a journey to now

An array of colors opened like a new box of crayons before me this morning. Birds were being served at the feeders while Tom and I breakfasted on our deck. Bright and muted reds mingled with the yellows and iridescent blues; even the large wild turkey, nibbling on the ground kernels, was multi-shaded in browns and gold.

Suddenly, I was home-sick for “heart” color–real color.

I am often asked, “What is the one thing you miss since returning from Europe?”

Color! I answer quickly with that one word.

The trams, the trains, the buses–crowded with the colors of the world. The cultures of the world streamed through the opened doors of public transportation endlessly. Listening, I heard. I began to understand God’s heart for the world; riding on the trains and buses provided ample time and purpose for “prayer-riding”.

Loving and living ten years in the multicolored communities of Vienna, Austria, and Copenhagen, Denmark, transformed my previous world set in the hills of east Tennessee. I hugged color, laughed with color, prayed with color; often our dinner table was surrounded in beautiful mosaics. An amazing richness is gained as one is saturated in the various hues of the world.

I remember singing these words the first Sunday at our church in Vienna almost 14 years ago:

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah to the Lamb,
Hallelujah, hallelujah by the blood of Christ we stand.
Every tongue, every tribe, every people, every land
Giving glory, giving honor, giving praise unto the Lamb of God.

Hands— colored brown, red, black and white–clasped together, making a colorful display around the small sanctuary as praise rang out in a blessed benediction. Even through my tears that circle was a picture of the world. How beautiful heaven will be!

The colors at my bird feeders make me smile and rejoice in the God who designed them, but I joy more in the peoples of the world, the hearts and minds of those who colored my world for too brief a time. The vividness of their lives will forever color my journey.

Embrace color — today.

It’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s . . .

You may remember that as part of the weekly introduction to the Superman episodes of the 50’s.

The heavenly scene above changes daily, cloud-formed faces, dark skies forecasting ominous weather predictions. But when I look up on a blue sky day, I am as excited as that announcer was about Superman’s appearance.

While walking yesterday, I watched the vapors of two planes intersect each other and form a perfect cross. I held my breath as the mist of one plane brushed white across the middle of another plane’s vapor below it. I wanted to raise my hands in praise, drop to my knees in gratefulness– or run and jump.

We live near an international airport, and often this scene is played out above me many times a day. Yesterday was no exception; I counted more than ten crosses in the sky at one time.

I know David is expressing praise to God for His glorious creation in Psalm 19:1. The beauty of a sunrise or sunset, of a moon flooded night with a myriad of stars shouts to David of God’s magnificence.

I wonder what the psalmist would write today when he saw crosses in the sky. Crosses that symbolize God’s love for every human being-crosses that show the Lord’s ultimate greatness.

Some sky-painted crosses are penciled in clear white lines-colored against the sky blue and they fade quickly; often there are remnants of older paintings-soft and fluffy- lingering as if to give more time for the world below to notice. Sometimes the brush crisscrosses –drawing multiple crosses on blue canvas. And then, at times, there is one lone cross.

This paintbrush of vapors is a megaphone; it is a message to the world shouting of God’s love and grace. When there are several crosses filling the sky above me, I realize again something of His great heart, expressing love for every nation, every people group–for all those we know and love.

From a single cross I hear a tender whisper–just for me’ “for God so loved you, Barb, that He gave . . .” I enjoy this gentle reminder every day, but especially at Easter time, of this massive love display air brushed in the sky.

Look up today on your journey-there is a love message just for you and the world.

This is the BIG year.

My daughters are up to something-searching in closets and carrying boxes out of the house (they thought I did not see). They have asked me to compile a complete list of people who would want to celebrate with us.

Fifty years? I smile, I cry, I smile again. Fifty years with Tom Suiter. What a treasure we have shared.

I was mulling this over this morning –thinking about beginning another blog called “myjourneyintomarriage” or something more creative. (Maybe I would be more committed to a weekly post.) While mulling I realized an important fact. I have never, ever–never– forgotten that a skinny teenager sporting the popular crew cut of the 60’s actually chose me for his own.

Out of all the girls he might have picked, he chose me. And after 50 years, that one fact still makes me giddy with joy.

Chosen or not . . .

I remember the times as a young school girl–those times when teams were chosen. Remember? And you knew that everyone had to be on one of the teams–no exception. Your hands began to sweat; your heart was beating fast. Would you be chosen first? Or maybe second. The athletic ones, the fast ones, the smart ones, the pretty ones–depending on what sport or activity–were picked without hesitation. Then slowly the rest–those who hung their heads, looked away, pretended not to be bothered– they waited for their name to be called. If you looked closely, you would see it, would feel it– a heavy, dark mist surrounded the waiting ones, forming one large zero.

Reluctantly, sometimes, even begrudgingly, a name was called until all were chosen. But oh, the agony of standing there, in view of all, wondering if you were good enough, smart enough . . .

Then one day. . .

I learned I had been chosen again-a very long time ago and by Someone very important–just because He loved me. One of my favorite verses in the entire Bible is Ephesians l:4. Read it in the Amplified with me: “In His love, He chose me for Himself–actually picked me out for Himself as His own, in Christ before the foundation of the world . . .”

How personal is that? It matters not if I am fast, if I am intelligent, if I am good or pretty . . . I was chosen to be His.

Being chosen as a wife brings joys, but also responsibilities. Chosen to share housework, raise a family, encourage him, admire him, esteem, love–the list is endless. But I was chosen because of love; that’s what I can’t get over.

So it is with being chosen by Christ. I am to be holy, set apart, blameless–bringing Him delight, giving Him honor–chosen because He loved me.

Some things are just too overwhelming to comprehend, too fascinating to be realized, too lovely to be doubted. Being chosen in Christ and for Him and being picked to be Tom Suiter’s wife–I will never get over.

Sixty-eight years of days. Of mornings and evenings–making beds, meals, memories.

Can it be so?

I am always writing—this blog, a devotional thought or something to leave my children–but only mentally.

Then those words are lost, and the time slips into cooking, cleaning, ironing, yard work– you know all things necessary. The last three weeks slipped into remodeling a kitchen.

I feel a stranger to this blog; I have been away far too long, caused by the same explanation of what happens to life. . .

Time is like a bar of soap, slipping away all too quickly.

I miss blogging time. I want to promise that I will be faithful and write weekly–but will I?

When my children used to have a daunting task before them–papers to write, books to read, busy schedules–“Mom, I can’t do this.” I would say “how do you eat an elephant?” (One bite at a time is the answer)

I guess life is like eating elephant. Some take bigger bites, swallowing without chewing, gulping gigantic moments without thought. I want to eat like a bird–tiny bites, but often and everything. I want to taste every bite, savoring the moment–whether I like elephant or not.

Because of my insatiable appetite, I try to taste it all–but it is dessert that I most often skip–
And it is dessert that I really want–writing, walking in the wind, held captive by a book on a rainy day.

And life slips away with no time for dessert!

Reflecting upon life causes me to think of you, and to thank you. You, my readers and my friends (the ones who know me)are forever engraved in my heart. You are my gift, ribboned through out life with delightful colors, and I appreciate your presence–past or today–from another country or next door.

Not only do I eat elephant, I am blessed with the same remarkable memory for survival. And I remember you . . .

Rambling on. . .