Schnitzels of His Grace

A sick child ( Ok,  so what if he is 18 years old,  he is still my "baby").   Strep throat, fever, antibiotics, doctor visits, soft foods, popsicles and puddings,  motherhood skills beckon.

He's about to graduate in a few weeks.  My eyes brim,  where did the years go?  I remember the day you were born,  over there in the Land of Schnitzel.   As I pondered what word to use there,  Schnitzel came to mind, but what did it really mean?  I thought it was just a fancy porksteak on a menu,  but the Langenscheidt German pocket dictionary yielded more depth.

Schnitzel :  1.  noun,  schnitzel; 2.  Chip;  paper: scrap;~ pl.  parings.  pl., shavings pl.;  paper:  a. clippings,  chip, shred; whittle.

How interesting.  My blog here is just that,  scraps,  parings of grace.   It is also tied to the word Schnitzer. a carver,  carving , carved work.  

God is carving me.  He is carving His work in my life.  I am a new creature in Him,  everyday His grace if fresh and new and waiting for me to appropriate it.  Why do I neglect Him and this wonderful gift He has given?

I let things clutter my life until the pressures of life threaten to blow like a pressure cooker.  He is there,  waiting on my bookshelf,  waiting for me to spend time with Him in fellowship of His word.  Waiting for me to invite Him to the beginning of my day.  Yet,  I rush by.   Then,  "When life's a lid,"  I find the handle.   (Thanks Ann Voskamp at  www.aholyexperience.com  for your post today. )

She,  (Ann Voskamp)  mentions the nature journals she uses with her family.  I scan my bookshelf for a book that was given to me after my grandmother's death, 22 years ago.  She died the day after I trusted Christ and invited Him to come into my life,  to give me new life.   The book, " The Country Diary of An Edwardian Lady" by Edith Holden is located on my shelf.  An excerpt from  the insert of the book jacket reads:

"On January 1,  1906,  Edith Holden made the first entry in a diary which was to record the countryside through the changing seasons.  Her words, all carefully written by hand, include her favorite poems, personal thoughts, and observations on the wildlife surrounding her home in the village of Olton, Warwickshire.   The exceptionally beautiful paintings on every page of birds , butterflies, bees and flowers reflect her deep love of nature;  they have been executed with a naturalist's eye for detail and the sensitivity of an artist."

This full color facsimile of her diary was found in my grandmother's belongings after her sudden death on April 23, 1989.   I am her only grand daughter, but she had three daughters who love beautiful things.  Imagine the squeals of delight when this book was discovered,  then imagine my squeal of joy when I found the following handwritten inscription on the inside cover of the book:

   1978,   To Tammy with my love,

                            Grandmama Lucille

I am blessed again with a piece,  a scrap of His Grace.    The pain of grief surges again,  but is replaced by a smile,  remembering the joy of love.  The joy of my grandmother's love for me.  The joy of the  love He gave me,  a lost and often wayward child,  the grace He bestows as I return to His fellowship.   My lid has been on too tight these past weeks. 

I found my shoes on the bookshelf,   thanks,  Ann,  for reminding me to look for them. 

The Grace of this particular Good Friday

April 22, 2011.   04/22/2011.  A significant date, yes.   A day full of God's grace,  yes.    For me,  yes.   This day,  22 years ago,  on the 22nd of April became a signpost day for me.  A day of God's grace.  A day of His mercy.   It was on this day, 22 years ago, that I surrendered.   The Flag of my heart was lowered and the white flag of surrender was raised to the King. 

For months,  He had been gently drawing me to Himself.   I had resisted,  in confusion, in pride.  His Word had been convicting me.  I had so many questions about Him.  I wanted to do what was right.  I was a "good girl" ,  a "good nurse".... a  "good person".   I wasn't like those dirty rotten sinners that drank or were drug addicts.  I wasn't perfect,  I knew that....I just wasn't that bad.  Pride had warped my thinking.

For weeks and months  the Master Farmer had been gently breaking the soil in my heart.  People praying for me,  yes.   God's mercy extended,  yes.  My mind,  my will, my emotions,  No.  

The Word was sewn ever so gently.  Digging in a flower bed,  I discovered deep roots.   Roots that kept springing up, roots that threatened to choke out the life of the tender plants.  Then,  while digging  really deep,  I discovered some stinking , nasty, dirty rags.   Filthiness in my garden.  Why?  The Word came to my mind, 
Isaiah  64:6  " But we are all as an unclean thing,  and all our righteousnesses are as filthy rags;  and we all do fade as a leaf; and our iniquities, like the wind, have taken us away."

Filthy rags,  stinking filthy rags.   All my righteousnesses .....not some, not part,  but ALL.  But Lord,  haven't I done good things in your Name?   Haven't I been a good person?  I try to be good.

He spoke back to my heart,   "And in that day I said  unto them,   Depart from me,  ye that work iniquity,  I never knew you."

But I thought I knew Him.   I had made a profession.  I had an emotional experience.   But the cold hard facts of that profession was that I was still trusting in myself and not in the One who gave Himself for me. 

So,  when April 22 came around,  I was found attending a Ladies Conference in Long Beach, California.   I took my goodness, my strong will,  my pride with me.  I wanted to do what was right,  I was bewildered and confused by the teaching I had heard in recent months.  Bewildered because as the Light of the Word shone on my life,  I saw how dismally I lacked.   I began to examine my life in the light of God's Word and I found that I was saying one thing and doing another.   Isn't that the struggle of our lives? 

So,   after all the preaching and the talks from older ladies of God,  I found myself travelling home,  still miserable and full of questions.  A stop in Barstow, California for a bathroom break found me at the Cross road of my life.   The toilet was filthy,  nasty and dirty.   My mother had taught me to never sit on a dirty toilet seat, and here I was faced with the dirtiest I'd ever seen.  So,  I began to carefully tear sheets and strips of toilet paper off and "cover" the nastiness.  

I had been covering my "nastiness" for a very long time.   It was time to see that nothing I could do, could change this nastiness.   I needed SomeOne to clean the nastiness and take it away.   Jesus spoke to my heart that day,  in a dirty bathroom in Barstow, California on April 22, 1989  and told me He would not cover my sin,  He would take my sin away,  He would become my sin, and die for my sin and wash me whiter than snow.  All I had to do was believe Him and receive Him into my life.  He would change me.   And He has changed me! 

I am thankful for His Grace in my life.  Glory to His Holy Name!