“There is so much good in the worst of us, and so much bad in the best of us, that it ill behooves any of us to find fault with the rest of us.” James Truslow Adams
To look at these tired bug-eaten bean plants, you would not expect anything worthwhile to come from them. Do we ever look at people that way? Do we feel like giving up? Last week I was ready to pull up the vines, hoping to make a less withered-looking garden spot. But, in true bean-lover form, I thought I would take one more look. Hot dry weather, a gardener who lost her will to weed, time and bugs, have worked on them for sure. People, too, get beat down, worn out and tested, but God — how many times in scripture do we read “but God…” — made it better, or saved entirely, a dire situation. Example: “And the patriarchs, becoming envious, sold Joseph into Egypt. But God was with him. ( Acts 7:9)
Now look at that little one-gallon ice-cream bucket there beside the row. Beneath these spindly Blue Lake bushes, remained the little moisture and will to live, given by the Lord Himself. Underneath the bushes, I found long tender beans just waiting to be noticed.
As a gardener in a garden, God the Father plants us, waters and nourishes us with all good spiritual gifts, sacrificed blood, sweat, and tears for us, and prepares a table for His expected harvest. He did not give up on you or me nor all humanity. He sees. We search. He loves. We try again. “Therefore, my beloved brethren, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that your labor is not in vain in the Lord.” (I Corinthians 15:58)
By the time I finished both rows, I had two of those little buckets full; and a heart full of resolution to look harder for the good in everyone, as well to surrender the “I’m too old to be useful” idea. Like Daddy’s little ice-cream buckets, we can be repurposed and useful as long as we last. I’m not pulling up those green bean plants. I saw several blooms and baby beans that, who knows, just might make it to another dinner table. I don’t see them giving up until we, or Jack Frost, tell them to.
Never give up — on yourself, or anyone else — while there is life there is hope. “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” (Philippians 4:13)
“Casing all your care upon Him, for He cares for you.” I Peter 5:7
The sky has darkened, wind is gusting and rain is falling. Our resident hummingbirds dart in for another of many meals throughout the day. As the wind picks up, one female is left to continue receiving the nectar and eventually a gust tosses her under the covered porch and whips her back out into the crepe myrtle limbs. She disappears a moment, and as I hear her clicking chatter resume she circles the feeder triumphantly, resuming her natural duty – survival.
Neither the gathering clouds, nor rain, nor rumbling thunder gave these tiny troopers pause in their itinerary. I, on the other hand, pretty much close up shop; at least head for the cover of a porch. And if lightening joins the fun, I am done. Inside, checking with Alexa for the latest storm warning, and lighting a candle, I nearly forget any purpose I had for the day. With a fresh cup of hot coffee, I stand at the window and observe the way of nature.
In my observation, I remember the One who created the birds of the air; the One who sent rain over Noah’s ark; the One who calmed the storm. With one breath, one word, one touch of His hand, all creation – even the wind and the waves obey Him. “And they feared exceedingly, and said to one another, ‘who can this be, that even the wind and sea obey Him?’ ” (Mark 4:41)
I allow too many clouds to overshadow my joy. This is not good. If I hide from the storms and run from the rain, I miss the beauty of knowing I am already in good hands and receiving the peace this brings. Leaning into the storm, I find the One, Jesus my Savior, who already has command of my life. “For He commands and raises the stormy wind, which lifts up the waves of the sea.” (Psalms 107:25)
Lovely little hummingbird, I learn from you. God provides; I must not fear. “For He satisfies the longing soul, and fills the hungry soul with goodness.” (Psalms 107:9) My survival in this stormy world of chaos, and the darkness that persists in a world who has rejected God’s way, depends on the sustaining nectar of God’s Word. Go ahead storms, toss me around like lady hummingbird, and I will be directed back to His way by the breath of His word.
As I stepped out into this January 25th mist whose background was a heavy gray curtain, I was nearly startled by the single splash of bright blue. Then there were two, then three! Our resident bluebirds seemed to be making a statement; “looking for spring? See me.” Perched midway up our electric pole guidewire, bird #1 draped in fog, resembled the barrelman of a ship’s crow’s nest.
He soon joined two more atop the garden posts. Singing a song, words left to my imagination, they seemed to be guiding us through the midst of winter’s gloom. Their low pitched warble, certainly not in tune with the gloomy day, may well have been, “keep the faith, watch for it….spring is coming”. Okay, at least to me, those were the phrases being sung this day.
Per avianreportcom, “Indigo bunting, blue grosbeaks, blue jays, and of course, bluebirds don’t have any blue pigment. Their feathers perform the trick of selective light scattering that we see as blue.”… “Depending on the angle and intensity of light hitting these tine bubbles in bluebird feathers, the resulting blue can vary from a dark color to the vivid deep blue we see in ideal light conditions.”
Other factors play into the degree of blue; some being nutrition, molting, and the observer’s angle. This blue is called a ‘structural color’.
It isn’t the scientific explanation that gives me such pleasure. The thrill is their beautiful profile, and the amazing streak of blue in flight; by whatever means the great Creator, Jehovah God, put these thrilling swoops of azure, cerulean or sky blue into my life.
My daughter and I were commenting this morning on the 50 degree change in one week’s time, and I have no doubt these feathered friends were having a similar conversation. It seemed the bluebirds had emerged from a quiet haven, hidden from our recent single digit temperatures, as well as we.
Perhaps we need these few things to keep hope alive in times of dark uncertainty; the right angle, a friend or two with tiny bubbles of encouragement, a song to sing, and ‘selective light scattering’ as we share enlightening words from God. “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” Psalms 119:105 NKJV
We are promised, and I believe, that if our angle as we look into life is from the path of following Jesus, we “will have the light of life.” (John 8:12)
I am so very thankful for the blessings of light; bluebirds, the Bible, seasons and sight.
Watching (for another couple months) for spring, Trisha
“…but one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forward to those things which are ahead, I press toward the goal for the prize of the upwardcall of God in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 3:13b-14)
Begin with anticipation, not anxiety; end with reflection, not regrets.
I read a devotional message this morning which reminds us to have the objective in life of finishing the race in a way that glorifies God. But not without releasing ourselves from the past, including anything that weighs us down. I realized that in not only our faith, but in all of life’s endeavors, we need objectives. From a first grade teacher’s lesson plans to the post-graduate’s continuing education, objectives are necessary. Goals toward bettering oneself or community, improving methods and understanding, increasing wealth, deepening knowledge and faith; these are possible goals or objectives we may find to be our focus.
I enjoy writing on Saturday mornings and Sunday afternoons; reflective of the week passed, and hopeful for the coming week. Similarly, with bedtime prayers we ask forgiveness of sins, that our prayer will be heard and live in hope for the coming day. Whether a day from now or a week, or five years, we need objectives to propel and guide. Last week my friend Linda sent a quote to me. It stated no amount of regrets will change the past; no amount of anxiety will change the future; and any amount of gratitude will make the present better. Like Paul said, forget the past and keep the objective ever before us. With thanksgiving. (Philippians 4:6-7)
If you’re like me you try to end each evening with a prayer. Often mine are asking for absence of regret; reflecting on the needs of the future; but always with thanksgiving.
Sharing with my children this morning, the subject of objectives, and its connection to the verses in Philippians, I told them objectives won’t fly if tethered to regrets. I’m learning to let go of the past, press on toward the goal, and in all, to be thankful. As I write, I realize gratitude and prayer have indeed transported me from a residence of regret, to one of, well, time share, perhaps. (smile) While I am not totally free of crying over spilled milk, I am totally free of guilt. The less I cry, the clearer I see objectives. The more I rid my heart of ‘woulda shoulda coulda’ space, the more room I have to embrace a future full of hope and gratitude. My goal? To get rid of that time share and never darken the doors of regret again. I believe we call that Heaven.
Reflect on each day enough to evaluate, and keep or adjust worthy objectives. Anticipate the needs of meeting those, with faith that God will supply your every need. Set your objectives with the ultimate goal of bringing glory to God, even with the mistakes you make, as you accept His forgiveness and grace. Living with no regrets, because Jesus has washed them away, is the freedom He bought for you with His blood on the cross. To cling to regrets is to refuse Him. I pray you will seek Him, accept Him, and through His blood, live regret-free. Trisha
Simply stated, notabilia means ‘things worthy of note’. I came away Saturday from our local congregation’s ladies’ retreat with several items of notabilia. First, I will say it was a privilege to be there, and by that I mean, I’m privileged with the transportation and time to go; with some great friends to accompany me; with the opportunity of getting to know more about some sisters in Christ who were very nearly strangers to me; and lastly I got to hear notabilia from others as I sat back, relaxed, benefitting from their life stories, their words and their studies.
I must insert a fair warning here. I have not been able to keep this short, though I have forced myself to omit a great number of details I would love to have shared. But I don’t want to lose you before I make my intended points.
At first I was drawn the distance of an hour and a half drive just for the chance to see again the actual place of my obedience to the gospel of Jesus Christ, which was the West KY Youth Camp. It was in the swimming pool there, that I was immersed into Jesus’ body, in about 1966. I attended a total of three summers, two as a camper, with the director being the late Kenneth Hoover, and one as a junior counselor under the direction of the late Dennis and Florence Rogers. Though it was touching to see the old pavilion where my tears flowed, (or was that the off note I sang in How Great Thou Art?), it turned out not as interesting as what I found inside the building where the retreat was being held.
This large multipurpose building was a little rough around the edges, as it would be most difficult to have fine and fancy on donations alone. (Aren’t some of the biggest hearts found inside those who are a bit rough around the edges?) But it was SO accommodating! All the necessities were there: great space, comfortable chairs, tables, bathrooms, kitchen and lots of light. But, what made it work, was the people rather than the venue. Thorough planning was done, which is necessary, but it doesn’t carry itself out. The hard work carried it out, and that’s necessary, but impossible without the planning; which leaves intent, which for me, must’ve been God’s part. Being human, our intentions for being there were likely as varied as we were.
As an older member (some of these ‘ladies’ were young enough to be my grandchildren), I had to ask myself beforehand as to intent; why so far away, and why I wanted to get up at 5 AM on a Saturday. In all honesty, I even dabbled in the devil’s deceit, wondering if it was to weed out us older ladies; you know, the old stale routine. Shame on me. Oh, we were taken far away for sure – far from everyday monotony, rush, confines of the clock; to a place where we were encouraged to see through our spiritual eyes, our gifts and our places in the body of Christ. Unfortunately I was only able to attend Saturday, but what a blessing that day was.
My take away from Kelly Vaughn’s lesson on spiritual gifts (our talents or abilities) is they change. We change. So do our gifts. Changing does not render us useless. Perhaps our former abilities are those upon which to build. Maybe we do an about-face in another direction altogether. Why this hadn’t occurred to me before, I do not know. I didn’t see it. I felt that because I wasn’t doing the same things I had done like teaching littles, and then later, medical mission trips, I must be washed up; no real purpose in the work of the church. Then there I was enjoying Kelly’s excellent points about spiritual gifts, and BAM! she said things like older…changing…different…still have a place in the body. To quote her, “One’s gift, or function, can change, as life goes on”. There. Right there was my God given intent, my reason for wanting to be there. He knew, and I did not. This “seasoned” Christian needed to hear that our grace given gifts change; and we are still deemed useful, though probably in other functions. Self-centered, perhaps. But don’t pretend I am alone in this. We need to be needed. And the body, the church, has a great many needs to fill.
On the other hand, life was just settling me into the comfort of excusing myself from responsibilities. I now realize using age and lower energy levels as an excuse for sitting back, is not a reason to avoid all roles. As the scripture says (I Corinthians 12), if the whole body were hearing, where would be the sense of smell? There are women older than I and with family/health/obligation issues as well, and they are serving circles around me.
The second talk by Alisha Bohannon, still focused on finding our places in the unified body – the church – as found in Ephesians 4. There is diversity in gifts given by God, that we may function as a whole body. Alisha’s story added a sweetening, like dessert after a sumptuous meal from Kelly, reminding me that some have had to endure extreme hardship and tragedy to come to their “place”. Not that all who use their gifts must have come through great tragedy, as she pointed out. But for those who do suffer, there is the choice of whether to allow God to work through the situations to transport them into a better place, or to hold out in anger. This gave me pause; introspection, as to what circumstances in my own life had led me to opportunities or areas of service I either filled, or perhaps resisted. It was endearing to me to have these tender moments shared with us.
Our activities included artwork. Well “art” may be stretching it a bit, but it was quite enjoyable to play in paints again. It’s been a while or two since my kids, now in their 40’s, asked me to paint. I came away with a permanent record of favorite scriptures from these young women. I look forward to looking up each one to read and meditate on them.
The last item of notabilia I’ll mention is one of the stations in another activity (and all of them were valuable!) But at this one, the instructions were to write on a piece of paper what weights you are carrying. After looking at them and comparing them to a list of categories, along with scriptures related to each category, you were to give these weights and burdens to God. Symbolically, we were to then put the pieces of paper in the shredder provided. As I read what I’d written, I was a bit unsettled to realize these were in the categories of fear and doubt. Me, a seasoned Christian, having fear and doubt riding around on my already over-used back! I jotted down the verses to take home for fast reference when I am tempted to retrieve those burdens from God. In Isaiah 41:10 God tell us “Fear not, for I am with you. Be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you. Yes, I will help you. I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.” The second one is Proverbs 3:5-6 where we read, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths.”
Other notable points I want to mention are as follows:
Young women whom I saw screaming their way into this world are now able to lead with their voices in song and scripture.
Everybody loves tacos.
Quiet women can raise the spiritual roof with devout prayer.
I do not need to use stensils again. Ever. No kidding. But I can still have fun with failure.
One generation learns from another; both are valuable.
Please do not consider this to be a complete list of things worthy of notice from the retreat. Nor is it anyone’s opinion but mine. My observations and take-aways are as particular to me as my own face. I incorporated no one else’s. Before I go, I think I have come to what I found most noteworthy. No tradition should be so tightly gripped that it squelches the flames and excitement of others as they grow and change in their spiritual life. Friends, I lived through watching one congregation dwindle down to bare bones and I never want to witness that again! I cannot speak for them, but my own observation attributed the decline to resistance. Resistance to fresh ideas between generations and reluctance to change. First, and foremost, the truth in God’s word never changes. Venues, methods, action however, all can and will change to serve and carry out what He has called us to do. The scriptures are filled with examples of women who altered their styles, made new connections and did new work as their lives changed. Naomi and Ruth, Esther, Rahab, Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Jesus to note a few.
It was the first time I had attended a church function where I was the oldest, and only two others near my age. I have to say I was disappointed. My prayer is that our inspirational times together will continue to thrive as they have in the past as we remember what we learned from those gone ahead of us, who made learning and serving fun and exciting as we grew. I will try not to be so unyielding to my own changes. I will be praying for unity in the Spirit; for every sister in Christ to find her gift and cherish it; and for all of every age to “Be kindly affectionate to one another with brotherly love, in honor giving preference to one another.” Romans 12:10
I told you this would be long. If I have misrepresented anything or anyone, I encourage correction. I am sorry I had to miss Mallory Bybee’s talk Friday. Thank you Ashley Benson for your planning; Leigh Ann Grady for the delicious goodies; the men, Jacob, Matt and Scott for the work of maneuvering tables, trash detail and providing food. I no doubt have left out others who made the time of refreshing/retreating possible but you are just as appreciated as if I knew your names.
I knew this week would be hard but I just didn’t dream how hard. The gaps in my broken heart haven’t healed and with the light God shines through them, there also seeps tears and doubts. I dreaded the anniversary of my little brother’s passing one year today, the fifth of January. Regrets are mean spiteful things; yet we hang onto them even though God tells us to let go and let Him heal. I worried about my little sister, my nieces and nephew, and I was concerned that I, myself, would hibernate to Kathy’s couch to sob into my grief. But life had other ideas. The sudden passing of the young and vibrant Mandi Murdock whose husband and his family have been a part of our life since, well, forever, has bolted me upright. My heart is so broken for the Murdock and Darnall families that it dried up my tears before they could fall for my own losses. Well, that is, other than the moments the radio was accidentally shifted to Spa station this morning and started playing “Before The Gates of Heaven” ( an instrumental, but wow, what a title!); then later “Last Date” was drifting off the piano keys of Kent Hewitt (I think) similar to Floyd Cramer. And that’s a whole other story I can’t get into now. So I called Janette DeWitt to check on her but instead, I just blubbered how I need not listen to the radio on edgy days and how heavy my heart was. She understood. So well. She listened. She stood in the gap where I had lost it, until God put it back. That’s what friends do.
Earlier today there was also the visitation and funeral for a lady who was the caregiver for her husband, a friend to many and seemed to always have a smile ready. She will be missed greatly by her family. Many were there to stand in the gap for Carolyn Hargrove’s loved ones and make the burden of goodbye somewhat lighter.
Tomorrow, as Kyle says his final goodbye for this life, to the other half of himself; as Luke tries to imagine life without his mother, as he so recently had to do with his big sister, I try myself to understand what we are supposed to think and do when we want so desperately to help, but cannot make sense of it. When Mandi was abruptly separated from her family, from earth ties, from lesson plans; when a young son grapples for understanding, along with grandparents who are trying to take in air that must feel stifling with palpable grief, we who know and love them want to help. We know full well words cannot explain our sorrow, nor heal. So we hover; we collectively stand in the gap – share the grief – stand even from our own homes in silent respect, kneeling in prayer, sitting in a search of God’s word for answers. That’s when it came to me; we hover, gathered together in spirit, surrounding these beautiful people to fill a gap; a gap created by life situations and one that the evil one will take advantage of if left open. Loved ones surround us, quite unlike the gap in the city’s wall of Ezekiel’s time where no man would stand in the gap, and so the city was not saved. We stand with each other, with this family, so that hopelessness cannot take over. We hold up the Holy Spirit, brought by our hearts filled with Him, to comfort and keep hope alive for better days and a future alive with hope for eternity. Filling the gaps where God is working through us to keep mourning souls from despair; so grief will not overtake them. My prayer Lord is, use us as we stand physically and in spirit surrounding the Murdock and Darnall families, knowing nothing of our own ability can get them through, but allowing Your power of hope and healing to be magnified through us as we stand in the gaps. Keep the circle of faithful friends strong, where faith, hope and love will be standing, and doubt, despair and darkness will be shut out. As You ready them to face the days ahead, though their gaps will never be filled, the love of the Lord and those standing in the gaps, will keep them safe. Amen.
Memories of Kenzie and of Mandi, and her presence with the Lord where her daughter is, will also stand in the gaps for all who knew and loved them. That’s how I see it. Love, Trisha
Happy New Year friends! I suppose ‘happy’ is subjective, as well as all inclusive for the many things we wish one another as we closed chapter 2022, and began a new chapter, 2023. Even as I proclaimed ‘happy new year’ to my family last night, I knew we meant so much more. It includes the momentary “let’s celebrate the auld lang sine in a festive spirit”, but from me to them, and to you, it means more fully, “bless your hearts for surviving and thriving the past year, and may you reach bravely and blessed into the abyss of yet unknown”.
Most people who enjoy writing, feel they must say something about anything new I guess. So, with a fresh cup of gingerbread coffee in hand, may I add my two cents worth of ‘happy new year’. With that, I wish I could take all your anxiety, fear and hardships, tie them in a Hefty bag and send them out with our Friday waste pick up. But then, that is God’s job, and He, with all wisdom and clarity of the big picture, is the best at it.
I have been guilty in years past, of saying I was so glad a particular year was over and welcomed a year with a new number. As if any time frame could recognize our expectation for a number on our calendar to alter a thing. No, one day just follows another, and it is up to us to be grateful for every single one of them and to give each day our best shot. I’m not real good at it, but a runner doesn’t have to win to know what she needs to do better to win, right?
As I clear away the Christmas clutter (that which I thought was so warm, cheery and bright when I put it there!), I feel my head clearing as well. Finding the floor again and parting with things I couldn’t before, is liberating. Closing and sealing each box or tote, giving it a place on some shelf, and wiping the dust away makes me breathe a sigh of relief. Is that how we feel about the worn out year? What started 12 months ago as a bright and shiny new opportunity, has lost its luster, and feels ragged and rough, ready for the dumpster. Maybe my lesson to self is not to set those expectations too high; nor to feel disappointed because some issue didn’t magically change by the stroke of midnight December 31. A new year doesn’t promise perfection. Storms will rage; illnesses persist; interest rates rise and children still fall. But praise the Lord, these are temporary, and Jesus is still Lord of all. I am so thankful I can pray to a God Who listens and will never grow tired and weary of our petitions. I praise God for wanting to be our rock, our healer, our guide back home when we stray. Time fails us because we put our trust in it, instead of the one who controls it.
My wish for you all is as James 4:8 says, “Draw near to God and He will draw near to you.” May you be blessed with the desire to know more fully the One Who gave us life, taught us to love, and loves to see us happy. Trisha
Enjoying the rain from our kitchen window with my first cup of Portland Blend this morning, my view shifted suddenly from the serene stillness to a lively chase. Already immersed in the beauty of a gentle rain which has been absent from our west Kentucky summer, I was nearly startled by the activity. Not the usual one resident rabbit, but two bunnies emerged from my garden, jumping at each other’s face, then racing around the first crepe myrtle, and continued their dance and chase around the next five crepe myrtles! One would chase the other around the tree, then meeting to begin hopping and prancing, sometimes fist bumping their front paws and then repeat the activity with the next tree. As the leader circled the sixth tree, it disappeared into the soybeans, leaving a bewildered bunny to hop slowly, hesitatingly, back toward the garden shed. I felt a little sorry for the kid, and wondered if they’d ever see each other again.
Life can be a total rabbit chase! I wonder if my maniacal gardening appears to others like the chase I had just watched, around and around and on to the next job in line. We hear of chasing a rabbit down a hole, which again, I’m prone to do, especially if I’m trying to relay some incident. Some notion enters my brain as another is being explained and off I go. And then there’s that great big expanse of a soybean field lying across the lives of our children, friends, work families and so forth. Their paths divert in some direction other than ours and it’s a toss up as to whether they’ll cross again, or lead off in still further mazes. It’s just life.
I hope we jump and fist bump and dance in circles and run our races together for as long as we’re given. Life can be terrific that way; and sad that way.
In my gratitude for the long awaited and much needed rain, I’m also sorry for those who are dealing with too much of it and the rolling rivers. Thankful for the break in temperatures these last couple days, we brace for the coming week of horrid heat. I’m glad I got to see the antics of the rabbits this morning and was reminded to be thankful for our people as well as reminded to stop and play now and then. The chase can be tiring, so remember to rest mentally and emotionally as well as (and probably more importantly than) the physical rests.
“Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!” Psalms 46:10 NKJV
“Therefore humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you in due time, casting all your care upon Him, for He cares for you.” I Peter 5:6-7 (NKJV)
Recently I saw a good example of casting your care upon the Lord versus dangling it into the water, near the bank and watching for a nibble of concern. To set the scene for you, it was the first day of March, a beautiful breezy welcome from winter’s stuffy hold.I had the pleasure of being amused all afternoon by an excited six year old, great nephew Grayson. Of the day’s many activities, his favorite at my house is “findin’ worms”.Following his frenzied search for earth worms, and swinging a Mason jar ofhis treasures by the wire handle, he asked, “now what?” I suggested we could put them back in the ground to live in the garden. Looking up at me with one eye winking at the sun, he sheepishly said, “Well I guess we could see if some fish want to eat them”.I’ve never had that line used on me before! Unfortunately, I only had available to us my old cane pole with a short line, a weight and a rusty hook, as well as a crappie pole, with little more line and a bobber. With a six year old’s enthusiasm and confidence, this pitiful assortment seemed enough. So off we went to the pond, bait and poles in hand.
Once we had positioned ourselves on the pond bank and he dug a “fat juicy one” out of the jar, I speared it onto the hook. He exclaimed “I’m gonna cast it out there in the water now!” Cast? With limited line and no rod and reel. Explaining the need to have a reel to ‘cast’ was a waste of breath, for he had already determined this was the only way to fish. As I ducked and dodged the flying hook again and again, Grayson cast with abandon and trusted he would any minute pull in a big bass. Bait on, a whip of his tiny wrist, and optimism was cast without doubt. I suspected his real goal was to use up all his newly acquired bait. My method was to slowly bring the line behind me, often snagging my bait in the brush, then gingerly toss it out as far as my short line would allow me to drop the baited hook while I explained all the reasons why we shouldn’t expect a bite on a breezy day before spring. Is this how I cast my cares on the Lord? Do I cautiously offer a short line I can keep an eye on, snagged in worry, while explaining all the ways it won’t work?
Lord, let me cast like a six year old! Just fling it out there, too fast to snag it with other worldly cares and with weighted hope, expect to reel in a big blessing!No wonder the Lord said we’d need to become like little children! Trusting, enthusiastic and hopeful – the examples I need for casting my line before the Lord, knowing he will take the bait of cares and replace them with peace.
“Then Jesus called a little child to Him, set him in the midst of them, and said, ‘Assuredly, I say to you, unless you are converted and become as little children, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven’.”Matthew 18:2-3 (NKJV)
Once again a layer of ice has crystalized our countryside in Western Kentucky, though thankfully, it hasn’t paralyzed us as the 2009 ice storm did. Here at home we didn’t even lose electrical power, so we had the privilege of admiring the unbelievable sparkle of the outdoor world from a warm window, where I watched the nearby Hawthorne tree display colors as a crystal prism. Only the sun and the ice compose this dazzling artwork. Snapping pictures for an hour has not begun to capture the reality of what the eye beheld yesterday morning. My eyes, however, remained shifted away from the center of our backyard, where not all was beauty. There in the backyard is a Southern Magnolia tree I love because it was given me by my brother 12 years ago. Due to it’s size, the weight of accumulated ice was more than it could bear and many limbs lay on the ground, splintered ends pointing skyward. As I lamented my heartbreak to my family, we talked about how insignificant one tree is in comparison to the devastating losses so many have suffered lately. It still hurts; it will never have the beautiful shape it was before the storm. Thoughts emerged of life storms, splintered hearts and hope, and the healing we long for after the storm. Hearts scarred and broken from abuse and abandonment will awaken each day and be reshaped by not only the past but by each encounter and effort to recover and repair. Broken relationships leave gaping wounds, and when scars form, room is made for building new and reshaping old relationships. I believe none of this happens without design by the creator God, Who set the life seasons in motion, planning for scars to give rise to new growth; strength in healing from brokenness; beauty from barren canvases where we allow the master artist to create in us renewed hope and revived spirit. (Psalm 51:10) Just as there is beauty in the crystalized world outside my window even as the ice in its natural character does damage; and just as there is hope for my Magnolia to live on with its scars producing new growth and certainly new shape, we also can continue to be part of new growth and reshaping for others and ourselves after life’s storms. We are helpless to stop these changes of our seasons, but God is able to bring out of those seasons the beauty within us because it was He Who put it there in the first place. “It is He who has made us, and not we ourselves” Psalm 100:3. Give yourself the gift of allowing God through His word, to revive and reshape you after the storms of your seasons. “Then your light shall break forth like the morning, your healing shall spring forth speedily, and your righteousness shall go before you; the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard.” (Isaiah 58:8)
Trisha's Coffee Break 