When You're About to Give Up

Blow after blow. Life delivers accurately like a boxer's punches hitting you where it hurts the most. What do you do? Buckle down? Throw up your hands and run? Or hide? Or say, "Where is God?" Doubting Him as if He hasn't cared enough, loved enough or given enough proof that He does?

Sounds like Job's wife.

There was a great man named Job, God-fearing and blameless, who had everything--- a beautiful family and great possessions--- all that any man could dream of during his time. Then out of nowhere (for Job), catastrophe after catastrophe fell and he lost his children and all his possessions. Next, he got boils, painful to the core and occupying freely his skin from head to soles. That's when his wife spoke up: “Do you still hold fast to your integrity? Curse God and die!” (Job 2:9).

It's so easy to turn into Job's wife, when the loving and responsible man you envisioned your husband to be morphs into less than what he seems, when the family you've wanted become a constant reminder of your weaknesses, when you're fighting the strong current of recession or onslaught of disease, or when you're simply trying to keep your head above a business fast sinking or stress at school or work.

Recently I had a similar sentiment as Job's wife, even as I felt like I couldn't recover from another blow. But I heard Job reprimanding me, "Don't be foolish!" And I realized the blow was more on my pride than what I thought was my faith. Oh, I, of little faith!

And for days, I was a wimp. I wasn't strong, even as Christian friends encouraged me. I wasn't brave, nor happy, or hopeful. I was disappointed, frustrated and full of regrets--- if only...

Until a memory in Facebook reminded me of what I had written two years ago, when I was away from my husband and children, and all my longing was centered on being back with them. Ironically, now that I'd gotten what I wanted, I realized that it was really not what I wanted. I want a Christian home. Year after year, night and day, I struggled to keep my family together in walking with the Lord. And there were plenty of times I felt alone.

So there I was, wanting my something but the nothing was not an option. I have to settle for what I have and what I have is imperfect.

I didn't like that. As the days passed and I wallow in pity, having a party no one else can join, and mad at God, Job spoke to me... and a cup, too.

Job's voice in my thoughts as he reprimanded his wife:

“You speak as one of the foolish women speaks. 

Shall we indeed accept good from God, and shall we not accept adversity?” (Job 2:10).

 Right after, I heard him worship God, 

“Naked I came from my mother’s womb,

And naked shall I return there.

The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away;

Blessed be the name of the Lord.”

(Job 1:21)

I felt foolish. 

When Jesus bore that cross on His shoulders, no sound of whining escaped His mouth. After all, that cross was supposed to be mine. When He hanged there with a broken heart, He did so without regret, because He loves me. How can I ever doubt that He cares? 

I thought marriage had made me better. And motherhood. And all those books and courses. And sermons and Bible studies. And life lessons and experiences. And people I've met and know. But I failed. And in failing, I blamed God for not changing my circumstances and the people around me. After all these years.

God though is merciful. I didn't get what I deserve--- a spank on the bottom. Instead, I got a picture of a cup, imperfect but beautiful with its rough edges.

One imperfect cup as made by a famous ceramic artist, told me there's beauty in imperfection. Ah, yes, and in authenticity. I know my reaction to my situation was totally uncalled for for a Christian and that was why I felt disappointed. In myself. I thought I knew better. I thought I was on my way, as I long for, to becoming a better person, one with God's Kingdom in her. But, no, I still run out of faith.

And there I was, with faith dead as the ashes. And with anything dead, only God can bring back to life. So even as faith died, God was there.

Remember Elijah? He felt alone, praying himself dead and hid himself in a cave (1 King 19:9,10). But even with His lack of faith, God was there.

David, despite committing a great sin, knew this for sure. "The Lord is with me; I will not be afraid. What can mere mortals do to me?" (Psalm 118:6).

In all our struggles, God is with us. We are never alone, even when we feel that we are.

And all those rough spots in our character and life? All those out of our control? Ah, the Lord is still in control, especially, with all those that are out of our control. He is still God. He makes our rough edges beautiful--- stripping us of the cover-ups and masks that we put on to hide our real selves and our self-sufficiency. We may appear imperfect, but in His hands we are beautiful, fitted to reveal His glory. Because, yes, we were made for His glory and His alone.

So tonight, I want to worship with Job: The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; Blessed be the name of the Lord!





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Hot Pursuit
Ultimate Loving
A Pimple, Pain and Praise

The Meadows and Other Poems

Lately I have been very distracted. Blame it on the words that just seem to float out of nowhere and bother me until it gets down on paper. (I've developed a tic on one eye because of it. Like this 😉 ) So here it is in blog form.

THE MEADOWS

get out of the house,
ride through an unbeaten path
the sun baking one side of face

through the windowglass,
yellows and greens and blue
as open and as wide as laughter,

it beckons, "Come!

trudge through weeds that won't feed,
don't mind the burrs.

Fling your arms wide,
exhale city dust."

take in restoration.
don't live like a mouse.

hair free, we take out phones
look at the beauty with myopic eyes
and fail to thank God

love spoken out loud through
the meadows.

Copyright © 2017 zernahfaith


** Nature has a way of healing us. But we often don't appreciate it because it takes us away from what is comfortable and all our technology. A weekend with the family out by the seashore, rolling on dirt, breathing in salty ocean air, feasting our eyes on colors not on screen, and running/walking through miles and miles of wide, open spaces did wonders to our bodies and minds, (and relationships) that slowly was disintegrating into disorder. A chronic entropy. Nature deficient syndrome. Whatever you might call it, we cannot deny our way of living takes us far from what God has designed for us originally to live healthy, productive lives. We see it in our children. We see it in ourselves. We observe it in our society. Thank God, there's still much to enjoy out there. Take that opportunity. 


MEMORIES

My lungs laboring for breath
I lie supine
My face pressed on a pillow
Your hands on my spine.
Every gentle touch is medicine
Its warmth and care
Long-suffering love from a mother.

Another time I sat facing you
Your eyes attentive and admiring
Food before me growing cold
As I forgot to eat, but talked and talked.
What I saw in your face
Tells me I can be me
I am good enough to my mother.

Copyright © 2017 zernahfaith


** Memories with my mom will always be part of me. And many times, words come and go to describe the love that sustained me and still do and the life she lived to give me.

Lastly, here's one which tells about all this craze I'm in at the moment. :)


POETRY FEVER

It started with Akhmatova's
"I wrote the words that lately
I wouldn't dare to speak"
from then on I can't seem to stop
writing down thoughts in verses
or see colors and shapes, feel music
in words.

That feeling of grandiosity
like waves rising higher, I soar
with the birds, I pirouette like a gazelle
What is this madness I feel?
I think of life and love and duty
reflect on God and His beauty
I bow in humility.

I'm just an amateur in love
but I meet fellow travelers and I learn
I tremble at the beauty they hold
How can mortal beings create
with blood, with tears, with fears
something beautiful 
in its stead?

So I dig my pen on paper
which has flowers on its cover
when I gaze long enough, words pop
like popcorn in a hot pot
I crunch on them, good on my palate
God help me now, I dare to create
a poem.

Copyright © 2017 zernahfaith





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A Mother's Profound Joy
The Taste of Loneliness and The Antidote
Grace

Grace

Spring by Russian artist Stanislav Zhukovsky

I came in peace, I sowed discord.
I sought to belong, I got rejection.
I wanted love, I found animosity.
I long for family, I made an enemy.

Through it all, God answered my needs.
Grace for all my frustrations, my emotions,
Grace for depression, for desperation,
Grace for arid valleys and destructive storms,
Sufficient grace even before I call.

In my struggles and restlessness,
He brought quiet rest.
I wrestle for rights, for supremacy,
I see His full glory in humility.

So I bowed as He took on Himself my faults.
Grace for all my weaknesses, my peccadilloes.
Grace for my inability, my futility,
Grace for fruitless years and empty life,
Abundant grace for a sinner such as me.

In victory I stand as I embrace His promises.
I conquer on my knees in Jesus' blessed name.
I overcome as He holds me--- Jesus, hold me.
I give grace, for Your grace is enough for me.

Copyright © 2017 zernahfaith

And He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you,

 for My strength is made perfect in weakness.” 

Therefore most gladly I will rather boast in my infirmities, 

that the power of Christ may rest upon me.

(2 Corinthians 12:9)

*The verses above came about as I reflected on Abigail's life and example, and of course, I couldn't help but look on my own life and reactions. You may read Abigail's story on 1 Samuel 25. She is one amazing woman who, instead of focusing on injustice and rejection, chose to live in grace and give grace. She didn't dwell on her arid valleys but instead stored up in abundance kindness and generosity. When her moment came, the one where only she could avert disaster and use the gifts God had given her, she was more than ready. She rose up to the occasion.

I more than know that we often have our "arid valleys" and "destructive storms", whether brought on by circumstances or our own sinful tendencies, they cause us to cry out against God or to God. Whatever you choose to do, God's grace is abundantly made available for you. It is there to meet our every need. It is there to fill up our nothingness. It is there to grasp and hold on--- sufficient to the day, hour, minute, and moment of trial and weakness. Let Him hold you. His grace is enough.





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Beauty
Am I On the Right Road?
Embracing God's Promises

Warm Thoughts On a Frosty Night

Our yule tree is still up but there are more pine needles and christmas balls on the floor than there are on the tree. Little Roxy has been busy shaking the tree and "trading" balls around with her older sisters. She thinks they should be carried around hanging from the fingers, like a vendor would when selling ready-to-eat rice wrapped in niyog (coconut) leaves. These vendors are usually found in the Philippines in places where people are on the move, usually get hungry and  have no time to spare for cooking, like bus terminals or stopovers.

There's a snowstorm brewing right now. Our second to be blessed with for this winter. Snow has been scarce and so it's welcome. The brick fence with all the snow that settled on it looks so dreamy. Every time I see fresh snow, this comes to mind:

“Come now, let us settle the matter,” says the Lord. “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool. (Isaiah 1:18)

The scene outside is like that of angels plucking feathers from each others' wings and flinging them all around in happy abandon. Maybe they're having a pillow fight with the pillows of clouds bursting white snow. So much activity going on outside, pretty much unlike the scene inside, well, without the children. In a weather like this, I don't need much, just some hot tea, a heated floor, family around, a book, my notebook and pen, and a warm blankie. And yes, my necessary zumba on some mornings to get the stiff out of my creaky bones.

Wellspring of Life

The temperature continues to fall as we draw closer to the heart of winter. And as it does, life throbs on unperturbed at its harshness and chill. Some may wonder how one stays cheery, much more passionate at the constant onslaught of coldness and terribly inhumane treatment. But there's something I want to tell you today.

The wellspring of life--- the heart--- stays warm as you guard and care for it.

Today has been an interesting day for me, not because of some big event or happening, but because of the bits and pieces that make up life. I had a conversation with my teen friends about the new year, growing old and something about fellowship/friendship/relationship. Here's what happened after they filed into the classroom bringing with them the mud from the melting snow. (We laughed as we saw how the floor was turned into something resembling that of a rice paddy with the amount of mud the teens' boots brought in.)

"So, are you, guys, looking forward to the new year?" I asked, thinking that everybody must be as excited as I am at the thought of the coming new year. I didn't expect the reply.

"No."

"No?" I asked, genuinely surprised. "Why?" I wanted to know what was so terrible about the coming year that my teen friends are not so happy about it. More difficult schoolwork? Loads more homework? A national exam to face? What? The response stumped me further.

Beauty

Li'l Angelika in a costume made
by my late mother, when I was away
 and unable to be with my daughter,
a few days before 'the storm'.

Beauty
is not found in heavily made up ladies,
Neither in the sparkling diamonds or glitters of gold
Brimming from necks and limbs;
Nor in the latest models of gadgets or antiques of old,
Strings of possessions and processions of things.

Beauty---
if you care to look--- is in the eyes
Of one where joy resides, see as she smiles
At the future in this ocean of life,
Facing with mirth its every ebb of tide,
Grateful, joyful for every unexpected love
Committed on the vow she made to the One above.

Autumn Song

As the leaves change their colors
As the wind blows yet unseen
As my eyes wander at the beauty around me
My mind tries to grasp Your majesty.

Power, authority, is Yours alone
But what really moves me
Are Your mercies new daily.

Unfailing love that holds me
Lifting me up to a place of dignity
Where I cannot walk on my own
But You've walked this road
Yes, Lord, You've walked
To carry me home.

I hear the children's laughter
The best music there is
My heart is rich with longing for the day
When You'll be calling out my name.

Life Lessons to Learn from Young Children

Hello dears! 

The following is a guest post from Helen Huynh. We are blessed to have her writing for us today. Enjoy! (Find out more about her at http://homemadejoys.com/)



There were numerous times when I would stop what I do and just watch my children play. A smile would form in my face as I whisper a 'thank you' to the Maker who entrusted them to me because everyday I marvel at the blessings my young ones bring into our home. How silly of me to think I am here to teach them lessons and show them how to live life just because I am MOM. I realize that I learn from my little ones just as much as they learn from me. Each day I spend with them, I see some of life’s most valuable lessons.

How children become so adorable and so full of life, I have no idea. All I know is they give life more meaning. Even before they could speak, they teach. How? By the way they live. Here are my favorite life lessons that all of us could learn from young children:

Stay Alive

It's half past seven in the evening and the kids and I are still outside enjoying the last rays of the sun. Well, it doesn't look like it is going away any minute. Summer.

Much as I have come to adore winter with its snowy wonder, I can't help but have a tryst with summer. On the first hand, summer has been my first love.

With summer's crystalline days, trees are so green that envy must be jealous. I tend to look up more. The skies are their best of blue, even birds just have to stage their pirouettes with it as the backdrop. As I'm writing, a lone bird is showing off by sailing, cutting through the winds with his wings with the precision of a machine. But it is not a machine, for it is way too fluid. Weightless, it dips and soars.

Mean (A Poem for those who don't want to be one)

Your power over me
Tramples the little dignity left.
The respect kindling,
Struggling,
Choking,
To breath.
I huff and puff to fury.
I sizzle myself to crazy.
I stew and burn myself down.
Ready to gamble
The little
Of me.
Petty is not pretty.
I'd rather be gutsy
With words---
To reflect and deflect.
Create and dream.
Laugh and learn.
Grow up. Be me.
There's more than one way
To live,
To be.
And MEAN is NOT
I wannabe.

Copyright © 2016 zernahfaith



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Beauty
Autumn Song
It's More Than Just Laundry

Name Game

Angelika's artwork of the backyard and the flowers.

It's early summer and beautiful meadows are everywhere with their flowers of golden yellow and blues. Even the backyard looks fantastic with these tiny flowers and when it's time to mow the lawn, it's hard to see them go. I don't even know the names of these flowers, only that they look so charming.

Well, I can't put a name on myself, either. Okay, literally, people are confused on how to call me. (Come on people, we've been on this before! See post What's My Name?) Recently, I have been called Risa, which is rice in Russian, because my name here is pronounced Z-ur-na. It is similar in sound to some kind of grain. Then there's Jorna. Never mind where that comes from.

Figuratively, however, it has only been a few years since I have come to put a name on myself. But here goes the online tests which claim that they know me just by my name or my picture. (I know almost all, if not all, know what I'm talking about here. You can't resist those online tests too! Admit it...) I had pretty amusing moments laughing at the results. Some are quite accurate, others are barely there, still others are just pure flattery or feel-good statements or downright baloney.

One of the results told me : Zernah, You are brilliant and stubborn! Another one said that I am... Brave. Fearless. Never gives up. And the word that describes me perfectly is Beautiful. Then, another said that I am Benevolent. (I wasn't certain what it means, so I googled up the word.) Here's another one, but not just one word. With a name like yours, you were meant to travel to the beat of your own drum! You have always been the type of person who likes to approach the world differently. Sometimes, it might get you into trouble, but you are always able to stay positive no matter the situation. You were born with a unique gift to share with the world and you are a bright star that will bring joy and happiness to those that surround you! Never lose sight of how special you are!

Woah! The words sound pretty good, right? (I intentionally made them bold, colorful and large so you'll color with envy or cringe in embarrassment, or roll around with hilarity, or throw up in disgust. Ha! That's a multiple choice... statement.) But how about the days when I'm not brave or beautiful or benevolent? Or when all I want is to fit in and keep any attention away from me? Does that make me less of me?

I have been called other names, too, ones that are not so wonderful, while others are downright degrading. There's 'crazy', 'stupid' and 'ugly'-- I have heard in a few different languages. Ah, even looking at these words take me down the twisted road. They are childish and often uttered with a purpose to hurt and break someone down. Let's back up.

When I mentioned above that it has only been a few years since I've come to know who I really am, I am not exaggerating. It's a hard job. Some people have left home and loved ones just to sort of "find themselves". But I didn't have to do that. Instead, God put a desire in me to know Him more and to grow in Him. He placed me in different circumstances and places--- and the result is a journey of adventure to His heart. I wouldn't exchange it for anything (even if I do whine or throw tantrums whenever things go out of hand-- my hand).

In knowing God, I began to know myself, who I really am, and what I am going to be. I know exactly where I fit in. I Have been created to do so even before the world began. I just love what the Bible says, not only about me, but all of us. (Tip: Please read the verses below slowly. Relish every word.)

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, 

who has blessed us with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places in Christ, 

just as He chose us in Him before the foundation of the world, 

that we should be holy and without blame before Him in love, 

having predestined us to adoption as sons by Jesus Christ to Himself, 

according to the good pleasure of His will, 

to the praise of the glory of His grace, 

by which He made us accepted in the Beloved.

In Him we have redemption through His blood, 

the forgiveness of sins, 

according to the riches of His grace which He made to abound toward us 

in all wisdom and prudence, 

having made known to us the mystery of His will, 

according to His good pleasure which He purposed in Himself, 

that in the dispensation of the fullness of the times 

He might gather together in one all things in Christ, 

both which are in heaven and which are on earth—in Him. 

In Him also we have obtained an inheritance, 

being predestined according to the purpose of Him 

who works all things according to the counsel of His will, 

that we who first trusted in Christ should be to the praise of His glory. 

(Ephesians 1:3-12)

I was made for His praise and be with Him.

We have myopic eyes. But it's not a surprise, considering what we often see and hear, or what we choose to watch and listen to. Often we are told that we are not good enough--- there's someone out there more beautiful with plumped up lips, sultry eyes and thinner than knife body. Or we are not smart enough, or more professional, or creative, or more put-together. So we strive and we lose ourselves, the one God has made. And since there's something missing in us, we struggle to fill it with something that gives us significance, be it possessions, profession, prestige, places (travel) or even the good things--- people (husband, family, friends, etc.). Oh, the many ways we lose ourselves!

But there is only one way to find ourselves again--- only in Him, who made us and loves us and wants to be with us. If you are in doubt, read the verses again above. (This time slower.)

In Him, I found who I am through His eyes.
I am...
His friend (John 15:14).
An heir (Galatians 4:7).
His letter (2 Corinthians 3:3).
His temple (1 Corinthians 6:19).
His servant (Acts 16:17).
Strong (2 Corinthians 12:10).
His chosen (1 Peter 2:9).
Called (Romans 1:6).
His beloved (Romans 1:7).
His child (John 1:12).
And you are too, when you give your life to Him, just as He has given His life to you.

Many people have asked me what my name means. I really don't know. It's a name given out of love. My parents decided to give both of their names to me by combining the last letters of their names: Eliezer and Myrna equals Zernah. (Isn't that sweet?) So while other children grew up with their names and their meanings, I grew up with my parents'. And with their lives. I appreciate what they had given me--- a good name.

Like the flowers, with their scientific-and-exotic-Latin-sounding names, out there glowing, I'll glow with God's light with a good name, even on days when I don't feel benevolent, beautiful, or brave. Because He takes care of it. It's His thing. A favorite quote keeps me in line whenever I forget...

"(God) has surrounded you with beauty to teach you that you are not placed on earth merely to delve for self, to dig and build, to toil and spin, but to make life bright and joyous and beautiful with the love of Christ---like the flowers, to gladden other lives by the ministry of love." (E.G. White, TMB)

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Seize the Day

Spring Herald

The Beauty in Everyday

On Over-Grown Hair, Growing Old and Living Forward

It's spring, it's raining, the greens are growing and I feel brand new. Well, my hair is. I chopped them off.

I had grown tired of my long, wavy mane after I had to fight with it every time I take a bath. It clutched and it clung at me like sea anemones. Also, the baby often tugs at the little that is left of it when she feels like riding a horsey. Most of my hair is in a habit of doing a free-fall. It is everywhere. I got so tired of it one evening that I took one of the kids' scissors and cut it myself.

But this kind of thing called hair just keeps growing if you happen to notice at all. Mine did and by the time I grew so frustrated, it had grown again resembling the appearance of a broom, but bushier and gristly. So they had to go.

I went to a hair shop. Or so it said in Russian in front of the place. But after a few weird stares of the people who were there as I walked around trying to find the one who mans the counter, I figured out that it was a man's world. A barbershop. Feeling like the village idiot, I exited.

The Beauty in Everyday

All in a mom's day.! Baby prettying up herself with a dress
and kid's toothpaste as 'face cream'

It's a dreary day today. Wet snow is falling and has blanketed the ground again. The sky is abundant with the fragrance of heavy clouds. Light comes early. We are moving from winter to spring. The time has been moved as the days are longer and the night shorter.

This is a day you want to stay home and stay under the duvet. And cuddle. Or read.

But I've got work to do. There's the baby to fed, the laundry to load, the dishes to wash, the meals to cook, the floor to vacuum as the wet snow turns the ground to mush and mud dried up is a daily visitor in the house.

Seize the Day!

source

As I'm typing this off on my phone (and later on the computer), the sunlight is streaming through the windows. The sky... My! It's drawing pictures. Running horses there, a misty mountain here. Beautiful. It is much like the day I intentionally claimed and became one of my beautiful days--- vibrant, dreamy and raw.

Spring is coming. I can almost smell it. And it fills me with hope. And so much love.

It started off as just a day I claimed was for me. One that involves going far from all that distracts me from having a much-needed time with myself, like my highly affectionate kids and husband, and the technology I seem to struggle with finding balance. I have to simply be alone--- just me and my God. The objective was just to go out and see the world with eyes of hope. And love.

I have developed in-grown eyeballs. This is a common malady for many women. It is hard to see life and the beauty in it when one's sight are often directed inwards. It is a surefire way to be miserable. I need to see life.

3 Things I Love About Being a Woman

Ended up a wonderful day with this photo, then I got a flower. :)

March 8. It's a national holiday here in Russia, celebrating women and all that they stand for, of course, that includes their contributions and achievements, but mainly on just simply being who they are. I come from a place that has high regard for women, but having a day set aside just to honor and recognize them would have been really wonderful. Being in Russia, though, I am privileged to be included in the celebration. (My dear husband makes sure of it and tells me a few days before the date to claim it for myself. I'll show you what I did today on my next blog.)

Because of this Women's Day, I got spoiled with chocolates, flowers, cards and special presents from my family and friends. I even got a virtual greeting from Mr. Putin, passed on to me by a friend. (I feel like I should put a smiley here.)

Falling Snow: A Poem about Coming Back to Life

My family and I live in Russia where there is no shortage of snow. Today, I am especially filled with delight as my world was filled with the wonder of it (and yes, as my work was cancelled for the afternoon).

You may have noticed my listless writing for the past months, though, try as I might to move past it. I was "out of synch" with life. I'm not going to apologize for it. As I live, so do I write. And as I write, so does my life come alive before my eyes. Yes, many times these are not comfortable feelings but they are emotional facts that needs some breathing space, just like a roomful of toxic smoke that needs to be aired.

Thankfully, slowly, I am once again seeing the broader canvas of my life, and not just the dark, gloomy alleys of it. Thank God, He is merciful! He is rich in goodness and love.

A few days ago, I got myself a cut on one of my hands. The sudden pain and seeing the blood bolted me into the reality that I am still alive. And that I should, MUST, be grateful for this life. As I clear away the shards that cut me, I am struck by the realization that so must I clear away the breakage in my life before I can go forward again. I have to distance myself from what is hurting me, before coming back into whole again.

My Kind of Love Songs

Happy Valentine's Day!

It's Valentines. And it has been snowing all day outside. It's beautiful.

Inside, though, someone is working in the bathroom downstairs installing a new bath after the shower stall broke. The smell and noise is not relaxing, but thankfully, it's not intruding either. So while that is going on, I am chillin' around at home with a different kind of love song. I mean, love songs. Different in a sense that you usually don't get to hear them being played on the radio with the popular ones, y'know, the ones that kids ask premature questions about and has more sounds than real words. (Y'know, what I mean? :D)

I just realized that I'm a helpless romantic after all these years of being married and having all these angels climbing on me, and having family dates. Valentines day is not that important here in Russia, so my husband and I have gone without it for years already. Still, I am all for love. And everyday, I am being reminded how I am loved and how wonderful it is to love. It just makes my day.

Here's my playlist (in no particular order).

Aging in Grace

Doing her walk. Barefoot.
Which I so love to do!

Midlife. Life do accelerates after midlife.

So do aging. Wrinkles. Worries. And wilting.

May is my birth month. I just had my birthday. Another one in so many that I am blessed with. They are sure coming one after the other! Praise God!

This has been the first year that I have spent a whole year as an alien in Russia. Knowing from my previous experience of living in a foreign land, I will soon have to say goodbye to the honeymoon stage.

Life goes on.

And tomorrow will be my youngest baby's first birthday. And though I wish I can bake a cake, I prefer to buy one and spare myself the trouble of going crazy over flour strewn around looking like baby powder all over my kitchen. There is also the problem of what to do with an inedible cake. I don't even have any idea what baking powder is, or baking soda, or if a cake needs yeast or not. (If I sound ignorant, that is because I am. I am terrible in baking. That's why I am so mighty proud of my Bilinchik/Russian pancakes. Which, by the way, doesn't include baking.)

My baby, though, is not aging. I am.

Somebody suggested that I should stop counting my age. For him, it's just too many years and the more years, the more it gets embarrassing to mention.

Maybe he is right.

I'm no longer the young girl that I was.

But I don't feel even a tiny bit sorry for being past that season--- not with the acnes, the awkwardness and uncertainties.

Does this mean that I am for aging--- wrinkles, aches, senility and a boring existence?

Wrinkles, well... I am now careful with my sun exposure which was unheard of when I was younger. Having too much sun is dangerous. It's widely known now how sun exposure causes wrinkles, sagging and accelerates ageing.

Aches. Got to exercise!

But a boring existence? Really? As I grow older, I encounter more challenges than I care to handle.

And senility? How about if I read more books and make more friends than I care to eat my chocolates? That would be good for my aging brain.

Or maybe they mean, serenity. No amount of challenge can move you when you have already encountered them all. (Especially if you have moved  past the embarrassing and the murky.)

I prefer to thank God for adding years into my life, and ask, "What else do you have for me, Lord?"

Each new day is a miracle. In it is the knowledge that I may be growing in maturity and wisdom. If not, then I am given another chance to grow.

With age comes the promise of the fulfillment of dreams and richer experiences.

I'm looking at the other side of the coin--- the one filled with possibilities, life and adventure.

Besides, life is too short. God reminded me of how it really is.

As David was in anguish over the wicked, trying not to sin with his mouth by keeping silent, his feelings burned within him. (Can relate much. Sigh.) And he cried,

“Show me, Lord, my life’s end and the number of my days;
    let me know how fleeting my life is.
5 You have made my days a mere handbreadth;
    the span of my years is as nothing before you.
Everyone is but a breath,
    even those who seem secure."

Then David prayed. He is positive. And that kind of thinking is anti-aging.

“But now, Lord, what do I look for? My hope is in you.
8 Save me from all my transgressions;
    do not make me the scorn of fools.

Hear my prayer, Lord,
    listen to my cry for help;
    do not be deaf to my weeping.
I dwell with you as a foreigner,
    a stranger, as all my ancestors were.
13 Look away from me, that I may enjoy life again before I depart and am no more.”
(Psalm 39:4,5,8,9,12,13)

My hope is in God. So is everyone else who believes in Him. In Him is salvation from sin, and our wrinkled, wracked-with-sin bodies. In Him we find grace.

We find a rich supply of grace as we live our short, borrowed lives in a world that is not truly ours. We dwell with Him.

Aging becomes not just a process we go through but a gift full of possibilities and one of it is the hope of getting closer to the heart of Jesus.

Growing wiser.
Making good choices.
Living a full and abundant life.
Leaving a legacy.

Aging in grace.

Spring Herald

Spring Herald, You wake us up into Your breathtaking beauty! Oh, how words are bursting from within me and into my pen. You warm us up with the daylight sun, melting the icy places in our hearts. You invite us into the splendor of Your presence. We are left speechless and in awe. You are magnificent to behold!

Makeover

Ohoo! I have curly hair. Yes, I just had a makeover.

Any woman won't probably say 'no' to a free makeover. That's why makeover shows are very popular. Who would not wish to be transformed to the best version of themselves?

Thus, when my husband suggested that I should have a makeover, even feeling slightly insulted (husbands are supposed to love their wives even for worse, read: wrinkles, fat rolls and under-eye circles. Ho! They rhyme!), I didn't decline outright.

Being in Russia and surrounded by beautiful women, I felt I needed it. Though I'm really wondering what could be done with falling hair (an after-giving-birth and nursing-a-baby phenomenon), sagging breasts and loose skin.

At any day, however, I can pass for a  sixteen year old (I'm short), that is, if you won't look too closely. Then you may catch a glimpse of a line or two on the forehead or a downy shadow of a mustache.