it, take it; there is no sword here but that one.”

Right now, I am arrested by the Spirit in the beauty of knowing He (our High Priest) keeps trophies of when we win a battle together! It was hidden behind the priestly prayer garment!

David said, “There is none like it; give it to me.” 

What an understatement. "There is none like it...."   David faced that sword in overwhelming odds... and won. Now, David probably was still not large enough to actually USE that sword...but to travel with it as a trophy and a testament that what God has done and will do again? Yes. 

 "Give it to me."
 
This is where I began to cry and pray and let the Lord remind me of trophies we have together.

It sounds a lot like "Remember when...?" and finishes off with

"Well, I have kept that for you..."

I had not considered the Trophy Room that God and I have together. He has done great things for me. And to think that when I go to Jesus, our High Priest, and ask Him for the weapon I need for the day...
He can reach back and pull a trophy from one of our victories and send me on my way with fresh assurance. 

Pick up that trophy sword and win again.

I feel really small and deeply comforted today.

We are not ALONE. 

And our DAD keeps trophies for us. 


Love,

Marcie

Grace Gift from Dad

When I was in junior high, I came home from school one day to find the most shocking gift I have ever received--even until now.

There, on my bed--laying on the denim quilt made by my grandmother--was a pure white, fur coat.

It was perfection.  (And machine washable!)

I was shocked.  Floored. It is too good to be true. Certainly too good to be true for ME.

It was what I would buy for myself if I knew myself well enough to buy the right thing...

...which at that time in my life, was something I had not yet discovered. Myself. My tastes.

But there it was.  It was "me"!!  

How could something like that touch you in a deep place? 

I felt seen. Known. Valuable.

I asked Dad, "Is this for ME???"  He said, "I saw it and thought of you."

WHAT?????    It seemed to me that it was nice enough for Doris Day! And I even got to wear it as an every-day coat! I loved wearing it to school. I was so proud of it.
`

Doris Day !!!

In the last 10 years when our relationship was really close, I thought of the little white fur coat a few times but never asked him if he remembered it.

It is a sacred memory but there is fear with it.

I was afraid he wouldn't remember and my little-girl-value would be challenged. (Like: "Doesn't ring a bell with me. Must have been something your Mother did." Killing the beauty of the whole thing: it was from HIM.)

I was afraid he would remember it differently and my sweet, fragile memory would shatter. (Like: "Oh, yeah. That was on clearance somewhere and being so cheap, I figured what-the-hell?")

           Even at my current age, I was afraid it wasn't true. 

                That it was from HIM. And chosen by HIM for ME.

I still can't get over it. So deeply touched. Today.

(I just cried so hard and so deeply that my dogs went outside.)

You know, now that all things regarding Dad are memories, I have the luxury of framing even the hard times in jeweled frames--or I could wrap them in barbed wire and keep cutting myself. I don't deserve that--and he doesn't either.

I choose to frame the hard times with the softness of the memory of love tokens. The yukky stuff happened--but it has taken its place in my story where it belongs--not ruining today.  Even by choosing THAT, I honor him.

Funny how after someone dies there's this grace that doesn't deny hardship but reframes it with comfort.

                        Today is like that.

Here's to the little white fur coat.
One of only 2 or 3 gifts given to me directly from my father during my childhood.

The little perfect coat that touches me at almost 60 years old...

                and covers everything.

Freedom of Speech? Really??

I don't see that the Bible supports absolute freedom of speech.

The scripture is full of warnings about being careful with what we say and the importance (eternal nature) of words.

Yes, we are all given a voice but I feel that has more responsibility attached to it than we have ever believed.

Having the freedom and even the RIGHT to speak has been abused in so many ways including, but not limited to, the abusive, opinionated speech regarding elected officials, celebrities and others (sports-related hate??) as though those people are objects and we have no accountability for those words.

Let's be careful what we say--all rights have responsibility.

James says by the Spirit that if a man can control his tongue, he can master his whole life. (If our life is messed up, sometimes we can diagnose the issue by examining our words.)

I am so, so guilty. (But notice how short this blog is?? haha)

Let's be kind and loving.

 

Hash Brown Emotions

Funny, the things that cross your mind when your emotions are rattled and life is foggy. 

“Scattered. I feel scattered,” I thought. Hmm. Yes—like there are too many roads and it isn’t clear which one is the right one to take. 

First, I guess, I need to figure out the destination. Nah. That's too deep for my current state of mind. That would really put the brakes on me!

 I see the word ‘destiny’ hidden inside the word ‘destination’. Destiny. People talk about missing their destiny. It is made up of a lot of arrival points along the way. Some may not be a place to stop for very long. You know what I mean, right? Just when you think you’ve arrived, you get the sensation that you must keep going. Not at destination, yet. “M’am. Please get away from the bus door and let others pass. Thank you.” (Rats. Sit back down AGAIN.)

Right now? I just want to do what is in front of me and maybe even know what is next. My brain needs to rest before I start looking too far down the bus route.

“Smothered.” That was the next thought. It feels like there are several large things claiming they all need my attention for immediate processing. That being impossible, I feel smothered by the way it all takes the air out of my room.

I clearly don’t have the latest processor.

  Like driving in fog. Don’t you hate driving in fog?

“Covered.”  Buried. Unable to make a step that requires a decision (see ‘smothered’).

When this word crossed my mind, I knew I was being set-up by my subconscious to crave my favorite hash browns from Waffle House. (Shameless, free plug for WH.)

Scattered (so they will cook well).

               Smothered (in onions, of course). 

                           Covered (in CHEESE. DUH.)

There you have it. The cure-all for feeling like you have lots of things in front of you but can’t get anything done. Like you are a bus with lots of arrival points (destinies) but it is taking forever to get to the destination. 

Go to Waffle House and order scattered, smothered and covered hash browns. It holds all the answers to scrambled, log-jammed, buried emotions. I promise.

(If you can take the word of a scattered, smothered and covered person as legit, that is.)

Scroll down for better news...

Well, here is where I was going to be clever and reference places where the words 'scattered', 'smothered' and 'covered' were found in scripture. Ummmm...they weren't that uplifting (out of context). Especially those 'smothered' and 'covered' scriptures.

But here is one of my favorites we can end with--three different ways! 

"Order UP!"

Psalm 94: 19

"When my anxious thoughts multiply against me, Your consolations delight my soul."

"When doubts filled my mind, Your comfort gave me renewed hope and cheer."

"When I am filled with cares, Your comfort brings me joy."