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A Jealous God.
Won't allow His daughters to live slaving lies.
His bride will be pure.
And it has been a week of wash basin and towel.
In the hands of the Servant Savior.
Water and the Word, see.
That's the right way to get cleaned up.
After a bit of mucking around.
In the pit of pride.
Attending that self pity party.
Dressed for a ball until I see Him waiting and watching.
Standing over the vats of water with His rod.
I don't whine.
I am a grape that must be pressed.
By His feet.  By His walk.
By His relentless witness and the way He always says.
"Pick it up, Beloved.  Pick up your cross, now.  Again.  And follow Me all the way home."

Home,

Bernadette

On Truth

Truth.

Know Truth.
Love Truth.
Walk in the Truth.


And The Truth Shall Make You Free.

Bernadette

His Name is LOVE

Love smiles.
Love encourages.
Love strikes terror in the one who terrorizes.
Love reproves and strikes with His rod.
Love hushes the howl of fear.
Love takes our hands.
Love gives us dreams.
Love shows His face in friends.
Love covers us in His soft feathers.
Love never leaves us alone.
Love understands.
Love prays.
Love loves our souls.
Love is... relentless.

Love never fails.

Bernadette

BULL IN CHINA SHOP

Up early, feet hit the floor running.
Guzzle coffee, burning throat, and swallow meds and vitamins and the rush.
Short with the boy to get out of bed and hit it.  I've got my agenda today.
Yell down the stairs at the Kitten to get up.
No back rub wake-ups today.
Start the laundry and go to the boy's bathroom for dirty towels.
Scrub their toilet, wash the counter, sink and mirror.
See my reflection.
Scowling.
I am monster mom.
Starting without the Word.
The whole day off kilter because I didn't trust Him with my time.
And now...
Everyone's lost here, and those check marks next to my to-do items seem.
Cheap.
Cheap because I made the Boy cry with all my barking.
And scared the Kitten to hide under a blanket.
What am I doing?
I thought we had this down now.
Done.
My face crumples repentance, and the mirror breaks my heart.
I am Israel going around that mountain.
And God is still God.
The Pillar in me.
The Strength.
The Redeemer of this mad heart.

The Holder of Time,

Bernadette

Eucharisteo

Giving thanks...
For the school room contained once again.
Their heads bent over books.
Girls in french braids.
Little leaves pushing through.
Boxes and boxes ready to go to Good Will.
Working hard with my hands.
Holding her in my heart.
A daughter become friend who takes me in her arms.
And says..."I love you, Mama.  It's going to be okay."
Five "girl" push-ups.
Friends coloring in family for me.
All gathered around my table feeling...
Comfortable.
Warm.
Surprising me with Joy.
What God is teaching me about Self Control.
A fruit of His Spirit.
Not a whip.  Not a belt.
A happy fourteen year old getting to play hard with a good friend.
Spontaneity.
The Shoulders reaching for my hand at church.
A son who says, "Thank you for your honesty."
Hard things drawing my heart to HIS.
All the broken beautiful.
Words.
The Word.

Grateful,

Bernadette

Yes, Jesus Loves Me

Jesus loves you, friend.
Don't you see that He hung on a tree so you could live free?
Because He loves you, friend.
Jesus loves you,

bernadette

Really? Cyber Prayers?

In the dark hours of morning.
I find myself weeping.
Sitting in all the calm before the storm.
Grateful that I've been given time with this Jesus.
That He has spoken His Word over me today.
That He connects my heart to a whole world out there, and how it makes me cry.
Wish I could catch every hurting soul up in my arms.
And carry them straight to my Father's.
Everlasting.
Just...
Drawing every soul on the planet close in my prayers.

Won't you join me?

Bernadette

Open Prayer...Join Me?

Our Father.
Is it even possible?
To link up and link hands?
Hold a whole nation.
Fallen.
That it might repent and stand once again?
Under God?
Under YOU?
Can we fold tent hands in prayer?
For my dear new friend suffering from chronic illness?
That she would know that she is not alone tonight?
That You shine strong in her weakness.
And for the lost, Lord?
For the hurting?
For the... lonely?
Father we pray for.
A RETURN.
A REPENTANCE.
A RECONCILIATION.
A RESTORATION.
A RENEWAL.
A REVIVAL.

In my heart first, Lord.  Here first.

Thanks,

Bernadette

Wendy

Three little boys bearing bags of goodness.
One with a proud smile.
Because he's pretty big now.
All this life and zest.
Their eyes full of wonderful.
Can't stop touching their blessed heads.
Little boys in little jeans.
Filling my heart with their dimpled smiles.
Making my head swim joy memories.
Remembering a world so big.
And their sweet mama coming along nicely now.
In her sixth month of making miracles.
Patiently tutoring me in the hidden art of slide shows.
Jesus all over her face.
Us scratching our heads.
Our traditional goodbye salute.
She drives away leaving me kind of breathless.
And pregnant with hope for the future.

My Wendy,

Bernadette

At The End Of A Day

JUST YOUR PRESENCE HERE.
COME TO TAKE ME IN THIS CHAIR.
THE SILENCE IS LOUD.
AND YOU ARE IN MOLECULES.
I WOULD SACRIFICE SLEEP TO REST HERE WITH YOU.
TO FEEL YOU FILLING IN ALL THAT HAS BEEN EMPTIED OUT IN THE DAY.
TO BE WASHED IN YOUR LOVE.
LAUGHING TEARS TUMBLE.
JOY IS WET AND I'M SO...
RELIEVED.
TO SIT ALL ALONE AT YOUR FEET.
THE PLACE WHERE ALL I AM ASKED TO BE IS YOURS.

ALONE,

BERNADETTE

On Sacrifice So

That a God so big.
Would send a Son so humble.
To dye a death so excruciating.
For a girl so lost.
And a life so derailed.
With shoes so full of shame.
And a heart so full of the grave.
That it was so hard to receive.
The gift that was so undeserved.
The way He stretched His arms so wide.
And said.  "This is so finished."
Because God so loved the world.
That He gave is only Son so beloved.

Jesus,

Bernadette


a repost

On Spring Snowstorms and The Son

Let's just turn our faces to the Son.
Because it's snowing here today, and we are frustrated.
Waking to a white world, shaking our heads no.
Born and raised in Montana.
And still saying "No."
To Snow.
Are you smiling?
Do you ever wonder at the way God put it all together?
Us yet buried in the death of winter.
Cocooned away in grey.
Waiting for this struggling burst of beauty, color, and...
FLIGHT.
Longing for wings so much it makes our skin hurt.
And how we must wait on the Lord because He's the weatherman.
He keeps us tucked away in holy hibernation.
Quietly.
Hidden.
Away.
Until it's time to try.

To Fly,

Bernadette

Eucharisteo

For time away.
Coming unplugged.
All for the sake of a Boy.
Who needs fun like air.
Water drops hanging liquid orbs off those endless lashes.
Him smiling all gums and teeth everywhere.
This is what twelve looks like.
Remember?
For focused time on the two youngest.
Hanging off my arm and...
"Thank you for this, Mom.  Thank you, forever."
Coming home again.
Knowing every country bump on our lane as we arrive in the dark hours of morning.
For that feeling of home.
The way the laundry looks familiar lumped in soft piles on the floor of the mudroom.
A soldier making pita bread in my kitchen.
His hands full of dough, and us talking and laughing.
Just that I got to watch my three oldest worship God together.
Her voice singing Jesus.
A Return.
The SilentDeep on bass, and the Kind and Compassionate on the drums.
The rhythm he keeps, a steady cry to be noticed, singled out, loved.
Me just overcome with the honor of knowing them.
Bowing low at the throne to confess, again, all my inadequacies.
Falling short.
The StrongSoft getting her baby lambs, and sharing the adventure with dear friends.
The two of us sitting in the darkened loam of the shed at six this morning.
Bottle feeding and talking, and her kissing them on the head.
Blonde beauty dressed in her dad's carhart jacket and sitting on a five gallon bucket in her pajamas.
And the spring snow that flies these thick flakes of white wonder.
The sky close enough to touch.
Staying up most of the night to finish a good book.
Coffee.
Missing my son gone back for school.
Holding him tight and close in my prayers.
All this eucharisteo.
And for writing.
Because it holds the world still long enough.

For me,

Bernadette

Happy Birthday, Freedom Journal!

One year in the life of a freedom journal.
Words tapped out for the world.
For ONE.
One heart no longer hidden.
A life that says, "Here I am, Lord.  Send me."
With sweat dripping down her back.
In an old chair that rocks her only comfort.
There have been days...
When I have known that Jesus set me up.
Thought I would just paint pretty pictures of freedom.
Too late, realized.
The picture He gave is what He asks of us all.
To hang our lives outstretched.
Naked and...
UNASHAMED.
No.  He alone bore that burden.
Wearing our names right there on His heart.
The names of souls who would swing great blows on the nails.
While He interceded on our behalf.
So we could live in all this great billowing freedom.
Free from the tyranny of the enemy of our souls.
Freedom that Jesus purchased on that terrible, beautiful day.
Yes...
To live FREE.
That is our mission, friends.

Should we choose to accept it.

Bernadette

ps
Freedom Journal is taking a vacation!  I'm taking some unplugged time to be with my family this coming week.  Thanks to all you freedom fighters out there who read and comment and support and pray and encourage... and don't mind so much that I write in run ons and fragments. :)  Love you all!

Ode to Scripture

Sing me songs of Jesus.
and His written Word.
Hide them in my heart, Oh God.
Draw me closer to You, Lord.
Word of God speak.
Your Words of Life to me.
that I might fix my eyes and heart.
and soul and mind on thee.
Wrap me in the Psalms
so I can feel Your grace.
Instruct my heart with Proverbs
so I will know my place.
The Gospels are the light house
Acts the bulbs that shine
Ephesians says you love me
Revelation, the end of time.
That Word that came from Hebrews
Today was just for me.
Scripture is the sharpening tool.
The Way that makes us free.

Bernadette

Open Prayers...Join Me?

This old chair with sun streaming through the windows turning the whole room on.  I close my eyes and let the Son shine on my face, and in my mind we walk through fields and fields of gold.  Our fingers gently caressing the tops of a whole harvest, and together Jesus and I pray for the lost.  For this one.  And for that one.  For my brothers and sisters across the globe who are sitting alone in the dark.  Lost.  Crowded by lies and pain and slavery.

We pray for them.

Children starving to death from lack of food all around the world.  Children here in America love starving and without protection and the teaching of the things of God.  Whole societies drowning in the flood of evolution and the wicked lie that they are just mud between Darwin's toes.  Cruelty that has stolen the hearts of God's children away from Him as they sit in school learning that they are nothing more than an animal.  Surviving in a jungle and wild with out a loving Father to protect them.

We pray for them.

For the persecuted church and for their families.  I don't know their names, but my heart is with them just now.  My spirit leaps at the thought of those suffering in chains for the sake of the Gospel.  For God's sake.  I hang my head in deepest pangs of mingled sorrow and pride.  Give them strength to endure, Lord.

Let's pray for them.

For those suffering chronic illness and pain.  For those trapped in beds of depression.  For their families too.  Grace and Peace.  Healing power of Christ.  And the acceptance of the Sovereign, and His perfect will and plan for His beloved children.

Can we pray for them too?

For the younger generations, Lord.  For those who cut themselves because it hurts less than the world somehow.  For the lie that beauty is achieved by starving yourself to death, or throwing your guts up into a dirty toilet.  For those enslaved to pornography and its shame chains.  God of heaven, we beg You to action.  Hurting hearts in great need, Lord.

Pray.

Jesus is seated at the right hand of His Father.  Our Father.  He is interceding on our behalf, and friends, let us stir each other to prayer.  The harvest is plentiful.  The needs are great.

The time is now,

Bernadette

Freedom Fast

A good friend far away invites me into a different kind of fast.  She says we will say "NO" to hurting ourselves with our words.  We will extend grace to others in our lives and...to ourselves.  I'm not really sure why this makes me angry, but it does.  I am the biggest wrecking ball in my life.  Because it's comfortable.  Because it's what I do.  It is long the only thing that has made me feel like I have some control over my life, and sadly, it is something I'm good at.  Right.  I'm good at something bad.

Remember my dream of hell?  Remember how the enemy of our souls speaks there?  I.  Should know.  I.  Was there.  His words are the tearing down words.  And when we agree with those words...it makes hell on earth for us, now doesn't it?  Right?

Jesus is the Word.  The Life.  He is the Life Giving Words. 

I think this is what makes me so angry.  I love the Lord, but I live like the devil, and I don't want that pointed out so much.  When I take Satan's word over Christ's, I take my linen robe and put it on a pig.  Let's dress up that stink there, Miss Piggy.  Yuck.

Since my friend laid the challenge down, I have picked it up.  It has made me notice how mean I am to myself.  Not God's thoughts.  How cruel I am to my own heart.  Not God's ways.   It breaks my heart to think of the Beloved hanging on the tree, nailed down in perfect love...the ultimate price and the only gift worth eternity.  I mock Him.  Jeer.  Say "If You are really the Son of God, save yourself."

Save yourself from me, Lord.

He gazes down, and when our eyes catch I know not what I do.  Because in His eyes, I am loved so completely that all the wicked words I have heard and believed and taken as my own to speak again and again, are exposed.  As lies.  The truth pierces the cruel and breaks its chains of death, and I walk again as a free woman.

Free to Fast from Falsehood.   Free from the lies of my enemy.  Free from those cruel blows to this soul.

Whom the SON has set free, is free.

Free Indeed,

Bernadette

Amazed

It is like this some days.
I wake already in tears.
At the story of the cross.
The Hero Who made a way.
For me to put my feet to the floor.
Walk on Wood.
Draw in Breath.
Live this Life.
Because He is Life.
The Light of all men.
Me.
And how can I live?
Anything but the undone life?
Ruined and Saved at the same time.
By a grace that consumes me.
Every corner of this soul-scarred life.
His.
His only.
Oh, what can I say?
To reach the heart of Jesus Christ today?
To press this little love and fill the holes.
In hands that hung for me.
For us, dear friends.
Remember.

Live Amazed,

Bernadette

Thanks Again

The children and their friends sitting around a full table of good food and laughter.
My writing students.
The way the Shoulders meets my eyes with that smile in them.
Him reading eternity to us.
First generation finding its way to pray.
Second generation finding its own wings.
A daughter who has had enough of luke warm.
The boy beginning to bear some fruit.
Hard times for a mama's heart in learning to trust Jesus with theirs.
Little violinists playing with their tongues sticking out.
A girl named Sal.
My soldier son smiling over the tops of four cheeseburgers.
Holding the StrongSoft in my arms.
Rocking her still.
Shhh.  Hush little girl, little woman who isn't afraid to need her mama.
Still.
HIS face in my mind when I close my eyes.
Prayer Partners that bear the heavy burdens.
Falling back into the Body of Christ.
The Hope of the Risen, Living, Breathing, Coming-Again Jesus.

The Blessed Hope,

Bernadette

Some Questions

If I don't know what tomorrow brings, can I trust that You will always be good?
When the whole world falls, Lord, will You catch me all up into You?
When I can't see where You are working?
Will you remind me that You never stop?
Are the sin stains really washed?
Am I Snow White?
Does the world see YOU in me?
Am I low enough, I AM?
Will You search me and know me?
God?

Will You now?

Bernadette

The Disciples To Do List

Delight in the Lord.
Confess your sin.
Devour His Word.
Work with your hands.
Devote your life to Jesus.
Ask Him for help.
Praise Him for all He has done.
Thank Him continuously.
Meditate on Scripture.
Memorize it.
Sing to the Lord!
Teach your children about the things of God.
Don't wait on the concordance...just look it up already.
Stand on the promises He made.
Trust that He's the best at keeping them.
Get on your knees a bit.
Get still for a moment even if your hands are elbow deep in sink suds.
Let the teaching of kindness be on your tongue.
Love one another.
That's how all men will know you are His disciples.

If you love one another,

Bernadette

PERHAPS TODAY!

All is quiet now.
And I am laying on the floor smiling.
Giddy for the time to be still.
More time coming my way.
Unless He returns for me.
For us.
You know...
The Hero of our story.
The One Who gathers us.
All up into His arms.
His LOVE surrounds.
Like the sound of that trumpet.
Yes.
I think perhaps I've been straining to hear it today.
Watching the sky.
For the Prince on a white horse.
The Rescuer.
My friend Mark Martin (calvaryphx.com) hangs a note next to his bathroom mirror.
"PERHAPS TODAY!"
Perhaps today, the Savior will make His return.
Sometimes I wonder how He'll find me.
I always hoped it would be reading my Bible.
His Words.
But a close second would be this...
Just me smiling out into nothingness.

At all His goodness,

Bernadette

ON TIGERS

The Boy can't sleep either.
Wish he was still small.
So I could put him on my lap.
Rock him in this old chair.
Kiss his moles and
Admire his long, black lashes.
The ones that make the girls a bit goofy.
My heart fills.
He looks up at me and smiles.
Because I've not scolded him back to bed.
Because he knows.
That I am enjoying his company.
That God is slowing us all down.
So we can delight in each other.
Instead of running over the tops of hearts.
To get the world done.
The beauty of sitting here with my son.

Tiger, you can have your tail,

Bernadette