This past weekend I joined my church on a retreat. Not knowing anyone, I felt
rather uncomfortable, fairly out of place, and so would end up doing my own
thing a lot of the time.

I made a few friendly acquaintances, but there wasn't anything spectacular, as far as the relational aspect goes. I could complain about it, but I have no reason to. It may not have been perfect, but God brought tremendous healing to my heart.

I called, and emailed a couple of friends in familiar places, and recieved a couple emails back that night, that were such a blessing. A couple of friends simply poured out love, that I needed so very much to hear. Their words were written and spoken by Christ. But there is one writing that particularly stands out, because it seems to have described the course of my weekend.
This is what she wrote:

"I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every
branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he
prunes so that it will be even more fruitful. You are already clean because of
the word I have spoken to you. Remain in me, and I will remain in you. No branch
can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit
unless you remain in me."
-John 15

Selah... pause, break, be still.

What good fruit has he produced? (Wait in thankfulness)

What s he wanting to produce? (anticipate the Kingdom)

What does he want you to cut off? (surrender in dependent
obedience)

I pray for humility - humility is dependence on the Lord which brings an
overflowing boldness.

Abide sister, abide

You are free!

The words my dear friend has written have continue to resonate in my heart, even now.

This weekend, we were invited to intimacy, sharing our time and hearts with one another, and sharing in Christ's body, and his blood. At every gathering in which we listened to His message for us we shared in communion. From Thursday to Sunday I had communion five times, and I loved it. When I returned home in the evening, and headed to church, I sat there thinking "boy, I hope we do communion tonight." We did, and I was so eager to go.

On the first night of the retreat, our speaker, brought by God's grace, spoke of intimacy.
In the writing of the Lord's supper, it describes John - "the beloved" rolling over to ask Jesus who it is that will betray Him. He rolls over, and rests his head on the breast of Christ. He is close enough to hear his saviors heartbeat.

I long for that closeness, and I am beginning to understand. I am beginning to view myself, perhaps in the way that John does. He calls himself "the beloved"! He knows that he is so loved!

Jesus invites us to that kind of intimacy.

That night, as I talked to my Father, preparing my heart for communion, asked for more. I want more of You. That's all I want Jesus. I walked forward to tear from the loaf of bread, and as I tore, with the intention of taking a fairly hefty portion, I tried to break it off. But my bread would not tear. It kept ripping, and ripping, circling around the side of the bread! My eyes widened, as I tried to break it off again, and it continued to tear. I was left with a much larger portion than I had even intended to take, but as I walked back toward my seat, I could not help but grin. I asked for more of You, and You heard me. You gave me even more than I asked for!

This was just the beginning of Christ making a change in my heart.
I went through the weekend, continuing to learn. It was time to be still. Christ used the stupidness of my struggle to speak up and make friends, to teach me to come and sit with Him. So I paused, I breaked, I listened and read. And He brought comfort to my soul, and strength to my body.

He gave me strength, in this hope I cling to. He did it all so gently.

And then He taught me that it was time to be free.
He spoke "when are you going to learn to just fall on your knees, and ask for help?"

Perhaps, we, or I, am afraid that He won't be there when I need Him the most. But Jesus says we are to eat his body, and drink his blood. We are to be that close. That intimate. He is a part of me, and I of Him.

It was time to say "You know what Jesus? I don't know what I'm doing."
I can't do it on my own, and I've been ignorantly thinking I was letting you do the work, when I haven't at all. But I'm lost, I'm lost without You.

I have found that the best description of the current state of my heart is found in a song. A song that we sing when we meet as a church, and that has depicted my heart and soul and thoughts and joy and tears, so much better than I can.

Nothing compares to the life I have in You
Nothing of this world
satisfies
So I want to let go, I want to let You know
All that I have to
give is Yours

Here I am, as gold to the fire
I will surrender to Your
hand
To this place Lord I have come
Ready for Your touch

It's all
for You, it's all for You
I'm letting go, I'm letting go
It's all for You,
it's all for You
I'm letting go, I'm letting go

What is it in me that hangs on for so long?
Why do I fight the tears that
come?
I work so hard to keep in control when
All that I want is to let
go

Here I am, as gold to the fire
I will surrender to Your hand
To
this place Lord I have come
Ready for Your touch

It's all for You,
it's all for You
I'm letting go, I'm letting go
It's all for You, it's all
for You
I'm letting go, I'm letting go

I'll take this life and lay it
down
I'm letting go, I'm letting go
My hopes and dreams
Here at Your
feet, I'm letting go
I'm letting go

It's all for You...
I'm letting
go...

I am ready for Your life
I'm ready for You now.

Selah

That day when evening came, he said to his disciples, "Let us go over to the other side." Leaving the crowd behind, they took him along, just as he was, in the boat. There were also other boats with him. A furious squall came up, and the waves broke over the boat, so that it was nearly swamped. Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion. The disciples woke him and said to him, "Teacher, don't you care if we drown?"
He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, "Quiet! Be still!" Then the wind died down and it was completely calm.

I`ve heard this story many, many times before. I`ve always thought of it, and had it taught to me, as "we`re going to go through storms and trials, Jesus will rescue us. Call on him, he`ll rescue you."
This is very true, Jesus will rescue you, and me. He hears us, he is a good God.

But let me tell you this story again.
Jesus is out on the water with his discples, when a huge storm hits. And what`s Jesus doing? He`s sleeping, that`s what he`s doing! Do you think his buddies were a little upset, perhaps? I would be. They wake him up, pretty much shouting "Jesus! What`s the deal? You`re not doing your job!! I`m dying over here! Come on, man!"

He get`s up from sleeping, and he says "Quiet! Be still!"

Maybe there`s something more to this.

In the midst of all this craziness, he was resting. Not only that, but to the craziness, he says "Quiet! Be still!"

Maybe we`ve been missing something here.

Adalia: "God hears"

Tonight I walked into my room, to do some cleaning. I was ready to quietly, and carefully do some of the work I needed to get done. Feeling quiet, and quite delicate, I decided to light the many candles I have strewn throughout my room. As I lit them, I thought, "I wonder how Adalia feels about these..."
I don't know why I wondered what my bird thought of having candles lit around her, but as I thought that, I turned to open her cage so she could perch outside on top of it, and strech a little. I hadn't done that in a little while. I turned, and saw the precious creature lying on her side, with closed eyes.
My heart reacted as a small child, as I squeaked "birdy?!" my throat clenched up, as I gasped "oh, Adalia. Oh, no Adalia I'm so sorry."

My little birdie is gone.
And my heart is broken.
I didn't initially react with tears, but a few minutes in, I am crying, and feeling quite heartbroken.

I wasn't expecting to lose my little dove today. Oh, I miss her already.
When I was walking around the mall today, I actually walked into the pet store, feeling oddly compelled to bring home a little fish, or something of the sort.
But I thought, no, I need to make sure I'm taking care of my bird, I don't want to add someone else into the mix.
Perhaps I should've listened to that thought telling me to bring a little critter home. It seems as if it was a way to have comfort..you know, bringing new life in the midst of a death.

My heart hurts a lot.
If you could pray, I'd appreciate it.
It may seem trivial, but, animals have a special place in my heart. I just love them a lot.