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God Showed Up

The wind was a little wild this morning, and the clouds hung low. I peeked out from under my covers and saw a sliver of silver-gray daylight and the cedars dancing through the storm.

Today was the day God was going to show up.

We have been wandering up and down and all through this wilderness, going where we believe God has asked us to go, but the strain of it has nearly wasted me. The hills are steep and roll on one after another like waves so we can barely catch our breath on the way down before losing it again on the way back up.

Then, at what we hoped was the very end of the journey, we came to a river. We did not know there were going to be any rivers.

It was too wide to swim.

It was too deep to cross.

And we didn’t have a boat.

I stood on the shores of this great big river and I wanted to shout up to the heavens. “Why did you lead us here? We cannot cross here!”

Because it seemed a little personal, right then, when I had prickers in my socks and blisters on my toes. No one had said anything about rivers.

A few other people joined us on the shore and contemplated the water with us. “There might be a way to cross,” someone said.

My heart skipped over that little bit of hope.

“I think someone upstream has a boat.”

A little whisper came into my mind, “Have faith. God will show up.”

So we set up camp and we waited. We waited through one day, and another. It was dark in the night and it was dark in the day. I fought against the impossibility of crossing that little slip of water. Fat, salty tears dropped into the waves, and I ate too many of the frozen cream puffs someone sent over for consolation.

Surely there had to be a way! When was there not a way? For heaven’s sake, I could see the other side!

But there was no way the first day, and there was no way the second day.

This is a test of faith, I reasoned. Other people said it too, and we all nodded wisely and said faithful things and I stoked up my belief because this was going to work, this faith thing.

That is how we came to the third day. This day.

And God showed up.

But God said no.

Maybe it was a “not yet”–it’s hard to tell with God– but it wasn’t a “yes” and it certainly wasn’t a bridge or a boat or even a life vest. It wasn’t anything my faith could conjure up.

The river remained, wide and lapping at the shores. And we remained stranded with the great big wilderness behind us and the impervious waters before us and a God who said “no” and not much else.

But at least we were there with God.

And I thought to myself, on a grey day when the wind was wild and the cedars danced, that if all I have in this life is a great big wilderness and a river I can’t cross, it is enough if God is in the midst of it.

*This past week, my husband completed the long and arduous process of applying for Active Duty as an Army chaplain. His paperwork (which was lost once) was resubmitted on time. But due to a random computer error, his recruiter team was unable to submit his packet by the deadline. All attempts to fix the problem failed, even though they stayed up until 3 am working on it.

There was no boat.

But we are here at the shores of a great big river with a mighty God, and that is enough.

Painting Tile and Other Ways to Save an Ugly Fireplace

When we moved into our house, I loved the view. I loved the neighborhood. I loved the potential. But most everything else needed a lot of work.

We have been here nearly five years now (gasp!) and in that time, we have knocked down walls, pulled up carpet, blasted a hole in the foundation and put in a staircase…

But.

We have never gotten around to fixing one of the most hideous features in the house: the fireplace.

The way our fireplace looked when we first moved in…and the way it stayed until about a week ago.

Sometime, somewhere, someone thought a fireplace should be tiled in black faux marble with white grout. Sometime, somewhere, someone thought gold trim would be a great accent on said fireplace. Sometime, somewhere, someone realized this was a bad idea and tried to fix it by applying fake board and white trim to the mantel.

That did not help.

We bought the house with the horrible black tile and white grout. I spent many nights nursing twins on our sofa and staring at that fireplace until I developed a tick in my eye. I hated it so much. But, other projects always took priority until one day, I actually showed up in the living room with a crowbar.

Just before I ripped the first glossy veined tile off the wall, a thought occurred to me. Why not paint the tiles? If it doesn’t work, you can always rip them off then. But if it does work, you’ve saved yourself a bunch of time and money.

And that is exactly how I went from the photo above to the photo below for less than $10.

A lot of bang for my buck

Here’s how I did it:

1) The previous owners had attempted to hang something from the fireplace using double-sided sticky tape. Bad idea.

Because of the damage, I had to tape off the surround and spray paint it (in the house) using an oil-rubbed bronze color.

2) I did the same thing with the fireplace screen in order to rid the world of one more piece of fake gold trim.

God trim= endangered home decorating fad

This took many, many coats. In retrospect, I should have coughed up the extra few dollars for the more expensive spray paint. I used Krylon brand and was not impressed. DO NOT USE THAT PAINT. The paint did not want to stick, even though I lightly sanded the trim, just in case. Also, it flaked off with the slightest touch. Not cool.

I’ve used Rust-Oleum for lots of projects (including drawer pulls) and have never had that problem. So, I’ll very likely have to re-do this portion of the project because I was cheap. In the end, it was not worth a $2 savings.

3) While waiting for coats of spray paint to dry, I sanded the tile lightly then painted it with one coat of oil-based primer. I had some in the garage so this did not cost anything. If you have to buy it, go with Kilz brand. Don’t settle for anything less. It is not worth a bad result.

*P.S. I’m not getting paid to say good things about these products. They just work!

The surround after primer. It already looks the best it has in 5 years.

4) The next day, after the primer had dried completely, I painted over it with white enamel paint. I wasn’t sure what color to paint the tile at first, but I was hoping that painting it white would create a built-in look.

Besides, I had leftovers of the white paint.

However, enamel would have been a good choice anyway. This surround is not going to have to stand up to a lot of wear and tear, but I wanted to mimic a tile feel, and enamel paint is pretty close.

This took three coats of paint. If the tile had been a lighter color, two coats would have been sufficient. But that lovely black tile died hard.

5) We picked up some trim pieces at a local building supply liquidation store. The wide 4″ trim piece cost less than $3. It was just a little too narrow, so I purchased a coordinating trim piece for another $3. The handsome hubby helped to cut it and I nailed it up.

I painted the trim with the same enamel paint for a cohesive look. I did sand between the coats of paint on the top layer of the mantel because of some damage done to the top of the mantel (perhaps that’s why the previous owners stuck that fake wood on it!) but sanding is not always necessary. If you want a smoother look, sand. But I found sanding wasn’t really necessary for most of this project.

6) The end result is so beautiful, I wish I had done it years ago.

What do you think? Are you going to go paint some tile, or would you rather know how to make that wreath?

On Wings of Eagles

An eagle is soaring outside my kitchen window. I stand by the sink with my hands in the bubbles and I watch him, dark wings, flash of white, large against the clouds. Beneath him runs the water and the fields and a mile of sky, and above him is everything that cannot be contained by this earth.

His silhouette catches my eye in the blue of the day. Only an eagle has wings like that.

In wide, lazy circles he rides the thermals up into the atmosphere, up so high, I imagine he’s feeling the joy of his making in the presence of his maker.

I watch him as the dishwater grows tepid. Circle…circle…circle. Great counter-clockwise movements bring him up over my house where I can no longer see him and back out over the Puget Sound where surely other eyes are watching him too.

The eagle’s wings remain steady the entire time. He does not use any effort to stay up in the sky. In fact, his wings hardly move at all.

I wonder how long the eagle can soar without actually flying. The minutes pass.

One…two…three…

His tail feathers flick slightly for balance, and every once in a while, the eagle tilts his wings to keep from flying off into heaven. But he does not pump his wings even once.

With wet fingers, I flip through our bird book to the pages filled with beautiful raptors. I find out an eagle can fly 10,000 feet up in the air because he can spread out those great big wings and let the wind carry him up. He does not have to depend on his own strength to rise higher than all the other birds. He simply waits.

There’s probably a lesson in that for me.

I know in an instant I have been trying too hard. I have been muscling my way through this day, trying to make things happen because I forget that He is able.

Unexpected obstacles have thrown me off course. I have been beating my wings trying to catch up because it all seems so important and urgent

I am weary.

And I have not flown very high.

“Like a swallow, like a crane, so I twitter;

I moan like a dove;

My eyes look wistfully to the heights;

O Lord, I am oppressed, be my security.”

Is. 38:14

I am oppressed, yes, by my own fluttering. Those heights I long to reach? He is the one who must lift me there.

I long to soar like that.

Later that day, when the eagle had long since flown off, I crawl into bed with my Bible. Even with the reminder to wait, it has been a day of scrambling. “Pick a Psalm,” I say to my husband, “and I’ll read it to you while you get ready for bed.”

“Psalm 151,” he says.

“Oh, behave.”

He pokes his head around the bathroom door and smiles at me with a toothbrush in his teeth. “Okay, how about Psalm 147.”

I begin to read the ancient words and come to the ones the Spirit has been trying to speak to me all day.

“The Lord favors those who fear Him,

Who wait for His lovingkindess.”

Psalm 147:11

I stop and read them again, and Jeff looks at me. “Wow,” he says, because he knows how hard it has been to fly today and how much we have wanted God’s lovingkindness to come without much waiting.

My mind goes back to the eagle, and I remember how he soared without effort on wings I could not see. I knew why he was circling so high above my head. A bird of that size needs to eat, and often. But the eagle’s size makes hunting an exhausting ordeal. It simply cannot support itself in flight long enough to get the food it needs to survive.

But God knows what the eagle needs. He created it in such a way that its very search for sustenance is dependent on a power other than its own. The eagle must wait on the wind to be lifted up. And the wind does not fail.

When the eagle is most in need, it is most able to rest in the provision God has already made for it. It can search without growing tired, it can soar without growing weary.

Beautiful words float into my head, words I know better than to have forgotten.

“Even youths grow weary and tired,

And young men stumble and fall,

But those who wait for the LORD will renew their strength;

They will mount up with wings like eagles,

They will run and not grow weary,

They will walk and not faint.”

Is. 40:30-31

Oh, to trust it to be true!

But today is a new day, and my hunger and need is just as real as it was yesterday. Only today, I am keeping my heart and mind on the One who can sustain me through my need.

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