The Great Unraveling

by Debbie Allen

“Beautiful things come together one stitch at a time.”

 My Junior High, Home Economics teacher, Ms. Dee, repeated this catchy phrase to my 8^th grade sewing class every morning for an entire semester. Yes…every single day that classroom swelled with the groans and sighs of teenagers, cringing at the dreaded sounds of those words filtering through our ears one more time. Despite constant opposition, Ms. Dee continued sowing her repetitious jingle into our minds, hoping that someday it might take root in our hearts.   But, our restless, teenaged, know-it-all ways, prevented most of us from grasping what Ms. Dee was determined to instill in each of us. Her simple, sewing truth:

‘If we took our time, followed all her tried-and-true guidelines and instructions… if we pressed-on one stitch at a time; then the end result always guaranteed us something beautiful in hand.’

A few students caught on to the beauty of her teaching; and sailed through their sewing projects to the finish line. Others of us, however, learned a brand-new lesson the hard way: ‘If we strayed, we paid!’

I, unfortunately, was one of those students who strayed, and paid.  Though it was anything but typical for me to behave in such a manner; the thought of falling behind on my sewing project and nearing the deadline for its completion, pressured me into thinking I had no choice but, to take things into my own hands.  I ignored the teachings of the sewing truth and replaced it with my only solution.  Cutting corners.  So much for Ms. Dee’s one-stitch-at-a-time theory. I stayed after school every night and went in early every morning, sewing fast and furious all the way! If sewing machines had tailpipes, mine would’ve been smoking! Needing to save time, I skipped over most of Ms. Dee’s guidelines, including tying knots in all the loose ends I’d cut; in every section being sewn together.

“After all,” I thought to myself, “who’s going to see it on the underside anyway?”

At the end of my marathon sewing sessions, I turned the jumper I’d made in to Ms. Dee on time; more than glad to be done with it!

The very next day, Ms. Dee called me up to her desk and told me I’d received an “A” on my jumper. I r-e-a-l-l-y couldn’t believe it; in light of the shady sewing tactics, I’d defaulted to.  I breathed a sigh of relief; thinking I’d gotten away with my bad choices and figured life would go back to normal.  That’s when I heard Ms. Dee make an unexpected announcement to our class. Every word of it filled me with dread and kept me tossing and turning every night for the rest of that week. 

“Class…as a reward for all your hard work, each of you are going to have an opportunity to model the piece of clothing you made for yourselves; in the auditorium, before your classmates and parents; at the first Junior High School Fashion Show ever!”

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“Beautiful things come together one-stitch-at-a-time …but, when you stray you pay.”

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The day of the fashion show, the words that pursued our class for an entire semester were now displayed on a banner stretched across the length of the stage: “Beautiful things come together one-stitch-at a-time.”

Most of the students who walked out and stood under those words, did so with great pride and a clear conscience. I felt as though I should’ve been standing under a banner all my own. One that read: “When You Stray, You Pay!”

Hearing Mrs. Dee call my name at the fashion show, I walked out onto the auditorium stage mortified; convinced that any minute all the loose threads I’d cut and left untied throughout my jumper were going to unravel and fall to pieces on the stage floor, while the whole world watched!  I flattened my boney, elbows so tightly down against my dress to help hold it together, my ribs hurt for two days afterwards!  It wasn’t the reward I was looking for.

The greatest reward I received at the Fashion Show that day wasn’t the applause or even the fact that the unraveling pieces of my jumper didn’t fall from my limbs after all. No…as I stood, trembling, beneath Ms. Dee’s sewing truth, my know-it-all, teenage heart finally grasped the reality of the dire consequences that are guaranteed to follow; when you replace truth meant for your own good; with your own misguided ways of thinking.

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“God’s ‘Banner of Truth’ remains hanging over us, regardless of the choices we choose to make.”

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 After the fashion show that day, I scurried home and hung that infamous jumper, front-and-center in my closet; where it remained for many years. I left it turned inside-out; as a visual reminder to my heart of the day of The Great Unraveling…not only for a dress but, for a young teenage girl.

Though this story wasn’t one of my finest moments in life, I share it with you because it still speaks volumes about how each of us are called to live our lives before our Heavenly Father. We are given the opportunity to walk one-step-at-a-time, drawing our instruction and directions from God’s Word. If we let Him teach us, His Word instills Wisdom in our minds—acting as a lamplight to guide us on the pathways of our life. His Banner of Truth hangs over all of us, regardless of our choices. 

This world is our stage and the way we walk beneath His Banner of Truth matters more than you can ever imagine.  There will come a day when God calls your name, Will you walk out and stand beneath His Banner of Truth with unbridled joy, knowing His Word lives inside of you, and your faithfulness to model His Son on earth are His Greatest Joy?    Or will you be the self-guided one filled with regret, who traded away God’s Wisdom for folly, and modeled your own mis-guided ways before a watching world? And when your life came apart at the seams, you realized far too late:

“When you stray from God’s Truth and Guidelines for living life… you pay with your own soul for all Eternity!”

Heavenly Father Above, forgive us for bending Your beautiful Truths and for exchanging them for our own ways. Our world is full of Truth Benders. But, when the untied threads of our earthly lives begin to unravel—we feel the error of our own ways.  Our feeble hearts pound and our spirits reel at the thought of having made so many wrong choices in life, even though deep down, we knew better. Lord, hear our desperate cries.  Strengthen our hearts and keep us from yielding to the world’s mis-guided ways of thinking. Enable Your children to stand strong in this next year, under Your ‘Banner of Truth’. For we are not capable of piecing our own lives back together without Your Truth…Your Wisdom…and Your Perfect Guidance!   We Love You, LORD! IN JESUS NAME…AMEN 

 

God performs wonders

that cannot be fathomed,

miracles that cannot be

counted.”

Job 5:9

Treasure in the Darkness

by Debbie Allen

Fleeing for her life on a midnight drive from Virginia; Angela hadn’t time to ponder what life might look like for her as a single mom, struggling to raise three kids on her own. All she knew that night was this.  After catching a glimpse of her fresh, black eye in the rear-view mirror, alongside the reflection of the three loves-of-her-life, asleep in the back seat of her car; it was enough to keep her driving for days on end. By the time the adrenaline surge inside her heart subsided, Angela found herself and three little ones, standing before a total stranger; listening while he pointed them in the direction of a one-room cabin he had for rent in Pinecone Junction; a small town nestled high up in the Colorado mountains.

Angela and her children arrived in Pinecone Junction, with little more than the clothes on their back and determined looks on their faces. After handing Mr. Harvey, the kind, stranger, one month’s rent on-the-spot, her cash supply was nearly depleted. She knew she needed to make-do until she could find a job. But, for now…the thought of a little cabin they could call their own for a while was a welcome change from eating roadside, and sleeping in the car; like they’d done for the last two weeks. 

“Ok, boys…watch for a sign that says, Snowman Gulch.”  “That’s our turn-off. “  

Just short of reaching the edge of town, 8-year-old, Tony piped-up.  “Mom!  I see it…it’s right there!   Snow…man…Gulch!

They hadn’t driven more than a mile down that dirt road before Jack, 6 years-old, spoke-up, in his usual inquisitive tone.   “Mommy, I see deers and bunches of flowers in the field but…I just can’t see any snowmens.”  “Where are they?”

“Oh, Jack…” Angela answered, trying not to smile, “It’s summer here now. You know snowmen can only be seen in the winter after the snow falls!”

By the time she finished her sentence, the car was filled with laughter.  Jack was laughing at himself.  Tony was laughing at Jack…and Ellie, 3 years-old, was laughing, just because she could! 

As they pulled up in front of the little cabin-in-the-woods; a tear rolled down Angela’s cheek.  Her heart was full at the sounds of her children laughing together once again. One of many things that fear had erased from each of their lives back in Virginia. Helping Ellie up onto the porch, Angela’s heart raced with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. Turning the key in the rustic lock, she and the boys pushed the creaky, pine plank door open.

“Oh wow…its perfect, Mom!” Tony assured her.

“And I can get up on this and look for the snowmen…when they come!” Jack insisted, boosting himself up onto a little bench under a picture window overlooking the porch. He wasn’t thoroughly convinced yet that snowmen didn’t live all-year-round in a place named Snowman Gulch.

“This place will be what we make it, boys!” Angela replied, already feeling safer than she’d felt for a long time.  Tony and Jack ran for the bunk beds on the opposite side, shouting as they went, “I get the top bunk…I get the bottom bunk!”

Angela scooped up little, Ellie, clinging tight to her leg with her thumb in her mouth. 

“I guess us girls will take that beautiful brass bed in the corner!”

Wriggling free from Mama’s arms, even Ellie ran for her bed screaming, “Mine…mine!” all the way there.

“Yes…” Angela thought, watching Ellie claw her way up onto the big, brass bed.  The cabin was small, but it truly was a Godsend!”

With her past waitressing experience, Angela took on a job right away at the local diner. Though she didn’t make much, with tips, her salary covered the rent and bought a few sparse groceries to keep on hand.  On the nights when the cupboards were bare bone, her boss, Lilly, just seemed to know when to send home extras from the diner with her, to feed the kids. Lilly also loaned Angela a car to drive; when Angela was forced to sell her own car for enough cash to keep them afloat. She’d cut up all her credit cards when they left Virginia to lessen the possibility of her where-abouts ever being traced.  Her desire was to sever all ties with her husband, Ken. Both she and the kids had suffered enough at his hand over the years. And now that her dad recently passed away too, there was no going back to Virginia…ever.  Keeping Tony, Jack, and Ellie safe was her first and only priority these days.

 Though life in Pinecone Junction was good…Angela couldn’t deny that it had also been tough on them all.   Lilly, who became a close friend, Mr. Harvey, her landlord, and many other neighbors stepped in over the last six months, to help her out when they could. Angela was grateful for all the clothing donated for her and the kids; especially with the cold weather arriving. But tonight, was Christmas Eve. Though her paycheck covered the rent; there was next to nothing left over to buy gifts for the kids. Heartbroken at the thought of it, and exhausted from work, Angela plopped down in the big pine, rocking chair in front of a crackling fire.  The kids were tucked into bed and fast asleep, excited for their first Christmas morning at the cabin.  The sweet words Jack prayed at bedtime, still rang in her ears. 

“And God…could you please just bring me a snowman for Christmas? They’ve been hiding from me all year.”

With a sigh and a smile, she propped her feet up on the warm hearth wrapping herself up in the Christmas quilt she found in the cabin attic.  Despair, fear, and anxiety all pressing down on her heart at once, she began to sob. In between tears she caught sight of the three white, socks that Tony, Jack, and Ellie laid on the hearth for Santa to fill, knowing their Christmas stockings had been left back in Virginia.

“What precious children you have given to me. God” Angela sobbed.   “Oh, dear Lord…I don’t deserve them. They’ve been through so much. I feel like such a failure in so many ways…God, please tell me what to do.”

Burying her face deeper into the quilt to muffle her sobs, she heard something in the background.  Lifting her head to listen, Angela composed herself enough to tip-toe over and check on the kids. They hadn’t moved since she tucked them in. 

“There it was again!” she thought, growing even more alarmed.  “Something…or someone was definitely moving around on her front porch!” 

“Oh God…please keep us safe.” She prayed, feeling the all-too-familiar, panic rising-up inside of her.

 “Maybe it was Ken…had he finally found them…and now he was coming to take back his children with force and…who knows what he would do to her!!!”  she imagined silently, to the tune of her own pounding heart.

Crouching down now on the opposite side of Ellie’s bed, she reached up and grabbed the phone off of the night stand; then made her way over to the hearth where she could see to call the sheriff.  Half-way through punching his number into the phone, Angela stopped.  She listened once more intently, then turned the phone off.

 “It’s too late now to call the Sheriff anyway.” She reasoned.  If it was Ken, he would’ve already busted that old pine door down by now and been terrorizing them all.  

“Something strange was going on.” She thought, noticing an aura of colored light reflecting through the picture window.

Grabbing the fireplace poker, like she’d seen so many times in the movies; she tip-toed over to the front door and just stood there…listening. The shuffling noise had stopped. When what seemed like an eternity had passed, Angela took a deep breath, raised the poker, and turned the door knob slowly. Glancing back at the kids once more, she flung the door wide open!

“I can’t believe my eyes.” Angela whispered in awe.  “It’s a little Christmas tree, all lit up… it’s so beautiful.” She added, looking for signs of who might have delivered it. 

Underneath that tree were three Christmas stockings filled to the brim with gifts and goodies for the kids.  Even their names were embroidered on each stocking.

 “I…I can’t believe this.” Angela said, holding back tears and shivering in the cold. And if that wasn’t enough, what she saw over the top of the Christmas tree, out in the yard, nearly took her breath away! 

“Snowmen…someone built Jack his snowmen!”

As she looked closer at the snowmen, her heart melted. Never before had she seen anything like this before! Two snowmen…one of them a daddy, and the other one a child! Both of them appeared to be making snow angels in the snow.

“My Daddy and I made snow angels together, every Christmas Eve when I was growing up!” she whispered. “Thank you, God…only You could’ve known this…and how very much I miss my Dad this Christmas.”

With more than a grateful heart, Angela transported the stockings and the little tree back into the cabin, placing them near the hearth. 

“What a beautiful sight.” She marveled, plugging-in the tree again. It was decorated with envelope after envelope, tied to the branches with red, satin ribbon.  Angela reached for the one at the top of the tree first.  Her name was written on it.  Opening it, three hundred-dollar bills fell into her lap.

“This is the rent money, I handed to Mr. Harvey earlier tonight!”  

The unsigned note inside of it read simply, “Merry Christmas!”

The little Christmas tree’s branches were loaded with handwritten notes of encouragement, coupons for free babysitting, gift cards to the General Store, as well as many other shops in Pinecone Junction. There were even homemade cookies hanging on some of the branches.   

Overwhelmed with gratitude, Angela recognized that this Christmas tree was decorated with love. The love of strangers who, over time, became friends; friends who became family; and of course, the Love of God disguised in them all.

Curling up next to Ellie that night, in her big brass bed, Angela wept silent, tears of great joy.  She couldn’t stop thinking about her Dad, the snowmen making snow angels, and the beautiful Christmas tree placed on her porch. What had begun this Christmas Eve as a nightmare for her, had ended as a miracle. The miracle of Christmas was written across every gift she’d received tonight. And the next morning, it would again be written in the expressions that Tony, Jack, and Ellie are wearing when their sleep-filled, eyes behold the beauty of the treasures that came to them in the darkness…much like God’s Gift of Love, the Baby Jesus, came to us in the darkness of that first Christmas Eve night.

“Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift!” (2 Corinthians 9:15)

May you be inspired by Giving, changed by Love, filled with Peace, and touched by your own Christmas Miracles in this Season of Love, and in the New Year to come!

“Be joyful always,

Pray continually;

Give thanks in

all circumstances…”

(1 Thess. 5:16-18a NIV)

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Five L-o-n-g Minutes

by Debbie Allen

Listening to the soft sounds of deep sleep still wafting over from my husband’s side of the bed; I raised my sleepy eyes up into the skylight above us. I began to pray silently for the day. Having long understood that every new day offers me an opportunity to go a little deeper with God, I asked Him to teach me more about His Heart, His Ways, and His Character… so I might become a better reflection of His Love to others. Though this wasn’t the first time I’d ever asked God for these things…it was the first time I remember ending my prayer with this request: “Lord…draw my eyes to Your Presence today… and please help me not to miss anything You have for me.”  After a soft ‘amen’ and a smile in God’s direction, I jumped up to get ready; totally unaware of the impact those last few words I prayed would have on me and my husband before the day was over.

Every Wednesday morning, Jim and I meet family for breakfast at a favorite Denny’s Restaurant. The waitresses greet us with a smile, and have a cup of coffee ready and waiting for us by the time we reach the table they’ve already set up for us.  We are so regular as customers here; they don’t offer us menus anymore because our waitress has memorized what all six of us order each time!  Even if we forget, they remember. Talk about predictable! However, about halfway through our breakfast this day, anything labeled predictable disappeared from sight.

After our waitress refilled my coffee, I heard my husband, Jim, sigh so I turned towards him.  He was looking back at me but, after speaking just two words, his eyes closed and his head dropped down until his chin came to rest on his chest. It was almost like someone just unplugged him. Though still in a sitting position, he was out cold.  Nothing could’ve prepared me for that! He’d hardly been sick a day in his entire life. My heart raced at the thought of it.  Holding his limp hand in mine, I slipped my other hand around the back of his neck; lifting his head up while trying to talk to him. I continued looking for signs of a stroke or heart attack, while my sister-in-law frantically called 911. For five l-o-n-g minutes, I spoke into Jim’s glazed, brown eyes, praying the sounds of my voice might stir him back to consciousness. He remained nonresponsive. I felt totally helpless. I couldn’t help but wonder what parts of our life together were about to change…maybe forever.

By the time the paramedics arrived, Jim was stirring once more and insisting, “I’m ok…I feel fine.” After a barrage of questions, the paramedics reluctantly, allowed him to walk over to the gurney waiting for him at Denny’s front doors, and then they loaded him into the back of their vehicle and closed the doors.

As I stood alone in the shadow of the rescue truck that morning, my hands were trembling and my heart still pounding. One “what if?” after another marched, uninvited, into the chaos of my swirling thoughts.  That’s when I looked up to see a young, pregnant, woman walking through the parking lot and heading straight for me.  Though she was a complete stranger, she stopped and wrapped her arm around my shoulder asking, “Are you alright?” Her kind eyes looking into mine, she listened intently while I recounted the morning’s unexpected events.  To my surprise, she grasped my hands in hers and began to pray for both Jim and me. By the time she uttered her sweet ‘amen’, my hands were again steady and my heart much calmer.  Calm enough to drive myself to the hospital where the paramedics took Jim for a second opinion and a more thorough examination. 

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“Lord…You are Peace in my turmoil, Light in my shadows, and the Arm around my shoulders when

my world is spinning.”

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 Long story short, Jim and I left the hospital later that evening with more than thankful hearts.  Though we found it impossible to believe, he received a clean bill of health and was told that this health crisis ‘may or may not ever happen again in his lifetime.’ Jim, who isn’t fond of doctors or hospitals, was perfectly, satisfied with that definite-maybe diagnosis, but my own heart, though grateful, felt compelled to look deeper behind the scenes.

You see, I began that morning with a very specific prayer, asking the Lord to ‘teach me more about Himself, to draw my eyes to His Presence’ and ‘… not let me miss anything He had for me in this day.’  Through the unexpected and chaotic events that followed, I believe God, in His own lavish way, was answering those prayers…and then some.

 I felt the Lord’s Strength in those first few moments I sat holding the limp hand of the one who’d always held mine. I felt His Courage wash over me as I looked into Jim’s empty eyes; eyes that only a few seconds earlier reflected both light and love back to me. I sensed my Lord standing beside me in the shadows of that morning. I felt His Presence in the warmth of a stranger’s arm wrapped tight around my shoulders…and experienced His Peace in the beautiful words that flowed from the prayer this kind stranger prayed for Jim and I.

It wouldn’t be an understatement for me to say that those ‘five l-o-n-g minutes’ in my life that day taught me something I hope I never forget.  Even while standing in the middle of all our life’s troubles; we are able to hang-on to the Goodness and Love of the Lord; acknowledging the Truth that it is only “because of the LORD’s great Love we are not consumed” (Lamentations 3:22). Every step we walk in the direction of whatever God is pointing us towards, draws us closer to His Great Heart; deepening us and helping us to understand a little more of who we are and who we can be, when we find ourselves standing in the Light of His Presence and Love.

“The blessings are sweetest that are won with prayer and worn with thanks.”

–Thomas Goodwin–

Lord and Father in Heaven, remind our hearts in this season of Thanksgiving, that it is the Gift of Your Presence walking alongside us in life that should be the greatest THANKYOU of our life!  Your unfailing Love and awe-inspiring deeds continually leave us breathless. Teach us how we can “let every detail in our lives—words, actions, whatever— be done in the name of Jesus, thanking You, God the Father, every step of the way” (Col. 3:17 msg). Whatever the circumstances, open our eyes to the intrinsic value of being able to choose to walk in the Shadow of Your Presence and Love all the days of our lives!  Thankyou that even in our hardest times, You offer us Compassion and bring us unspeakable Joy.  Thankyou! Thankyou! Thankyou!

In Jesus’ Name We Pray…AMEN

 

“In every walk

with nature,

one receives

far more than

he seeks.”

–John Muir–

___________________

Secrets of the Juniper

by Debbie Allen

 Feeling both awestruck and apprehensive, my husband and I climbed cautiously down to an overlook platform jutting out over the rim of the magnificent, Black Canyon, in Gunnison National Park. We marveled at how small and insignificant we felt while standing on its edges, looking down into the swift flowing currents of the Gunnison River, more than 2,250 feet below us! We were surprised to find that portions of these canyon walls remain shrouded in darkness year-round, because the walls are so steep even sunlight can’t reach them.

However, this same shadowy blackness enveloping the canyon walls also served to deepen the shades of gold we saw splashed across the aspens lining the canyon. Even the rockiest of ledges were adorned with ribbons of foliage, all aglow with deep plums and muted rusts. Together this scene became an unexpected masterpiece for our eyes to feast upon.  Though we were content to linger in this spot forever, time restraints pushed us back to the car and down the road to a place not far from the canyon’s edge. It was rocky there too… but not beautiful.  My eyes perceived it only as a wilderness. The landscape stood in stark contrast to what we’d driven away from.  It was hot, dusty and the only living thing we could see for miles around, besides the tourists, were scraggly looking pines in twisted shapes and sizes.  There were no golds, plums, or even rusts to enliven the view.  Only prickly, ever-greens…and some of those were turning brown.  Reluctantly, I followed my husband to the ‘Point of Interest’ sign which overlooked what I’d already deemed a wilderness.

“Nothing to stir my heart here.” I uttered in silent disappointment. 

But, oh how wrong I was! Sometimes it’s the very things our eyes deem as worthless that become what God uses to stir our hearts back to new life and shift our perspectives!”

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 ” Sometimes it’s the very things our eyes deem as worthless that become what God uses

to stir our hearts back to new life and shift our perspectives!”

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As I read the information on the sign, I learned that the pines I wouldn’t’ve given anybody two cents for moments earlier; were called Junipers.  Many of the Junipers have been standing firm on the far rocky edges of the Black Canyon for 600-800 years! The sign went on to say: ‘Their trunks have been twisted by the prevailing winds.  The fierceness of winter storms has shaped them.  Lightning has scarred them.  Drought has trimmed their branches to the bare minimum. But they endure.’

“BUT THEY ENDURE.”  It was these last three words that breathed new life back into my heart.  I now stood in silent wonder before these scraggly pines marveling at the message God created His Junipers to reflect back into this world. A message that captured my heart and gave me a visual for what silent surrender and true endurance look like; even while living in the midst of a wilderness. The beauty of the Juniper lay hidden in the message God created them to bear to this world. Oddly enough, I began to see that the same thing is true of God’s own children.

As a child of God, we too, are equipped to stand strong in those seasons we find ourselves planted on the rocky edges of life’s wilderness. Like the Junipers, we are called to reflect God’s Love back into this world.  Yes, there will be fierce storms to face; but even as winds prevail all around us, we can know God’s Hand is at work in their midst, shaping us for His wise purposes.  Sometimes, our knees will buckle, as though lightning just struck us down; yet in God’s Strength, we rise above the circumstances, bearing our scars and finding new life in spite of the harshness of our living conditions.  Droughts threaten to overtake us. Lean times will find us…physically, mentally, emotionally, and even spiritually. But the child of God is like the Juniper, the most drought-resistant tree on earth.  The Juniper sends its roots deep down into the rock where it’s been planted and even at the end of a drought season; remains standing firm, mature and evergreen.  The child of God clings to the Rock [God] and remains “… like a tree planted by water, that sends its roots by the stream [God], and does not fear when heat comes, for its leaves remain green, and is not anxious in the year of drought, for it does not cease to bear fruit.” (Jeremiah 17:7-8 msg).  

Our world is filled with creations that point our hearts towards God’s Love.  From the brightest glows of the Autumn season to the shadowy depths of the beautiful, Black Canyon; to the twisted Junipers anchored in the rocks of an unexpected wilderness; the message of God’s Love is undeniable. All of creation, in some way or another, reflects that message back to this broken world.

As children of God, we are planted on earth to purposefully, reflect God’s Ways, His Truths, and His Love before others. In a sense, we are to be someone else’s visual of what silent surrender and true endurance look like in life…even in the hardest of times.  Like the Whispers of God continually echoing off the walls of the matchless Black Canyon, may the message of our own lives resound the breadth, length, depth, and heights of God’s unfailing Love, to this watching world.  And like the Junipers that thrive even on the edges of the harshest wilderness, no matter what storms come our way in life; may it forever be said of us, as faithful children of God…BUT THEY ENDURED!

“Embrace this God-life. Really embrace it,

nothing will be too much for you.”

(Mark 11:22a MSG)

Dearest Lord, You are the Creator of all things everywhere. Your Love, Beauty and Goodness envelope all of creation, including Your children. And if our eyes somehow miss seeing the Beautiful Truth of it, it’s because we are not looking for it. Enable the eyes of our hearts to see the wonders You have placed within creation. Teach us the secret of the Juniper tree; who sends its roots down deep into the rock and at the end of a season filled with drought; is found ‘standing firm, mature, and ever-green.’  Father God, You are our Strength, our Stronghold, our Safe Retreat when storms descend.  Strengthen our hearts as we continue to learn the pattern of Your Righteous and Loving ways.  Whether in darkness or in light, wherever You plant us, may our lives faithfully reflect the unfathomable heights and depths of Your Love before the eyes of this watching world.  For we know beyond any shadow of doubt that without You… our hearts cannot endure.

IN JESUS NAME…AMEN

“Sometimes all you

can do is NOT think,

NOT wonder, NOT

imagine, NOT obsess.

Just breathe and

have FAITH because

miracles do happen.”

_________________________

A Matter of the Heart

by Debbie Allen

When I was only a young teen, I remember my Pastor peering over the top of his Clark Kent-glasses and addressing the congregation on ‘faith in difficult times’. In an effort to cement in our hearts a clearer picture of what that faith might look like; Reverend Massi finalized his message that day, with this quote by Corrie Ten Boom.

“When a train goes through a tunnel and it gets dark, you don’t throw away the ticket and jump off. You sit still and trust the engineer.”

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“When a train goes through a tunnel and it gets dark, you don’t throw away the ticket and jump off. You sit still and trust the engineer.” – Corrie Ten Boom-

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I’ve never forgotten the wisdom in those words to this day!  My own heart has dredged them up countless times over the years, especially while journeying through my own tunnels in life.

A few years ago, I sat confidently on the edge of a cardiologist’s examination table; awaiting the results of an echogram on my heart. I started coming to see Dr. J as a precautionary measure only…or so I thought.  But she discovered I had two heart valves showing signs of leakage.  Still in shock that what I deemed my perfectly good heart, didn’t receive the clean bill of health I’d expected; I winced at her next words to me.   

“At some point in time…those valves will need to be repaired.”  

 I asked her if there was anything I could do on my own to strengthen those valves in any way.   

“No…” Dr. J replied in a very cut-and-dry tone. “Once the damage has been done there’s really nothing you can do to reverse it.”

The finality in her voice left my mind reeling and my heart pounding. Out of nowhere, Fear lurched forth to see what chaos he could contribute. Slipping-in close, he murmured his own flawed words of encouragement to my heart. “Hopeless…Hopeless…H-o-p-e-l-e-s-s!”  he jeered, at least a hundred times before I reached my car.  Collapsing down into the warmth of a patch of autumn sunshine on my seat, made me feel as though I’d just climbed into the Lap of Jesus.  In that safe place I prayed, shedding a few reluctant tears and pouring out the matter of my heart to Him.

“Lord?  Here I am. Your child…Your broken child.  I know that nothing is hopeless with You in it.  But please…show me the way through this!”

By the time my car reached the edge of the parking lot that day, my heart heard His gentle response to the tune of my own quickened pulse; “My child… sit still… and trust… the Engineer.”

I couldn’t help but smile. Through these familiar words from my teen years, the Lord let me know that my life’s tracks had led me into a tunnel.  Though my eyes couldn’t see past the darkness of right now, the Engineer could.  My part on His Train was to ‘sit still’ and ‘trust Him’.

Five-and-a-half years have passed since my first visit to see Dr. J. In all that time, her diagnosis of my heart hasn’t changed, and the cardiograms all read about the same. Even her words to me after each check-up remained the same.

“We’ll just keep an eye on things and see you next year!”   

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“Though my own eyes couldn’t see past the darkness of right now, I knew The Engineer could. My part on His Train was to ‘sit still’ and ‘trust Him’.”

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

This year, however, something did change.  Dr. J entered the room in silence, studying my cardiogram; frowning, and shaking her head.  Used to being in the dark by now; I chose to use her silence as the backdrop from which the Engineer’s words resonated down inside of me, “Sit still…Trust Me…Sit still…Trust Me!”  

When she finally spoke, her words startled me.

Still scratching her head, she shared, “Your cardiogram reading this time was r-e-a-l-l-y good! I can’t understand it.  It makes no sense.”

Somewhere between shocked and elated, all I could think to say back was, “What do you think caused that?”

 Dr. J turned towards me, still pondering the results, and clamoring for the right words.  “I…honestly… I don’t know,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

Knowing the answer to my own question at that point, I offered back,

“Must be the Grace of God!”

My words ushered a great silence into the room.  Though I knew she heard me, I watched Dr. J continue trying to make sense out of solid medical facts that weren’t adding up, and the plain truth of my miracle results. I honestly believe that Dr. J left the room that day feeling more perplexed than I ever did!

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 “Often, He takes you to unwanted places, in uncharted territories for our frail hearts; just to expose His Love in you, to the empty and unbelieving souls that pepper life’s way.”

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Miracles, even small ones, and the stories connected to them draw a stark line between the doubts and denials of the unbelieving world, and the undeniable Truths of believers in Jesus.  Riding the rails of Life with Jesus as your Engineer, He promises you will see some amazing sights along the way. The mountains are high and steep, but Beauty often resides where the air is thinnest.  Countless times, He takes you to unwanted places, in uncharted territories for our frail hearts; just to expose His Love in you, to the empty and unbelieving souls that pepper life’s way.   There will be tunnels, too.  I have learned to look upon them as the Shafts of His Grace, carved by His Hand into our mountains, which reflect a picture of Jesus, carrying us through the darkness in His Strength.  In the place where our hearts can no longer see clearly; we are given an opportunity to learn what it is to ‘sit still’ and ‘trust the Engineer’.  His purposes are far greater than any mountain we will ever encounter in our life. As far as tunnels are concerned… God’s calling on the lives of His children doesn’t stop, even inside the tunnels we enter into.  Wherever we are, we are called to show the difference God makes in our life in a manner that points others to Jesus. For, sometimes we discover that it’s in the act of ‘trusting the Engineer’ in the darkness, that we become the miracle He’s performing in another’s life!

“[We are] God’s instruments to do His work and speak out for Him, to tell others of the night-and-day difference He made for you…” (2 Peter:10 b)

Father in Heaven, You are Lord over our lives whether in darkness or in light.  We will never know or appreciate Your Faithful Love in our lives until we learn to take it seriously. King David describes Your Love “as high as the heavens are above the earth.” (Ps. 103:11 CSB) It’s a Love way beyond our comprehension and ability to understand it.  But You do not ask us to make sense of it…just to ‘sit still’ and ‘trust’ in You.   Strengthen our frail hearts to see Your Hand at work in both our tunnels of darkness and our brightest of days. Teach us to see each of them as a chance for Your Miraculous Love and unfailing Strength to shine through us, into the unbelieving world! In Jesus Precious Name…AMEN

 

“Though our feelings

come and go,

God’s Love for us

does not.”

–C. S. Lewis-–

_______________________

A LABOR OF LOVE

by Debbie Allen

One of the many things on my summer to-do list, was for my husband and I to rebuild and refinish an old, wooden swing-set/jungle gym in our backyard.  It was meant to be a labor of love for our grandchildren.  With this in mind, Jim and I set aside time to work on it, money to buy replacement wood and parts, and the energy needed to accomplish all the hard work required of us for seeing this project through to the end.  What we didn’t factor in was all of the unforeseen snags we encountered along the way. Rotting and split wood, rusted screws, broken monkey bar rungs, and a new cover for the fort that didn’t fit on the roof my husband just finished building. Ugh!

Far worse than any other struggle we tackled, were the temperatures we worked in.  The temperatures soared up to nearly 100 degrees for the duration of the project. As the heat climbed, our energy levels plummeted. So, any board or post that could be disassembled from the frame, was piled on our patio, where I stood under the ceiling fans, painting each piece that came my way.  Unfortunately, that left Jim out in the heat with the skeleton of the swing set, yanking rusty screws from old pieces and sanding what seemed like hundreds of miles of splintery, weathered wood.

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“God will meet you where you are in order to take you where He wants you to go.”

(Tony Evans/Instagram)

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 Because of the fans and high temperatures, my paint dried so fast, I ended up having more down time than I wanted.  By about the fourth miserably, hot day, both of us were disappointed that things weren’t progressing according to our original plan.  We knew we were too far along by now to quit, yet, not far enough along to see the finish line.   Discouraged, my husband headed out to what I’d come to call his ‘Jungle-Jim’ and I sat down on the patio for my morning devotional; before picking up a paint brush. Even sitting in the cool of that morning, all I could think about was the dreaded afternoon heat yet to come. It zapped our strength and made a half-day’s work feel like it should’ve been quitting time.  Trying to stifle the thought of it, I opened my Bible to a chapter in the book of Isaiah and began to pray silently:

“Lord, thank you for overseeing this ‘labor of love.’ I ask again for You to strengthen our hands for this great task and our resolve in this great heat…in Jesus Name, Amen.”

My guess is that I must’ve sounded as discouraged on the inside as I felt on the outside because when I came to Isaiah 58: I knew without a doubt that God was speaking directly to my own heart.  The passage read:

“Then you will call,

And the LORD will answer;”

You will cry for help, and

He will say, ‘Here I am.’

And the Lord will continually guide you,

And satisfy your desire in scorched and dry places,

And give strength to your bones;

And you will be like a watered garden,

And like a spring of water whose waters do not fail.

And [you] will rebuild the ancient ruins;

You will raise up and restore the age-old foundations;

You will be called Repairer…Restorer…”

(Isaiah 58:9, 11-12 AMP) 

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“And the Lord will continually guide you, and satisfy your desire in scorched and dry places,

and give strength to your bones.” (Isaiah 58:11a) 

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If ever there were a ‘scorched and dry place’ and ‘bones that needed strengthening’, it was my husband and I, in this moment.  The Lord’s timely words rushed over and seeped into all my parched places ‘like a spring whose waters do not fail’!  My strength was truly, renewed hearing Him whisper to my heart, ‘you will rebuild the ancient ruins’ (the swing set); and ‘raise up and restore the age-old foundations’ (the fort). I felt both seen and treasured by this One Who cared enough for me to step into my earthly mess and so gently, renew my resolve to persevere and to honor the crucial roles Jim and I placed upon ourselves to finish for our grandchildren. Only now, we would be tackling our own ancient ruins in God’s strength… as His repairer and His restorer!  

Though the unbearable heat didn’t change that day, and the heavy workload even increased, my heart and soul remained refreshed by both the Presence and the Love of the Lord I’d experienced in those few moments.  I couldn’t have asked for more!  And yet, when I raised my head up from that passage in Isaiah, my eyes fell upon a tiny, pink heart laying against the blackness of the table in front of me.  Now…what are the odds of those two pink petals drifting down from the potted, Impatiens plant above it; to form that perfect, pink heart? Even the eyes of a little ceramic frog, hanging off of the flowerpot, were pointed heavenward! My eyes, too, could only see this tiny miracle for what it was.  A tiny pink heart, Divinely placed there for such a need as this. My heart could only respond to its beautiful message in one way.  Smiling, I uttered softly, “Thank you, Lord… I love You, too.”

Each of us has a tendency to focus so intensely on the circumstances gripping us; we are sometimes blind to what God is doing right in front of our eyes.  You see, God never intends our difficulties and unwanted circumstances to crush us; but to push us closer to Him, to His heart… where we may experience the Love that awaits us there.  When His Presence and Love step down into the details of our life stories, our hearts discover joy and renewed strength, peace, and confidence, even during the hardest of times. For it is our hardest times that become the soils where God’s miracles grow best.  The perfect place for our hearts to witness His Hand turning our “scorched places” into His “watered gardens.”

“My [child], give me your heart and

let your eyes delight in My Ways.”

(Proverbs 23:26)

Dearest Lord and Sustainer of Life, Your Word reminds my heart that “You lavish Your unfailing Love for a thousand generations, on those who love You and obey your commands” (Exodus 20:6).  Your Love for Your children continues to astound me over and over again. It is vast and deep and wide and to be treasured like no other.  Yet, we are so often blind to Your Presence and Your Love in our lives. We too often forget that each one of us is Your own Heart’s ‘Labor of Love’ from our first breath to our last.  Forgive us!  Strengthen us in all our pursuits and difficulties.  We invite you to step down into the details of our stories and help us to see Your Presence and Love at work in all our circumstances.  Wash our eyes with Your Tenderness so that we might see You in a whole new way.  For You are the only One Who can take our “scorched and dry places” and turn them into “watered gardens.” 

In Jesus’ Glorious Name we pray…AMEN

“Each day of our lives

we make deposits in

the memory banks

of our children.”

—Charles Swindoll–

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The Wisdom of a Little Child

by Debbie Allen

There is a kind of purity, innocence and wisdom in life that belongs to children alone. Out of the mouths of little children flow the sweet, unheard-of, and outrageously funny ways of thinking; that wield the power to leave us laughing, crying, and even scratching our heads in amazement at the depths of truth that we sometimes find hidden there.

 Consider my six-year-old nephew, Calvin, for instance.  Ever since he was able to utter words, it wasn’t hard to see that he was a deeper thinker than most children his age.  As I stood watching Calvin playing with his older cousins in our playroom one evening; I was amazed how differently he played than his cousins. Two of the girls randomly grabbed matchbox cars from a jumbled pile, then drove off in two directions to get to a bare spot on the carpet where they decided a pretend store was located. Not Calvin.

“That’s not where the store is!” Calvin insisted.

Then he ran over to the table where they’d all been coloring earlier and showed them exactly where the store was located on the map of the pretend city, he’d drawn-out in red crayon!  The girls watched his eyes toggling back and forth between the map and the floor for a few seconds.  While they stood there giggling, Calvin scooped-up an armful of Legos and proceeded to build them a two-level store on a different corner of the carpet.” The right corner!” as he put it. He even designed an elaborate parking lot in front of that store where the girls could park; so, a policeman wouldn’t give them each a ticket!  He has a v-e-r-y creative mind and every detail matters most to him.  Though some adults might call this quirky; in our family, we’ve come to label Calvin’s canny ability to reason things out and solve problems that other kids didn’t even know existed as his Little-Old-Man Syndrome…a little boy who is wise beyond his years!

One day over breakfast recently, Calvin’s Grandma shared the cutest story about him.  Calvin is almost a grownup now.  He’s six-years-old and his Little Old Man Syndrome continues growing right alongside of him. While Calvin was vacationing in Hawaii with his mom, dad, and little sister; he decided something was missing in his little life.  I’m sure he must’ve pondered it on the beach for a while before deciding the matter was serious enough to ask his mom about it.

  “Mommy?” he inquired, tugging on her shirt, “When is another baby going to be coming into our family?” 

 Now…knowing Calvin’s deep thought processes, mom knew to respond quickly before any new questions formed on his horizons.

“Calvin, Mommy and Daddy have talked about it…and we both decided that there isn’t going to be any more babies coming into our family.”

He was not at all happy with the finality of mom’s answer back.  So…with scrunched brow and arms folded across his chest, the little old man rose-up inside of Calvin to help him form a new hypothesis concerning his dilemma.  One that made perfect sense to him…and still left him with a smidge of hope.

“Mommy, you and daddy don’t know that!”

“What do you mean, Calvin?” Mommy responded, confused by his adamant insistence.

 “You and Daddy can’t know that because… only ‘The Belly’ knows!”

The mind of a little child is truly one of this world’s greatest gifts and deepest mysteries, all rolled into one!  Children often take something we, as adults, know to be true, and exchange it in their minds for something they think makes perfect sense to them. But because of their own inexperience and lack of understanding in life, it too often leads them further and further away from plain truth.

Did you know, even as adults, something similar can happen to us in the spiritual realm?  Our own know-it-all hearts, too often, confront God in a manner similar to how Calvin reasoned with his mom. We take our questions and dilemmas to God, but we don’t always agree with what He has to say back to us.  What’s best for us in our own eyes doesn’t always align with God’s Perspectives and what He knows is ‘best’ for us in life.  That’s when the distance between God’s Perspectives and our own perceptions grows as wide as the chasm that existed between Calvin’s endearing, ‘Only the Belly Knows’ theory; and God’s, ‘Only the Father Knows’ Truths for living life.

If we choose to trust in our own thinking, aligning what we believe with this world’s self-centered and immoral ways, perverted thinking, and skewed messages for our hearts, concerning how to live our lives; we are guaranteed with every step we take to be moving farther and farther away from plain Truth.  Wisdom is completely void in this place.

God’s instruction for our hearts, however, is described in Psalm 19 as being ‘perfect’ and it ‘renews our life.’  Everything He tells us is ‘trustworthy, making the inexperienced wise’. His precepts are ‘right and make our hearts glad.’ The ordinances of our Heavenly Father are ‘reliable and altogether righteous’.  When we choose to trust them, our hearts find them ‘more desirable than an abundance of gold’ and ‘sweeter than honey dripping from a honeycomb.’  God’s Words can always be fully trusted, telling us everything we need to know to live-out the life He gave us before others; so that others are pointed back towards God and His Perspectives on right living.

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” The world has nothing to offer our hearts that will ever supersede the value of trusting in God’s

flawless and unchanging Truths to guide us throughout life. “

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The world has nothing to offer our hearts that will ever supersede the value of trusting in God’s flawless and unchanging Truths to guide us throughout life. This is why its so crucial to teach our children about the One Who loves them most. To share with them the greatest commandment God ever gave to us:

 “Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul, and with all your strength.” (Deut. 6:5)

On the heels of this commandment, Moses reminded the Israelites standing before the Promised Land:

“And you shall teach [God’s Truths] diligently to your children and speak of them when you sit in your house and when you walk along the road, and when you lie down and when you get up.” (Deut. 6:7) 

When we, as parents do these things, every aspect of life becomes a platform for modeling our own love, trust, and obedience before God.  Our obedience in this area also proves to be our greatest potential for passing along to our children, a visual picture of what it looks like to live-out a life of faith.

Nourishing the souls of our children with Truth within the setting of what God calls the family (one man and one woman), is the greatest thing a parent can do for them; before they step out into this world on their own. No one sends a soldier out into a raging battle without bullets, yet our children are sent out into the raging battles of this world far too often, without God’s Truth in their hearts to guide and protect them.  The result?  Failing to diligently teach God’s Truth to generation after generation after generation has brought us to todays world.  A world filled with children who grew into adults having no appetite for God’s Truth.  Because they are hollow on the inside from lack of spiritual development, their thoughts, desires, and actions are misplaced.  Self-absorption is the new normal.   Touching screens to connect with friends on social media replaces the warm touch of a genuine handshake and a cup of coffee in person.  Our ears are so filled with Bluetooth ear-buds listening to the latest-n-greatest trending podcasts on “How to Live Life”; we no longer hear the Cries of the One Who IS the Greatest…calling out to our hearts to ‘Follow Him.’

We live in a Nation whose perceptions of right and wrong are just as far from True Wisdom, as Calvin’s ‘Only the Belly Knows’ theory was from God’s ‘Only the Father Knows’ Truths for living life.  The wisdom of little Calvin still brings joy to my heart because I know that his mom and dad will one day, teach him the truth and set him on a right path of thinking.  But what about our Nation? Our pride and preferring our own self-assured ways of thinking to God’s?  Our indifference to His ways? How can we as parents expect our children to become a mouthpiece for Truth in this world; when so many have failed for multiple generations to teach them d-i-l-i-g-e-n-t-l-y, how to love the Lord God with all their hearts, all their souls, and all their strength? I believe that the fate of a nation hinges on the wisdom of its little children, or lack of it; and on the willingness of its parents to walk-out the ways of the Lord before their children, becoming the model of faith, love, and Godliness their children and this world so desperately need to see.

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“The Hope of generations to come begins and ends with the wisdom of a little child…or the lack of it. “

—D. Allen—

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Our Father God’s call on each of our lives is to grow to love and serve Him wholly, and to diligently, teach our children to “walk in His Ways and do what is right in His Eyes.” (1Kings11:38); as opposed to walking-out the mis-guided ways of this world and believing the lie that Truth is relevant and “everyone does what seems right to him” (Judges 21:25 NIV). The farther we move away from God’s Truth for living life under His Authority as individuals and a nation; the more chaos and injustice will ensue…in our world, our governments, our streets and our homes.

Author and speaker, Charles Swindoll, once said, “Each day of our lives we make deposits in the memory banks of our children.”   Why not make those deposits ones of Faith, Hope and Love; daily impressing upon their hearts how to love the Lord God with all their heart, soul, and strength.  And on the day when they step into this world on their own with all those deposits we’ve made in them, they will understand that they are carrying something of eternal value.  A heart that knows and loves God, the strength to walk in Truth and carry it to others, and a soul that will one day live forever!  Not only are they the Hope of generations to come, but we as parents, “have no greater joy than to know that our children are walking in Truth.”  (3 John 1:4 NIV)

PRAYER:

Dearest Lord and Heavenly Father…what a gift you have given us in our children.  I can’t count the ways you speak to my heart through them. Their laughter…their thoughts…their quirky little ways. You have placed a high priority on little children and so should we, as parents. You have hidden Your Wisdom for living life within them.  I pray You will give us discerning hearts when it comes to teaching our children how to love you with all of their heart and soul and strength. Remind us as we peer out into the mess our world has become, that parents and the family (as You designed it), play a crucial role in passing the baton of Faith on to our children; and then out into our world. The Hope of our future generations depends on our faithfulness…both to You and to teaching our children Godliness. Forgive us for falling short of the roles you’ve given to each of us. Strengthen us so that we might walk in obedience before You in these difficult days. May we and our children continue to be a mouthpiece for Your Truth and Justice in the days ahead of us. Help us to set our face like flint to do Your will, and confidently know that we will triumph, because You are standing alongside of us.

IN JESUS NAME…AMEN

 

“All the best sands

of my life are

somehow getting into

the wrong end of

the hourglass.

If I could only reverse it!

Were it in my power

to do so, would I?”

–Thomas Baily Aldrich–

The Wrong Side of the Hourglass

by Debbie Allen

There is nothing more frustrating than watching a loved one in a nursing home, being cared for by someone who may, or may not…genuinely care for them. 
After breaking a hip, due to a fall, my mother ended up in a care facility for a short time of rehabilitation. Though she wasn’t there for an extended period of time, her stay was long enough for me to observe that there is a definite difference between truly caring for someone with love…and caring out of obligation or duty. 

My dad stayed ten to twelve hours by my mom’s side every day she spent in that care facility.  He had A LOT to say (not so nice sometimes) about every pill she swallowed, every meal delivered, and every nurse and therapist who dared to cross the threshold of her room. Though his brazen tones with the staff embarrassed me more than once; I soon realized that perhaps I was watching my dad’s own rough-cut version of love in action.  After spending a lifetime together, he understood my mother well. When the nurses came in every morning to throw the blinds open and flood her room with bright sunshine; they thought they were doing mom a favor. On the other hand, my dad, who darkened the room again when they left; understood my mom’s heart and knew the anxiety (due to Alzheimer’s disease) it caused her when she perceived the whole world was suddenly watching her.   When the physical therapists came in, their methods often meant with a few of my mom’s adamant “noes” when it came to finishing her exercises. But instead of chiding her for her lack of cooperation, my dad reached up and stroke her arm to calm her down; telling her in a mild tone, “Just one more time, Shirl…one more time, for me.”

To everyone’s surprise, though with great difficulty, she managed to finish a set of six different exercises!  Why did mom do them for my dad, and not for the therapists? I believe she knew she could trust dad to take care of her. Multiple times he’d proven himself to be for her not against her.  In her own childlike way, mom still sensed the stark difference between being on someone’s checklist…and being in someone’s heart.

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“When it comes to how we’re being treated in life, the heart knows the difference between just being on someone’s checklist…and being in someone’s heart.”

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One of the most endearing scenes I witnessed during mom’s stay in this facility happened around dinnertime one day.  I stood in the doorway while a nurse set a tray of dinner down on a bedside table.  I watched my dad, who was sitting in my mom’s wheelchair, roll himself under that table until he sat knee-to-knee with mom. In any other setting, a stranger walking by would’ve perceived this scene as a romantic dinner for two.  Soft music played in the background… low lights in the room…fresh-cut flowers on the table…and both their hands lovingly, entwined. But given a second glance, one would soon have noticed that in the dimly lit room of this care facility, there was no candle light; there was only the truth to shed its light on the unplanned reality of this tender moment between them. 
Dad reached over and tucked a napkin under mom’s chin; and placed a straw in her glass of milk. Her sunken, brown eyes watched his every move. Making no effort to eat or drink on her own, dad began to cut her food up and feed it to her one spoonful at a time.  Five or so bites in, a scowl, pursed lips, and arms folded across her chest let him know she’d had enough.  Though he again offered her a bite of everything on the plate before he finished-off the rest of it; mom spoke a firm “no”.  That’s why it came as such a shock five minutes later, when she cried out angrily at my dad, “Stop! You ate it all…where’s mine?”  

Because mom was so used to seeing dad split a plate of food between them in restaurants; as she watched him take that last bite, she assumed he’d just eaten up both halves and forgotten her altogether!  As I explained to her that she’d already eaten, my dad only had one thing to say, shaking his head at the irony of it all.

“Sure seems like all my sands are gathering in the wrong end of the hourglass.”

One week after speaking these words, my dad pulled mom out of the care facility and took her back home to recuperate in familiar surroundings…or so he thought.  The first morning they were home, mom sat sipping a cup of coffee across from him at the kitchen counter.  All seemed as it should be until she looked up with a blank stare and asked my dad, “Do you know where my husband is?”

Though mom snapped out of this momentary lapse of memory later that day; her words still continued to haunt my dad because he knows it will happen again.

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“Sometimes it seems like the shifting sands of our life are gathering in the wrong end of the hourglass.“

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There is nothing more devastating than being forgotten after pouring your heart and life into another for the span of a lifetime.   Sometimes, the sands of our life can feel like they are falling down into the wrong side of the hourglass. Though it may feel like time is slipping away from you, every grain of sand falls with great purpose and at just the right time. God is the Keeper of our sands and is aware of every tiny grain that falls through our hourglasses, from conception to old age and beyond.   Especially when we are facing heartrending circumstances and watching the pieces of the life we once loved and deemed beautiful… slowly turning to ashes. Though we on our own, cannot make sense of the painful circumstances pulling us under; God uses such times to make space within us…the space He needs to expose our helplessness and capture our attention; in order to speak a little deeper to our writhing hearts.

When I consider the pain of the moment my mom forgot who my dad was even after a lifetime spent together; it brings to mind the depth of pain God must feel when He looks down upon us and sees the Spiritual Alzheimer’s that grips our hearts and how often we forget Him in our life.  You and I are so important to God that He can’t stop thinking about us!  We are told in His Word that God’s thoughts are as numerous as all the grains of sand on the earth! (Psalm 139:17-18).   The One Who pours His Goodness into your life from conception to your last breath, also has you in His Heart. His greatest desire is that you choose to let Him (Jesus) live inside your heart.  It’s the most important decision you will ever make in your life.

Sometimes our life’s sands can feel more like sink holes.  But the more we struggle in our own strength and wisdom to try and save ourselves; the greater our chances of being consumed. Whether you have 60 minutes of sand sifting through your hourglass, or 60 years’ worth; you still have time to reach out and take hold of God’s Hand.  His is the only Hand that offers you Hope for your hopelessness, Peace for your life’s pieces, and Beauty beyond measure in exchange for your life’s ashes. Don’t forget God…He’s given His whole life for you. Time is so precious. Live and love in it wisely or someday you won’t just feel that life has left you on the wrong side of the hourglass; you may discover that all of your life’s sands have piled-up on the wrong side of Eternity…for an eternity.

“Know God, Know Peace!

No God, No Peace!”

–author unknown–

PRAYER:

  Dearest Heavenly Father and Lover of our souls… Help us to recognize when we allow Spiritual Alzheimer’s to overtake us.  Forgive us for forgetting You, the most precious of our treasures in life.  My heart knows well that you hold each of our life’s sands in your Mighty Hands.  Out of Your Love and Abundance, You’ve poured just the right amount of time into each of our life’s hourglasses.  No more and no less…for the things You have called us to do in this life.  Your greatest desire for us is that we choose to walk with You for all the days of our lives.  Help us to choose wisely, and grant that as we look back over the horizon of our life’s sands, we will see two sets of footprints in the sands where we walked…for You walked beside us from the very moment we invited you to journey through life together.  Thankyou, Jesus…for the priceless Gift of Your Presence, now and for all eternity. 

In Jesus Precious Name…. AMEN

“Every detail of our lives of love

for God is worked into something

good.”

Romans 8:28 MSG

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The Works of His Hands

by Debbie Allen

My eighty-eight- year-old parents have lived next door to my husband and I for nearly twenty-five years.  I do my writing from a garden-level library with a window that overlooks the front of my parent’s house and their driveway. Though I don’t consider myself to be a peeping neighbor; I do often see their comings and goings throughout the day.  More than once, I’ve looked up from my desk to see my dad take an unexpected fall; and had the chance to run over and help him back up on his feet. Other times, if I see their cars haven’t moved from the driveway by noon on any given day; I know the chances are good that one of them is under the weather. That’s my clue to pop-in, unannounced, with a meal or a loaf of banana bread. The times I see my dad backing his car up the driveway, I know the backend of it is loaded with groceries; that I can easily unload and carry-in for them. Over the years, I’ve come to think of my library window as my “window of opportunity, because through it, God provides me a divinely inspired glimpse into my aging parents’ world; revealing unexpected opportunities for me to meet some of the immediate needs they struggle with. Things my dad would never consider asking for help with.

Most recently, I peered out that window and saw a strange sight.  My dad’s old, Mazda van was abandoned at the bottom of their driveway, its hood facing the street. Alongside it were fresh tire tracks in our lawn; indicating my dad’s rushed decision to make a new way in and out of his driveway for their second car. Though I cringed at the very thought of him driving on the lawn, I hoped it was only a temporary solution! Two days later and still there was no sign of “AAA” towing.  By the time the third day rolled around, Dad hinted to my husband, Jim, it would be alright for him to do some troubleshooting on the deceased Mazda. Graciously, Jim accepted the challenge, as he always does.

Toolbox in hand, Jim popped the hood on Dad’s van, staring into the ocean of possibilities it might be.  He checked the battery first. Each time he tried to start it; nothing happened.  Jim shut the hood, perplexed; came back to our house to research old Mazda maladies on the internet. Nothing helpful turned up.  As I watched him through my library window, attempting a second round of troubleshooting; I prayed God would “give him wisdom to diagnose the problem and eyes to see more clearly.”  I barely uttered, “amen” walking back to my desk, when I heard the Mazda hood slam and the humming sounds of that lifeless engine running!  Jim came bounding in the front door, brimming and shaking his head. 

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it before! The battery was the first thing I checked…but I only wiggled one of the cables; and it was the other cable that was loose!”

Sharing a moment of laughter together, and the words of my prayer; neither of us could deny the reality of the miracle of answered prayer we’d been a part of.  There is an unquestionable beauty to be found in every answered prayer…no matter how great or how small.  Beauty that points us straight to the Heart of God; highlighting His complete willingness to step away from running the Universe, to bend low and listen when we cry out to Him in need.  In light of God’s great readiness towards us; why are we, then, so reluctant to step away from the stuff we fill our days with; to become the small miracle God asks us to be in the lives of those He sets before us?  Perhaps it’s because we know that God’s Agendas often lead us further out from our comfort zones than our hearts, on their own, are willing to venture?

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“Why are we so reluctant to become God’s miracle in another’s life? Perhaps it’s because we know that God’s Agendas often lead us further out from our comfort zones than our hearts, on their own, are willing to venture.”

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Over the years, what started out as just a library window on the north end of my house; has proven itself to be my own personal window of opportunity.  More specifically, it’s served as both my doorway to good deeds, and my gateway to prayer.    Somewhere between all the earthly struggles I’ve witnessed there, and God’s faithful answers to the prayers I’ve uttered before it; my faith has been strengthened over and over again.

As we enter into the Easter season, I challenge you to think of the one-of-a-kind, Window of Opportunity that Jesus looked through, while He walked on this earth.  The level of distress concerning what He saw when He peered through His Window, drove him to His knees one night.  There, in the Garden of Gethsemane, prostrate over a rock; He trembled as He prayed.  Jesus wept. He sweat great drops of blood, in anguish over the thought of facing death on the cross for the sins of all humanity. He pleaded with His Father in heaven saying,” Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but Yours be done.” (Luke 22:42 NIV) Jesus never once, considered pulling the shade down on His Window, because of what He saw on the other side of it. Your face and mine.  He chose to trust God’s will over His own, and because of it… you and I can now have eternal life for the asking!

As we face our own windows of opportunity in this life, I pray we daily find the strength to keep our eyes pointed Godward; trusting that His divine agendas should always supersede our own calendars.  Jesus calls us to run toward those in need, not shut them out. Never will we be any more like Jesus in this world than when we willingly go where He sends us; stepping into the lives of hurting people, lifting up the fallen, and reflecting love and restoration to the broken.  Biblical Love can only be measured in sacrificing for the good of others. Jesus put it this way:

“…yet not my will, but Yours be done.”

 (Luke 22:42b CSB)

PRAYER: Most Gracious, Heavenly Father…As I enter into every new day; grant me eyes to see the work of Your Hands in my life and in the lives of those You’ve surrounded me with.  Send me the strength I need to walk in Your Footsteps…to do what it is You’ve called me to do.  Teach me to recognize Your very Presence in my life.  Instill Your Love for others in my heart; especially where my own family is concerned.  Fill me with courage enough to lift up the fallen, lighten their loads and restore the broken. Keep us all from the temptation of pulling the shades down on our windows of opportunity.  Thankyou Jesus, for the life-changing privilege of being Your Hands and Your Feet on earth; so that others might know Your Sacrificial Love too.  Bless the work of our hands for the good of others and for Your Glory!

In Jesus’ Beautiful Name we pray…AMEN

    

Our night of discouragement

will seem endless and

our task impossible, unless

we recognize that He stands

in our midst.”

—Joni Eareckson Tada—

by Debbie Allen

The sound of a flat-faced hammer striking a metal awl echoed in the silence of the night. The Shoemaker labored long and hard over another of his precious soles.  His leathery hand reached for a bottle of blackening, on a nearby shelf.  Brushing the final touches onto his creation, he stooped to place a splendid pair of black, riding boots into a cardboard box.

“Ah, yes…another perfect fit!”  the Shoemaker uttered softly.  “I have already prepared a place for you!”  he continued, speaking in a tone much like a father to a little child. 

With that, the Shoemaker walked out into the city to the place he’d chosen for his latest creation.  Carefully, he set the box down in the Foothills surrounding the city of Mass-a-shoe-sets. Were it not for the works of the Shoemaker’s hands, the city would not even exist. Pulling his hands away from the box, the Shoemaker turned to address all the shoes living there.

“I must go away for a time,” he said. “But you… all of you, must remain here until I return. You will be safe and secure within the boxes which I have provided you, until my return,” he reminded them.  With that, he turned to go.

When the Shoemaker first left, the shoes missed the sound of his steps, walking along the banks of the swiftly running, Nike River. Often, the Shoemaker retreated here with his needle and thread; mending torn and tattered soles that washed up on the banks. He took great pleasure restoring and walking among his many creations.  The shoes, too, found solace in the sounds of his voice, and relished time spent in his gentle presence.

But… as time passed, the shoes forgot the sound of the Shoemaker’s voice. They grew discontent with their confined living arrangements.  No longer were they satisfied in the safety of their boxes; flip-tops and loose-lids alike. From the glistening Patents to the bolder Buckskins, shoes flipped their lids and fell to the streets below from the high places that the Shoemaker himself had chosen for them.  For the first time ever, Mass-a-shoe-sets met with chaos. Wads and wads of loose paper from their boxes, lay scattered on every turn; bringing the city grime rate to an all-time high.  Their newly, chosen lifestyles severely, affected the family unit.  Separation rates climbed steadily, leaving little Keds unattended all over city streets.   Mis-mates and Singles dominated the scene more and more.  Nikes ran around with Reeboks; lefts running with lefts, and rights with rights. Vans cruised recklessly in wrong directions all along Saucony Blvd. Riotous, gangs of Doc Martins marched around and around Converse Cul-de-sac; protesting in favor of the LTWAMTB (Less Than We Are Meant To Be) Organization! It wasn’t long before the entire economy plummeted and chaos reigned on every street corner!

Soon, tongues began to wag and the High-Tops who’d lived in the city for many years, spoke out.

 “Sole Mates! I fear the worst! We’ve become lost soles in our own beloved city. Order must be restored and a new leader chosen!”

“The Joggers are prime candidates for the position!” cried the Flip-Flops.

The High-Tops strongly disagreed with them answering, “The Joggers have a long-time reputation for running away from their problems.”

 “Then…how about the Cross Trainers?” cried the Moccasins, sneaking in.

Tapping their toes in deep thought, the eldest High-Top finally stepped in replying, “I’m afraid the Cross Trainers are much too angry to deal in a personable manner with a fellow sole mate. But, perhaps the Hikers?”

At this point, a group of left-sided Hi-Tops, determined to be right, stomped over to say, “The Hikers are a rugged, determined group who set high goals for themselves; but we fear that their ‘climb-to-the-top-at-all-cost’ way of life might later step on some toes.”

With every eyelet squinted in frustration, the eldest High-Top cried out angrily, “Our laces are tied in this matter, then! We, the eldest High-Tops, will decide!  We choose a pair who stands tallest among us, and who’s reputation shines beyond us all. These outstanding creations are equipped with the greatest of insoles and are highly capable of leading us the farthest towards reaching the goals we’ve set for ourselves. So… I present to you, Mass-a-shoe-sets’ own newest couple…the Riding Boots!”

Soon after this announcement, a great light flooded the Foothills of Mass-a-shoe-sets. No eyelet could withstand its brilliance; for the shoes had grown accustomed to wandering about in the darkness. Still puzzling over the light, a great shadow then fell across the entire length of the city. 

“The Shoemaker has returned!” the shoes gasped simultaneously. 

Suddenly, feeling scuffed and dirty, the Joggers wanted to run away, the Hikers wanted to climb out of sight, and the High-Tops found themselves tongue-tied for the first time ever!

Wearing the saddest expression, any shoe had ever seen on his face, the Shoemaker stood there shaking his head.  Fully expecting him to toss them all aside like old shoes, they scattered in fear.  But to their amazement, instead of getting the punishment they deserved; one by one, the shoes watched as the Shoemaker wiped all their dirt and scuffs clean; then showed each lost sole the way home. The Shoemaker’s touch seemed gentle enough; but, the tone of his voice carried a stern reminder of what they’d forgotten in his absence.

“I have inscribed my name on the heels of your very soles…so that every step you take reflects the one who made you. Walk wisely and reflect rightly, little shoes… ‘because’ your soles are mine.”

Wielding his hammer and awl over the Foothills of Mass-a-shoe-sets, a thunderous clash emerged as the Shoemaker set to work transforming all of their chaos and destruction back into his beauty and order. The intense sounds of an immense whirlwind picking up debris as it moved through the city streets; set every box on edge! As the Shoemaker lowered his hammer and awl down by his side, a deafening silence enveloped the Foothills. Peeking out from under their box lids, every shoe gasped at what they saw. Almost as if their eyelets had been unveiled, they were now able to see the great heights from which they’d fallen! Having captured every shoe’s undivided attention; the Shoemaker spoke to them one last time, before returning to his workbench.

 “Remember me!” he emphasized to every silent sole. “For I am, and always will be ‘your’ Shoemaker…the maker, the restorer, and the keeper of all your soles!”

PRAYER: Dearest Heavenly Father…I see the ‘Parable of the Lost Soles’ playing out inside the headlines of our own day, over and over again. We are a people growing more and more dissatisfied with living in the boundaries You have set for our lives; to keep us safe from this world’s evil. You have given us your word that You will be returning; and that we are to, “keep watch,” (Matt. 24:42) because we do not know what day or time that will be. Yet, much like the ‘discontented shoes’ in the parable; in Your absence, we’ve forgotten the Sounds of Your Voice. We, too, have ‘flipped our lids’ and chosen to fall from those great and Godly heights You warned us to remain within. The consequences for choosing to listen to our own voices ruling over us, instead of Your Voice, have brought nothing but chaos and devastation to our families, our communities, our nations and this world. As Billy Graham once put it, “We have lost our spiritual equilibrium and reversed our values.”  Because we have forgotten Your Name and Ways, lawmakers make their laws without Truth to guide them, oblivious to Your impending warnings:

“Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness…” (Isaiah 5:20a NIV).

 Father, forgive us. For we have become our own ‘lost soles’ wandering about in our lives, succumbing to the darkness of our world because we’ve grown accustomed to it.

May it not be so, Father, for those of us who call ourselves, children of God.  Those of us who still hear Your Voice and choose Your Light and Truth to guide us.  Fill our hearts with your courage to face the “lawlessness that will multiply” (Matt.24:12a) in the days ahead; and embolden our faith as we come up against “the love of many that grows cold” (Matt.24:12a) because of it.  We acknowledge You and only You, as The Creator, The Redeemer, and The Keeper of our souls both now and for Eternity.  Your Name is inscribed on our souls; so that Your Character and Your Ways may be reflected into the world around us; with every step we take. For what we truly value…is reflected in the way we walk. 

IN JESUS NAME, Amen.

“So let us know—let us press on to know the LORD.  As surely as the sun rises, He will appear; He will come to us like the rain, like spring showers that water the earth.” (Hosea 6:3 BSB)