A Moment of Freedom

What is a moment of freedom? Is it freedom from responsibility; worry; stress; a job you hate?

Freedom means many things. At times, it is the blissful silence when the baby finally stops crying and you can sleep. Or it is when all the children are out the door to school and you have your day ahead of you. Or it is when the house quiets at night and you settle in to unwind. Freedom can also mean not worrying about what you're going to eat or wear. Or that you won't be killed by a passing marauder. Freedom means different things to each of us at different times in our lives.

For me, at this season of my life, a moment of freedom is the time I have to sit on the swing with my favorite book -- which is the one I am reading at the time. I sit and swing and read and listen to the sounds of nature around me. No unwanted phone calls; no fax to send or receive. No one asks me to do anything I don't want to do. No one criticizes me for just sitting and relaxing. I am completely on my own to do or think anything I want. I could go in the house, take a walk, lie down to rest or go somewhere.

Money brings freedom of a kind if we are not slaves to work, not obsessed with having more. It can also give us the means to travel and experience new things from anywhere in the world. And, of course, money frees us from worry by providing our basic neccessities of life: food & shelter.

A moment, though, is such a short time frame. A time to relax and enjoy my surroundings. Sometimes freedom is the ability to share that time, money and space with friends or family. The point being that it is my choice to do exactly what I want at any given time. Very seldom in my adult life have I had such complete freedom. I feel constrained by money, the duties of a job and the needs of my family. Guilt drives me from my time on the swing to work in the house or office. Seldom do I do what I want to do instead of what needs to be done.


This is simple freedom, but true freedom is my freedom in Christ. My freedom from sin, from spiritual death, from separation from God. Freedom to love, to serve, to worship, to fellowship, to life. This freedom lasts more than a moment. It lasts a lifetime and beyond.

My New Office

Ten days ago, my husband helped me move furniture. We emptied a small bedroom and created an office for me. Now, I have all the paper work for our growing trucking business out of my living room and a place to store all of it. This is also my writing space; a space to be alone when I need to create.

If I stand in the door to my office, I see the care my husband took to make this small space just right for me. His efforts to please me, to make it comfortable for me and just as I wanted show in his setting the computer and printer/fax in easy reach (with no tangled cords!), the chair just so, the filing cabinets spaced along one wall and the shelves he brought in for my books.

My space has a window and from my desk I can see the trees. If I move to my reading chair, I can see the back yard and more trees. Yesterday, I sat in my chair and stared out the window just to see what I might see.

I watched a rabbit peer across the yard and then run circles around a tree, under a trailer, out into the grass and then back into the brush. He seemed to be playing a secret game and that brought a smile to my lips.

Then i noticed a bright red blur as a male cardinal landed on the nearest oak tree. He perched for just a couple of heartbeats then was off again. He was a spot of joy on an otherwise dreary day.

The sun began to shine. The trees quit dripping from the rain that fell the last four days. As the clouds cleared, so did my mood. I no longer felt gray and overcast. Blue sky erased my frown.

Because our woods are full of oak and hickory trees, we have squirrels everywhere. I saw one dash across a grassy space then jump up the closest tree, stopping to taste acorns and hickory nuts along the way. He sat to nibble one but, ever on the alert, he watched warily for the dogs or other predators. I could tell because he was always looking this way and that, tail twitching, ready for a quick escape if startled.

Everywhere I look I see God's goodness. He has given me a husband who encourages me, cares what I think and does his best to give me what I desire because he loves me. God gave me a view from my window that reveals His creation in all its many variations. I am truly blessed.

Better to Light a Candle

Why sit around complaining about circumstances. If things look dark, find some light. There is always something you can do to light even the smallest of flames in a dark world.

I begin by praising God for who He is. He is the Creator, the Provider, the Healer, my Peace, my Salvation, the Righteous one, the Beginning and the End, Worthy of all praise. The Mighty God, the All Sufficient One, the Author and Finisher of our faith, he is my Hope, my Shepherd, my Great High Priest, the Everlasting One. He is love and mercy. He is righteous and good. He is the Enabler, the Empowering One, the Defender of the weak. He is my Everything.

The darkness fades when I concentrate on who God is: the Light of the World, the Word, the Bread of Life, and the Never Thirst Again Water. He is Joy Unspeakable and full of glory. He was and is and is to come. He is the King of Kings. Any problems I have are small compared to the greatness of God. Whatever is causing darkness in and around me fades and shrinks before my God of the Universe. When I praise Him, all else fades into inconsequentialness and all I want is to be with Him, study Him, enjoy Him, worship Him and serve Him in whatever He asks of me.

It is better to light a candle than to sit and curse the darkness. Once you light the flame, the Light of the World grows in you and spreads out to those around you. You can be Light to your family, friends, co-workers and the world. All you need to do is light the candle of praise.

A Room of My Own

Being the oldest girl can be difficult. Setting the pace, expectations, and examples for younger sisters is not easy. Being the first to mature and need privacy is hard, especially when you share a room.

I was about 10 or 11 when we moved into a big house: a former duplex remodeled into one house. We had a den for the first time and my brother had a room with a locking door (he thought that was great!). He could lock his little sisters out and keep his boy stuff however he wanted. We had a big yard, too, and lots of kids in the neighborhood. But best of all, for me, was the front bedroom. All for me. No sharing.

It was not a very large room, but, oh how I loved it. Red wallpaper with huge white roses; a hand-me-down dresser that had only my clothes in it; a closet with racks that weren't crowded with "baby" clothes; shelves for my books; a twin-sized bed with just enough room for one. For the first time I could remember, I didn't have to share. Only my things wherever I looked. They -- my sisters -- had to stay out unless I invited them in.

At night, I would turn off the light and dance across the floor to slip under the covers and enjoy my solitude. During the day was ample time to be with friends and little ones, but at night I had my own space. For a special treat, Mom and Dad surprised me with a new (used) stereo. I could stack records to drop and play or have one album repeat over and over until I fell asleep. My choice. My records. My space. It was wonderful!

We soon moved away and once again I shared a room. As we became teenagers, though, a shared room was The Best. We could talk about friends and boys and what was happening at school. We shared everything: secrets, clothes, shoes, books, friends and our room. It was that way until our brother married. Then, for awhile, I once more had a room of my own.