heart of a woman

"Abortion is a matter of the heart. For until one understands the heart of a woman, nothing else about abortion makes any sense at all." - Dr. George Tiller

This quote was issued by a late-term abortionist before he was assassinated in 2009. The heart of a woman...it angers me to hear a man who murders babies and debilitates women even let those words pass through his lips. How dare he suggest he was influenced by the heart of women to take what is most precious straight from their womb. Does he not see the look in a mother's eye when her child sprains an ankle or suffers from the flu all through the night? Does he not see how her heart was drawn to her child in need and would gladly suffer the pain in their place? If her maternal response is so evident in such minimal situations as her child crying from a hurtful word on the playground, then how much more is a mother programmed to respond if her defenseless child is helplessly sucked from their safe haven. The emotional impact of abortion on women has been repeatedly published, and testimonies of depression, anxiety and gut-wrenching guilt will continue as long as abortions do.
You see it in the 3 year old girl who cuddles her doll tightly to her chest when a threat is perceived, or the twenty year old ladies who cannot help but flock to the side of a mother and child and hope to connect with the baby through a smile or coo or finally a mum by her daughter's side almost partaking in the pains of labour over again as her grandchild enters the world. If it is not a child it is a pet or a friend who needs nurturing, maybe even a husband...but a woman has the nature to care and to take responsibility for the experiences of that individual.
So if abortion is only about the heart of women, and that is the only way it makes sense, then proving that abortion is unnatural and not paralleled with a woman's heart should be enough to bring it to a halt. Pro-life truly is pro-choice as they care more about the outcome of women's health and there are many more options available through pro-life then there are through pro-choice. This is not about the sanctity of life, although that is an indisputable factor, but about the health of women, physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. Going against the natural order of a female's nature brings about disorder in all areas of her life and leaves a mess that truly only Christ can clean up. The devastation of knowing the child you were there to protect and nourish was, at your word, painfully murdered and never given a chance to defend themselves rips open a hole in the heart of a women... it does not, as Dr. Till says, make it the only reason to perform abortions. So, Dr. Tiller, if you had access to view any woman in your life in the role of a mother I'm not sure why or how you could have continued.

do this in remembrance of me.

Luke 22: 7-23
I had been missing the beauty of communion. The splendor of Jesus' sacrifice had lost it's powerful impact as communion had been focused on me. The idea of communion had been ingrained in me by previous leadership that it was about receiving what I needed at that time. Whether I lacked healing, strength, joy, a sense of worth, power or anything else we humans are in need of occasionally that it could be pulled down from heaven during communion by the power of the blood of Christ. Now, I am not saying that this is not possible or that the Lord did not intend for us to reach into Him during communion, a symbol of the new covenant, but is it meant to be the focus? I realized during communion this Sunday that I had lost the worship and remembrance of Jesus during this time. I found myself focusing on what I lacked at that moment and praying that as I participated in communion I would reach into Christ and receive what He had made available through the cross. Where was my honour for Him? Why was I not broken and on my knees in affectionate remembrance (amplified Bible) of my incredible Saviour? Do this in remembrance of me...why was I only remembering the sacrifice as to receive for myself? Worship was never intended to be used for our gain, but to honour and give deserved praise to our Father. In the end we always receive from our Lord because of His beautiful nature of love and generosity...not because we reach in and make that our focus while worshiping Him.
Where are we as a church when even communion does not direct our gaze to Christ for only the reason of remembering and honouring Him? Are we such an entitled people that we feel we deserve something from worshiping or partaking in the bread and cup? How dishonouring to our Saviour, who already gave us His life, to take our eyes off Him, place them on ourselves and use His sacrifice for our means.
Do this in remembrance of me. We hardly give Him any time at all as a North American church...can we at least take the time during communion to bring Him to mind. To focus all our attention on His life, how great of a sacrifice He made for us out of His love and mercy, how beautiful He is in His victorious position and how thankful we are for His grace and for His remembrance of us.

the rite...a must see.

My husband and I recently, as in four hours ago, went to the theatre to view 'the rite'. In complete honesty we went there partly for curiosity sake, to see how Hollywood would portray exorcism and the truth behind it. We had seen the trailers often and where doubtful we would see it as neither of us do well where horror movies are concerned. This one though captured our attention, and with our Monday night open we thought we would risk a scare to see how well this movie depicted the strength of our Lord over evil.
I expected myself to jump, quiver and make uncontrolled yelps as things went 'bump in the night'....but instead, I was in tears as Michael finally declared his belief in the devil and in our Lord and began speaking truth to the demonic forces holding his friend. I was filled with pride for Jesus, His sacrifice and His power over all dark creatures. As the camera circled Michael and the possessed Lucas, the words Michael pronounced over the kneeling man brought out an emotional reaction I would not have expected at an 'exorcist' movie. It was like watching my Saviour being crucified, and while the sadness you feel is unexplainable so is the pride and strength you sense welling up inside of you provoking your response. It was empowering, uplifting and comforting knowing the power we hold through our Christ, not that we as humans are powerful, but that his sacrifice and love for us allows the ever-victorious power of the blood to flow through us as we believe. What an incredible, almighty, awesome God we serve! One who holds the upper hand always and uses vessels like us to work against his enemies. There was no fear while watching this movie, only a feeling of authority and excitement that no matter how powerful the demonic were portrayed, my Father was/is unimaginably dominant!
How fearful I would be seeing a movie, such as the rite, based on true events, not knowing the power behind the cross.  As movies like this are being produced it shows that people have an interest in the spiritual, and how is there evil without good? If this is an absolute truth, that there is evil, there must be the opposite. And this movie, I feel, does a great job of making sure we know the order of authority at the end of the day. Jesus prevails, always. How thankful I am to be held in His arms.
And thank you, writers and producers of this movie, for not making this production an in-your-face gorey horror film, but for excellently visualizing that "our battle is not against flesh and blood but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world rulers of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavens"...and yes the battles are there, but the victory is ours through Him. :D

and just a p.s., in this film the demons possessing the characters try to throw the exorcists sins back into their face, yell out their shortcomings and failures, saying they know all their nickel and dime sins. As this was happening to the young man in the movie I was struck with thankfulness. Yes, the enemy knows our sins, but so does our loving and merciful Saviour. He has forgiven those sins and chooses not to remember them. The devil can try and throw your past sins back at you, sapping your confidence from you, but remember Christ knows too. He still loves you, has forgiven you upon your repentance and those mistakes will not hold you back from declaring the power of Jesus Christ...no matter how loudly the powers of darkness yell them. Thank you Lord.

Slate (April 2010 to January 24th, 2011) "meow meow meow meow meow"

Today was a day of shock and sadness. Our 8 month old kitten, Slate, left this world with hardly a warning. His visit to the vet at 4PM, after having signs of dizziness, lethargy and a little cut that would not heal was only 4 hours before he died at roughly 8PM. It was possibly cytopenia, aplastic anemia or something else that would bottom out his hemoglobin, hematocrit, red blood cells and platlets, leading to his shortness of breath and eventual death cuddled up on my lap in his blanket. I do miss him already, hence my quick memoir to his 8 month life that blessed Ben and I in one of the hardest times of our life. As Ben said, the Lord has a purpose even for the tiny creatures we allow into our home, and his affection and comfort during these months was incredibly supportive and meaningful, even coming from a tiny soft kitten.
Slate came into our home before we really had a home! We picked up Slate and his sister Bella from a cat-loving couple who had adopted them into their already 9 cat home after finding them in an air conditioner vent. They were 2 weeks old when found and we made them part of the Clark family at 11 weeks. When we first had them we were days away from being married and they were our first pets as man and wife.

Slate made his appearance as a scrawny kitty who could not cuddle enough. He loved our attention, and while he still had claws, would climb your pant leg if you did not pick him up soon enough after his adoring 'meows'. His trademark move at 3 AM was picking up my earrings off my dresser, large or small, and dropping them from the waist height ledge, waking up both residents in the room. This would happen continually until we climbed out of a warm bed and scooped him off the counter, spreading around the other items on the ledge to try and deter him from jumping up repeatedly. Looking back it makes me smile and tear up as I know that every morning after those incidents I would wake up, roll over and find him curled up next to my shoulder purring quietly in his sleep. If he woke before Ben or I he would be sure to run into the room at the sound of the alarm and hastily get as close to us as possible as we scrambled for the snooze button.

Slate has been the most affectionate kitten I have ever been in contact with! He would let you flip him upside down, backwards and forwards, constantly purring and settle into your arms, belly up ready for some love! You could pull on paws, ears, scratch his belly (unusual for cats), or any other method of cuddling and he would never jump, scratch or run away. He was constantly ready to snooze in your arms.

Slate also had a passion for water. Whether this was part of the problem he eventually died of or if it was just a strange infatuation with H2O, Slate could not hold back from racing to your side when he heard running water. He took a front row seat on the counter top while Mommy or Daddy did the dishers, even allowing us to soak his tail in bubbles...which he hardly noticed. He would also wait under the sink while we washed our hands, occasionally trying to balance on the bathroom sink, intently watching the water flow. He would find any glass of water within his reach and take a sip of anyone's cup! As soon as the tap was loud enough to hear, the gallopping of padded paws across hard flooring could be heard before seeing him leap to our side by the double sink.

One final fond memory of my little prince is how he enjoyed watching tv with us. His stretched out position across our glass coffee table was a prime location for him to comfortably view the television and follow the moving items with his eyes across the screen. I have thankfully captured this on film so Ben and I can laugh at his cute antics after the shock of his death has passed by.

So I leave you with a kiss Slate, and Daddy does too...as well as you sister Bella. I'll miss you more in the mornings when your cute eyes aren't the second set I see after Ben's.

charm, beauty and hair cuts.

charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.

so where does this leave women and their desire to be beautiful? the Lord has been revealing areas of my life that I had no idea needed refining...until the chop...
two months ago I decided, with the push of my husband, to cut off my waist length blond hair. it had always been my plan to cut my hair after our wedding and send it away to locks of love, the wig making organization. well two months later my braid is still laying in my sock drawer and i have had the 'trim'. this is what i am referring to as the chop. the first hair cut i had was a shock. it took me about two months to get used to the ear length pixie cut 'do that could be radically styled into a mohawk...something I have always wanted to rep. i was hardly recognized by many but i was thoroughly enjoying spiking my hair into my 'pink-like' hawk. it had most definitely been a change, but after two months i was comfortable with styling it, knew how to tend to my locks and was feeling my teenage punkyness finally have a say through my hair....most of all i still felt pretty. my husband called me beautiful and the fun i was having with my hairstyle cancelled out the shock of the drastic change in length. but then...the trim.
it was/is horrible. no longer do feel like an attractive rockin' women, i now feel like a pre-pubescent 10 year old boy who's mother recently cut his hair with kitchen scissors previously used that morning to cut the fat off dad's breakfast bacon. it is wispy, thin, showing my scalp and lacks all i have ever felt...feminine beauty. i have found myself crying over my hair, looking at my reflection pitifully and trying not to curse the lady who made me look this way. i haven't accepted the adoring words of my husband and catch myself in self-pity more then i thought possible.
this has been my eye opener. this reaction has shown me where my life is in need of attention. we speak about our Father being concerned with our heart, but man being focused on our outward appearance, and a women being praised for her fear in our Lord and not for her outward charm. so where do we draw the line as humans living in the world but not being of it? have i cried recently over issues that may make my heart not as attractive to my Dad? or have i been more focused on how my peers perceive my new hair cut? never had i realized how much i depended on my hair as a shield, a safety blanket for my soul. how easy it is to cover our insecurities with our securities. my hair...unbeknownst to me...has been my security. with this being so unintentionally and hurriedly stripped away i have been left to work through the emotions arising within me. ones of self-conciousness, inadequacy and self-pity. i truly have sickened myself with the state of my heart. but, realizing your short comings allows you to recognize their company and resist giving into them when the earthly urge arises. it is almost exciting to be allowed the opportunity to strengthen your character, to seek out the truth of how you feel and then seek the truth of how the Lord is calling us to be. what better way to spend your time then pursing our Father and his truth for us and his truth for those around us whom He adores. my insecurities are in no way different then most young women around me and i encourage you to ask the Lord what you would feel most uncomfortable living without, and remind yourself of the truth our Father speaks to us...we have captured his heart with one look, with one glance of our eyes we have him smitten...with or without hair.

thanksgiving inspirations

Feeling the sun warm my skin and the breeze bring out the goose bumps is an extraordinary sensation. Both occur simaltaneously yet the consitant warmth always overpowers the varying rush of cool air. Alex feels the same but from a different perpective, from his wheelchair. From a perspective of countless surgeries, incapacitating pain which would usually whip a smile of most anybody's face. Yet all my memories of Alex are as far from this assumption as possible. I'm sure behind closed doors the tears of frustration and questioning have fallen, yet the courage and strength to show joy at any other time takes immeasurable thankfulness. The thankfulness to be alive.
I can take part in life in whole way, to never have to struggle for my physcial life. But it seems gratitute fades the stronger the body becomes. We have less appreciation for life itself, contintually pondering tomorrow and therefore not noticing the beauty that is today.
Today the leaves are goldends and rouges, tomorrow they may fall, making you wait an entire year for the autumn beauty to reoccur. Today I can walk for kilometers in wooded areas and down crowded city sidewalks, tomorrow I may be confined to my bed. Today I can speak freely o fmy faith and read God's Word in the presence of His creative beauty. Tomorrow we may not have the opportunity to see the sunshine of day during our underground servies.
Today I can think, write, run, observe natures miracles and take part in almost anything my heart desires...so while I have today I will do those things, take those chances.

For the trees are only this shade for a month of two and the sun will bring warmth over the breeze for a few more weeks. I am blessed with breath today...

more than a poem

I once knew a young woman. She would write poems, not for others but for herself. This woman was no poet, not even a writer, but her poetry connected her to her Saviour. She would write from her heart, her soul and her revelations. Her poetry would consist of tears from struggles, from triumphs and from her own searching. These poems were part of her. It was for this reason she was shocked when she came across her poetry under someone else's name. It did not concern her that this individual was getting the glory and praise for her thoughts, but because of the carelessness and lack of consideration for her heart...her poetry. Someone had taken them as if they were objects to gain attention over, yet they were her treasures as a result of her soul's travels. They had been pulled together through many scraps of paper filled with her mind's gems and formed into cries from her deepest parts and victorious praises to her Lord. A connection, a portal with which she shared with Him her revelations and her deep love for His beauty. To see this meaningful part of her life taken and paraded about for other's entertainment was hurtful. She felt as if her soul was unleashed without her permission and then shown as someone else's revelation which her Father had given to her. These words had been gifts from above and not meant to be rewarded and praised for. They were yearnings of a heart, questions from her soul and a passageway to her Father's arms. She never wanted her poems back, never asked for the wrong to be corrected. Just prayed earnestly to never again have her bond with the King of Kings taken from her and used for selfish gain. They were not just words they were her deep crying out to His deep.