intentional life – EAST WILLOW PLACE

The Story of the Glorious Kingdom: Part One

Let me tell you a story…

Once upon a time, there was a glorious kingdom ruled by a monarch of unsurpassed excellence, wisdom, and might. This king had two adopted children, and daily he met with them in the palace gardens to teach them about the kingdom. They had wonderful times together, and they loved each other dearly.

There was, however, an insidious and evil High Chancellor who plotted to take the throne! He had planted his traitorous spies and assassins throughout the kingdom.

One dark night, war broke out. Though the King and his armies were victorious, as the enemy retreated, the royal children were kidnapped and taken as prisoners.

Gagged, bound, beaten, thrown into a filthy cart, they could only weep in terror and sorrow as they watched their beloved home shrink in the distance.
The dark shadowy mist of the wild territory of their enemy became all they knew in the months ahead. They were forced to work as slaves deep in the mines of the enemy’s fortress, chained in the cold darkness and treated with brutality.

The children tried to recall the things their King-Father would talk about with them in the gardens back in the wonderful, dreamlike days before their imprisonment, but it was hard to remember clearly. Hope was thin and threadbare.

Then, one day, an unusual Messenger rode into the dark territory – an Ambassador sent by the King of the glorious Kingdom! He had come to reclaim not only his children, but all the slaves, and had brought an unimaginably large amount of treasure as ransom.

Their foul enemy mockingly laughed as he greedily counted the treasure, for he planned to keep the ransom and the slaves and kill the Ambassador.

Suddenly his laughter strangled in his throat, and he cowered like a dog, as the Ambassador threw off his outer robes and was revealed to be – the King himself, with a blazing sword in hand and fire in his eyes!

The King contemptuously and furiously beat him with the flat of his sword, sending him yelping in pain and humiliation and scurrying like a rat out the nearest door.

Then the King searched the dungeons till he found his children. He struck off their chains and brought them out to a light-filled open square. He wept with joy as he held their bruised, filthy bodies close to his heart.

Kissing their faces and looking into their tear-filled eyes, he told them that though they were now free, it was not yet time to return home.

In the meantime, they were to tell as many slaves as possible that their time of enslavement was over! Because their freedom was purchased by the King, they now had citizenship and a future home in the glorious Kingdom. They and any slave who claimed the King as their own would be given full rights and citizenship as his royal children.

The King had the children bathed and fed, and gave them clean, lovely robes and bright crowns of gold to wear as proof that they were his Royal Ambassadors.

Then he pulled from his bag a large leather book, carefully copied by his own hand. Written in the language of the glorious kingdom, it contained all that the Ambassador-Children would need to know to complete their task before the King returned.

As he handed them each a copy of his Book, it transformed into swords exactly like His – swords that glowed with a warm white light, strong enough to kill a dragon, sharp enough to split a hair, yet light enough that a child could carry it.

The children solemnly and with fierce joy strapped on their weapons. Then after one last long embrace and promise of His swift return, the King rode off.

The children, watching, saw his strong, upright form slowly grow faint in the mist. Then they turned, bright faced, back to the dark territory to start the task of declaring to the other slaves the same truth and promise they had been given, and to wait with fierce joy for their King-Father’s victorious return.

(Part Two coming soon – stay tuned!)

Wear your crown. Carry your sword. – Maria

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How Your Little Kindnesses Make Big Impact in Life

I was often the shortest kid in my classes at school. Since my birthday was in the summer, I was usually one of the youngest as well. And since I was also insecure and shy, it just made sense that I would be a lackey to another kid who was more of a leader.

So, at age six, attending an international school in Hong Kong, I was a weak-willed follower of a charismatic, taller, lovely bully (I’ll call her Lana) who domineered my recess times and dictated my interactions with the other kids for many months.

(We finally broke off our relationship when I stood up to her one day and she then punched me ferociously in the stomach, but that’s another story.)

During the course of my friendship with Lana, for no discernable reason that I can fathom, a boy in one of the older classes (4 grades above mine) took an interest in Lana and me. During recess he would often stroll over (looking very tall to my eyes) to where we were, to say hello and chat with us (specifically me) in a friendly way.

His name was Ben, and his kind face and friendly questions were deeply surprising to me, since I had not imagined that I was worth the notice or time of anyone in any of the older classes.

After the first startling encounter and initial suspicious thoughts (Why is this older boy talking to me? Is he trying to make fun of me in some way?), I began to relax, feeling that he was safe, that I could trust his kindness.

Lana kept a tight control on our interactions, however, and I don’t recall any conversation with him that she didn’t attempt to control.

Once, near the Christmas holidays, two cards were delivered to our class by someone from the upper grades – one for Lana, and one for me. I had no idea who would have sent me a card, and was thrilled and delighted when I opened it and saw it was from Ben, wishing me a happy Christmas.

When Ben found us on the playground later that week, and asked if we had received his cards, I looked up and said, “Yes!” I don’t remember if I said thank you, but I wanted to.

Lana, however, jabbed me in my side, narrowed her eyes at me, and quickly lied, “No, we haven’t!” and I looked at her, startled, but was afraid to contradict her and risk her anger. So I weakly parroted, “No, we haven’t…”

Ben, looking displeased and disappointed, said directly to me, “You don’t have to do everything she says, you know,” and then walked away. I was embarrassed and sorry. I don’t think he ever spoke to me after that.

That term was his last at our school, and I never saw him again. But I have always remembered him.

Ben’s seemingly small, insignificant kindnesses to me were not small or insignificant.

Having a stranger demonstrate that I had value and merited time and kindness – through no effort of my own – was deeply impactful in a season where I felt unseen and of little worth.

He had no way of knowing that at that time in my life, my parents were going through significant marital trouble, and my home life was unsettled and tense. Lana’s friendship was conditional and I was constantly afraid of displeasing her. I had no other close friends.

Whether or not Ben knew it, I believe God used him to show me His love in that time. And I will always remember it with sincere gratitude.

We often carry hidden hurt places and unseen heavy burdens. It is not always the big things that bring solace, but the little kindnesses that can give the strength to take another step, another breath, to get through the hard of each day.

It’s important that you and I remember to not trivialize the potential impact of the little things we do.

The smiles we give, the kind words we say, the small graces and little gifts of attention and love – these can be immensely powerful and deeply life-giving to the hearts and lives we touch – whether our own family or perfect strangers.

We may never truly know or understand the repercussions of our actions, but the Father of us all sees and knows – and He may be placing us exactly where we are to be His gentle hands, His whispered kindness, His smiling eyes to the broken and aching people around us.

(Ben, thank you. I felt God’s love in your kindness. I’m sorry it’s taken over thirty years to tell you. I pray for you to this day.)

“And the King will say, ‘I tell you the truth, when you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were doing it to me!’” (Matthew 25:40, NLT)

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Open This Now! Discovering Beautiful Gifts in Every Day

Hey Friend!
A couple of months ago I took an online course. While the course was good, the biggest thing that I took away from it was a short, daily pre-bedtime routine that the instructor encouraged.

A guided journal page was provided, for both the morning and the evening, and at first I was wary: Another time commitment? Seriously? How helpful could this really be, especially when it was the same format each day? (Did these people get that I have a lot of little kids and not a lot of free time?)

And yet, to my surprise, I have found that this small practice has been deeply significant because it has helped change the way I look at each day.

Plus it only takes me five minutes at most.

Every night in a journal, I write answers to a few questions. Two of those questions have been especially transformative for me, and I’m hoping they might be for you, too.

The questions are:

– What three gifts were you given today?

– What three gifts did you give today?

The first time I saw these questions, I was slightly smug about the first (I’m always harping on being thankful to my kids, so surely I could easily find three things each night to remember with gratitude!), and slightly irritated by the second (what if I was super busy being a household executive and mama all day? Did making three meals a day qualify as a “gift”? What about vacuuming or folding someone’s underwear? Did giving a hug count?).

But, each night, I committed to thinking, remembering, and listing: Three things I had been given, three things I had given.

Asking to remember things I had been given as a gift quickly turned out to be a little bit different than merely jotting down “things I was thankful for”, because even if it turned out that I was writing the exact same things, to see them in the light of a gift was to create a shift in thinking.

It meant that I was acknowledging my place as a recipient of something (rather than continuously in the illusion of control), and that I was also acknowledging the giver and their kindness and intentional thoughtfulness toward me.

A gift is something given on purpose. So to recognize anything as a gift is also to recognize the meaningful action that someone made so that I could experience it.

Our God is the best gift-giver, of course, delighting to give good things to his children (Matthew 7:11). For me, many times a gift I wrote down has been from Him. To list something on the page and then be nudged by my own writing to tell Him, “Thank you for this today,” has been an incredible reminder of the tenderness, incomprehensible kindness, and deeply intimate nature of my Father.

He knows best what will give me the most joy and greatest encouragement, and it has been so precious to have my heart cared for in such a personal way. I have discovered that He often tucks little gift-moments for me throughout my day – but like a treasure hidden in plain sight, I have to be aware and alert to notice them or I pass right by.

For example, the other day a few of my children were in another room, discussing their favorite smells. I wasn’t in the conversation, as I was busy in the kitchen. I happened to overhear one of my younger sons tell the others that his favorite was the way Mom smelled when she first came out in the morning. (I guess he’s a fan of my shower gel and perfume!)

What made this sincere, funny comment so precious to me was the reminder that of all the people in the world, I am the one who has the ability to bring him the most comfort and sense of loving well-being – even if it’s just from the way I smell as he gives me a hug in the morning.

The gift here was not only knowing I am my child’s favorite smell (!), but that God has given me the humbling task of being such a pivotal and foundational part of my child’s formative years. He loves the way I smell because of what and who I am to him, and that responsibility is a gift from God to me.

It can often be a more intangible thing, like a thoughtful text from friend checking in on me. Or the way my husband calls me on his way home from work, then quietly listens while I tell him how hard and exhausting my day was, and then tells me he’s proud of me and thinks I’m doing an amazing job. (Yep, my husband makes it on the list very frequently.)

As for the second question: What three gifts have I given…?

To know that I will need to write answers to this question means that during my days I have started looking for things I can deliberately give: five minutes reading a short book with a struggling child who needs a little attention and a cuddle. A loving text to a friend who has been on my mind. Making a special treat for afternoon snack time that I know my kids will enjoy. Holding a toenail-painting session for my girls in the kitchen. Stopping for a minute to look one of my sons straight in the eyes and tell him something that I am really proud of and love about him. Giving my exhausted husband a shoulder massage. Writing an encouraging email to another weary mama of littles. Sending a card in the mail to a lonely long-distance loved one…

Because of this one little question, I have found that it motivates me to be much more intentional and take action on the many little things that could make a strong difference to others. And on the days when I don’t manage to complete what I had hoped, I know I will try again tomorrow.

I am grateful for grace and fresh starts.

Listing these things each night doesn’t make me feel arrogant, as I had initially thought I might. It actually only strengthens my sense of gratitude that I was able to do things that gave joy to others, and to discover the joy it gave my own heart when I did.

It’s become like an exciting challenge each day – what can I give? What can I notice that was given me? Both experiences bring joy. Both are beautiful gifts that come each day.

Each day can be full of beautiful gifts if we choose to see it that way.

There is joy found in receiving. There is joy found in giving. Becoming more aware of these joys has been a practice that gives more depth, intentional awareness, and delight to my days.

And it will for you, too.

Want to join me in my short-yet-meaningful evening journaling practice of looking for the gifts in each day?

Each night, take five minutes before you jump in bed. (Or fall in bed, or collapse into bed. Whatever it is you do, do this first!) Just grab a pencil and a blank notebook page, and answer these two questions:

– What are three gifts you were given today?

– What are three gifts you gave today?

Commit to keeping it up for a month. Then you can quit if you want. But you might find, like me, that it becomes a very valuable practice, and you might not be willing to put it aside.

Creating awareness of the gifts you have been given and the gifts you can give each day is also creating awareness of joy. Living with a heart abundant with joy and gratitude – that is the most beautiful gift ever.

– Maria

Please share this post on your social media! (It’ll be a gift you gave today, wink wink.) I’ll be thrilled and grateful!

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