Mid-Year Reflection

The middle of the year, a reflection of where she is and where she’s journeyed, came to her as a good, profitable and mindful exercise to do.

Considering the words that brought her into 2018 and the inspiration to keep focused and settle her in the way ahead avoiding distractions of so many thoughts and purposes that look good.

Let’s reflect.

She gets distracted and then loses focus. Realignment of self worth. Discipline of owning a word for the year. She prints it out. A daily reminder of value and purpose. Without vision a person perishes.

She takes time. Breathe. Reflect. Focus.

It’s seemingly simple. Alignment of thought, holding only the necessary and letting go of clutter keeping a mind that can overthink from overwhelm.

Ephesians 2 says,

We have become his poetry.

Mid season, middle of the year. A time to reflect, observing where I have wandered off track and what is my goal for the remaining year ahead.

Some time ago I started a shed on my Pinterest page. Poetry of hands.

My aunt has just had her carpal tunnel operation. Her hand wrapped in a thick bandage. We sipped morning coffee chatting over the practicalities of life without the full use of her hand.

Hands, whether we use our mouth, feet or hands for the practical creative, they enable us to be gold for God.

It is a beautiful belonging, for which the cry of our hearts can find our deepest fullness. The ability to dance in rhythm with His grace. We are born of the creator, in His image to bear testimony to His goodness in our own unique creative space in this planet.

Hands are our creative spark.

It is when a newborn is held. It is when the paintbrush creates the masterpiece across the blank canvas. Applying diagnostic hands to assist the treatment. Hands do the work. Typing our way through the book or blog or very important exam or letter. Whipping up a beautiful meringue for the guests. Creating a garden. Planting parsley. Repairing the engine of a car or aeroplane. Writing the notes for the symphony of worship. Texting a friend. Writing an encouragement card. So many little ways in which the day functions through our hands.

Let’s us value the poetry placed into our hands, inside our hearts

Become. His poetry.

We have become. It is the beautiful becoming. We have been gifted with grace unending. Grace upon grace. We hold gifts in our hands. Our own poem. We become because our Saviour called us.

To be a poem. To offer our hands which essentially is giving our hearts.

Our sparkle of life is set aflame into glorious colours of Hope inside this becoming.

We often lose this perspective. Lose the imagination and wonder of it. The writer of the cosmos story wants to express Himself in us.

Gift our hands.

Open them out.

The right way to pray is to stretch out our hands and ask of one who we know has the heart of a Father. Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Hands are part of our language, our expression. We talk with our hands. Perhaps our hands reveal our heart. Often anxious hands tap incessantly or writhe fidgeting on our lap. We share joy with our hands conveying excitement. We draw a friend into an embrace with our hands. Inviting another into our joy or comforting when sad.

We sip hot coffee, our hands round the mug, bringing the liquid to our lips. We savour the holding.

We share a language to the deaf world using our hands.

She calls it the poetry of hands.

Her becoming. Her slow and wild.

Recently I read this quote by Virginia Woolf. No need to hurry, no need to sparkle no need to be anyone but oneself.

The becoming is uncovering the shape of your soul, as Emily P Freeman writes. It’s time to uncover the shape of your soul, turn down the voice of the inner critic, and move into the world with the courage to be who you most deeply are.

May we offer our hands, our becoming into a creative glory that manifest truth always.


His Poem. Her slow and wild. The unforced rhythms of grace upon grace.

Reflect. Slow in the discipline of life.

Wild in her perseverance and courage to complete the race. Gaining for His glory. Ever discovering.

Reflect. Reminder. Refresh. Refocus.

#herfloralperspective The way she learns wonder in nature with friends who teach her the names of the wild woodland flowers. The way flowers tell her story, a beauty in a square offering a remembrance. She traces her steps through the floral border creating her images where words write themselves into her heart. His Words.

She strings them across her kitchen wall.

Her squares of remembrance.

Her Squares of Remembrance
rachnotes: Psalm 118

Midway thoughts. Realignment for influence and goal orientation. Inspiration for the ways ahead.

Be His poem. His poetry of hands. His Words. His art.

Influence others in living a power of freedom and truth that’s unique. The small miracles she discovers in her year of slow and wild. An adventure of learning.


The verse in Matthew 11 that captioned her words, slow and wild, the words that framed her journey full of grace and truth.

Come to me ….. learn the unforced rhythms of grace.

Mme Alfred Carriere rachnotes: Mme Alfred Carriere

Faith. AW Tozer writes, Faith looks out instead of in and the whole life falls into line.

Her slow and wild. Rooted in Faith –   ever learning inside her God given destiny.

Designed by Him.

Love Rach x



I live a narrative of joy

fullsizeoutput_125fShe reads her morning prayer, the one she scribbled down then typed onto white paper. Whispers quietly in the yet still dark. The truth inside her heart.

I live a narrative of joy.

It came to her then. Like a beautiful light inside her. The aspect she knew to be around her, within her.

Narrative of Joy.

Not just a nice hashtag but a story lived inside her.

How joy despite the anxiety and the ache of living. Yes! There is always joy.

A candle flickering in the darkness. A rainbow in the rain. A friend who journeys with you. The book that holds words that give you strength.

The joy is right there. As I breathe in the choice to choose courage not fear. In the tears of overwhelm.

Joy danced like light on a puddle. Reflecting wonder in seemingly ordinary things. Yet nothing is ordinary.

Finding joy. Living it. It is a gratefulness that lifts the soul. In Ephesians it says, ‘Gratitude is our dialect.’

In Colossians 1 it says,

hearts can soar with joyful gratitude when you think of how God made you worthy to receive the glorious inheritance freely given in the light.

Joy sparkles like the firework. Joy lives inside the burden of the day.

It came to her as she reads and whispers the prayer.

I live a narrative of joy.

Not bubbles and pretending.

It’s a deep, soul rooted childlike trust.

A way of living that does not diminish the tears she felt falling down her face. It acknowledges then the the feeling of it. Yet. Right alongside there’s the joy. Ever present. Never fading. Presence of a peace. The Shalom Shalom of her night time prayer she scribed.

She stops breathing at the wonder of it. Intakes a deep, long, breath at the Hope of it.

Joy takes her by the hand. Lifts her eyes from the anguish of heart. Sings it’s song anew. As the years grow inside of her she knows this joy is not transient. It’s present.

A gift bestowed. An oxygen. A peace. A perspective of the better part. Joy forever unfolding.

She remembers the words of scripture.

Who for the joy that was set before Him …

The fruit of the spirit is joy.

The joy of Psalm 23.

She has spoken this offering before. This early morning as light is rising in the sky. The sun taking its turn. She knows He gives her a gift. One that has shadowed her.  From where she stands she views the chromatic colour of joy.

A kaleidoscope.

Eternities Light.

Wonder at the snowflake, the uniqueness of the ice crystal. The reflection inside a muddy puddle, bringers of joy. The awesome uncontainable God Glory that brings His presence close!! Joy indeed!

It’s the deep working of the Holy Spirit. Perhaps the much afraid inside her has been given a gift beyond her comprehension.

A perspective of joy.

Her narrative.

Her story.

Listen now as the birds sing their morning song. She prays for her dying friend. Sorrow is not a stranger. Inside her is brokenness. In others she finds it too. She is not afraid to journey alongside. Inside is always joy.

A joyous God fills the universe. Joy is the ultimate word describing God and [God’s] world. Creation was an act of joy, of delight in the goodness of what was done. It is precisely because God is like this, and because we can know that [God] is like this, that a life of full contentment is possible.

Dallas Willard (Life Without Lack)

It seems then this joy. It’s like a gift placed inside her upturned cupped hands. A constant discovery. A daily delight.

That Joy you hold in your cupped open hands. It is unlike a transient snowflake. Joy is incessant, for its founded in eternity.

A childlike awe, that place where gratitude grows. Never ending.

Her narrative of joy.

Her gift for her daily journey.

The Fathers gift to her.

She slowly mouths the words in the quietness of the morning hour.

Narrative of Joy.

Thank You. It’s her prayer that umbrellas her world.

Thank You.

Narrative of joy.

Joy dances then. Inside her brokenness is a healing.

The very wings that lift her up to keep going.

His gift.

Her narrative of joy.


Psalm 16:11 Amplified Bible

You will show me the path of life;

In Your presence is fullness of joy;

In Your right hand there are pleasures forevermore.

Brene Brown states,

I believe a joyful life is made up of joyful moments gracefully strung together by trust, gratitude and inspirational faith.


Inside. Right deep in the core of your tummy. A feeling that makes you nauseous. The whole body feels like it’s a minor tremor. Worry.

The thought processes whirl without trying. Before you know it every set scenario is formatting creating the deeper physical feeling that brings one into a diminished state.

Mother would comment, ‘here comes the waterworks’.

Society sees a smile and a gentle demeanour.

The boss bemoans your sensitivity but shouts anyway.

The worry of imperfection stares back at you offering failure and disappointment.

She should know by now!

She should.

Go figure.

The world spins and her world dances its chaos around it.

Be who you most deeply are.

Emily P Freeman writes.

Uncover the shape of your soul, turn down the voice of the inner critic and move into the world with courage to be who you most deeply are.

She pens the words into her notebook writes it down without looking. Knows each letter off by heart.

She wants to be that girl.

She wants to be the girl whose soul is confident in whom and whose she is.

Unforced Rhythms of grace.

The Message echoes the words.

She writes them down. They too are scribbled into her mind. She knows them off by heart.

A word in. A word out.

Slowly she hears the melody playing. The song with words that heal. She the believer. A woman who holds the capacity to breathe the Holy Spirit fire.

Really Breathe.

Corrie ten Boom defined worry as ‘a cycle of inefficient thoughts whirling around a centre of fear.’

She echoes back the words

Perfect love casts out fear.

She hears the preach.

The words bang loud.

Louder than the other words.


Something is silenced inside of her.

Be most deeply who are.

All the words string together like a pearl necklace. One of great price.

A deep cost of redemption.

No need to worry.

She knows she will quiver.

She knows she will still cry.

She knows she will feel the ache of living.


She knows that the Love that chose to step out and bring redemption pure and true. Is Hers.

You Unravel Me

With A Melody


Surround Me With

A Song

Of Deliverance…..

I rescue you because I loved you.

She hears the story. But it’s spoken with the unforced rhythms


She writes the post script. For she is forever growing in this journey of self awareness and surrender. In her Examen under Presence, she writes;

Sometimes we experience sadness, hear it, then we carry it, the whole bucket full. We pray, yet continue to carry the worry and sadness. Hands full. Jesus came to carry the load. Its the daily habit forming hard work. Tools to equip.  Surrender.

The unforced rhythm.
We cannot carry it. We need the habit of compassion and courage that speaks this grace to our souls. Releasing the weight of our buckets. To Christ.

Let’s write it out. Read it. Habit it into our thinking and our coffee moments and our ordinary days.

Matthew 11

Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. 

Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. 

I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you.

 Keep company with me 

and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly. 

Word in, word out.

Love Rach x

Gratitude Note

To Unsplash photographers

To the pastors and worship leaders who talk and sing of grace at Chroma Church.

To Emily P Freeman

To my readers and encouragers

To my editor and husband.

Thank You all for journeying with me.

All glory to Father Son and Holy Spirit.


I linger over this little word joy. I love its rounded lettering. Joy is often shaped into Christmas with gold, forming a hanging for decoration. I have shared quotes about joy from authors and bloggers. Joy is more than a decorated piece. Folded away till next time. Joy in my mind is a fierce little word with courage in its heart. Joy is our daily choice. Found in the day-to-day. We choose with our thinking. Daily reading Joy over our ordinary day.

Joy, it is that deep rooted thing inside me that is influenced by faith. By the Holy Spirit.
It is the inside me that needs to know exactly where my identity rests. Therein is Joy.

This joy is not dependent on the affirmation of others. The need to be validated or to be qualified in any way. Joy is the journey of appreciation with grace.

This joy sings in my sorrow, dances in my delights, lightens up my inkyblue mood. Joy brings the ballerina and the singer into my stumbling feet and baselike tones!

I can be me and joy is there. I can drift into a world of wonder and joy is there. I can craft failure and joy can lift me up to try again.

Let me choose Joy as the dawns orange glow lifts itself up from the night sky. Let me choose Joy when I eat my cheese sandwiches at lunch. Let me choose Joy as the moon brings it’s button buttermilk smile to the blackness of the nighttime sky.

The Word in and the word out.

The fruit of the spirit is Joy.

Rejoice always

Let Him sing joy over you


Hilary Yancey writes,

When I resist anxiety, even for a moment, I can catch a glimmer of the songGod is singing over my life : JOY.

Pete Grieg inspired me by his post that encouraged joy in the mundane,

Tears come uninvited to us all in the end. But joy does not. It is a butterfly, a melody waiting to be named. Our surprising, unsolemn duty, therefore, is not just to weep at life’s tragedy but to laugh at its bounty. To marvel at the simple magnificence of so many mundane things; the ephemeral light through a dirty window, that eternal moment between the first and second mouthful of chocolate cake.

“A thing of beauty is a joy forever.”  Keats

I want a life that sizzles and pops and makes me laugh out loud. And I don’t want to get to the end, or to tomorrow, even, and realize that my life is a collection of meetings and pop cans and errands and receipts and dirty dishes. I want to eat cold tangerines and sing out loud in the car with the windows open and wear pink shoes and stay up all night laughing and paint my walls the exact color of the sky right now. I want to sleep hard on clean white sheets and throw parties and eat ripe tomatoes and read books so good they make me jump up and down, and I want my everyday to make God belly laugh, glad that he gave life to someone who loves the gift.”  Cold Tangerines: Celebrating the Extraordinary Nature of Everyday Life

Naletu on Unsplash

Twinkle lights are the perfect metaphor for joy. Joy is not a constant. It comes to us in moments – often ordinary moments.

Sometimes we miss out on the bursts of joy because we’re too busy chasing down extraordinary moments. Other times we’re so afraid of the dark that we don’t dare let ourselves enjoy the light.

A joyful life is not a floodlight of joy. That would eventually become unbearable.

I believe a joyful life is made up of joyful moments gracefully strung together by trust, gratitude, inspiration, and faith.

Brené Brown

John Piper writes a definition of joy from his thoughts on Philipians  –

Christian joy is a good feeling in the soul, produced by the Holy Spirit, as he causes us to see the beauty of Christ in the word and in the world. < img src=”https://rachnotes.files.wordpress.com/2017/09/img_9331-3.png&#8221; class=”size-medium alignleft wp-image-1035″ height=”1772″ width=”1772″><<<<<<<<<
y joy, it  gives me the opportunity to  slow,  to wait, to capture with my iPhone camera, a little beauty in a form of art that is within my grasp. A fading flower, an autumnal leaf, steaming strong coffee. A book with beautiful paper pages.

Word in word out

You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace

O Lord of Heaven’s Armies, what joy for those who trust in you. ~ Psalm 84:12

Oh for the Joy before Him, He endured the cross.

Joy comes in to view and can help me appreciate when I look back and reflect on the journey traveled thus far.

A deep quiet soul taking a  journey that has taught me where true joy is rooted right where I am, found there in the place where love truly abides.

Joy is that simplicity seeing light sparkling in the washing up bubbles, bringing the steaming  strong coffee  in to grateful cupped hands.  Perhaps maturity shines a bigger light on these things. Bringing value to the most important small.

Time to gather the beauty of Autumn. Let poetry and a thousand falling leaves fill my being with joy and profound gratitude.

The Joy of the Lord is my strength.

n the ordinary mundane living. Slow up my frames of living lettting me notice the unnoticeable.

Notice the segments in your clementine. Notice the lady as she shuffles her feet towards her goal with determination. Notice the blind young man unperturbed as he  gets on his train to get to a destination. The taste of lemon cake zesty and sweet. The water cool and sipped slowly. The rainbow as you drive the curve in the road and its thick short band of  colours fills your mind before it disappears and you walk into the office. A hug in life’s grief. Words texted to a friend saying hello.

Notice joy in the breaking of bread as a believer rises in faith despite the pain and challenges ahead.

Joy triumphs this comes out of authentic thankfulness .

Let’s choose Joy.

Happy October

Love Rach xx 🍁🍂

My Rucksack 

I have a new fabric rucksack.  The big block patterns are dark blue and green It's small light and comfortable to carry. 

It holds  the essentials; tissues, bottle of water, a purse and a mobile phone thus enabling my hands to be free. 

I carry other loads mentally. I carry grief, aloneness, disappointment and the struggles of overthinking!!

I journey this year reading bible in a year. Just today I'm reminded how to rise above my head stuff! 

I love the Psalms, penned from his experience, songs of David that resonate within me, 

‘I will be with you in trouble,

I will deliver you and honour you’ (Psalm 91:15b)

The words whispered something deep into my disappointments. When the dreams fade and the hopes you had are not realised, everything looks different. I feel the crazy maze of  grief  the girl  inside you cries because the feeling aches some more. The words that inspire hope,  honouring work, right into the tears of your soul. Honour. 

Honour. Like a rainbow over the grey sky the honour given is a lift up a stony crag. Its a coffee on a long day. Its a morning sunrise, lifting the eyes to the sky. It is a hand held securely that says I'm with you forever. 

The journey with the eternal one is not plain sailing! 

Grit. We need grit! Endurance. Perseverance. Vision when the way looks lonely. A new dream when the road bends. Ability to carry the rucksack along the road of life. To keep going. To strive on. To know the burden is light yet the way can get tough. 

My aunt and uncle reach their diamond wedding Anniversary . I observe the great teacher and baker tiring, yet the grit of endurance is clear. They still love. Its the most powerful thing. Metaphorically they have stopped carrying some stuff but their rucksack is still on their backs. The greatest is Love. Love beyond everything. 

So what shall we say then. 

Keep carrying your rucksack for the kingdom. Bring a lot of heaven to earth by loving one another. 

I'm reading a great book Surprised By Oxford by Carolyn Weber, she writes with such art and delight in a discovery of Gods kingdom . 

Quote - the reason I wrote this book reports Carolyn is this;

To take away from the book that we are absolutely beloved of God and each have a meaning in His story.

I carry my rucksack , the grit conveying strength of character with determination and endurance. Knowing I'm beloved, part of  Gods story and honoured. 

Keep on Keeping on. Rucksack on. Beloved. 

The verse says , take my yoke, it's a light one.

The daily reminder into your heart and mine, to know whose we are,  the purpose we exist and carry our own rucksack in this world.

To be love and share the beauty and ongoingness. Keep doing the next right thing.


… your body is a sacred place, the place of the Holy Spirit’ 

1 Corinthians 6:19 The Message. 

Let's keep sharing in our journey.
Keep on keeping on, carrying our rucksacks .
Love Rach x

Intentional Living 

I read a tweet by the author Shauna Niequist. Her essence was let’s do less social media and do more presence work. This captured my thinking and challenged it. 

Mostly the young folk get addicted. Mostly the young folk pay attention to social networking sites. 

As I watched my habit and affirmations of likes I recognised that this need for favour sat heavily on me. 

In the quiet corner of the library you’ll find me there. In the ones and twos you’ll see me there. In the solitary and pen I’ll hunt out the notepad and park. 

If you want to talk over the phone, I’ll make myself scarce. 

Find me a camera and sunrise, the opening cord to the day or a closing symphony as lights dim and a golden glow floods the world with spectacular aura. 

Slow up the world let it dream of beauty not shame, joy not sorrow, transformation not death. Bring some uniqueness and contemplation. Hush the judges and betrayers. Bring the artist to the table. Let her share her art without condemnation. Let her sculpt her craft and be who she is meant to be. 

Let her song of love be the birdsong to someone’s heart. Let the fragrance of her garland surround another, bringing colour and essence of joy, being peace to the mind so desperately needed. 

Script by @ hollyjoyholt

When she seats herself on a chair to declare a truth and make a difference in the world, let her radiate the Christ. To the child of God who cannot see, to the man for whom life is too much. To the dying and the confused. Don’t give up on the one who needs you most   

Rise up into a new day. Rise and rest into a closing day. Rise to be loved. Rise because you are lifted and guided to a light that is beyond space and time. 

Be light. Be His light. Shattering shame with truth and liberty. 

Be yourself and let that be transparent in all its complexities and uniqueness. 

Don’t be afraid. Be you. Be the change that’s needed where you are in your street, in your coffee shop, in your world. 

Be intentional. Be intentionally you. 

Be present. Be the listener. Be the best carrier in your world, offering Hope clothed in humility that extends the arm of care. Right there inside your people.

Live intentionally don’t be crushed, be beautifully you in the life you’re living. 

Amen 💐

The books I read to my children 

… and how they speak to me now. 

Two boys were born from my womb into this world.

As a nurturing lady I loved the feeding and the bath fun and then the clean pyjamas and the book

A favourite that still is in my possession is, We're going on a bear hunt.

The refrain that was read again and again. The opening of pages together and the repeat. The cycle of sharing books continued with the grandsons. 

Should it be the biggest surprise then that the words are planted in my head!

Deeper still the words are found in my mind as I experience the hills and valleys of life of growing older. Losing loved ones. A nana , mum, dad and friends.  

Words shared with the little ones back then echo at a deeper level with a profound message that repeated its refrain,

You can't go under it, you can't go around it, you have to go through it. 

The truth is a kiss that says you can do this journey, you can go through it. Brave and fearfulness still grip the soul of me. Yet the firm foothold on the grit of the road step after step knowing avoidance is not how to do this. Its the steadfast hope looming for the bigger dream. A God dream. God-colours. I'm walking with a firmer step now. The journey through offerslight vibrant not grey. Distinctive. 

The next book is so very tiny. It offers a joy to read and the pictures are a delight.

Can't you sleep little bear?

The light in this story is never quite enough. A bigger lantern is brought in to create a better experience and eradicate the dark.

Stepping out to the moon offers the real experience. A full moon fills the whole being with light. 

Contentment brings rest. Light becomes enough. Oh the beauty of a child's story. The dark all around can be troublesome and frightening, yet how we are healed and restored as we experience the best of lights. A beauty and a wonder at the chromatography of God inside us. We can be so aware of our darkness about our world. Look up there's a bigger light and a illumination in the Christ who brings the Light to us. 

Grace instead of a hammer that knocks us back and makes me cower. Greater Grace. I'm only just touching the surface of it. The Love of it. The hand in my journey through and the Light beaming its best redemptive story into my world. 

I know Jesus has it covered . 

I've just to trust. 


Rach x

Rise Anyway

She gets that overwhelmed feeling oft. 

Builds a strategy

 a space 

a walk

 a breathe

 a prayer. 

It’s okay


Coffee break 


The bible app 

Panic still pervades her

She Sinks into a lost 



Rise is her word 

She chose it 

‘Live it now girl ‘

She unkindly speaks 

Into her own heart


R I S E 

She remembers his hand 

Reaching out

Her defeat caught 

grace unmeasurable 

Gifted to her 

The thought caught in the thicket

The tears dried by understanding love 

Rise is made possible 


He is 

I am 

Emmanuel never leaves 



c o m p a r i s o n 

C o m p a r i s o n

So! who hasn’t read the famous quote by Theodore Roosevelt and experienced the feeling of not good enough? 

Who hasn’t  read the blogs and  books  that shares a story and remedy of comparing yourself with another . 

If you journey through life you see that it starts early, innocently . Comparing dolls and then coats and then jeans and hair . Then gifting and sociality .  Spiritual comparison bringing the wrong emphasis to faith that teaches love and hope. 

It’s when the comparing causes the emotional torment opposing the beauty of who you essentially are. Going deeper into my heart by reasoning my existence 
My blogging 
Why blog? For me it’s about writing and photography and discovering . 

It’s a journey to find how I fit into the world of life, loving,  living and purpose. 
‘And its waking hearts to life’
It’s observing how I hesitate at how I can grow . Not slotting into the extraordinary or leader or best at anything at all ! 

It’s key for me is in both understanding and accepting, found in two words, the ‘season’ word alongside the ‘unique’ word, with ‘don’t compare’ right across it!  In knowing my season and living it, [see the book Simplify by Bill Hybels ] in valuing my uniqueness and embracing the creative me that does not hide nor listening to the fear that fights to crush and compare. 

There is a fight in me. Inherent in me, to pursue something great glorious and beautiful . 

‘His love is strong it is furious. His love is sweet His love is wild’

To dare, to stand in our current season, to know and experience anew a wildness – strength – holy furious love. 

To dare to believe in a belonging that doesn’t wrap itself around how I can fail. That isn’t about how ashamed I am at being me. How I’m never good enough. Never clever or pretty or creative enough. And young enough!! 

Never c o n f i d e n t enough. 

Sink slowly into…. 
Comparisons because when you aren’t enough you look to see what appears to be enough to copy emulate admire.

Notice that you’re not loved as much or  promoted at all and the diminishing of ones value becomes small and my true purpose is lost. 

We talked before about rising. 
It’s my choice.  To rise – to pray – to read – to drink coffee. Eat a banana, walk ……

To have faith to believe.  To see wisdom and vision . To be enlightened 

 Ephesians 1 Grasp the immensity of this glorious way of life God has for you. 

I rise by faith . Not by measuring my smallness . Not by comparing . I rise because in the middle of the tiny thoughts that say to me you can’t and you’re useless there’s a whisper that never leaves that’s saying into my heart LISTEN TO ME. 

Listen to a love that never needs comparison . 

That roars like a lion to be stronger than my fears. 

That speaks through words that say, you’re wonderful and created to show my glory . Psalm 139. 

  I rise best when I oppose my comparison torture by rising with one who is  my creator and my saviour. 

I rise because I can,

in Him . 
‘You split the sea- So I could walk right through it-You drowned my fears in perfect love’

It’s raining as I write this post . Torrential drops fast and furious fall . The light is diffused by mist and cloud and the slow folding away of summer birthing a new season. 

Seasons depart . 

We all need to learn how to grow or rest in our season. But there is a miracle for every season. 


My hope in this season of mine is to address the truth of the present. What is. Knowing Christ and my revelation for today. Eternal perspective never leaves the horizon. 

Embrace the truth and liberation that is mine . Held in the deliverance that one called Jesus offers me daily . A cross and a furious wild love spoke to me. May it speak clearly with a new voice. May the room with the throne be my glory place. 

Comparing makes me diminished and destroyed.  Cowering and afraid. It is not trusting . 

Jesus love on a crazy cross with arms open of love love love. It says to me a very different story. Curtains torn . Upside down. There’s room. Room for us all . Room for you. That space, my space where I belong and am to be a beautiful ambassador to this love . A daughter who has a belonging where a lion roars for me and the empowering of the godhead explode to shower stars and hope to a nation that needs to know there’s room. 

A furious love 
Let’s walk and learn and move leaning into a love that strips comparison of  ourselves to others,  to one that speaks to His daughter loudest.
I am a child of God

Love Rach 

Post Script :-

Aliza Latta in her post, ‘The opposite of comparison’ which I found when I googled exactly that! 

She says- 

‘God is greater than even our deepest need and larger than even our largest worry’

In her blog post I found the answer to the question  I was asking! 

The opposite to comparison 

is PEACE. 

Of course!!! For when I compare I lose my peace. 

Sharing too in this postscript I was inspirited  by Kate @ playfulday in her piece  about connection on her post in Instagram . 

The quiet network – This is a Network that helps you hold together pieces that you can’t quite figure out how to piece together yet. It has a way of raising you up by saying “I know” with very little contact. It’s just there when it matters. 

It’s right there in the likes. So I can choose peace in not being best liked or I can value the connection I have through the likes. As Kate calls it a network, this relational link that has high value in our wellbeing. The comparison breaks us down peace and connection ‘raise us up! ‘

Note ….
…….Thankful for ….

…… song writers Bethel Music-that inspire a hope that is firmly rooted in Christ, to Jeremy Riddle for the song used here called Furious. 

….. For writers and artists who say important stuff better than I ever could. 

Thank you my reader,  for bringing your lovely self here  to muse my notes . 

Experiencing His Presence in my Moments


This is my word for 2016 . Life is full of them. All variable in how they can be received. Daily moments get delivered into my lap. Figuratively.
There is the disappointments, the rain filled holiday,  girlie coffee moments,  the out and about ramble, morning breakfast rush, the not belonging, the hug that says I care,  the ache,  the faithfulness,  the best meal, the betrayal. The moments pile up. Mixed bunch! 

How do I view my moment? Whom should I share them with? What is the worth of a moment? Even the moments that cause us turmoil and confusion. Can I actively keep Christ focused and let each one give God the best praise in it. 

Let’s maintain a curiosity. A wonder. A value. Seeing even the hard places of our life. As a moment that we learn and grow in . Knowing it’s a growth towards contentment. Our main belonging is in Christ. It’s the foundational trampoline from which we need to bounce everything. 

His presence in us makes every moment every day count #liveforHisglory -Juliet Barber Vineyard Church Pastor 

Moment looks different daily . I want to hold my moments  up to the sky . Father God help me to give my moments to you and trust you because you nourish me, give me strength and are with me. Even when the sky looks grey . 

It’s not being afraid when you can’t see the stars 

It’s sitting in the silence not afraid to feel it . 

It’s holding that gift of peace in the middle of the muddles in life . A settled confidence 

It’s holding still the ache, content in its work, that with the Lord all is well 

Moment – when richness rises like a bird soars into the blackness and know peace anyways  

At the moment of my mothers death I did not realise that she took with her a root irreplaceable.

That the shards remaining would never ever translate back to how it used to be

Her emotional strength had left with her  and this was like a ribbon that could never make that same bow again . Never.

 I take this moment this realisation. Feel its grief and the change that ensues from it and the change that I too have to make!  I know that my belonging, the presence,  is right here now,  in this moment.  Not just in knowledge but in experience. It has not died. The amazing presence of Christ is helping me to make those moments count. Indeed to ‘Keep living for His glory.’

For our momentary light affliction is producing for us an absolutely incomparable eternal weight of glory. 2 Corinthians 4:17 

Hope rises . Like a new morning. Moments anew remind me of faithfulness. Stones of remembrance stack 





Thankfulness fills my being as I count again the pile of moments that say it’s beautiful! 
I encourage you to remain open handed to the beauty that’s within and around you. 

As I muse more on the word moment. The gathering of them. The gratitude for them and the grace strength and comfort needed in them, sometimes I find what I’m gaining is presence. 

Don’t you love how he promises that always . Through his words that are spoken He promises presence. The holy  spirit is the comforter . Presence. In the middle of life being intentional,  love living life by being present by noticing . Not just the physical thing like petals and toast and books. Feeling,  hearing,  touch the sensory. His presence is in the moments. In the experience . I’m gathering them . I’m knowing Him more. 

John 16:7Amplified Bible  But I tell you the truth, it is to your advantage that I go away; for if I do not go away, the Helper (Comforter, Advocate, Intercessor—Counselor, Strengthener, Standby) will not come to you; but if I go, I will send Him (the Holy Spirit) to you [to be in close fellowship with you].

It’s in the experience of our moments recognising them . We see God working daily in our lives. His presence revealing truth into our daily living. #liveforHisGlory