I'm So Grateful to be Planted

Those who are planted in the house of the LORD Shall flourish in the courts of our God.They shall still bear fruit in old age; They shall be fresh and flourishing, To declare that the LORD is upright; He is my rock, and there is no unrighteousness in Him!

I may not be "old", but I'm a grandmother now, and Biblically, that gives me a right to open my mouth and speak the word of the Lord. I'll never forget, shortly after Hannah discovered she was pregnant, the Holy Spirit spoke to me clearly and succinctly, and said, "You are now that older woman." (..."the older women should teach the younger women...")

Of course, I took that as a compliment. My self esteem is through the roof these days - because my concept of womanhood has, over a period of many years, been transformed to be more Biblical than ever. Becoming a grandparent has not diminished my sense of femininity or sensuality or joy or energy. If anything, life has gotten sweeter, and marriage more intimate and fulfilling - and believe me, it has always been good, if hard at times. So to be able to say that marriage is better and sweeter is saying something quite nice.

Physically, I feel as young as ever. I'm in great health. And I admit to the gift of good genes - my own mother does not at all show her age. Spiritually, there's a good bit of miles on the motor, as I've walked and talked with the God of all grace for 38 years now. I'm bearing fruit in my old(ish) age.

I'm flourishing, because I am planted. But I'm not just planted any-old-where. I'm planted in the local church. I've built a grace-bridge to the people I love in my local church...and it will never be burned by my hands. I can't be a blessing, or build a bridge to the church universal...I want to see you try to "bear the burdens" of the "church universal", or even the "church internet". I want to see you try to "imitate the faith of those over you" when you, in fact, answer to no one in particular; or when you, in fact, don't really know those who watch over your soul.

The long and the short of it is this: you really have to be planted in the church local, in order to flourish. I find it sad when people think they are flourishing outside the church local. All it is, is they have seen a measure of success, and they think that's all there is. When there is so, so much more.

But the "more" comes at a mighty price.

Nothing...nothing matures you like right relationships. Nothing separates the precious from the worthless like gut-honest communication by flawed people, with equally flawed people. Nothing defines spiritual leadership more than the insistence on relationship as priority over moralism, nothing tests leadership more than the defense of relationships in the context of Christian community. To walk in that sort of leadership, you have to have a theological and practical understanding of the God Who Is Community.

If you are not planted, get planted. If you have broken relationships, go back and repair them with the people who count...versus attempting to re-establish communication with people you perceive as being on the peripheral. (There's something creepy about that - everyone knows.) If you were offended by the choir director, then it is the choir director you need to be emailing or calling, not the lady who takes care of the nursery. Trust me, you may not pick and choose who you will or won't get in touch with, if your real heart is to make things right. You must get in touch with the very ones you disagreed with, and if you hurt or betrayed anyone, you must get in touch with the very ones you hurt and betrayed. No one else. Not before you make things right with the people you wronged, or who wronged you. Even if that means the preacher and/or his wife. You. Go. There. First.

In painfully practical terms, being planted is a blessing....get planted. It is the only way to flourish all the way into old age. And really...is there another way to age? What is the alternative? Otherwise, you slowly wither and petrify and become stale, jaded, stilted, petty and comical, alone and a loner, bored and boring.

Ain't no way to live.

And now, back to my crazy-flourishing life...God, how I thank you for your gifts and the grace of your gifts...

Home Sweet Home

I've not a lot of words today, because there really are no words to describe. Only those who have grandchildren can possibly know.

The grandson came home from the hospital shortly after noon today. When I heard they were on their way, I fairly floated through the house, switching on the lights on the trees (yes, plural), turning on the Christmas music, making sure the outdoor speakers were working, just so that the new little family would hear Christmas tunes as soon as they got out of their car and onto the front porch. I turned on the space heater in the nursery, tied the "It's a boy!" balloon to the mailbox, wrote "WELCOME HOME" on the front storm door with window paint, and wished I had a long length of red carpet to unroll, reaching from the front door, down the driveway. Alas...red carpet was the only thing I was missing.

I thank you for the grace you extend me, allowing me to share the moment with you!



Proud Papa Justin with his wittle man...

Wittle man in his wittle Pooh Bear hat...


But the mercy of the LORD is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear Him, And His righteousness to children's children...

~Ps. 103:17

I Love Ya, Tomorrow, You're Only A Day Away!

Poppy and his namesake. This man of mine is thoroughly smitten. Utterly hopeless. He "got to" change Tidbit's poopy diaper today, and he texted me, just to brag. He is counting the minutes till Little Man and his parents get to come home. So am I.



Please bear with me for a short season, because I am Ga-Ga. My own mother warned me, but nothing could really prepare me for this love. I had to run several errands today (only one of which was to mail an important package to my soon-to-be-Marine. He is about to enter "The Crucible" stage of his training, and has to have hand-warmers, because of the danger of frostbite)...and those errands, coupled with last night's ice storm, kept me away from the hospital until about 5 PM. I was so not a happy camper.

As I stood in the Relentlessly Long Postal Line, the longing I felt to hold that grandson was a physical sensation in my chest.

And now I know exactly where my "Inner Man" is...my spirit-essence exists there, in the center of my body. I have physically felt my spirit rejoicing, these last two days since the birth of our Next Generation.

Not to diminish the awe and wonder of the human spirit, but your inner man rejoicing is much like a rumbling in the tummy. It is a flip-floppish activity that takes place just behind the stomach, coupled with a sense of weight...a solid heavy breathless joy unspeakable. It is a spin and a dance that the inner man does when it connects with the power and blessing of the grace of God.

I'm telling you that I could lay hands on the sick right now, and I'm thinking they'd be healed. There is such a sense of Presence, of God's manifest glory, in my inner being.

Our little Sugar Muffin is the physical manifestation of the spiritual reality of the grace of God...he represents Newness of Life. God is "all about" this stuff, I'm telling you the truth. Oh, how He loves you and me!

Double Blessing...

....across the "hundred acre wood" yesterday, our life-long friends were also having their baby boy...

...and so, forever, Ethan and Timothy will share the Bond of the Birthday Brotherhood. Who but God could have had such a creative, brilliant idea? We couldn't have planned anything more meaningful, or more fun, than this.

Both tidbits will be home for Christmas...both households bursting with joy unspeakable, full of glory.

Boasting in the Lord...

You know what??? This is what we Atchleys are all about. Others can have their "thing" that they are about. They can have the houses and lands, the sports cars, the "fancy creams and lotions", the livery and the livestock, their own private jet, or a castle in Spain. Give us the generations, give us people, give us relationships, and we feel like royalty.

Isn't he the most beautiful thing you ever saw??? The Lord hath been mindful of us, He hath blessed us. He hath blessed the house if Israel, He hath blessed the house of Aaron, the Lord hath blessed us small and great, the Lord hath increased us more and more, we and our children. We are the blessed of the Lord.

He's Here

doing some mobile blogging...it is almost ten p.m. and we are still at the hospital. little timothy paul was born at about five thirty this afternoon, weighing in at six pounds fourteen ounces, via c section. mommy and baby are doing fine. and he is absolutely breathtakingly perfect.

grandmommy here, yours truly, is a little frayed around the edges, but deliriously happy.

pictures soon, i promise.

and i love smart phones. love. them.

cannot believe i am blogging from the hospital.

thanks for the prayers...please also ask the father for a quick recovery...

Checklist Before Becoming a Grandmother

(above oil painting by Gaye Lynne LeGuire...)

I'm going about the house, today, preparing to be a grandmother. (Our daughter, her husband, and new baby will live with us, for now, while Justin completes his internship and his Master's degree...thus, after baby Timothy is born, they will come home from the hospital to this home.)

How does one prepare to be a grandmother? How...how...how...

I know what to do to prepare the house. I still have to clear out the fridge, sweep the floors, and make sure my little bag of power bars, knitting needles, yarn, and Diet Coke is packed - I'll be there for all of labor and delivery, per Hannah's request. At six o'clock in the morning, it will be the trip to the hospital.

I know how to prepare a home, but how do I prepare a heart? How do I prepare my heart for the birth of a Christmas baby..."my" Christmas grandchild? How do I get ready to step seamlessly into what I have heard is the sweetest role I will play in all of life?

How do I go about the mundane preparations for a time of glory?

Life really is all about maintenance. Even on the eve of weddings and births, even on the day after death, there must be clean clothes and warm meals and physical comfort given to the people I love. Such is the Life of Woman. Ask me how I know.

Somehow, my heart assimilates. Somehow, my mind is slowly wrapping itself around the fact that God is the God of the New Thing. And New overlaps Old, always. One must always be cleaning up around the edges, where Old and New have collided. One must always be ready to tend to the business of tidying up in the place of transition, while simultaneously airing out the chambers of the heart...letting the breeze of newness freshen old routines and mindsets.

I've heard it said that women wear lots of hats. Well, this particular "hat" has been waiting for me, in its box, since the moment I gave birth to this daughter of mine and her sister. I have not so much as tried it on, in all these years. But I've looked at it longingly.

Today I get the hat out. I admire its loveliness. Yes, this hat suits me more than all the others, I bet. I think I will look just fine in this hat.

Tomorrow, I put on the hat for the very first time.

For the rest of my life, I will wear that hat with obnoxious pride. (And dear reader, it is most certainly not red...)