A Personal Presence

Sunday, June 17, 2012

Momo Sings

Jesus Is My King

These are the lyrics to the CD "Momo Sings: Jesus is My King." To receive a free copy, please contact me. Also, if anyone can tell me how to add file download capability to a Blogger site, I could post the songs here.

1. Songs of Love and Praises

Since Jesus loves me, my heart is happy and to Him

I'll sing songs of love and praises to Jesus my King

Since Jesus keeps me and watches o'er me every hour

I'll sing songs of love and praises to Jesus my King

Since I love Jesus and want to fill His heart with joy

I'll sing songs of love and praises to Jesus my King

Janie Westall

© Kit Trzebunia

2. Who Will Sing With Me

Who will sing with me?

I am going to sing to Jesus

Who will sing with me?

Jesus loves me so

Jesus sets my heart to singing

For Jesus loves me so

Jesus is so good

I will sing Him songs of praises

For Jesus is so good

Jesus cares for me

I will ever thank and praise Him

For Jesus cares for me

Jesus is my King

I will serve Him with thanksgiving

For Jesus is my King

Janie Westall

© Kit Trzebunia

3. I Want More of Jesus

I want more of Jesus

More and more and more

I want more of Jesus

Than I've ever had before

More and more of His great love

So rich and full and free

I want more of Jesus

So I'll give Him more of me

4. This Healing's Mine

This healing's mine

It is mine, though I cannot see

He said, "I am the Lord that healeth thee, O my child

I am the Lord that healeth thee"

This healing's mine

It is mine, though I cannot see

By His wounds I am healed, 1 Peter 2.24

It is written, it is sure, it is for me

This healing's mine

It is mine, though I cannot see

The Sun of Righteousness arose with my healing in His wings

And my foes I shall tread under my feet

This healing's mine

It is mine, though I cannot see

I dance and sing, shout and rejoice,

for the power of His Voice

For the Lord has turned my captivity

I've come for bread

It's the children's bread I need

It pleases You for me to come

Of Your Word this is the sum

I am here for bread, O Lord, feed me

© Kit Trzebunia

5. Keep Me As

Keep me as the apple of Thine eye

Always keep me night, O Lord

Keep me as the apple of Thine eye

The apple of Thine eye, O Lord

Keep me as a jewel shining bright

Precious in Thy sight, O Lord

Keep me as a jewel shining bright

A jewel shining bright, O Lord

Keep me as a lamb that follows You

Always keep me true, O Lord

Keep me as a lamb that follows You

A lamb that follows you, O Lord

Keep me as a lily of the vale

Safe through every gale, O Lord

Keep me as a lily of the vale

A lily of the vale, O Lord

Janie Westall

© Kit Trzebunia

6. Here's My Cup

Here's my cup, Lord

I lift it up, Lord

Come and quench this thirsting in my soul

Bread of heaven, feed me 'til I want no more

Take my cup, fill it up and make me whole

7. Lion of Judah

The Lion of Judah shall break every chain

And give to us the victory again and again

The Lion of Judah shall break every chain

And give to us the victory again and again

8. Deserted!

Deserted! God could separate from His own essence rather;

And Adam's sins have swept between the righteous Son and Father:

Yea, once, Immanuel's orphaned cry His universe hath shaken—

It went up single, echoless, "My God, I am forsaken!"

It went up from the Holy's lips amid His lost creation,

That, of the lost, no son should use those words of desolation!

That earth's worst frenzies, marring hope,

Should mar not hope's fruition!

Words from "Cowper's Grave"

by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

9. Ho, Everyone

Lyrics coming soon

10. Everybody Ought to Know / Behold What Manner of Man

Everybody ought to know

Who Jesus is

He's the lily of the valley

He's the bright and morning star

He's the fairest of ten thousand

Everybody ought to know

Behold what manner of man is this!

What manner of man is He!

He makes the lame to walk and the blind to see

Opens prison doors and sets the captives free

Behold what manner of man is this!

What manner of man is He!

He is the Lord of Glory

He is the Great I Am

The Alpha and Omega

The Beginning and the End

His name is Wonderful

The Prince of Peace is He

The Everlasting Father

Through all eternity

11. Jesus is My King / Hosanna

Jesus is my king

Jesus is my savior

Jesus is my king

(repeat)

I want to worship Him

I want to praise His name

His name is above all names

I want to sing His praise

I want to bless His name

I want to serve Him with gladness today

Hosanna, hosannah, hosannah to His name

He's the King of Kings

He's the Lord of Lords

He's the ruler of creation

Hallelujah! Give Him praises

He's the excellent I Am

Hosanna, hosannah, hosannah to His name

He's the Dayspring

He's the Morning Star

He's the risen Sun of Righteousness

Hallelujah! Give Him praises

He's the meek and lowly Lamb

Hosanna, hosannah, hosannah to His name

© Kit Trzebunia

12. They That Wait (Is 40.31)

They that wait upon the Lord

Shall renew their strength

They shall mount up with wings as eagles

They shall run and not grow weary

And they shall walk and not faint

They that wait, they that wait upon the Lord

13. Let Not Your Heart Be Troubled (Jn 14)

Let not your heart be troubled

Ye believe in God, believe also in Me

In my Father's house are many mansions

If it were not so, I would have told you

I go to prepare a place for you

And if I go to prepare a place for you

I will come again and receive you unto Myself

That where I am ye may be also

And whither I go ye know and the way ye know

I am the way, the truth, and the life

No man cometh to the Father but by Me

Let not your heart be troubled

Peace I leave with you; My peace I give to you

Not as the world gives, give I unto you

But the Comforter, which is the Holy Ghost

Whom the Father shall send in My name

He shall teach you all things

Let not your heart be troubled

Neither let it be afraid

If ye love me, keep my commandments

14. Praise the Lord, O Jerusalem (Ps 147)

Praise the Lord, O Jerusalem

Praise thy God, O Zion

Praise the Lord, O Jerusalem

Praise thy God, O Zion

For He hath strengthened the bars of thy gates

He hath blessed thy children within thee

He maketh peace within thy walls

And fills thee with the finest of wheat

Praise the Lord, O Jerusalem

Praise thy God, O Zion

Praise the Lord, O Jerusalem

Praise thy God, O Zion

15. Cause Me to Hear

Cause me to hear Thy lovingkindness, Lord

Cause me to know the love Thou hast for me

Cause me to rest in the shadow of Thy wing

Cause me to find all blessedness in Thee

Cause to me see the fullness, Lord, in Thee

Cause me to drink of the water flowing free

Cause me, O Lord, to lose myself in Thee

Cause me to find my all in all in Thee

Janie Westall

16. Something About That Name

Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, there's just something about that name

Master, Savior, Jesus, like the fragrance after the rain

Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, let all heaven and earth proclaim

Kings and kingdoms will all pass away, but there's something about that name

Sunday, April 24, 2011

This is the Way

This song is sung to the tune of "Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush." It began one day when I found myself with a desperately itchy, fussy, overtired baby, having to figure out a way to ingeniously pin all four of Lael's limbs—so that she could neither scratch the rash on her chin raw nor scrub at one foot with the toenails of the other—and bounce her to sleep on the rebounder.

This is the way that it has to be
Has to be, has to be
This is the way that it has to be
For my little bitty sweet baby

This is the way that we do it up right,
Do it up right, do it up right
This is the way that we do it up right
So my baby will sleep so tight

This is the way that He gives you sleep
Gives you sleep, gives you sleep
This is the way that He gives you sleep
Slumber so sweet and deep

When you love the Lord, and you sing to your baby, before you know it you usually find yourself singing to the Lord:

This is the way that we praise the Lord
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord
This is the way that we praise the Lord
For He is the Living Word

This is the way that we bless His name
Bless His name, bless His name
This is the way that we bless His name
Jesus Christ, ever the same

This is the way we see Him on His throne
On His throne, on His throne
This is the way we see Him on His throne
By following Him alone

This is the way that our God sustains
God sustains, God sustains
This is the way that our God sustains
Faithful He remains

This is the way that He gives us peace
Gives us peace, gives us peace
This is the way that He gives us peace
Jesus makes the storm to cease

This is the way He holds us in His hands
In His hands, in His hands
This is the way He holds us in His hands
The Man of Sorrows understands

This is the way that we sing His praise
Sing His praise, sing His praise
This is the way that we sing His praise
Every hour, all of our days...
Every moment
And every hour
All the time, all of our days

Here are two extra verses composed for Easter Sunday:

This is the way that He died for me,
Died for me, died for me
This is the way that He died for me
Hanging on Calvary's tree

This is the way that He rose today
Rose today, rose today
This is the way that He rose today
The Truth, the Life and the Way

Sunday, March 20, 2011

My Thousand Gifts - 22 and Counting

22. Little boy coming to my bedside in the middle of the night to tell me his dream
23. Sleeping baby buttoning up her face against the light
24. Sores that have reached the ugly-beautiful stage of looking nasty but beginning to heal
25. Pajama clad boy going up the stairs with a penguin tucked upside down under one arm
26. Children thanking Jesus that he has "rest in His hands" for their little sister
27. Silly old movies with dancing and laughs and happy endings
28. Barely audible whisper, from pillow next to mine, of spirit communing with Spirit: "Jesus... Jesus!"
29. Baby craning her neck so fascinated by toy train
30. Little girl sleep-snuggling in the dark, wants my arms for a bed
31. Bare toes peeping from blanket
32. Houses with big back yards (...some day!)
33. Splattered across the long, back-aching evergreen and brown highway: the russet reds and golden yellows and spring greens and astonishing purples of new tree growth.

Friday, March 11, 2011

My Thousand Gifts - Twenty-One

21. Breezy spring walks full of blossoms

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

My Thousand Gifts

"Thank you, Jesus, that we can do this Your way. Thank you, Jesus, that we don't have to do this my way."

That has been my refrain, for the past three years, when my will is crossed.

It prepared me for a year of difficulty, of taking care of my mother, paralyzed with cancer. It carried me through that year, opening me up to receive grace (which my father defines as "God's power in me to overcome") when my heart wanted to slap the gift away.

Thankful praise is what gets me through the gates, into the court of my God: "Enter into his gates with thanksgiving, and into his courts with praise: be thankful unto him, and bless his name." (Ps. 100.4)

It has kept me from yelling at the kids, from saying hurtful words, from being generally ungraceful... At least, it has when I have chosen to avail myself of that little secret, the sacrifice of praise (He. 13.15): praising even when it hurts. If it cost me nothing, there would be no sacrifice.

I am learning (and don't think for a moment that I am very far advanced along this syllabus) to praise Him, whenever I find myself in trying circumstances, for the opportunity to buy gold tried in the fire (Re. 3.18).

But thanks to Ann Voskamp and her One Thousand Gifts, I have been challenged to look for the little, glad gifts in every moment, and to expect to find joy in giving thanks. ("I might," she says, "be needing me some of that."¹) I am only in chapter 5, but I am already recognizing that, through this woman's uniquely expressed perspective, the Lord has handed me a key to unlock something—something lush and moist (Ps. 66.12b, margin), in areas of my life hitherto dry and stale.

"God has called us to the apostolic task of bringing eternity into time," says Art Katz.² Eternity is always breaking into time in the now (my father again), now is when I can respond to God and be lifted up out of myself and into a heavenly perspective. Here is a woman who seems (I judge, without having yet followed her to the finish of her book and the start of the rest of her journey) to have learned to live in the "eternal now."

With Ann (never has the lack of an e looked so graceful), I "might have found the holy grail... and lost it, moved on." But "I won't let it go this time. I'll enter into the mystery."³

So here goes, beginning my list of gifts:

Brows studiously furled
Little patting hands on face
Being the sunshine of one little person's world
Warm dimples
Friends to pray for
Christmas gifts sneakily given
Prayers of Family Priest (my husband)
Melting exhausted into sheets
Sighing, swallowing sounds of babe in arms
Water, hot and raining, with scent of honeysuckle lathering sudsy
Raisins, plump and wrinkled, dry and juicy
Breakfast bubbling on stove
Small herd of thundering elephants thumping boy feet on the floor above my head
Little baby girls—my one, my only, little baby girl
Lullabies in the dark
Babies waking up smiling and rested
Waiting patiently with peace
Plumply skinny baby arms twined round my neck
Dancing my baby cheek to cheek
Baby, baby, baby!

____________________________________________
1. Ann Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are (ISBN 978-0-310-23191-0), p. 32
2. Arthur Katz, Apostolic Foundations: The Challenge of Living an Authentic Christian Life (ISBN 981-04-2481-7), p. 66
3. Ann Voskamp, ibid., p. 34, 35

Saturday, February 26, 2011

Any Root of Bitterness

Last Saturday night I was up until 11pm stirring a new peanut butter jar. It was a particularly difficult one to stir, and it took me a while, and I found I was dealing with a little bit of self-pity. It was not the part where I was having to use remarkable effort to churn the (natural, non-hydrogenated and therefore non-homegenized) PB for my husband—my husband, who does more sweet, kind and helpful little acts of service for me in a week than most men do for their wives in a month. It was the part where I was the last one awake in the house.

The last one awake, and also the first in line to get up again in just a very few short hours, since no one else can nurse the baby.

So there I was, all alone, with not even my "morale committee" around to show me how much he appreciated the fact that I was staying up late to do this for him so that he could have his favorite breakfast in the morning. In fact, the morale committee had brought me my water and then crawled into bed while I finished nursing the Pea, not having really heard me a few minutes earlier when I told him my water bottle was overdue to be washed. He almost certainly had not meant to leave me all alone, but a prone position in a dark room had worked its magic, and he was now sound asleep.

All alone? I heard the question. No, I was not all alone. We had just recently had a little fun with the 5 Love Languages test, and almost everyone in the house scored highest on Quality Time. (I guess that's why I wanted my husband with me while I stayed up late in the kitchen.) If quality time was so important to me, then why was I balking at giving a few minutes of it to my heavenly Husband? What was wrong with a few quiet minutes spent alone in His presence, a little silent conversation?

The first thing I said to Him was that I had a little problem with self-pity that refused to go away.

That Sunday morning I got up with Ellie at 6:30, leaving my husband to sleep. It's what I always do, and then sometimes I go back to bed later when she does. It was the right thing to do, and I did not begrudge him the rest. I was also grateful for the night, in which I only had to get up once. And yet, I found myself feeling tired and discouraged, not least because Damian and the boys were going to church, leaving me behind with the baby, since she is still not yet in a place where we can spend a large chunk of the morning away from home. This should have been a restful idea: nap when the baby naps, etc. But actually, it often works out that she is fussy when I am home alone with her on a Sunday, and so self-pity was playing off of my fears of what the morning might bring.

Before Damian could get out of the house with the boys, I ended up absolutely screaming at Liam. I had told him that their socks were "on the ottoman." I actually did not mean the big ottoman in front of the couch, I meant one of the small ottomans (ottomen?), of which there are three in a row against the living room wall. While Liam was remarking very loudly that he did not see any socks on the ottoman, Parker cheerfully announced, "Here they are!" To which Liam, in a derogatory whine, replied, "But those are the ottomans, and you said ottoman, so how was I supposed to know...?"

I let him have it. It's a wonder I did not wake up the fragilely sleeping baby upstairs. I had quite a few choice things to say to him about how tired I was that my seven-year-old is always correcting me, and how if he were not so busy finding all the ways in which the people around him are imperfect, he could simply have used his brain to translate my mistake into the correct location of the socks. His wailed reply was, "But I'm a Beaver, that's just the way I am!!!"

Oh, I rose to that occasion. We didn't mean to arm this little pack-rat of facts and factoids with the implications of the four personality types, but it happened, and now we have to clean up after it. I have told him many times that it is fine for him to be a Beaver-Lion, there's nothing wrong with it, but he's going to have to recognize that there are some things that don't come naturally to either Lions or Beavers which he is going to have to learn in order to get through life. So my response to him this morning? "Yes, you're a Beaver, and there's nothing wrong with being a Beaver; but if you say, 'That's just who I am...' and let yourself be limited by your personality type, you will miss the whole point of what Jesus died to give you!!"

Does it strike you that perhaps those words are way too far above a seven-year-old's head for him to take in? And that, maybe, even though he won't be able to ingest their meaning, he will pick up on the weight attached to them? And also that it's probably too great a weight for a seven-year-old to bear?

You see, my seven-year-old is intellectually incredibly advanced for his age—it is not parental pride, but a certain wary objectivity, that makes me say he's at borderline genius levels—but emotionally, he can't keep up. (I think this finally really hit me last night when we had the Monopoly fiasco that I was writing about on my other blog.) My mom had the same premature brilliance, and she lived to tell about the disadvantages of being treated according to her IQ, while emotional development lags behind.

So Liam is constantly and unwittingly trapping me into trying to reason with him the way you would with a much older person, when what he really needs is for me to recognize that he's only a little kid. No matter how well he wields the mental rapier, he is too little to bear the weight of armor needed for a real duel. Therefore, I am the one who needs to be emotionally objective and hold him to a much lower standard than he appears, superficially, to be capable of.

And you know what the real problem is? That thing that prevents me from the sort of compassionately detached parenting that Liam needs? It's the same thing that keeps me from singing over the peanut butter jar: a little root of bitterness.

"Follow peace with all men, and holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord: Looking diligently... lest any root of bitterness springing up trouble you, and thereby many be defiled." —He. 12:14,15

There it is: what prevents me from peace with Liam is bitterness. I get irritated with him for being such a snobby little know-it-all. I even take what he says personally and allow my feelings to get hurt. And I am downright miffed that I should have to deal with such disrespect, not to mention the way the constant whinging and fighting with each other grates on me, when my children are supposed to be softhearted and obedient. But the real problem is me. Why should my joy be so dependent on whether or not other people are being sweet and kind?

I am depressed by the fact that my word doesn't mean a whole lot to these boys. I'm annoyed that I have to tell Parker several times to do (or not do) something before he decides he wants to comply. And I just let him get away with it, because until I know how to deal with it consistently and successfully, I don't want to die on that hill. I am sick of Liam arguing (or negotiating) with me over almost everything that comes out of my mouth. I am oppressed by the way that most of what I hear around me is spoken in an urgent, screaming tone, like those boys are two emergency sirens, continually setting each other off. And I am tired (literally, so very literally!) of the fact that my baby is not sleeping the way I can see for myself that she should be—needs to be.

Translation: I am dissatisfied with the lot my Lord has chosen for me, most especially because I have to deal with the imperfections of my family. (My husband has none, by the way. Ten years of marriage to me has apparently refined him to absolute purity.) Does God get impatient with my imperfections? No. So why am I allowed the luxury of irritation over theirs? I just recently pointed out to someone that if we wait until a person is lovable to start loving them, we are not showing forth the love of Jesus, who died for us when we were yet sinners. Psalm 16 tells me that my lot is good, and the lines are drawn in pleasant places. I know this by faith, whether I happen to feel like it's true at the moment or not, so I have absolutely no right to complain—by word, tone, look or gesture. Anything other than joyful praise starts to look suspiciously like there might be a little root of bitterness growing in my soil.

"...and thereby many be defiled." Could it be that the bitterness in my own heart fans the flames of arguing, fighting, back-talk and discontent in my children? What would silence those blaring sirens? Would Liam grow into a happy, flourishing plant (and Lael into a rock-strong, polished jewel) if I could let them be, stop trying to mold them into the right shape, give up my need to see the right things going on around me, and simply show God's irresistible, undeserving love to them? Peter would agree: he tells me that fervent love would cover a multitude of sins.

What Liam needs more than anything is to be shown the love of God until it melts his heart into softness at the wonder of it. I cannot convict him, anyway; only the Spirit of God can show him (gently, and as he can bear it) what an awful little prig he can be. Lectures and sermons never did anything but drive a sinner as far away as he can run; it is the joy of God visibly manifest in someone's heart that draws a person to say, "Where can I get that?!"

To indulge in self-pity when I'm serving little whiners is rather silly when one considers how patiently Jesus looks past my whining to offer me all God's riches. His joy, the joy of the One whose very nature is to live for another, is my strength. Let me just pull up that root of discontent and bitterness, and there will be nothing to prevent me from taking in the love of my Father and scattering it around me like precious dewdrops falling from my feet wherever I go.

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Thanksgiving

Thank You for the blood of the Lamb by which I can come into Your presence.

Thank You for 32 Christmases with my mother, who was the best mother a person could have, and my first and longest best friend. Thank You for the gift of taking her on Christmas Day.

Thank You for the wonderful, terrible experience of having her in my own living room, caring for her to the best of my ability for eight months. Thank You for what that wrought in me and for me. Thank You that I have more of you today than I did before I went through it. Thank You that, while I fell short in so many ways, I went into it and came out of it praising Your name.

Thank You that eight months after You took my mother, You gave me a daughter: the daughter I asked for by name.

Thank You that she has such a sweet and cheerful temperament.

Thank You that nursing her is not only possible, but easy, just as I asked.

Thank You that You are making her a better sleeper than her brothers.

Thank You for the allergy elimination treatments, which You have provided for her to once again pull us out of a deep hole.

Thank You that You meet me where I am, and that You will not leave me where I am, but draw me ever further and deeper in Yourself.

Thank You for the wisest and best of fathers. Thank You that he lives close by and can be a regular part of our family. Thank You that I am closer to him, and know him better, than before You took my mother.

Thank You for my two sons, who are loving and lovable, intelligent, healthy and strong. Thank You that You are keeping their hearts soft and tender. Thank You that You show me little by little how to teach and train them and how to be a better mother.

Thank You that we are all walking in better health now than in years past.

Thank You for my husband, my best friend. Thank You that You have made him a prince among men: loving, gentle, strong, helpful and supportive, faithful, giving, observant and solicitous, patient, peaceable, slow to anger, wise, kind, always interested in me, fully vested in our children, and sold out to You.

Thank You for my mother-in-law, who loves each of us passionately, and who bends over backwards to help anyone in any way she can.

Thank You for my brother-in-law, and that You have marked him for Yourself.

Thank You for each one in our extended family.

Thank You for friends who love you.

Thank You that You are teaching me to pray.

Thank You for those who pray for me

Thank You that our lives are so comfortable, but not so comfortable that we do not have reason to cry to You.

Thank You that You are increasing my hunger for You, that You do not allow me to sit down satisfied, but stir me up and on.

Thank You that You do all things well.

Thank You that your blessings make rich, and You add no sorrow with them. Thank You for all of Your countless blessings in my life.