Author: Jane Foard Thompson

Jane Foard Thompson is an inspirational speaker and award winning author and poet. A former Montessori teacher in Texas and Utah, for eight years Jane and her husband were missionaries in Honduras, Central America. After working for the American Red Cross in Idaho, they now live in Florida, where she writes, leads music and women's Bible studies at their church, and enjoys nine grandchildren and her Golden Retriever, Lily.

I want to be more like her

Unnoticed by the men at the table, she hugged the jug close to her body, precious oil that cost her everything, and wove her way through the servants. Eyes cast down and chin trembling, she stood before him. All conversation ceased.pots in Quito, Ecuador

Gripped by the immensity of his love and the release of her burden, she sobbed, her tears bathing his feet. She dropped to her knees and emptied her jar as well, the fine scent flowing over his feet and rising around them. The men gasped as she unbound her hair, let it tumble to the floor, and wiped his feet.

He praised her for her love.

The one who is forgiven much loves much.

I want to be more like her.

What keeps us from falling at his feet, weeping the release of everything we hold so close?

Are we trying so hard to live right, do good and follow the line that
we are afraid to admit our errors?

Do we fear we’ll fall apart if we allow such a display of emotion?

Or worse, cower before the stern faces around us, judging,
instead of receiving all we need from the One who knows us through and through,

loves us enough to die for us,

and forgive us completely?

 

I want to live that kind of lavish love.

The love of the completely forgiven.

The completely loved.
heart shaped leaf heart shaped shell, Sanibel Island, FL, JHT

So, where are you?

At table, aghast, lips pursed in disgust?

Or ready to fall to your knees,

oh so aware of what drives you there?

 

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Words failed me

Last week when I shared something on social media, I was severely misunderstood. As an introvert, the written word has always been my best means of communication. I grew up in an unsafe family, so I’ve spent a large portion of my life cowered by fear. When my words failed me, I pulled in, not even writing my blog. The old drive for safety reared, and I began to wonder how vulnerable I want to be, even here. Danger sign

Beyond my own personal angst, this event brought to focus the current atmosphere in our country. A host on TV interrupts guests or talks over them. Those on news opinion shows listen only long enough to launch their next shot, hollering louder to drown out the completion. Even the presidential election candidates behaved so rudely during the debates that I couldn’t watch them. That seems to have upped the ante across the board. Is shouting and name calling really desirable? What kind of values are represented here?

I began to wonder, in this environment, do I want to communicate at all?

And why am I writing?

The sad thing is, I’m pretty certain I know what I could write to have my blog garner notoriety. And I could churn out steamy romance novels, month after month, and rake in the money. There are many ways I could use my words to grab a bit of fame or fortune.

But that’s not my desire.

A moment of clarity. I must continue to communicate, the best I can, with as much love and truth as I can.

bridge in N C Smokey Mtns
Ecuador sunrise
Celery Fields, Sarasota, FL
ducks in Celery Fields, Sarasota, FL

I want my words to be a bridge to someone who’s never been where I dwell. Perhaps to a new freedom.

I want my words to paint a picture another has never conceived of.

I want my words to touch hearts.

To make a difference.

So when my words failed me, I felt like a failure.

After mulling it over, I determined not to return to the fear I lived with for so long. My slow freedom is worth holding on to, even with shaking hands and aching heart.

The truth is, I can build bridges, paint pictures, or sing songs. But I have no control over who walks over, who looks, or who receives.

If we’re honest, none of us can make another think as we do, see the world as we do, or feel as we do.

When I share a glimpse of peace, it is with an honest wish that we can all, once again, use words to heal and build up, rather than attack and destroy.

I keep hearing this song (link below) on the radio, and it plays in the background of my days, and some sleepless nights.

Is she right, that we can each bring our brokenness?

Could it be that we can disagree, but if we’re honest, still relate with love and respect?

Note: If you receive my posts by email, to hear a song, click the title of the blog, to go to the webpage version for an active link. (The pictures are usually better there, too.)

Can you hear?

When Peter spoke to the crowds gathered in Jerusalem for Pentecost, they were amazed to hear him in their own language. They listened, and their lives were never the same. What if, as soon as they heard him talking about the death and resurrection of Jesus, they had stomped off, unwilling to listen to his foolishness? What if they closed their minds, certain they already knew the way to go? The way to life? Would they be like Lot’s wife, who, instead of following God’s lead looked back, longing for Sodom, and turned into a hard, lifeless pillar?
deadwood on Dry Tortugas island

How many times has God spoken to us and instead of receiving words of life we chose what we have determined is the way our life, or the life of one we care about, should go?

Can we continue to live with such hardness?

I think much of the benefit of giving thanks is in the softening effect it has on our psyche. We can’t raise a hand in thanksgiving and a fist in anger at the same time.

Even when circumstances are hard, when we look for God’s hand at work, or listen to his words, spoken in our own language, we hear the whisper in the silence that guides us forward.

We find the light in the darkness, and that tiny flame begins the softening in our souls.

How long can we go on, ignoring the word of life, growing ever harder?

Until our shell is so thick that we cannot move, cannot turn, cannot hear?

God’s strong hand is on you; he’ll promote you at the right time. Live carefree before God; he is most careful with you. Ephesians 5:18 MSG