The timer started, wrestlers tense staring into each other’s eyes, mocking, watching, anticipating the first move. The high school gym was hot, fans, referees, athletes all dripping in the late afternoon heat. It was the final match, everyone was ready for the long day to be over, yet this was the finale, the peak of it all. As the match began the minds of the two opponents, long time competitors, snapped into singular focus, the noise, the light, the irritation of sweat receding as they began. Nothing mattered more than the task at hand. For this they had trained, worked, competed, and sacrificed. Win or lose, both had already won. But play the game still they must. It wasn’t over yet.

Somewhere along this trek through life a “wrestler” has come my way. I’m not certain how he so casually sauntered in, but the presence of his competitive nature has been very evident for years. He pops up in my mind to challenge me. Why? Just for his fun of it, I guess. Or for my destruction. He is relentless in his efforts to win. He plays the same old tunes, has the same old moves of trying to take me down and out. And, frankly, is tiresome. Ever so slowly, however, I am learning those wrestling moves; especially how to feign an attack and claim my upper hand. Sometimes he wrestles me with flat out lies, fear, discouragement, and worry. He has studied me well, knows my weak points, and never hesitates to take advantage. He has whispered worrisome lies in my ears for so many years that I have had to learn to cast them out of my head, and replace them with truth. Happily I have a righteous referee who fully knows this game, and coaches me well. It is an ongoing, life-long, match.

World class wrestling I personally understand. “World” is that wrestler’s name, who endeavors relentlessly to subdue each of us to his will. Whether we win each match, or are beat in temporary defeat, we, too, like those high school wrestlers, have already won. We can get up again. The game goes on. And by God’s grace we find ourselves still standing!

John 16:33 (NKJV) Jesus says: 33 These things I have spoken to you, that in Me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.”

Deuteronomy 20:3-4 (NKJV): 3 And he shall say to them, ‘Hear, O Israel: Today you are on the verge of battle with your enemies. Do not let your heart faint, do not be afraid, and do not tremble or be terrified because of them; 4 for the Lord your God is He who goes with you, to fight for you against your enemies, to save you.’

Some days I wonder about purpose, how important my life really is in the big scheme of things. Sure, I birthed two children, step-mothered two more, and am loving them all, plus seven grands. Over forty-three years I have loved and stayed faithful to one husband, worked and served in nursing, have ridden the rocky road of life in them thar hills, and learned more and more how to keep my mouth shut. Sort of. Maybe that’s why I write!

It has taken me a lifetime of listening to understand that I need to listen more. Knowing that life is neither all about me, nor is it about my opinions. Oh, how I desire to speak my understanding of God’s truth to those I see hurting, and to those who have rejected God’s love. It is hard to make the choice to stay away when my presence may be a stressor for an already stressed out loved one. It is frustrating, yet freeing, too, when I am given permission to not enter what feels like a battle zone. A blessing in disguise one could say. So I stand on the promise that God does hear my prayers, and that my trust in His working His plans for my hurting loved one is well founded. For that shred of “you need to fix it” in me still whispers, “Can ya hear me now?”

As I sat listening to dear husband’s report of his visit to a loved one recently, my mind reflected on this active silence I have been practicing. Hearing, listening without interrupting for clarification as I am want to do; endeavoring to love well by setting aside my impulses to understand immediately. I do feel muzzled at times, but am becoming more comfortable with that for it lessens the possibility of frustration and misunderstanding. Perhaps the lesson in patient endurance is for me, as God and others endure my thought processes as well. It sends me skipping to God’s Word for encouragement and consolation especially when communication gets messy. “Can ya hear me now?”

I am so thankful for a place I can go, whenever I need to be heard. It matters not if I am eloquent, well prepared to present my case, factual, realistic, even fully truthful. For in standing before my LORD my tumbled thoughts are brought into the light of His Truth so I can see clearly, become more honest with myself, embrace the truth of the situation, get real and see the bigger picture. He makes my crooked paths straight. Sometimes I am full of shame, embarrassed, remorseful. Other times I am vindicated, encouraged, reassured. Always I am loved, accepted, instructed, forgiven, restored. And heard.

“Can ya hear me now?”

“Yes, yes, loud and clear!”

When I was very young the goal of becoming perfect seemed the highest ideal I could imagine. From where that thought germinated I have no idea. It is only in the last several years I have more pointedly pondered the meaning of that desire, perhaps endeavoring to solve a mystery in me. In reading God’s Word it has become more clear why such thoughts would come to a child, each of us created with a deep desire to regain original wholeness. Throughout our lives there is that thing that urges us to strive for it. To have not only ourselves but all in our world be just as it should be, perfectly complete. Elsewise, why that bent to fix the broken, to reconcile, to heal, to make well, to become better, to grow? Jesus said in Matthew 5:48 (NKJV):

48 Therefore you shall be perfect, just as your Father in heaven is perfect.

Perfect. Something I am still learning about. It has always seemed elusive, forever out of reach. And yet, there is that thing about it that just won’t let go.

Beginning Derek Prince’s study of 2 Peter 1: 2-7, Be Perfect – But How?, I was inspired by his quote on pages 10-11: “… each of us, in our own particular allotted place can be a small, perfect circle.” A circle, perfectly round, complete without disruption of any kind. His further example of God being the greatest circle Who encompasses the whole universe brought to mind an interesting scientific fact. Rainbows, the sign of God’s promise to never destroy the earth again with a worldwide flood, are in reality… circles.

Certainly, that bow we see in the sky, partially or wholly arcing from horizon to horizon, is but a reflected reminder, a sign for us to be assured in the might of a storm, that God has not forgotten His promise. Yet it goes beyond what we can see… for the bow continues beneath the horizon of our vision.

Today I needed this reminder that the God of grace, by Whose process we are being perfected to become those whole and complete small circles, has numerous rainbows of promises that go far beyond the horizon of our vision or understanding. When storms of grief, despair, fear, remorse, or any other trial takes residence in our minds or our worlds, we can in faith look beyond our turmoil to God’s promises that forever remain intact, perfectly encircling our greater universe.

What joy in the journey to be encouraged by rainbows, a “reflection, refraction, and dispersion of light… resulting in… a multicoloured circular arc.”(Wikipedia). What a privilege that we may also reflect the light of the Father in our own circle of influence. Of course, we cannot become perfect by our own efforts, no more than water droplets can just decide to form a rainbow. It is the light reflecting through that creates the magnificence. Our wholeness and completeness is an unfolding gift given by a Perfect Father who created us, who knows His unique design for our lives better than we know ourselves.

It is a glorious thing to come upon evidences of God’s presence throughout one’s life… from the grand and obvious as we gaze on His marvelous creation, to the infinitesimally small as we look deep within. Learning to listen for His voice, accepting His gift of relationship through Jesus Christ, our small circle intersects with His. If we would but look and see, be still…He is here, with us… and there, beyond our horizon… always encircling us with His Love. We need not be perfect to come to God. His hand is extended to us to bring us into perfection and completion. Like a rainbow… though we may not see it all… His light shining through us is what makes us perfectly whole.

It’s snowing! It’s snowing!
White flakes floating down
Crystalline stars of ice
Bearing from above 
Pristine gifts from Heaven 

A welcomed sight amidst 
Bright or dreary days 
Reminders that far beyond  
Is One who emanates 
Exquisite unending Love 

The sun shown brightly on a light glazing of snow that gave hope for a white Christmas. My brother popped by, early morning elf delivering family gifts, and as we visited asked, “Have you read your email?” While I searched the cousins’ thread of news, he quietly announced, “Ron died last week.” It took some time for this to impact me… it just didn’t seem real. Our treasured cousin, gone?

I had a few hours to sink into my grief before family was due to arrive that early evening. I knew Ron had been ill, and was thankful to have spoken and emailed with him a few months previous. Still, loss has a way of sneaking up on us, and seems no respecter of age or time.

As the tsunami of emotions peaked and crashed on the shore of my soul, I sat before the LORD crying out reasons for my sorrow. It came clear again why we experience such pain when the love of those we love is severed by death, divorce, or whatever reason. I firmly believe, whenever possible, embracing the pain as it occurs, rather than saving it for another day. It is far less hurtful to face it early on than to carry an ever-increasing load of grief that builds upon itself the more we ignore, deny, or stuff it.

God revealed some deep things to me as I cried not only for Ron, but for the loss of those precious family experiences we once shared as children. He, his brother, my brother, and I enjoyed numerous summer visits, though our families lived nearly seventeen hundred miles apart. I miss those carefree days of tromping in the woods, fishing the river, chasing chipmunks and lizards, and just hanging out together. Life in general, the living out of morality and values, is much different now, challenged in new ways that are determined to separate families and friends. No, no time in history is ever without its angsts, but those times of life with our cousins were beautiful and uplifting. I grieved for many things in those Christmas Eve tears, cleansing tears that needed to be shed in today’s tensely wound world.

Not having scheduled deep grieving and crying as part of the day’s events, amazingly enough the tears eventually dried. Wondering how ever the day would unfold, and still feeling drained, I was thankful for dear husband reorienting my numb mind as we completed a last minute grocery run. Later at home, the tides of emotions continued to recede as we readied for the evening, and I was able to thoroughly enjoy our family, to be present in those moments without being overly burdened.

God is good, all the time. He meets us wherever we are, no matter the situation. He is well acquainted with sorrow and grief, and can certainly help us walk through our own. Speaking the grief outward and upward to Him allows that pain to be redirected off an ever-looping track inside of us, as He listens and lifts our burdens. Sure, we may need to talk with Him again and again. Praise be, His shoulders are broad and strong enough to carry whatever we bring! And like children being consoled, encouraged, or even corrected for our good and growth, indeed, in every instance He sets us free, in process, or in whole.

Thank you, Ron, Rick T., and Rick K. for the precious memories, and for your love throughout the years. Thank You, Father God, for all the special people who bring Your love and joy into our lives, people though when they die seem to take a great part of that love away with them. Thank You, LORD, that You are Love, and that You are still here, Immanuel, God With Us, today and every day no matter how overwhelming our grief may be. Thank You, LORD, You can bear our pain, and fill those empty places in us with Your Love, with Yourself.

John 1:14 (NKJV) 14 And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth.

All the gifts were wrapped for Christmas, but this one box of sparkly white wooden snowflake ornaments. The exquisite snowflakes, most likely laser cut, were intricate, nine different designs, two of each. Somehow they had captured me one day as I shopped for a birthday gift. Who needs more ornaments? Were we even putting up our tree this year? Still, the ornaments begged to come home with me. Now the mystery trying to solve itself… what actually should I do with them?

This is the first Christmas I can recall that we have not put up our tree. Up in the garage attic, it rests just a bit out of safe reach for us old folks. Yes, the wreaths are up outside, and the nativity is set in place on the sideboard. Flickering candles and a red poinsettia flanked by sprays of silver fronds grace the center of the mantle. Miniature lights glisten in the pine bough swag under the mantle and over the fireplace. A new addition, the pure white gnome angel our daughter-in-law recently crafted for us, is silent sentinel over all. It appears this year the snow globe tree and the eight-inch tall air-fern Christmas tree will stand duty. With no large tree as usual, hopefully our home still reflects that Christmas warmth and cheer we anticipate each year.

My mind flittered again through possibilities for the ornaments. Gift the whole box? Suspend them at different heights in front of a dark wooden door in a tree shape? Nothing seemed to settle in my mind… until this morning. Quickly I started counting on my fingers while saying the names out loud, all the names of our children, their spouses, and our grands. Seventeen, if you count dear hubby and me. What fun! With eighteen ornaments there is “an extra one to grow on!” An extra for hopes to come.

It matters not the tree, the gifts, the decor… the true meaning of Christmas is so much more! And each time snow falls from Heaven I will remember these thoughts of holding of our family close. An ornament for each, to take their way as they go. I cannot keep my dear ones physically near, no more than I can hold a snowflake in my palm. Yet like snowflakes swirling through this worldly time, I will enjoy the beauty of their lives blessing mine, while releasing them back into the heart of God.

~~~

Whenever you see a snowflake fall   
Thousands of millions of billions of trillions                                     Remember each flake shows a bit of how much                                            You are cherished, cared for, treasured, and loved

Millions of tiny paratroopers invaded my yard today 
Falling from an overcast sky, dark and cold and grey
“Whence come you?” I  wondered aloud as my gaze was cast
To watch the snow flakes tumble down, winter here at last

Or could they be but dandelion seeds blowing on the wind
On a balmy summer day, to lift and float and spin
To carry far those tiny wings to plant into my lawn
Yellow flowers, for wine or food, I mostly wish were gone 

A wondrous place this earth we tread, miraculous things each day
Grace our life with bless or curse, bring joy or bring dismay
Tis how we look at it, I guess, what holds for one the key
With smile or frown we look upon what comes to you and me 

     ~~~

One grey winter afternoon, as dear husband and I watched snowflakes lazily floating down from the sky, my aging eyes saw tiny paratroopers, the shape of dandelion seeds, disc shapes with a rudder tail below to guide and keep upright. “Do you see that, the paratrooper shapes?” I asked him. “Yes,” he said, “my eyes are getting old, too!” 

That reminded me of a time long ago with my family at a cabin in the woods. One snowy evening our maternal grandmother sat gazing out the window at the deepening darkness, snowflakes highlighted by the outside corner light shining brightly. “Look at those stringy snowflakes!” she suddenly exclaimed. We all thought this hilarious, for, of course, everyone knows there is no such thing. Or is there? The flakes were falling so fast that they did indeed looked stringy. In this place of miraculous occurrences, no matter aging eyes, stringy snowflakes and tiny paratroopers may certainly be seen! 

In days of gray when life seems all a-winter, may you find flurries of surprise and your soul be filled with wonder! And may unexpected possibilities renew your heart with hope and joy! 

Pregnant pause, the muffled din 
Ceases clamor, listens in 
To the sounds of silence 

Tires crackle an icy road 
Pierce the quiet, presence told 
Then vanish in the silence 

The lingering laugh of children pulled 
Toboggans careening round the wood
Til bedtime claims their silence 

Trees and bushes heavy full 
Wear coverings of frozen wool 
Birds, squirrels tucked in silence 

Scrapes of shovelers out at night 
Clearing paths before the light  
More snow, then deeper silence 

Snow a wondrous glorious gift 
Icy manna softly drifts 
Blesses us with silence 

Reflections in the darkness cold
Brighten shadows of snowy folds
Blankets of whitened silence 

And in the silence comes the bid
Find the wonder, Love that’s hid 
In the still of silence 

As Christmas time comes round again
Our hearts review of life begins
To ponder truths or whys beneath
The things we do, prospects to meet
The yearnings deep beneath the smiles
Lonely, wounds, unending trials

And still the night returns to day
Then night again as carols play 
And deep within our hearts we wonder
“Why, oh why is all a blunder?”
Yet, deeply deeply still within 
Hope comes to us again, again
For on that night so long ago
Hope truly came, Emmanuel!

“God with us” none can compare!
Our burdens, hopes, and dreams to bear
He comes to us yet every day
“Accept His love,” the carols say
And through the deep of life though mean
Christ’s peace is ours! His light is seen!

May joy and laughter fill your hearts!
For though the darkness did impart
Shadows on your life’s walk way
Begin anew! There’s hope today!
And join the carols’ glad refrain
“Rise up! Rise up! You live again!”
And share the joy with those around
Emmanuel! Our Hope is found!

“Ho! Ho! Ho!” sang a sweet voice across the expanse of snow. I sat slumped in my car, wrapped in fleece jacket and down coat, unsure of what to do next. Christmas was less than three weeks away, and although I was near “ready” in the secular sense, I could tell my spirit was ill at ease with… something.

Was it that frustrated conversation with a loved one yesterday? Was shrinking anticipation what tipped the scale? Retreating into myself I remembered that long-term solitude is not a foreign concept to me. It is a soft, safe cocoon, a place of rest and tranquility. What’s not to like? Yet, is this where I am to dwell? Cut off from those I love?

“Ho! Ho! Ho!” came the sweet voice across the snow. I had heard that voice before. It was familiar, full of joy, enthusiasm, and fun. It reminded me of days gone by, days spent with loved ones celebrating the holidays. Children exuberantly unwrapping gifts; the smell of hot apple cider, yams, turkey or ham wrapping everyone in a warm winter hug. Those special times of dwelling together. Would we enjoy those days once again? I have to believe so, for though this COVID thing has swept a trial of exile across the land, we are an undefeated people. We are creative, resilient, and, like the remnant of Israel in their exile years, we have a great God in Whom to place our faith. Like them, we have hope!

My ears perked up and my spirit stirred as I listened again to that “Ho! Ho! Ho!” Maybe, just maybe, there was a new message singing to me across the cold barren landscape of my dejected soul. Perhaps, instead of the jolly “Ho! Ho! Ho!” wrapped in a red fleecy suit, this voice sang, “Hope! Hope! Hope!” – a new song for my spirit to sing. Yes! A new song, though not really new at all. It has been sung throughout the millennium, yet is new every day. “Hope! Hope! Hope!” the voice sang on, swirling the snow, lighting up the dreary landscape, lifting my shoulders once again. A smile began to creep across my face, and that warm winter hug cradled my heart. Just as it has for millions of hearts since that blessed first Christmas morn. “Hope! Hope! Hope!” I recognized it then… the voice. The angel’s voice! Hope sings on!

Tiny crystals began to form
From whisps of dew drops floating high
Gathered in a cloudy shape 
Rising in a dawning sky

Before the sun peeked o’re the hills
The cloud rose higher joining more 
Droplet crystals merging there 
Glittering unique icy forms  

The cloudy weight could not hold 
That beauty all within itself 
Released its tiny flakes to fall 
Fluttering to the earthly shelf

As creatures, people slumbered on
The flakes fell fast, a powdered heap 
To greet the new day with surprise
Drifts of white snow piled deep

“It’s snowing!” came the glad refrain
As morning light revealed the show 
A new day brightened, clean and white
Refreshed in hope with fallen snow

Skimming along with the wind through America’s heartland I am impressed with the vast fields that go on as far as the eye can see, the rise and fall of the land a great ocean tide. Dotted here and there, miles in between, a single low-slung building, or two, hiccup the horizon, companioned by a modest cylindrical silo standing guard. One’s mind cannot help but drift back to those days before the land hosted such things, when peoples and animals lived and were free of solid, staid places. When sojourning was a way of life, scarce and bountiful, though muddied with those problems man still wreaks upon fellow man. Still, life was more nomadic then, for some.

The wind blows relentlessly o’er this sea of grasses, crops, and low lying trees. Now leafless this late November, crops harvested, there is a greyness to the textures of the land, the earth shades of brown, golden tones dulled. And in the midst of that ongoing landscape, those lonely dwellings.

No wonder the buildings share the surrounding gray patina. The wind has buffeted all traces of paint, sandblasting au natural. It is a wonder roofing materials hold firm in the wind, and more wind. A small motor home sits in front of an aged barn, rare evidence that this scene is of the twenty-first century. Names such as “Running Turkey Creek” conjure myriad stories in just three words.

What histories have been wrought in this wide open space? What laughter and tears in those lonely grey walls? What joys and sorrows felt in the heat of the summer sun, or the cold shoulder of a driving blizzard? No matter the temperature, it seems the wind has chosen this place to run and play.

It is obvious here that man is meant to work and toil, his task to care for the earth that was given to bless him and his descendants. And here is evidence of faithful stewardship of land well tended, cultivated, at rest now in rhythm with the seasons, a time to replenish and renew the soil so that it might produce and bring forth again. Yet no matter how hard he try there are some things man cannot control. Some things beyond his reach, his grasp, his authority. Even his best efforts show he is finite, though highly intelligent and gifted in many ways. He is, after all, still a man, a creature created. Just ask the wind.

Rocketing along at seventy miles per hour, our black Subaru stuck to the highway with all of its however many pounds fully loaded. We were literally left in the swirling dust by tanker trucks and a curiously fuzzy fishing boat. Covered with dead bushes and branches, at first it appeared someone was hauling dead wood to the dump. Then again, who in the wide open plains of Kansas would haul dead brush anywhere? More likely it would be burnt in a pile, or plowed under. Perhaps though, if the winds blew like this every day, burning would be nixed.

“It’s a duck-hunting boat,” my husband informed. And surely, that it was. Amazingly, as it’s tow-vehicle roared by with it, barely a leaf or twig was detected flying off the thing. It was poetry in motion watching it sail out of sight on the relentless Kansas wind, as it appeared to float off into the horizon.

Holding to the speed limit we were passed by vehicles of all sizes again and again. Maybe in this windy country people are used to practicing outrun-the-tornado driving. They all seemed to have left us behind, on a highway somewhere in the middle of Kansas cornfields. As my husband kept his eyes on the road, I kept my eyes peeled, just to be sure, for that girl with a basket, in a blue checked gingham jumper, with pigtails, red shoes, and a little dog. For as the wind swirled by we could almost hear the echo of her glad refrain, “There’s no place like home!”

Undulating plats of rich plowed earth
Pimpled with rounded bales of hay 
Stubbled whiskers glisten the dirt
Remnants of corn from harvest day 

Wind gusts swirl o’er endless seas 
Fallow lands renew once more
Wheat and corn to sprout again 
Repeat the cycle o’er and o’er

Metal cones with pointed hats 
Squatty silos filled with grain 
Sentinel outposts in the land 
Watch as seasons come again 

Thankful for its time of rest 
Fields their gift have given up 
With glad abandon wait again 
For blessings infused from above 

For some reason my psyche just was not up to it, walking into a situation that made me very uncomfortable. A place I had been many times before, and yet this time seemed threatening. I looked woefully at my husband…”I feel like I’m walking into the lions’ den.”

In the Old Testament the prophet Daniel was cast into the lions’ den, literally, for breaking a newly formed law. He prayed to God rather than the ruling king of Babylon, an offense punishable by death. Yet miraculously God provided, and shut the mouths of the lions. Daniel survived his all night ordeal, greeting the king at the light of day as the cover of the den was removed. God won. And those who had conspired to destroy that man of God were themselves ordered by the king to be thrown into the pit, where they perished. Today I feared lions. Tonight I am home, alive and well, my fears instead thrown into the pit.

Anxiety. How does one face such a fearsome foe, especially one that springs from fear itself? Today I asked the God of Daniel, the Biblical Creator God, the God Who through Jesus’ sacrifice has brought redemption to the world, the God Who promised His Holy Spirit would abide in those who chose to believe and follow Him, He Who walked with me into my lions’ den today, just because I asked Him.

I was desperate. I truly did not know how in my own power, creativity, intellect, or any other ability I would be able to deal with the day’s agenda. So, I asked. God and I had a chat, though I did most of the talking it seems. He is a great listener, by the way. I can tell Him honestly anything. And as I simply stated how afraid I was, asked Him to walk before me into the situation, to give me a spirit of peace as I walked into the place I was going, He began to remind me that the battle is truly all His anyway.

Fear does not come from God. It is a weapon from the enemy of our souls who would diminish and destroy us. Today God fought that enemy for me. Trusting in Him to shut the jaws of that fearsome foe, my mind stayed on His goodness throughout the day, and I watched in amazement as His Holy Spirit of Peace led me through. It was incredible really, in a deeply calm sort of way. Unexpected problems arose that were step by step resolved in an orderly fashion. Even the topic of anxiety was discussed with another dear one, and of God’s goodness to defeat it.

The longer I am a Christ follower the more amazed I am at the power, love, and trustworthiness of a Good God Who actually shows up when we need Him. Certainly there have been times I’ve wondered if He was really there, but after today’s experience I find honest openness and need (maybe desperation!), rather than a flippant vending machine attitude allowed me to see Him working. That “peace that passes all understanding” was evident not only in me, but also in the place I walked into, and the people I was involved with. Many prayers were answered today as dear Bible Study friends also lifted up prayers on my behalf. What a joy to experience such love! And to find again the pertinence of stories of the God of the Old Testament Who is still the living, breathing, powerfully alive God of today. I know. I survived a lions’ den.

Thank You, LORD, for Your abounding love towards us. May we recognize Your presence, listen to Your voice, and learn to walk ever more closely with You. For You are the One Who gives us strength to overcome, the One Who saves. The power is all from You, Lord! Thank You so much that You love each one of us so intimately! In Jesus’ precious name, Amen!

To read more about Daniel and the Lions’ Den see Daniel 6:1-28

Am I really listening, LORD
Taking time to sit with You 
Inquiring of Your thoughts for me
Lest I run on blissfully? 

I can throw out prayerful words
Flung while rushing out the door 
But have I listened, really heard
Words that You have spoken, LORD? 

No surprise I wonder why 
Prayers seem unanswered as I try 
Asking You to do my bidding 
Yet forget You as I am spinning 

Forgive me, LORD, for my pretense 
In such a way addressing You
With presumptuous arrogance
Assuming blessings I would choose 

Please realign my mind with Yours
My Creator, Father, Friend
The One Who has rescued me 
Designed my life, set me free 

To walk with You in Your design 
Fulfill Your will in me please
That I may finish earthly life 
Aligned with You eternally  

Yes, it seems weird. The first in forty-three years that we have not spent Thanksgiving with at least one, if not more, of our children. Usually extended family would be part of the gathering, as well. And actually that extended part did occur this year. Not with those in the town where we live… this year we traveled over 2,000 miles, driving to join dear husband’s family in Tennessee.

We are both deeply grateful for the opportunity to join our relatives this Thanksgiving. With three of dear husband’s siblings, and a brother-in-law, already flown off to heaven, having the remaining four – two brothers and two sisters – able to meet, along with one’s young grandson, and another’s son and wife, makes this holiday especially poignant for us. Only the LORD knows the length of our days, and as each year passes we relish the time together we have been granted.

I notice a certain contemplative stance among family members this year. A quiet pause, or a step away from the laughter and activity, as though watching and storing visual memories of this brief time. Perhaps the reality of our mortality presses in as one brother passed away last month, and we older ones are approaching the age when our parents died.

“But I live at high noon,” I declare, sharing with our nephew’s sweet wife the beautiful concept that “over the hill” really is untrue, especially to those who know God. Becoming part of God’s kingdom now ensures that “living at high noon” goes on and on… life never ending. I love the idea of living at the noon time of life forever, rather than being on the down hill slide. Evidence from those who have had near death experiences, or experienced visions of the heavenly realm, confirm that vibrant life exists there, the peak and prime of life at the fullest, complete as God designed it.

Gordon McDonald has written a book by that name, Living At High Noon, that addresses issues of mid-life. Over twenty years ago the title alone gave me courage that indeed there was light ahead when turning fifty threatened to unsettle me. Well worth the read and encouragement, living with Christ’s eternity in view makes dying a new, glorious beginning.

While most of our relatives ready to depart in the early morning to drive long hours home, dear hubby and I plan to visit here a few more days before starting our cross-country trek. Meanwhile, I reflect on the fact that our nephew’s wife, forty-five years younger than I, seems no difference in age. And for those of us who deeply enjoy the present reality of living at high noon, though our earthly bodies will some day have finished their purpose, our spirits will live on, not to death, but to Life! The Son is shining at high noon! With that assurance, and His unending care, life could not be any better! Yes, a new Thanksgiving this year, with eternal thanksgiving as well.

Contemplating my life’s path, I often wonder at the choices I’ve made. When I turned left instead of right, only to find provision for the road to the right came shortly after. When I’ve changed my mind and struck out in a new direction that over the years has challenged me to the depths. When I have stood up to other’s counsel, intent on doing things my way, and now look back at the results. Remembering the saving grace of God and His hand on me through it all, yet my struggle with who I am, even though I have been redeemed, made new in Him. Percolating to the front of my mind’s awareness is my need to revisit redemption. What really happened to me when I was born again? And has God allowed this tumultuous journey in my mind for me to experience yet His ongoing grace and restoration? So, here I am, ready to contemplate again.

Really, there has been no need for tumult at all. Some would look at my life, see all the incredible blessings and praise God from Whom all blessings flow. And I do, when not sloughing around wondering about things. I wonder if my tendency to overthink has been a target for the enemy’s darts of doubt, despair and discouragement. Obviously! “Listen up, soul! You have been redeemed, at the highest price, so start living and thinking that way! Stop dwelling in the past! March on!”

Myles Munroe, in his excellent book Potential for Every Day: A Daily Devotional, explains the difference of spirit and soul. The soul is one’s emotions, will, personality and is tied to our earthly body. The spirit, the life God breathed into us, became spiritually dead since the fall of man, but is awakened and made new, born again, when one asks Christ to enter in, the indwelling Holy Spirit teaching one’s spirit thereafter. The earthly soul relishes the elevation and recognition of its self, and so the ongoing battle of who is on the throne of one’s life: one’s self or God. There will always be one or the other driving the bus…

Since making the choice to let God drive the bus of my life I have been amazed at the evidences of His presence, the many rescues and saves, guidance, consolation, promises and encouragement, and His ongoing love and forgiveness. So what about redemption? I have been made new, yet my soul-self still hounds my mind with woes, depression, insecurity, frustration. No wonder we are told in Philippians 4:8 (NKJV) 8 Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy—meditate on these things.

Psalm 130: 4-8 reassures and promises God will forgive and redeem His people Israel. For those who have accepted Jesus Christ, that forgiveness and redemption is a gift for all.

Isaiah 43:1 states: 1 But now, thus says the Lord, who created you, O Jacob,And He who formed you, O Israel:
“Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by your name;
You are Mine.

I say to my self: “So, my soul. Forget not the promises of God! Forget not the ultimate sacrifice Jesus made dying to pay the penalty for your putrid sins, all those things great or small that separate you from God’s best for you. Remind yourself of His forgiveness! Forgive your self! Think only of those good things He brings! And be a light of hope and encouragement for those still lost in the darkness of their despair! Arise, my soul, and sing! You belong to God! Walk moment by moment with Him! He created you, and He proposes to make you whole!”

Redemption having been received is a living, ongoing process. Not static, it is a gift that is new each morning. My spirit must remind my quivering earthly soul that “God’s got this!” (to quote my dear friend Dede, who lives now in Heaven). God promises in the Old Testament in Isaiah 41:10 10 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.

In the New Testament Jesus‘s purpose as Redeemer is recorded in Ephesians 1:7 7 In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, according to the riches of His grace

And so, with thanksgiving, I choose to take Him at His Word. My LORD, the Redeemer of my soul. Day by day, moment by moment, rejoicing in the abundance of His love and redemption! All Praise to Him!

It has to start somewhere, those rushing torrents that carve our lands, bring a drink to growing crops, slack the thirst of drying throats. Zillions of collected drops flow as one seeking where to go, meandering, rushing, or cascading o’er. Perhaps a dewdrop starts it all… yet from where has the dewdrop come to softly land on arbor leaf, and grassy blade, quietly to give the earth a drink? From moisture in the air? Still, how does that rise to merge with clouds, pregnant then with heavy copious rain, falling into droplets that join and run in glad abandon, perhaps to form a river?

Such wonders are given to us every day, the lay of the land, nature’s ring of beauty unimaginable… something always more glorious to see. From grand magnificence to those invisible microcosms living within our very frames, rivers running through our flesh, nourishing, or carrying ill, depending. Mind boggling it is to fathom deep how these rivers began, continue to run, rejuvenated themselves by an invisible plan that goes on and on and on, until it stops.

Symbiotic, in a way, are the river and man who has his way with it. Given permission to steward it, influence its course, man is also at its mercy. Still, without the river, the water there, even man will die. Where comes that water that is our nourishment? Not only for our bodies but beyond? The spiritual water that brings life, gives breath to this temporal frame? Like dew that invisibly forms comes water for our spirit’s needs, a provision made from someplace, Someone more grand, way out there, yet somehow deep within.

Holy Spirit come dwell in me. Let Your living water flow generously through my being and out into a parched world. That when the time comes for my earthly form to die, my flesh to return to dry powdery dust, my spirit yet vibrantly alive will rise hydrated with the living water of Your love! And gushing full the unending source, the River of Life, will never end running its course through me.

Thank You that it has started here. I am walking along Your steady streams of living water that run from those places high and low. And when I wander into dry desolate paths, somehow You always bring me back to drink deeply once again. To splash, to dip, to swim, to float, and rest in Your embrace. Thank You, LORD, for this amazing grace, this River of Life You’ve given!

“Not good enough” is a lie indeed 
It’s fodder spreading farther out
Than just the shame it breeds within 
Casting thoughts full of doubt 

So if I’m finally “good enough”
What does that portray of my worth?
That I’ll do as the last resort? 
That I’m ok though far from “first”?

Like a worn out fishing net
“Good enough” used for decor 
But not the choice for catching fish 
Just for looks, nothing more?

Is this how I see myself? 
Dream to be accepted as? 
Nay, this soul wants something more
Greater worth past earthly class

I’d rather take where God does meet
Patience wrought from tested faith,
With joy, refining work indeed 
Grown to perfect and complete

“Perfect and complete, lacking nothing” - being made whole

Thank You, LORD, only You uplift! 
You redeem us more than “good enough”
Wholeness, the best you have to give 
What an astounding gracious gift! 


James 1:2-4 (NKJV)
 2 My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, 3 knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. 4 But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing.

James 1:2-4 (CJB)
2 Regard it all as joy, my brothers, when you face various kinds of temptations; 3 for you know that the testing of your trust produces perseverance. 4 But let perseverance do its complete work; so that you may be complete and whole, lacking in nothing.

Isaiah 41:10 hit me right between the eyes. Exactly the “verse of the day” I needed. It wasn’t that anything huge or horrible was about to happen, yet I was feeling stress anticipating all the “what-ifs” that could transpire. Mind spinning at warp speed, a migraine still lingered from the day before, as did physical aches from a robust osteopathic appointment. Still emerging from hot-mess-ville, I really needed to be on my a-game today to serve others coming soon to visit. Swimming towards the surface, reaching to break free from the weight pulling my boots down, my spirit leapt at the LORD’s words:

‘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.’ Isaiah 41:10 NKJV (underscore mine)

As I read His words over and over, memorizing them word for word, pulling the cloak of His protection around my fragile mind, an image began to appear, becoming sharper, more defined as His promises spilled from my mouth. Promises that not only told me what He was going to do: strengthen, help, uphold; but first declared who “He” is: I am with you, I am your God. Moses asked how to declare God’s name to the children of Israel, “And God said to Moses, “I AM WHO I AM.” And He said, “Thus you shall say to the children of Israel, ‘I AM has sent me to you’” (Exodus 3:14 NKJV).

What a joy to experience anew that the cloak of God’s promises brought the greater treasure of I AM Himself standing with and for me. Sure, I had the head knowledge that He is always with me, but deeper today was again reminded He is actually standing there intimately strengthening, helping, upholding me in my raw vulnerability. So, my hand in His, my self leaning fully on His infinite strength, I welcomed those I thought would bring chaos, and watched the LORD deliver us to a rest-filled day. It was amazing. Able to let go of worry, of trying to manage what everyone was doing, of protecting young minds from too much screen-time . . . a calm infused my soul and mind, and our home, as I “let it go.” Let go even more my clutch to protect those I love. Entrusted them more into the Savior’s hands.

Fear not! I AM! I will! Yes, We can take the LORD at His Word. For they are more than mere words. They are Him!

Years ago I read a book No Little People written by the well known Christian leader Francis A. Schaeffer. Now decades later the truth of the fact that there are “no little people,” no matter one’s stature, has come to shine its light deeply in me.

It has been a long fought journey learning to embrace God’s love and acceptance. Or, perhaps, learning to love and accept me, through the grace He has shown me. “Not good enough” has been an eroding, repetitive voice in the back of my mind since I was young. I recognize that voice in others, especially now that I can see its eroding effect in their minds, too. That drive to find one’s value in trying to become perfect, skinnier, more fashionable, wealthier, renowned, smarter… the list goes on and on. Endeavors not necessarily wrong in themselves, but detrimental when they become one’s god. Interestingly, the list only grows longer if one looks at it from a worldly point of view. No matter how high or far the earthly vista from which we view ourselves and others, we will never be enough, have enough, achieve enough, be satisfied enough. There is always want for more.

Then the still, small voice of the LORD quietly shouts, if only one would hear: “Do not despise the small beginnings for the LORD rejoices to see the work begin.” Zechariah 4:29a (NLT)

God also reminds us that He has called us from our mother’s womb, and that He knew our name before we were born! See Isaiah 49:1, and Psalm 139.

In Haggai 1:13 (NKJV) He declares: “I am with you, says the LORD.” He knows us intimately, even more than we know ourselves. And gives us the ability to grow into the unique person He has created us to be.

All these and more are promises that no matter how puny one’s efforts or self might feel, our worth in the LORD is what is true and finally matters. We are and remain loved, accepted, cherished. What a wonder He would die to save the likes of me! What a delight to find the never-ending Source of comfort for one’s battle-weary soul! Comfort for any soul who would but accept His gift.

To study more on this topic see Jennifer Rothschild’s excellent Bible Study Take Courage. Several of the above Scriptures were listed in Day 5 of Week 2, subtitled “Small Things Syndrome.” It spoke to my heart!

Perusing Jacquie Lawson animated greeting cards last Christmas season, I came upon one entitled An Unexpected Nativity. In it a cat creates havoc in a barn as a dog chases it about. The cat runs over and under, on top of and amongst shelves of tools, knocking over equipment and a dangling lift rope that all pile together on the floor in disarray.
Light shines on and through the chaotic pile as a farmer, a man holding a lantern, removes his hat to gaze in wonder at the shadow cast on the wall. A shadow that would not be there without the light shining on it. A shadow of the nativity with shepherds, wisemen, Joseph, Mary and baby Jesus.

This card gives me hope. And reminds from Whom my hope comes. I really do prefer peace over chaos, and have found myself endeavoring to control chaotic situations. Especially the ones that surround me, like grandchildren wound up with energy exploding out of every cell. Of course, like herding cats, or trying to catch one that is in full speed ahead, controlling whatever the chaos might be is complicated. Sure, direction and boundaries are important, yet I have also found that simply moving out of the way is also a reasonable response to an oncoming tornado. Control is not always the solution!

Perhaps a lesson from the farmer is one to note. He was no where to be seen as the cat flew about. The chaos just happened, and then came the light. Sounds a bit like the Creation: darkness and chaos. And then there was light. My hope resides in the living God Who still brings light into chaos and creates something beautiful. And though He is ever-present, He has given man free will to choose, God not controlling every tiny bit of every situation. So why should I? Not that I could, yet a part of me senses relief in the thought, as non-earth-shattering as that might be.

No, I do not have to control my chaos, though picking up pieces or setting things back in order might be part of the plan. It makes for less tension, calms the situation more quickly, and helps maintain healthy blood pressure. I thank the LORD for every bit of grace He gives me, for like the unexpected nativity, His grace and light can always be found, no matter my turbulent situation.

Fear tries its best to spin about 
Wind me up, throw me out 
Of balance or off kilter 
To keep me running lest I find 
Not in control I unwind 
Into a restless fodder 
Fodder to be spun again 
Anxiety reeking stress within 
To look wherever I can sense 
Relief in desperation 

Peace quietly and gently calls 
“Come unto Me and let fall
Your chaos, it will be gone
No need to run, just sit with Me 
Tell Me of the fear you see 
Together we will overcome 
You’re not in this to do alone 
But only by your choice I’ll come 
Bid Peace to dwell within”

Peace is there if one just asks 
An offered gift, great sacrifice 
By the Prince of Peace Himself 
It’s not a gift that’s lightly given 
Gravely won from courts of Heaven 
Yet oft scorned by unbelief
Accept the joys you who believe
Peace beyond your grasp receive
Life’s power worth the living  

Recently I opened a long held treasure, a companion devotional to that excellent one “God Calling,” messages to Two Listeners that were edited for publication in 1935 by A.J. Russell. This companion devotional, “God At Eventide” was written fifteen years later, messages again received by the Two Listeners. I was overcome with the relevance and timelessness of Christ’s messages to a hurting world in these long esteemed classics of Christian writings. Though the years have gone by, these devotions reflect the words of our LORD that are unchanging, and applicable to every situation and generation. His care, and Love never fail, and as His followers we are to share that love with a confused, fearful, and hurting world.

The title for the January 4 devotion is “Your Mandate.” Needless to say that caught my eye, especially with today’s governmental overuse of the word. How different are the words in this devotional in comparison. Christ comes to us in love, drawing near to listen to our concerns and fears. He encourages us to remember the peace and safety He has supplied in our lives, to share and never forget His gift of Eternal Life, and the cost He bore for us. To remember others who are walking life’s treacherous path, to warn them of pitfalls and dangers we have encountered, to help ease their way. To joy in the glorious beauties of this journey, of creation proclaiming God’s goodness and greatness. And to tell others of the incomparable joy of knowing Jesus personally! “That is your mandate from High Heaven” is the final sentence of that day’s reading. Indeed! By the grace of God, a mandate I trust and will follow!