“You don’t need to see the whole staircase, to take the first step.”
“Love is our greatest gift,
not just for a season but,
for a lifetime!“
by Debbie Allen
Every New Year, I am filled with fresh hope for what the coming year will usher into our lives. Living in a world whose foundations and people, are growing evermore unpredictable and unstable; I’m grateful to God for His unshakeable Words to my heart, concerning all my life’s paths. He promises this: “I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. They are plans for good and not for evil; to give you a future and a hope…” (Jeremiah 29: 11a). In spite of this world’s threats of growing evil and chaos all around us, I believe God’s Hand always offers us hope; for the simple reason that we can know that His plans always come to us with our highest good in mind. This promise alone, gives me the peace of mind and heart I seek, to step confidently into an unknown, 2022.
The first week of January, it’s always been my tradition to ask the Lord to give me a word, a thought, or an inspiration to guide me into the new year. Something I would recognize as ‘clearly and plainly’ from His Heart to mine. He’s never failed me yet. On January 2nd, I lay watching one last Christmas movie on Hallmark (Please don’t judge me!), Even though I’d seen this movie, a couple of times before, I’d missed the words that so captured my attention that day. The heroine, distraught over a decision she needed to make right away, was being advised by a trusted friend that: “You don’t need to see the whole staircase…to take the first step.”
With those words still echoing in my spirit, an image also flashed across my mind. It was a picture of my son and daughter-in-law’s decorated, staircase; on the night Brian proposed to Andrea. I hadn’t thought of it for many years. I remembered that night was also Brian’s birthday. He wanted to heighten the element of surprise for Andrea; knowing she’d be so preoccupied making birthday plans for him, she wouldn’t have time to suspect something else was going on. While she was at work that day, he meticulously, placed a 5 x 7 glossy, photo of different moments shared together, on every stair. Alongside each of those memories, Brian laid a red and a white, long-stemmed rose. To finalize this romantic gesture, he dressed-up in a black tuxedo and stood, out of sight, at the top of the staircase, anticipating this long-awaited moment. Hearing the front door open that night, I’m sure his heart raced as did Andrea’s when she caught sight of that staircase. Ecstatic… spontaneous tears… heart swelled with unimaginable joy… dazed with delight… all these words together can’t begin to describe the expanse of emotions pulsing through Andrea’s heart in that moment. As she climbed those stairs, one-step-at-a-time; savoring every memory shared through the years, she didn’t’ need to see Brian to know he was there, waiting for her at the top of those stairs. If the handsome groom-to-be wasn’t already down on one knee, I’m sure he dropped down at the sight of the love-of-his-life, running towards him. After a formal, “Will you marry me?” and an elated “YES!” from his joyful, yet tearful, bride-to-be…Brian slipped the engagement ring onto Andrea’s finger, and love’s journey for them both, began all over again. They were married one year later; and that journey is now approaching the ten-year mark!
No one can deny the beauty that surrounds the moment when one soulmate finds another…when we find ourselves saying “yes” to the love-of-our-life! No regrets…no looking back…just trusting in the promise of love and stepping forward together into an unknown future. Perhaps stepping into the New Year is somewhat like that. Every year we are given an opportunity to begin again; to step into our own new beginning. It’s hard to imagine what things in this next year we will be drawn to saying “yes” to. But it’s important to remember, our “yeses” are what propel us through our life; one moment…one day….one week…one month…and one year at a time. Even our time, talents, and treasures are driven by them, to one degree or another. Saying “yes” to all the right things is important but, it’s even more crucial who we are saying “yes” to.
With that in mind, I think again of the wisdom of my Hallmark quote: “You don’t have to see the whole staircase…to take the first step.”
And I don’t have to see the whole year ahead of me ….to take my first step, either. How do I know that for sure? Because of Who I’m trusting as I step into this new year. The little slice of Brian and Andrea’s story reflects to the eyes of my heart, the stark reality of an unseen staircase I see stretching from earth towards Heaven. At the top of that stairway stands my Heavenly Groom, Jesus. He longs for the day when I, His bride-to-be, will be called to step into His Gaze and run into His Arms. Though I can’t see Him now, I sense the reality of His Beautiful Presence. Every step I climb toward Him is marked by the Fragrance of His Love. As I stop to linger over memories we’ve shared, I think of this. Spans of both laughter and tears…in sickness and in health. Precious prayer and worship times together. I have come to relish the sounds of His Voice in my ear…the Whispers of His Breath, breathing new life down into moments threatening to steel my breath away. When this world’s ways try to crush me, I seek the Lovingkindness, Grace and Healing He offers in His every Touch. From the joys of mountain-top experiences to the sorrows and heaviness of the valleys; I sense His gentle Heart beating next to mine. Every beat overflows with Sacrificial Love… Love willing to die for me so my heart can know Him fully. To know and to be known in that sense… speaks to my soul’s deepest longing. The Lover of my soul tells me, “I am Yours and You are mine.” Without hesitation, my heart responds, “yes;” for it loves and trusts, beyond a shadow of any doubt, the One Who promises His beloved bride, “There is no greater Love than Mine!”
And there is no greater Promise than this to lead us into the unknown future of a new year. I have said “yes” many times to many things, and many people over the course of my life; and no doubt, in the coming year I will do so again. However, I don’t want to be pushed-and-pulled through the new year as merely a consequence of my “yeses.” Instead, I want my “yeses” to become the steps leading my heart towards new growth and change, a deeper faith, and greater love for others. Above all, my desire is that my highest “yes,” be reserved for my Groom, waiting at the top of that unseen Staircase. He has chosen me, loved me unconditionally, forgiven my sin, and planned a life for me that is filled with good not evil, with a future and a hope. To Him, in this next year, my heart cries out “hineni!” This expression is a word from the Hebrew language, speaking our English “yes” in a much deeper and richer way. It means, “Here I am!” A word which says, “God, Here I am,” to do whatever You call me to do, whatever the cost or consequence.”
The beautiful thing about this expression is that God, in order to reflect back to us, the same level of devotion He desires from us, also speaks “Hineni” to our own hearts. As He does, His Heart is reminding our own frail hearts, “I Hear you… I See you…and I Know you!”
What more could any of us ever ask, or say, or want, as we step into this new year? There is no greater Love than this!
“Then you will call, and the Lord will answer; you will cry for help, and He will say: “Here am I.”
PRAYER:Father in Heaven…Your Love truly is the greatest Gift our hearts could ever receive; not for just a season in our life but, for all of Eternity. Knowing a Love this Deep is its own reward. Help us, Lord, to take Your Hand, believe Your Promises, and step into the unknowns of this new year fully trusting that Your plans for our lives come from the inexpressible Goodness of Your Heart. You are for us, not against us. Sustain us. Embolden our hearts. As we offer You our highest “yeses: in the days to come; and as our hearts cry out, “hineni” to You…may we thrill at the Sounds of Your Voice in response, assuring us “I Hear you…I See You…and I Know you!” There is no greater Love than this! In Jesus Precious Name…AMEN
“Extra! Extra!” Sammy hollered, holding the latest edition of the Chicago Tribune high above his head. Sparsely, clad in the only tattered clothes he had to his name; Sammy struggled to keep his teeth from chattering. Every word he forced out into the wintry, Chicago gusts seemed to drop at his feet like little ice cubes. It was two days before Christmas, so the city was bustling with people, but the world seemed strangely deaf to his desperate cries to sell newspapers tonight.
“Extra…Extra! Read all a-b-b-bout it!” he tried once more, watching an older gentleman, dressed in a top hat and overcoat, coming his way.
“Get out of my way you little street-rat!” he grumbled, pushing Sammy away with his walking stick. “What’s this city coming to anyway? Go back to the alley you came from!” he barked back at Sammy.
“M-m-er-r-ry Chrism-mm-mas, sir!” Sammy offered back; remembering his father’s words to his own eight-year-old heart.
“Snow flurries pummeling his face, Sammy tucked his frost-bitten ears under a wet cap and climbed on top of the stack of unsold papers. Papers that should have been sold by now…papers that would keep him from getting a pay-check at the end of the day. Head, face-down on his knees, he folded his frozen limbs up into a little ball, desperate for even the tiniest touch of warmth.
“Pa-pa” he whimpered. How can I ever make it on these streets without you? Even a street-rat has fur to keep him warm; but I …I have nothing. I’m just the boy who sleeps in a box in the alley. Help me to see the good again. I miss you, Pa-p-pa.”
Lifting his head to face the icy blasts once more, Sammy felt a warm hand land on his shoulder. It belonged to a policeman that Sammy often saw walking the streets and alleyways after dark.
“Nice boots, son.” The officer commented.
“Thank-k-you, s-s-sir…do you want to b-b-b-uy a newspaper?” Sammy asked timidly, eyeing the drippy wet newspaper he held-up to the Officer.”
“You know…I would like to buy that newspaper!” the officer said, watching Sammy drop the dime he gave him down into his soggy boot.
“Thank you, s-s-sir!”
“The name’s John…Sergeant John!” the policeman said, clicking his heels together and saluting Sammy in animated fashion. But you can call me Sarge!”
“I’m just Sammy, Mr. Sarge.”
“Where do you live, son?”
Turning around, Sammy pointed to an alleyway not far away.
“In there” he said, eyes pointed to the ground.
“I’m going that way…why don’t you let me walk you home? With a blizzard heading this way, no one should be out on these streets.
Hesitant, a shivering Sammy eyed the stack of unsold newspapers. Knowing he wouldn’t have a day’s wage coming to him anyway that night; or a job to come back to the next morning; made it much easier to just walk away from.
By the time Sammy shook his head in agreement; Sarge was already pulling a blanket out of a knapsack he always carried with him and wrapping it around Sammy’s cold shoulders.
“There you go, son…that should warm you up a little.”
Sammy was most grateful for the blanket and Sarge’s company as they walked and talked along the way.
“My Papa died a couple weeks ago. Got shot chasing a robber out of our alleyway. Now all I got to remember him by is these boots. They was my Papa’s boots when he was younger. Papa said someone r-e-a-l-l-y special gave ’em to him once and that I was to take extra-special care of them.”
“Them are some fine boots alright, Sammy.”
Sammy shrugged his shoulders as they reached his alley. “That’s my box over there against the brick wall…by the dumpster.”
“So it is…well, before you go, I want you to take this with you.” Sarge handed him a thermos full of warm soup from his knapsack.
“This should help keep you warm enough through the night.”
Stunned at this stranger’s kindnesses toward him, Sammy thanked him and headed down the alley.
“See you around, Sammy.” Sarge hollered. But by the time Sammy turned to wave, he’d already disappeared.
Sometime in the night, the blizzard arrived full force, leaving the city streets and Sammy’s box, covered in deep drifts. Digging himself out the next morning, he wandered into and out of street shops all day, trying to keep warm. With only one day until Christmas, Sammy hoped he’d encounter a bit more Christmas cheer and generosity in the city. Shoppers and shop keepers alike, were repulsed at the mere sight of him standing inside their store. Heartlessly, they shooed him out of their sight. No one took time to see him as the hungry and homeless orphan he’d truly become.
Weary and cold, Sammy collapsed on the steps of the city’s Poor House. A ‘No Vacancy’ sign nailed across the door let him know that there was no room for him there either. Between blasts of wind and flurries pounding him, he sipped on what little soup was left in the thermos Sarge gave him the night before. Struggling to get the last cold drop of it out; the unexpected warmth of a hand on his shoulder startled him.
“I recognize those boots!” Sarge said with a grin; wrapping his giant arm around Sammy. But why have they brought you out here in this blizzard tonight, son? Its brutal out here.”
“Sarge…I…I got nowhere to go. By now the blizzard’s turned my box into a pile of wet cardboard. No one wants a street-rat like me. I’m so cold and so hungry… and it’s just not Christmas without my Papa.”
Shop keepers told me all day that, ‘A raga-muffin like me takes the shine right off of Christmas.’”
“Oh, Sammy…that’s far from true. It’s because of people like you…the homeless, the hungry, and the orphaned; that Christmas even came! Son…what’s in your pockets doesn’t make you who you are…it’s what’s in your heart that gives you worth. Let me tell you something. Eight years ago, Christmas Eve, your Papa came running up to me on the streets, holding onto a squalling, baby boy wrapped-up in rags. That baby was abandoned in the streets near your alleyway. It was your Papa that saved him and took him in as his own. Sammy…that baby was you! You were his most treasured Christmas gift that year.”
“You knew my Papa, Sarge?”
“Sure did! Over the years I’ve watched over both of you. I was standing with your Papa the night the robber shot him. That robber was in that alleyway to make trouble for your Papa that night. He tried to make off with everything in this world your Papa loved; including you. Yes… the price of loving you that night cost your Papa his life; but he was only doing what he always did; putting the one he loved before himself.”
Tears streamed down Sammy’s face, freezing as they hit the tops of his boots. “I miss my Papa…why does it have to be so hard, Sarge…why?”
“Sometimes life is hard, Sammy. And sometimes those hard times make hard hearts. If all you can focus on is the bad…then that’s all you’ll ever see. But if you dig deep into your heart and look for the good, no matter what… then goodness will find you.”
“That’s what my Papa always told me.”
“Believe it…your Papa was wise beyond his years, son. He knew what he was doing when he saved you that Christmas Eve. He loved you without even knowing you; and he believed someday you’d change the world the same way you changed his; just by being you.
“I…I guess so.” Sammy offered through chattering teeth.
Working against the wind and snow, Sarge pulled a dry blanket out of his knapsack and wrapped it around Sammy’s shoulders; in place of the wet one. He knew Sammy wouldn’t make it out on the streets in the storm another night.
“Tell you what, Sammy…” Sarge said, pulling him up on his feet and brushing the snow from his face. “Let’s work on changing your world tonight, and we’ll tackle the rest of the world another day. Sammy nodded in agreement.
The incandescent glow of the gas lamps lining the street, cast dancing shadows out onto the glistening snow. The very sight of them made Sammy feel warmer for a time. Because the lamps grew fewer and fewer, the way grew darker and darker. Sammy could hardly see as they crunched their way to the farthest edge of the city. Then they stopped.
“Look up ahead, Sammy. Do you see those lanterns burning on the porch of that white stone house on the corner over there?”
“Yes sir. Who lives there?”
“I have to head back to the streets to finish my shift but, I want you to go up to that house and knock on the door. When the door opens, you just say the secret password, John 3:16… and a nice lady named Grace will let you inside.”
Knowing they were about to part ways, and feeling more like crying than being brave; Sammy clicked the heels of his boots together, stood at attention and saluted Sergeant John with half-frozen fingers.
“Thank you for everything, Sarge…Sir!”
Sarge returned the salute, touched by Sammy’s unexpected gesture. “Don’t forget the secret password!” Sarge hollered, watching Sammy climb the stairs to the white stone house. By the time Sammy turned to respond, Sarge had already disappeared back into the darkness.
Pulling a frozen hand out from under his blanket, Sammy knocked on the red door, decorated with a beautiful wreath of fresh holly. Shivering and anxious, he shifted back and forth on his boots. When the door opened, a beautiful, older woman stood before him smiling.
“John 3 :16,” Sammy repeated through chattering teeth.
“Come in out of the cold, son. My name is Grace.”
“I’m Sammy, ma’am.”
Stepping through the doorway, Sammy saw that this place was like nowhere he had ever been before. After entering, no one called him a street rat, or pushed him aside, or even told him he took the shine right off of Christmas.
Grace pulled the wet blanket from his shoulders and motioned him to sit down in an over-stuffed, chair stationed in front of a crackling fire. Then she left the room for a while. Feeling such intense warmth, goosebumps marched across Sammy’s frozen limbs in waves. Kicking his wet boots off, he caught sight of twenty or more other pairs of black boots, identical to his; sitting up on the hearth. Puzzled, Sammy added his boots to the line-up to dry out. Melting into the warmth of his chair, his head was swimming with questions. Something about this place made him feel strangely warm on the inside too.
Sitting silent with his eyes closed, he listened to the crackling fire. Sammy thought to himself, “Hmmm… John 3:16. I don’t understand it, but it s-u-r-e makes a cold boy warm.” **
Grace poked her head out of the kitchen by now to see how he was doing.
“Are you hungry, Sammy?”
“So, s-o-o-o hungry Miss Grace. I sure, sure am.”
“Come in here and help yourself to what I like to call my famous Christmas Eve feast.”
Wide-eyed, Sammy looked out across a long table filled with foods he’d never tasted before. A roasted goose, sweet potatoes, plum pudding, fresh-baked bread, and Christmas cookies and confectionaries, he’d only dreamed of eating until now. He filled his plate and ate and ate until his stomach growled no more. It was the first time he remembered it not growling in his life. Pushing away from the table in an effort to breathe; Sammy thanked Grace over and over again. For Grace, it was enough just watching him fill-up on the many good things he’d lacked all his life. Such a sight brought great joy to her soft heart.
Unbelievably content, Sammy thought in silence, “H-m-m-m-m, John 3:16. I don’t understand it but…it sure makes a hungry boy full.” **
“Now, young man; why don’t you come with me.” Grace suggested, before taking Sammy upstairs to a huge bathroom with a giant, claw-foot tub filled full of warm bath water.
“There are pajamas I believe will fit you hanging on that chair. You just enjoy your soak!”
After Grace left, Sammy immersed himself fully in the warm water. Scrubbing with the first bar of soap he’d ever touched; he couldn’t describe the peace he felt wash over him. He’d never had a bath before; excluding the gutter waters he ran through in the alleyway. While he soaked a little more, he thought again about John 3:16. “I can’t understand it…but it sure does make a dirty boy clean.” **
Hearing a gentle knock at the door, Sammy finished slipping into the flannel pj’s left for him. They were warm and much softer than sleeping in his street clothes, as he had done his whole life long.
“I’m coming, Miss Grace.”
Stepping into the hallway, Grace lead him two-doors down to the room where he’d be sleeping. It was warmed by a small fireplace and smelled like the Christmas tree downstairs. Tucking Sammy into a four-poster, feather bed, Grace pulled the quilt up around his neck, patted him gently on the head; and turned the lanterns off.
“Good night, Sammy…sleep well.” Grace whispered on her way out the door.
Though it grew dark quickly, it didn’t compare to the emptiness of the darkness he’d known inside his box. Here, there was a window. Before dosing off, Sammy watched the snow whirling around outside in the moonlight. His last thought this Christmas Eve was about John 3:16. As he drifted off, he whispered aloud, “I really don’t understand it…but it sure makes a tired boy feel rested…z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z.” **
Christmas Morning, Sammy woke up hearing the beautiful sounds of the church bells ringing in the city. Slipping into the new set of clothes Grace left for him on the foot of his bed, he couldn’t believe how warm he still felt. Bounding down the stairs, in socks with no holes; he met Grace again. Joining her at the table, Sammy sat in awe of the king’s breakfast spread out in front of him. Sipping on hot chocolate, there was a knock on the front door; followed by the beautiful sounds of children’s voices singing in unison.
“Come, Sammy…I want you to come and see this!” Grace beckoned, opening the front door.
Sammy looked out and saw a very different scene on her front porch than he’d seen the night before. The blizzard subsided and there stood before them, what Sammy perceived, as a small army of children. Children of all ages and sizes, joyfully singing the words to a song he’d never heard before. He found it strange that on every child’s feet was a pair of black boots, identical to his own.
Miss Grace joined in the singing, too. Sammy couldn’t put his finger on what was happening inside of him. Though he didn’t know the song, his heart ached to know it. Somehow, the words made him feel what he could only describe as a deeper-warm, a fuller-full, and a truer-peace than he’d ever known before.
“God Bless you all!” Grace said, placing both of her hands upon her heart and then opening wide her arms toward the children; as if giving them each a piece of her heart.
“Every Christmas, these children come and stand on my doorstep; singing the words back to me that changed their lives forever. Once, they were just like you, Sammy. Cold, hungry, and lost on the streets of a city that abandoned them. Their lives were changed by a knock on my door because they learned the secret of the password, ‘John3:16.’”
“Miss Grace…can a boy like me learn the secret, too?”
“Of course, Sammy. But first, I want to show you where the words to that song came from. There is enough Love in those words to cover us all.”
Pointing to a page in her Bible, Grace sang the words of John 3:16 back to him like the children had earlier:
“This is how much God loved us,
He gave his Son, his One and Only Son.
And this is why…by believing in Him,
Anyone can have a whole and lasting life!
Anyone who trusts in him is saved!” Jesus
came to help us, to put our world right again.”
(John 3:16 MSG)
Brushing Sammy’s hair out of his eyes, Miss Grace pulled his face towards hers and spoke softly.
“So, Sammy…do you have room in your own heart for Jesus?
“Oh, I do, Miss Grace…I sure do. I want Jesus to make my world right again. I don’t understand everything about John 3:16 yet…but I do know that it sure makes a lost boy feel safe!” **
Grace agreed and added, “I don’t think even I can ever understand the depths of a Love so great as this Love in John 3:16…but what I’ve learned in my life is this. That kind of Love sure makes life worth living!” **
When Grace tucked Sammy in that night, she handed him a present to open.
“I thought you should have this, son.”
“Thank you…ma’am. It’s a picture of a policeman with a little boy.”
“Yes… a photo taken of my husband, John, giving that little boy next to him his first pair of black boots. We give them to all the children who come through our home. But that little boy is your Papa…and those boots he’s holding are the same boots you came in here wearing last night.”
Studying the photo, a little closer, Sammy looked up at Grace with renewed excitement.
“And standing next to my Papa is the policeman that fed me, and kept me warm, and helped me find my way here! That’s Sarge! When will he be home, Miss Grace? I want to thank him too!”
Oh Sammy, dear…I’m afraid my John went home to live in Heaven more than ten years ago.”
Hugging the photo tighter, Sammy slipped back under his covers, trying to make sense out of what she’d just told him.
“But, Miss Grace…that’s impossible. I just saw Sarge last night!”
“Sammy, dear…nothing is impossible when you have the Love of John 3:16 living down inside of you. Jesus’ Love for you is bigger than anything you can imagine. And that includes finding yourself standing right in the middle of your own Christmas Miracle! Merry Christmas, Sammy!
**Original version of the inspirational story, “John 3:16”, author unknown; may be seen at this URL:
PRAYER: Dearest Father in Heaven, give us a fresh vision of Who You are in this coming year. Empower us to live the ‘John 3:16 life’ out before others; a life that daily reflects the Great Love we have living down inside our own hearts…Jesus. Bless, through each of us, those in the world who feel forgotten, tread-upon, or unseen and abandoned. Christmas belongs to them, too. Great peace comes with knowing that ‘every detail in our lives of love for God, is worked into something good.’ Apart from You, Lord…we have no good thing. IN JESUS NAME…AMEN
“I will thank the Lord with all my heart; I will declare all your wondrous works. I will rejoice and boast about You. I will sing about Your Name, Most High!”
A few years ago, I stepped into a new season in my old job; at a Middle School. Due to shifting circumstances within the building and unexpected budget cuts at the district level; my job in the school office went away and a new position in the school library awaited me. Knowing that when God ushers change into my life, it’s always for my good; I stepped through those library doors my first day with confidence and enthusiasm for whatever challenges lay ahead of me. The Librarian, Willy, however, did not share my enthusiasm. When I watched her walking toward me that first day; she was wearing two expressions at the same time. A haunting mixture of joy and hatred reflected in her eyes; while “Congratulations!” and “You’ll be sorry”, fought for first place passing through her pursed lips. Extending my hand out to her, she reeled me into one of the tightest bearhugs I ever endured. I tried to see it as a sign of hope for our future working relationship; somehow, I sensed that hug was only the first move in a wrestling match between her spirit and mine. The place where Willy’s power and qualifications took me to the mat at every turn, contending for a chance to prove what she referred to as my lack of library-knowledge and the wrong skill-set for tackling her Library domain.
“Lord help me!” was the first prayer I uttered, sitting at my new desk in the library that day. It was going to take a miracle for this new arrangement to work. Little did I know it but…God was already in the process of doing that very thing.
After working my way through lists and lists of tasks expected of me, Willy called me into her glass office, just a few feet away from my desk. Though I longed for a simple thankyou now and then, her reward for the completion of one list, was always to hand me another. My servant-heart sometimes struggled with this curmudgeon behavior, but my prayer was that my face would never reflect it. After weeks of working through these lists, Willy finally solicited my help on a project she deemed as, “impossible!”
She shared her attempts to try and find a new refrigerator for the library’s kitchen. The hundred-year-old, refrigerator died; and the donated, mini-fridge plugged-in beside it wasn’t big enough to handle all the teacher’s lunches stored there daily. Feeling buried under the load of daily complaints piling-up on her; Willy, reached her wits’ end.
Digging in the bottom of her purse for loose change, she went on to tell me, “Oh…and one more thing.There’s no room in the school budget to purchase anything; so, unless you can buy a refrigerator for $25.00, we’ll have to make do!”
I left her office feeling set-up for failure. I searched adds, went to garage sales, and kept my eyes peeled for a couple of months. Nothing even came close to the limitations I was trying to stay within. Ready to accept the failure that seemed pre-planned to fall on my shoulders, I almost gave-up the search and admitted it was impossible. That’s when things shifted.
The following Monday evening, I waited in the foyer of the church where I attended Bible Study Fellowship meetings. Standing at my assigned Greeting post, I welcomed a friend, as usual, on her way into the sanctuary. After exchanging smiles and generalities, I stepped aside for her to pass. She didn’t. Instead, she flashed a half-smile at me and proceeded to share how her life circumstances were under-going a major shift. She was putting her house on the market for a “quick sale”, having to move suddenly, and “Did I know anyone who needed a refrigerator?”
I stood there stunned. Reluctantly, I asked her how much she wanted for the fridge. Knowing our unrealistic budget, imagine my shock when she shrugged her shoulders and blurted out, “How about $25.00?”
The very next day, our custodian, took Willy’s $25.00, picked up the refrigerator from my friend’s house, and had it plugged-in and ready for us to use within the week!
The first time I put my lunch into that new refrigerator, my mouth fell open. It was a virtual condo for food! Though it was eight years old, it looked like it came straight from the Sears showroom floor. The brand name tag on the door said “Kitchenaide Superba” but, from my perspective, that tag might as well have read, “God-Gift Ultima”
Willy smiled more that week than I’d ever seen her smile before. Though the story of my personal encounter with God’s Goodness in our time of need never really interested Willy; she had a larger- than-life, reminder sitting back in the library kitchen to do all the talking for me! God’s Fingerprints were all over that refrigerator…and they always would be!
Of course …you won’t find the story of the ‘Miracle of the Kitchenaide Superba’ written anywhere on the pages in the Bible. It doesn’t qualify as the ‘Story of Manna Falling from Heaven’ or the ‘Parting of the Red Sea’; but, it’s no small miracle to those of us who witnessed with our own eyes, what God can do with things that seem impossible for us.
That particular year, I miraculously witnessed a refrigerator fall from the heights of Heaven right into Willy’s lap! Though it’s been many years since that day, I can still picture that “God-Gift Ultima” standing in the library, kitchen. It still serves as an ever-present reminder to my heart of our Great God’s Provision to His children in our everyday living… even when we don’t stop to ask Him for it. He continually sees and meets our needs before we speak them.
As the Thanksgiving Season approaches, I pray we continue to see the variety of the Beauty and Bounty that comes from the Hand of the Lord. Whether considering the abundance and goodness of the food and family we are blessed to sit in front of on Thanksgiving Day…or the refrigerator in our own kitchen where all the left-overs go to live; be reminded, they exemplify all God’s Good Gifts in our life. His Care and Provision for us in all our seasons and circumstances, falls nothing short of being the miracle we should be looking for and thanking Him for …every day! Praying you have a Blessed Thanksgiving!
PRAYER: Dearest Heavenly Father, what an incredible privilege we have to be able to thank You and sing praises to You. We are so grateful to feel Your Love in Morning’s light; and so humbled to speak of Your Great Faithfulness each night. May Your Presence and Your Words become the Joy of our hearts and the Peace that floods our souls. As we step into another year of the Thanksgiving Season, may the words of the Prophet Jeremiah press a little harder against our hearts:
“Let’s take a good look at the way we’re living, and reorder our lives under God.”
(Lamentations 3:40 MSG)
Enable our eyes to see more clearly, the Abundance of Your Hand…Your everyday miracles and the true Beauty that comes from experiencing Your Love, Care, and Provision in our daily lives. Praising You and Thanking You Always, LORD! In Jesus Name…Amen
“While we try to teach our children all about life, our children teach us what life is all about.” —Angela Schwindt—
by Debbie Allen
Though the world of child’s-play isn’t considered by most busy adults to be the most engaging place to hang out; I’ve learned over the years to relish every moment I get to spend there! One day, while watching my three-year-old Granddaughter, Morgan; she took my hand and lead me to a place I never would’ve ever experienced in my real life. I attended my first Royal Picnic!
Feeling a little under-dressed for this grand occasion, Morgan and I stopped off by the wardrobe closet and transformed ourselves into Princess Morgan and her Royal-Highness, Grammie. Jeweled crowns on our heads and pink scepters in-hand, we stepped before our guests of honor in style. With a curtsey and a bow, Morgan introduced me to her royal friends; Princess Elsa, and her sister, Princess Anna of Aaron Dale! Joining them around a red and white checkered tablecloth; we sat Indian-style, before the plastic, picnic lunch spread out in front of us on the toy room floor. I smiled as I watched Morgan grab both Princess Anna’s hand and mine. Following suit, I reached for Princess Elsa’s hand. There, In the light of a battery-operated votive candle, flickering to the melody of a singing picnic-basket, Morgan bowed her little head on her own and prayed these words.
“God is Good…God is Grape… A-a-a-a-men!”
Though I expected to spend a longer and more leisure time visiting with our royal friends, Morgan’s three-year-old itinerary listed things differently. Sixty seconds after she prayed her little prayer, Morgan pretend-ate the food on all our plates, packed up the singing picnic basket before the first song ended, and ran off to play with her dollies in another room. Whoosh! Just as quickly as the Royal Picnic began, it was over in a flash! Over…but not forgotten.
Morgan’s words continued to sift through my thoughts. Yes, I know… the food she prayed over was plastic, but her prayer was ever-so-real. So real in fact, my adult heart could barely contain the unexpected truth God left hanging on Princess Morgan’s words for my own heart to digest. Over the following week, I did just that!
While my heart digested, my hands were in the process of making over seventy-five jars of jelly out of the fifty pounds of concord grapes, harvested off the grape arbor on the side of my house. I’d made jelly numerous times before and just seen LOTS of grapes that needed LOTS of tending and tedious, work; before becoming LOTS of jars of jelly! Focusing on only the work surrounding me, kept me from seeing the beauty hidden in the processes required to get the grapes from the vine into the jar.
The rare combination of Morgan’s prayer still echoing inside of me; coupled with the steps necessary to get the grapes from the arbor to the jelly stage; somehow deepened my understanding of the fruit itself. Even before my husband harvested our grapes; I couldn’t deny they had an intoxicating, allure. One that filled up all your senses if you stood anywhere near them. Being warmed by sunshine during the day…and frosted by the chill of autumn nights; produced in them a heavenly aroma meant to entice the world around them. Every cluster became its own Divine Invitation to passers-by, urging them to come nearer…to taste and see for themselves the rich, deep flavor of the fruit on the vine.
After those clusters were plucked from our vine; every grape was pulled from their stem and cast, by the hundreds, into a waiting stock pot. There, they were crushed again and again; then held to the flame until their skins finally burst and fragrant, purple juices flowed like royal blood.
Crushed beyond recognition by this stage, the grape pulp was poured out into a sieve and pressed through its tiny holes for even further refining. Held to the flame once more, the grapey residue finally thickened enough to be poured-out into glass jars. Every jar was then crowned with a ring of gold, sealed tightly; set aside and left untouched for at least three days.
From the vine to the jar...God’s Love is extravagant!
When I think of the fifty pounds of grapes harvested from our vine and the seventy-five jars of jelly resulting from them; I consider the Goodness and Generosity of God and the extravagance of His Love and Provision for us. But even more…I am reminded of this unforeseen discovery, “God is Grape.” The Creator, God, has poured Himself out into all of His creation; and the Concord grape is no exception. From the vine to the jar there are hints along the way of the reality of God’s life-giving Presence among us. It’s no accident that the Concord grape’s dark, purple color happens to be the shade of Royalty. And that every cluster of fruit bears a Heavenly scent as it ripens on the vine; with such a powerful allure, it’s like Good News, beckoning to all who would choose to step closer to the vine, and taste of God’s Goodness.
Even the long-suffering processes behind each jar of jelly reflect the kind of beauty that comes from living a surrendered life. Together, they silently tell the story of Salvation. Consider all the sacrifices that must take place in order for the grapes to become a sweet gift for others. There is the crushing process… refinement over flame…and being poured out and refined; all for the ultimate good of others. When I consider all of this, I can’t help but see Jesus in every jar of jelly. He was crushed beyond recognition, bled and died for our sins on the Cross… willingly, held to a flame meant for you and I…and poured Himself out for humanity, so we could choose to taste the sweet Gift of God’s Goodness down inside of us; His Grace, both now and for all Eternity. There is no greater Gift in this life to be given…or to be received.
God used the precious thoughts of a three-year-old to broaden and beautify my perspective of the reality of God’s Grace on display all around us in this world! I believe those displays are not there by accident. They are placed, by His Divine Hand, in our paths to deepen our hearts and expand our vision. Because of one rushed Royal Picnic, one misspoken word in my Granddaughter’s little prayer, and one fall, jelly-making session in my life; my heart now knows, in a most profound way, that “God is Good and God is Grape!” Every jar of grape jelly in my pantry stands as evidence of this unexpected truth. Every spoonful of jelly that passes through my lips speaks to my heart of the Grapeness of our God, and serves as a visible testimony of just how sweet Life can be when lived out in the Light of God’s Goodness!
“Open your mouth and taste, open your eyes and see—how Good God is. Blessed are you who run to Him.” (Psalm 34:8
The skyline of Denver couldn’t have been any darker back in June of 1965. This segment of time is recorded in the city’s newspaper archives as, “TheYear of the Flood!” Inside the city, torrential rains pelted the streets for days unending. The Platte River overflowed its banks, city streets became little canals, and homes never intended to become house-boats, drifted away on the river’s rising currents. Down the street from this scene, inside Children’s Hospital, lights flickered on and off. Nurses spoke, wide-eyed, about doctors, patients, and visitors still stranded in elevators halted by all the power failures. Inside my room, just beyond the nurses’ station, I remember crying silently. I was only ten years old. My sickness, compounded with the fear inside of me, compelled me to just pull the blankets up over my head and close my eyes tightly. Little did I know it, but the storm which now drove me under the covers in fright, would someday be recorded in the archives of my mind as “The Perfect Storm.”
You see… my parents admitted me in the hospital the day before, to have some tests run. As I lay under the covers trembling, I could not help hearing the raindrops splattering against the giant hospital window by my bed. After two days, I considered the very sound of them a nuisance. In my ten-year-old brain, every split and splat I heard registered more like tiny, battle cries coming from each drop. I saw them as my enemies. Uninvited intruders who managed to invade my world; by conspiring with nature to wash out the only two bridges leading down to Children’s Hospital from the suburbs. Unfortunately, my mom and dad couldn’t come and visit me for a couple of days because of it. More cause for me to stay under the covers and hide! Feeling sick, frightened, and isolated all at once, weighs heavy on a ten-year-old little girl’s heart. I couldn’t even begin to see my way out of this pile of troubles, so… God found His way into them instead.
Feeling a tug on the sheets, I looked up to find a pair of ebony cheeks and polished, brown eyes peeking-in on me. They belonged to Nurse Crandall.
“Whatcha doin, little one? You can’t hide from me! Don’t you know that I’m the Queen of Hide n’ Seek? I’ll find you wherever you go!” she exclaimed in her slow, Southern drawl.
With those words, Nurse Crandall laughed until she cried. I could only muster one little smile her way. She pulled me out from under the sheets and helped me into a child-sized wheelchair. Tucking a warm blanket around me and gently pushing my hair out of my eyes, she spoke these words of warning.
“Hold on tight girl… ‘cause we’re goin for a little ride. You and I are goin down to have your picture taken!”
Nurse Crandall made the journey sound like an adventure, so I nodded my head in reluctant agreement. Though the hallway lights still flickered on and off, she whistled cheerfully, pushing me down to an empty room labeled, “x-ray.” Then she motioned me towards a large, flat, black surface. Above me, I spotted some sort of hospital monster. Nurse Crandall gave me a boost and instructed me to lay face-down and bottoms-up, in the middle of that dark surface. As I did so, I heard the monster shifting and groaning above me. I felt as timid as a little field mouse being circled by a big bird of prey! Nurse Crandall threaded some clear plastic tubing up inside of me while trying to reassure me that the monster (or camera, as she called it), was harmless. All I had to do was lay there while she filled my unsuspecting bladder with liquid dye; during the x-ray.
“Oh, how I wanted out of this uncomfortable situation!” I cried, silently.
As Nurse Crandall proceeded, she gave me a pat of encouragement on my backside.
“Now, you just let me know when you think you can’t handle any more!”
Less than a minute into this process, I yelled-out,
“That’s enough! Stop… that’s all I can hold!”
Fully expecting her to stop the process, I was disappointed at her lack of response to my desperate pleas. She offered me only a sympathetic smile. Still watching the x-ray screen and shaking her head, Nurse Crandall finally answered.
“Oh, Honey! You can handle a lot more than you think you can!”
And to my surprise, I did! I had no choice but to trust in her knowledge and care; after all, she could see me from the inside out.
Sometimes what we are feeling when difficulty descends on our life; doesn’t give us a true perspective of all that’s really going on around us. I’m convinced that our ‘perfect storms’ don’t just happen to us; but God allows them for us to experience new spiritual growth in life. In the fifty-seven years that have passed since that day in Children’s Hospital, Nurse Crandall’s words have continued to shape and refine my life. Her sweet presence and the sounds of her voice in my childhood that day, became for me, a virtual snapshot of Jesus; which I’ve carried around in my heart for most of my life. Even today, when storms rise and fall around me; I sometimes feel like little girl again. Alone… face-down in the darkness…and enduring the un-endurable. But that’s also when I feel God’s Hand tugging on the sheets, I’ve pulled over my head in my hiding-place. He so gently lifts me up, wrapping me in the warmth of His Presence; whispering His Goodness into the canyons of my grown-up soul.
“You can’t hide from Me, child. Don’t you know…I’ll find you wherever you go. Oh honey, you can handle a lot more than you think you can!”
“All of the perfect storms we encounter in life don’t just happen TO us; but God allows them FOR us to experience new spiritual growth over the course of our life.”
Even now, new strength rises inside my heart every time I hear these words. I know I can rest assured that no matter what storms may come my way, I can fully trust in the One Who’s watching over me. He knows how much I can handle because Jesus sees me from the inside out.
“Depend on (Jesus) and keep at it, because in (Jesus) you have a sure thing.” (Isaiah 26:4 MSG)
HEART TRAPPINGS:
Dearest Father in Heaven…
These powerful words of Nurse Crandall’s, formed the perfect ending to my first week of walking with You, Jesus, my Savior. I was just a child back then but, You, in Your Wisdom, placed me in my own ‘perfect storm’ so that I might experience Your Presence through Nurse Crandall and her words to me; in a way that has touched my life forever. You gave me such a unique picture of what it looks like to both grow and learn to trust in You, in all the perfect storms of life. The only thing that makes them perfect, is that YOU are in them! I pray for all those who may be face-down in their own darkness; exposed…vulnerable…and fearful. Cup Your hands around their chin…pull their gaze into Your Own. Lift their head and allow them to hear the beautiful words You spoke to me through Nurse Crandall. “You can handle a lot more than you think you can.” May we all find strength and solace in the sounds of Your Voice, Jesus. Only there, in the eye of the storms, will we ever find new growth; and discover our own limitations in light of Your great Power and Love for us.
“They say to each other, ‘No one can catch us, no one can detect our perfect crime.’ The Detective (God) detects the mystery in the dark of the cellar heart.”
Standing speechless in the middle of my kitchen floor, my Mom and I surveyed the damage that occurred while we were out to a routine breakfast and hair appointment. Yes…I was more than puzzled about my garage door being up when we returned home. My heart was still pounding from the sight of my front door standing wide open upon our arrival. But THIS…this was unthinkable! My favorite refuge. The bay window…that safe place in my kitchen where I retreated every morning with my Bible and a cup of coffee. Now, it was transformed into a doorway for trouble to step into my world. A gateway for the intruders, who’d forced their way into my home.
Surrounded by shards of glass, scattered the full length of my kitchen floor, I wasn’t sure which of my emotions to address first. In my adrenaline-drenched state, I somehow managed to still hear the voice of reason break-in; warning me that we might not be alone in my house. Grabbing my Mom by the shoulder, we headed for the safety of her front porch; to sort things out and call the Police. Still in a state of disbelief, all I could do was wonder silently,
“Who, in the world, is brazen enough to break into someone’s home right in the midst of broad daylight?”
Unfortunately, that question is still waiting to be answered.
When the police arrived, one of the first questions they asked my husband and I was, “Do you have any enemies, anyone who would want to do you harm?”
We turned to each other, shrugged at the nature of the question, and replied with a definite, “No.”
We’d lived in our neighborhood for over forty years without incident. We shared a close bond with all of our family members and friends, and knew most of the neighbors around us. That’s why this took us both by complete surprise. Thinking we may have an enemy, an unknown enemy, was disturbing.
As the day progressed, chaos ensued. After a Policeman declared our house safe to enter again; we followed him upstairs to our bedroom. There, we discovered what looked like the aftermath of a natural disaster! Drawers were dumped, closets ransacked, and my jewelry case emptied; minus one diamond, cross necklace. The intruders even searched between our mattresses and peeled off my husband’s pillow case; for somewhere to stash the goods they managed to get away with. I found it almost humorous, however, that the burglars threw my husband’s naked, pillow over an antique doll’s face; lying in a cradle by the bedroom entry. I guess the doll’s accusing, brown, porcelain, eyes watching over their criminal actions must’ve been too much for the intruder’s consciences to bear!
My Guard-Doll…for such a time as this!
The ironic truth was this. The set of Eyes that were watching those intruders at work in my house that day were not the piercing eyes of an antique doll. They were God’s Eyes. We are told in Proverbs 15:3, “The eyes of the LORD are in every place, watching the evil and the good.”
As I stood in the middle of my kitchen, surrounded by a sea of broken glass, contemplating the unexpected intrusion that robbed me of my peace-of-mind; I felt a little like the Disciples must’ve felt the day they climbed into a boat on the Sea of Galilee, with Jesus. Jesus fell asleep, and an unexpected storm engulfed them. As enormous waves crashed around them, peels of thunder and lightning filled the heavens above them. I’m sure the Disciples, too, felt exposed to the outside world, vulnerable, and consumed by fear. Though Jesus’ eyes were closed, I don’t think they were closed to the Disciples’ unexpected circumstances. I believe Jesus was just giving His men time to choose faith over fear. Faith that what they knew of Him to be true on dry land…was still true of Him even out on a stormy sea. You see, they had the option of fully trusting in Him that day. Yet, the Disciples’ eyes remained focused on the intensity of the storm pressing in on them instead…not on the intense power of the One in the boat right next to them.
After Jesus calmed the storm that day, He didn’t ask His shaken, Disciples, “Are you alright?” or “Anybody hurt?” No…He asked them one pointed question. “Where is your faith?”
That question indicates to me that the Disciples had a choice. They didn’t have to succumb to the fear that washed over them when the unexpected seized them. They could’ve intentionally chosen faith. Faith that their security lay in the Hands of The One next to them in the boat….no matter what the seas around them might look like.
Though fear is a natural, human reaction to the intrusions this broken, world promises will come our way in life; faith should always be our first and wisest choice. The Scriptures even tell us,
“God did not give us a spirit of fear…but of power and love and self-discipline.” (2 Timothy 1:7 NIV)
Even standing in the midst of life’s pieces, shattered and broken, I believe our hearts are made to reflect something more than just the devastation surrounding us. We are made to “reflect a pattern shaped by the faith and love we have for Jesus.” (2Timothy 1:13a NIV) To respond to Him with whole-hearted trust…even in the midst of our life’s pieces.
From the aftermath of a break-in or the pain of a break-up, to the breaking-out of whatever storm has held you captive, too long; know that you have a choice. Choose faith, not fear. Jesus is in the boat! His Eyes may seem closed to the storm, but they are not blind to the turmoil surrounding you; nor deaf to the pounding of your heart. He’s giving you time…time to filter out fear and step into Faith. This world’s intrusions in our lives are earthly opportunities for us to witness and experience for ourselves, both the holy terror and the unexpected beauty of Heaven’s Interceptions in our lives. We will witness His miracles if we stir-up the courage within us to choose faith.Living as modern-day Disciples in a growing anti-Jesus, culture, I guarantee that great and unexpected storms will continue to rage against us until time is no more. But…I assure you of an even greater Truth.
Greater is The One in our boat; than all of the waves that rage against us in this dark and stormy world!!!
DEAREST HEAVENLY FATHER, in these corrupted times we are living in now, it’s not difficult to see we live in a broken world, where even innocent people are forced to play the role of the victim at times. When panic and fear descend upon us, help us re-direct our minds to one simple truth. You, Jesus, are still in our boat today. May Your Presence give us the courage we need to stand-up to fear; and faithfully, choose to stand next-to You; as we face our own raging seas. Political upheaval…social chaos…moral rebellion and deceitful agendas, to name a few. Teach us to trust You wholly, Father. For the peace our hearts so desperately seeks can only be found at the end of the Truths You speak. Pierce our hearts and hone our spirits with the same question a disappointed Jesus, confronted His own Disciples with. “Where is your faith?” I pray the weight of this question prompts us to consider and re-consider, The One standing in our boat today; as turbulent waters continue to rise all around us. Where is our faith…both as a people and a Nation? Forgive us, LORD! “As for me and my household…we will serve the LORD.” (Joshua 24:15)
Over the course of forty-six years together, my husband, Jim, and I have enjoyed countless scenic rides through our rugged, Colorado mountains. Whether our drives lasted a couple of hours or a couple of days, our hearts never tired of exploring the indescribable, beauty awaiting us in God’s marvelous and mountainous creations.
A few years ago, two of our grandchildren joined us on one of our mountain drives to Glenwood Springs, for a three-day weekend escape. Because it was still early spring, things were just starting to green-up and many places I’d labeled scenic, at one time, failed to peak Ryan and Chelsea’s interest. But something else sure did! Every time we drove through a tunnel, the backseat grew strangely quiet. No more noise, no more laughter, no more teasing. But the moment we emerged out of the tunnel, it sounded like the kids exploded in our back seat. Startled at first, I turned around to find their red faces gasping for air, chests still heaving and both Chelsea and Ryan, laughing and taunting one another, about how long each of them held their breath throughout the tunnel. Bragging rights were only awarded to the one who conquered holding their breath the full length of the tunnel. By the time we reached the Eisenhower Tunnel, which is an entire mile long, you can imagine how out of breath they were…and how many explosions we heard in our backseat before we reached the end of that tunnel!
Not only were my grandkids’ reactions to the tunnels along the highway entertaining; they reminded me of something in my own childhood I hadn’t thought of in years. As a little girl, I remembered piling into my Mom and Dad’s, copper-colored ’57 Chevy along with my two younger brothers; and then heading up into the mountains to my Grandpa’s log cabin. Though the drive up there wasn’t too long, to us kids,, the ride seemed to take f-o-r-e-v-e-r. With my brother, three-year-old, Doug, asleep on the seat next to me, and five-year-old, Danny, sitting on my six-year-old lap; mountain scenery didn’t interest me in the least. But when the sunshine disappeared on us in the middle of the day, and darkness swallowed our car with us in it…my interest more than peaked!
“It’s ok, kids, nothing to be afraid of.” My Dad assured us. “We’re just inside a tunnel.”
By the time he finished his sentence, Danny and I were already up on our feet, gripping the back of my dad’s seat (Seat belts weren’t required by law yet). There were no lights at all in the tunnels back then so the darkness surrounding us was as deep as it gets. On his tip-toes, Danny stuck his fingers out the window to feel the cool, damp, darkness. Fearful at the very thought of doing that, I gripped my Dad’s seat even tighter; convinced there were bears hiding in that darkness, just waiting to eat little kids fingers off as they rode by. In all the confusion, Doug woke up crying; unable to see any better with his eyes open than when they were shut. That’s when I watched my dad take action! First, he pulled a knob on the dash which turned the headlights on. Then he honked the horn repeatedly, until we reached the other end of the tunnel. While still in the shadows of that tunnel, the first thing I did was to count my brother’s fingers. Relieved he escaped with all ten of them, I reasoned that my Dad’s honking must’ve scared the bears away…just in the nick of time! All I knew for sure that day was this. The very moment that darkness spit us back out onto the road and the sunshine filled the car again; my Dad became this six-year-old, little girl’s hero for life!
As an adult, these two stories make me chuckle still. Both are filled with the precious laughter of childhood and days gone by. But they offer us so much more. Take a closer look and you’ll find truth hidden between the lines that, if taken to heart, may help us through our own tunnels of darkness on Life’s Road.
My grandchildren, Ryan and Chelsea, invented the “Hold-Your-Breath-Until -You-Explode” game, as a way of navigating through tunnels they encountered. It worked for them…but in real life, I wouldn’t recommend it. Tunneling through the darkness we encounter on the Road of Life can be treacherous.
“Often in life we find ourselves in the midst of an unexpected tunnel of darkness. Unwanted fears and a feeling of being overwhelmed and outmatched grips our hearts.”
Often in life, we find ourselves in the midst of an unexpected, dark tunnel. We lose sight of how we got there and can no longer see where we are headed. Unwanted fear and the feeling of being overwhelmed and outmatched grips our hearts. Yes…we can take a deep breath and choose to take on these times in our own strength and wisdom; putting our trust and confidence in our self-determination to navigate through the darkness. But, how long is that tunnel? The average person can only hold their breath two minutes. If we are two minutes into a crisis…what are we going to do to get us the rest of the way?
Whether we like to admit it or not, all of us have an unfathomable need for God’s Wisdom and Guidance in this life. Truly, life is a mountainous journey, riddled with steep, turns and twists, and unforeseen tunnels of darkness that we were never intended to navigate on our own.
Whether you are tunneling through the darkness of an unexpected cancer diagnosis…the unplanned loss of a loved one…a relational or financial crisis…or even the aftermath of a world Pandemic; every inch of that darkness is deep. If you choose to just hold your breath until things look brighter on the other end, you will run out of air and end up crumpled on the floor in darker despair. But there is another way to get through. Your own strength will fail you…but God won’t.
Think back to my own tunneling experience. Remember what six-year-old, Debbie did when the darkness swallowed her? Though shaken, she listened to the sounds of her dad’s voice telling her, “Its ok,,. nothing to be afraid of.”
Then she scooted as close as she could get to her Daddy and clung tightly to the back of his seat. There she anchored herself, waiting and watching for his next move. Though the darkness still surrounded her and her fears grew even bigger for a time; she chose to trust him fully to bring her safely to the other side.
Tunneling through Life is certainly not for the faint of heart. Our Heavenly Father knows that better than any of us. He will allow us to take a deep breath and try to find our own way through the tunnels. But His greatest desire is that His children make a conscious choice to hear His Voice and trust in Him as their Father. To scoot in closer to Him and cling tightly to His Presence. He is our Anchor in such deep darkness. He’s the Shield between us and harm. The mighty Horn that scares away the enemy crouching in the darkness. Even when despair and fear feel like they are crushing us, we must learn to trust in our Father to bring us safely to the other side. The Father offers His Protection for our own survival. He gives us His Strength…so we not only “go” through our tunnels…but we will “grow” through that darkness as well. Hide behind your Heavenly Father…cling to Him…and then wait for Him to turn your darkness into Light!
“You have turned on my light! The Lord my God has made my darkness turn to light.” “Now in Your Strength I can scale any wall…” “What a God He is!” (Psalms 18: 28, 29a, 30 LAB)
Dearest Father, God…Many are the ‘tunnels of darkness’ we must go through as we journey down Life’s Road. Help us not to get so lost in our ways in this world that we retreat to, and trust in our own understanding and strengths to guide us through dark times. Rescue us and restore our sight; enable us to see the way You would have us go. We cry out with King David, speaking to those in his kingdom who chose to take a deep breath and trust in their own self-serving wisdom:
“But as for me, I get as close to (The Father) as I can! I have chosen Him and I will tell everyone about the wonderful ways He rescues me.”
Every year, there is something about the Spring season that presses me a little nearer to God’s Heart. Something rises up inside of me that I don’t sense in any of the other seasons. My spirit is strangely lifted, listening to the morning songs of returning robins; spilling notes of pure joy into the silence of dawn’s early light. My heart is warmed watching a timid, baby bunny scoot a fresh, pink nose from under a backyard woodpile; out into the world for the first time. But, unlike the robins, who sing their songs of praise to their Creator with no apology or doubt holding them back; the little bunny shrinks away from making his own grand entrance into the new season. Curious at his seeming lack of curiosity, I wondered why he hesitated so. Why did he choose the darkness of that rabbit hole over the warm, sunshine flooding the doorstep of the world just beyond the woodpile?
Having no degree in bunny psychology, I have no way of knowing for sure what went on between his two pink, bunny ears that day; but I will share with you what I believe to be true. God created that little bunny to run carefree in the sunshine, not to spend his life cowering in the darkness. God equipped him with specific survival features connected to his eyes; which affects how he experiences the world around him. The bunny can literally, see all-around him without turning his head. His field of vision is nearly 360 degrees! He can even sleep with his eyes open if he senses he’s in danger. Because he is born far-sighted (sees things in the distance better than up-close), he has the distinct advantage of being forewarned to run for safety, long before a predator even seeks to overtake him. Bunny eyes are clearly, built for survival! But there is one more, often overlooked, fact that draws my attention to rabbit’s eyes over all the rest. Bunnies have no tapetum lucidium. This is the part of the eyes that allows nocturnal animals to see clearly in darkness. It’s also the very reason I believe that when God created the bunny, He equipped him for thriving in the daylight…not in the darkness. Are you aware that as human beings, we also have no tapetum lucidium in our eyes? Perhaps we, like that baby bunny, are not meant for living our lives in darkness either. It’s more solid evidence to my heart that God designed human beings,too, for thriving in the light…not in darkness.
Eighteenth century, Christian theologian, Emanuel Swedenborg once said, “Everything in the physical world is caused by something in the spiritual world.” Concerning our survival in life, it’s clear in both the physical world as well as the spiritual realm, that there is nothing lifegiving about darkness. It’s always associated with chaos, fear and death. When God created the world, the scriptures tell us in Genesis 1:2-4,
“The earth was formless and empty, darkness covered the surface…” but then, God said, “Let there be light and there was light. God saw that the light was good, and He separated the light from darkness.”
Moving from darkness to light seems to be a pattern that is displayed throughout all of creation over and over again. At our birth we emerge from the darkness of our mother’s womb into the light of day. Even the season of Spring itself is one story after another of darkness giving way to the light. Plants find their way to sunshine through dark soils… dead grasses and barren, branches spring to new life in the light after enduring a season of winter’s darkness. Darkness and light define everything in life, visible and invisible. Spiritually speaking, the most powerful example of this truth came the day Jesus arose from the dead, and walked out of the darkness of the tomb; and into the light and new life on the other side of the grave. He left Death and Darkness behind him forever! He stands now before you and I as “The Light of the world.”
Because Jesus left the Darkness behind Him… His followers are called to do the same. Perhaps that’s why it bothered me so as I watched that little bunny struggling to leave his birth hollow. Repeatedly, the bunny chose the darkness of his rabbit hole instead of the warm, sunshine flooding the doorstep of the world beyond the woodpile. God equipped him with keen instincts and an amazing set of multi-directional, super-eyes, hand-crafted by God, for both spotting his enemies and guiding his feet in the beauty and wonders of a world flooded with sunshine. The freedom he was meant to experience beyond the woodpile, was his for the choosing. But he chose poorly.
Our souls, too, must make a similar choice in life, but ours is the difference between choosing Heaven or Hell. Yes, we can continue cowering in fear at the doorway of the darkness this sinful world has to offer us … or choose to step out into the Light of God’s Love, and live the life of abundance our Creator designed us to live. He’s equipped us with the power of reason and gifted us with the eyes of our hearts so that we may distinguish clearly, between Light and darkness…. Friend or foe…Life or death…Heaven or hell. You and I can be sure there’s new life waiting for us just outside of any darkness we find ourselves hiding in. It’s ours for the asking. My prayer is that we may find the courage to choose to step into a new season…the New Life waiting for us in the Light; and allow God to awaken our hearts to the Beauty of His Presence, alive all around us! Hear the whispers of Jesus beckoning your soul to choose wisely:
“I am the Light that has come into the world so that all who believe in Me won’t have to stay any longer in the dark.” (John 12:46 MSG)
Gracious Heavenly Father of mine, the Spring Season is such a reminder to my heart of the arrival of new hope and fresh beginnings! The beauty of this season almost makes me forget about the darkness of winter that came before it. Seeing the ground waking-up and hearing the robins singing Your praises into dawn’s light, are tangible reminders to my heart that the darkness of this world can never overcome The Light! Your promises of New Life and Hope are real and meant for all those who choose to step beyond the darkness of their own woodpiles in life; and into Your Light. May we never forget that You, Jesus, left the darkness that tried to hold You in the grave …and we can too. All of us are one choice away from salvation. You are the ONLY One Who can turn our darkness into Light.
“In Baseball, as in Life…all the important things happen at Home!”
ONE
You’ve got one life, You’ve got one glove, You’ve got one game , You’ve got one love, You’ve got one chance, You’re just one man. So, play this game as hard as you can! —Baseball-isms—
_______________________________
Home Plate
by Debbie Allen
The bleacher-bound crowds of a Colorado Springs, Little-League baseball field sprang to their feet, waving hands and shouting ecstatically after a pop fly ball to right field rocketed back down into the grass. The ten-year-old boy on second base now rounded third and headed down the home stretch! “Come on, Brendan…you can do it!” his Mom and Grandma yelled out simultaneously.
All eyes danced between the outfielder who just lobbed the ball-in-play towards the pitcher and the catcher standing ready to receive it at Homeplate. Slamming his fist into the heart of his dusty mitt to mark the target, a disappointed catcher, instead, watched the ball sail over his head and rebound off of the chain link backstop. Hurling his mask from his face, the catcher frantically, spotted the ball rolling in the midst of a cloud of settling dust. Scooping it up into his mitt, he sprinted back towards home in a grand effort to protect the plate.
“Focus! Dig in, buddy…dig in and you’ll make it!” Brendan’s Dad coached him from the sidelines, above the noise levels of the crowd.
As I watched Brendan’s deep-blue eyes darting back and forth across scarlet, cheeks; I knew his legs were sprinting as fast as his heart must’ve been beating in that moment. A bleacher-full of us held our breath; as we watched Brendan lunge into the dirt, feet-first, and slide in towards home plate! The umpire scrambled to side-step the dust storm coming his way; and the dedicated catcher, nearly airborne by now; thrust his mitt at Brendan’s cleats in an attempt to tag him out. What looked like a sure collision course signified only one thing to the cringing, moms and grandmas in the stands. Blood, broken bones, or both! All the dads held fast to the no-pain-no-gain theories of their own childhoods. Brendan’s record slide came to a screeching halt; at about the same time the catcher crashed to the ground; with both arm and mitt extended fully towards him. From the stands it appeared the call could’ve gone either way. Both players lay motionless in the dirt for a split second. Then the umpire stepped forward, waving his hands in both directions across home plate. “S-A-F-E!!” his voice thundered across the ball field. One of Brendan’s cleats rested securely on the beveled edge of the plate. The tip of the catcher’s glove, however, lacked about a half inch of making any contact with Brendan’s shoe.
This dramatic run home is still one of my favorite memories from my oldest, grandson’s baseball playing days. Though it’s been more than fifteen years ago, the snapshot you see posted above, still hangs front and center in my mind; on Grammie’s designated ‘Wall of Fame.’ It hangs there because…well, because all my grandchildren have made it to this wall! But this particular moment in Brendan’s life reflects to my heart something much bigger than he ever intended it to.
Before I elaborate any further, let me also draw your gaze to another Little League ballgame I encountered. A couple of years ago, I viewed a You Tube video that captured my heart right away. It was a USA Today Sports broadcast of a three-year-old ball player running from third base to home plate. His coach told him to sprint home…but he had his own ideas about how to get there. The video shows this little boy, on his own, running in slow-motion for home plate. At one point, the coach (who was his Dad), steps beside him to urge him on and give him a little push down the home stretch. To the coach’s dismay, his player pushed him aside and resumed his own version of the slo-mo run. The crowds egged him on all the way; with their laughter and encouraging commentary. Home plate finally in his sights, this little guy plunged, head-first, down on home plate (still in slo-mo), and hugged the bag as if basking in the glory of his scoring run!
The differences between these two baseball games are too numerous to count. Each of the boy’s stories ranged from being voted onto Grammie’s exclusive, “Wall of Fame,” to being inducted into this world’s renowned, You Tube library. Both team players scored a name for themselves in the annals of Little League; and both players succeeded at capturing the hearts of many in their moment of glory. However, each player’s story also bears a very different tale for the soul to ponder. You see…One of the boys ran for his coach; and the other one didn’t.
In other words, a three-year-old is going to act like a three-year-old…but the rest of us had better not. This is true in Baseball and in Life.It’s also true in the physical world as well as the spiritual world. In the Game of Real Life, God the Father, is our Coach. For our own good, we need to choose to be dedicated to the Coach…the One whose wisdom, expertise, and unique performance strategies, far exceed our own on the playing field at every level. After all, we are only dedicated to the Coach coaching us, to the extent that our life and our hearts are devoted to His Words; and our actions reflect His Knowledge and Teachings on the playing field. Nothing is more important than hearing the Coach’s Voice and listening to His Instructions as we journey towards Home Plate. But, just as important as arriving at Home Plate…is how you get there. Choosing to run in a manner like this signifies the level of intensity with which you choose to run in the game.
At ten-years-old, my Grandson wisely chose to reach home plate, yielding to the words of his coach/Dad to guide him home, safe. The three-year-old player disregarded the sounds of his coach/Dad’s advice, heeded his own style of getting home safe, and soaked up all the glory and attention that drifted his way. And if that wasn’t enough, this little leaguer ended up in a personal interview (with his Mom) on TV, ever-branded as a hero for playing the greatest game on earth, his own way.
The Greatest Game on Earth that any of us will ever play…is the Game of Life. Reaching home plate can be our greatest victory…but how we run there may speak of our greatest battle. As we interact with other players on the field of Life, make our hits, mourn our misses, and run the baselines that mark out the journey toward Home Plate; what will those in the stands watching us, remember about the way we played our game? Will we be one of those who ran for The Coach…or the one who ran with his own ideas? Slo-mo…or fast-forward? Self-glory…or God’s Glory?
ONE LOVE
You’ve got one Love… You’ve got one Goal, You’re chosen for one Game… Your life’s made Whole, You’ve got one Chance…You’re just one Man. So run for Home as hard as you can!
MY FATHER, PLEASE HEAR ME…or more importantly, I pray that I hear YOU. In this game called Life, we play for real. My desire is to be found faithful at listening intently, for the sounds of Your Voice; as I run with all my heart, on the playing fields You set before me. Enable me, Father… to run in such a way that I’m a credit to the words You’ve guided me with throughout the game. No greater Coach exists in life. Keep us from playing like a three-year-old, yielding to our own common sense and grabbing for all the glory we can get now…instead of straining to reach for the extraordinary You intended for us to reflect.
May every step we take in this Game of Life advance Your Glory and Your Wisdom; as Your Words continue to fuel our strides and empower our running toward the Home Plate! In Jesus Name…AMEN
Words, words, words…This world’s heart-shaped sweet-nothings, turning heads and making hearts soar? Or… Heaven’s Reflections of God’s Sweet-Somethings, turning hearts towards His Love Forevermore?
Most adults wrinkle their noses at the sight of a dish filled with the popular, chalk-like candies we’ve come to know as ‘conversation hearts.’ A week or two before Valentine’s Day every year, it seems they can be spotted everywhere! Though I’m an adult now, I’m anything but one of those nose-wrinklers, I mentioned earlier. When it comes to this childhood confectionary, I loved them as a kid…and I love them now! The very sight of them still transports me back to my grade school years.
It was Valentine’s Day, 1963. I’d just finished delivering the last of the valentines I brought to school for classmates. Heading back to my seat, I caught sight of my second-grade heart-throb, Nicky, dropping a box of those conversation hearts into my own Valentine mailbox. Though I walked back nonchalantly, my heart raced inside of me; in anticipation of what he’d left there for me. There were twenty-four other cards and candies in my mailbox, but I dug around them all until I clenched in my hand… the box of hearts from Nicky. Dumping it out on my desk top, I sifted through each one; silently reading the Valentine graffiti scrolled across each candy heart. In true Hollywood fashion… instead of hearing the echo of my own voice inside my head; I heard Nicky’s voice reading them back to me in stereo. “Pick Me” … “True 2 U” … and “Be Mine” … were some of my girlish favorites that day. However, when I looked up to find his sparkling, black eyes staring at me from across the room; after having just heard his voice in my head reading the “Kiss Me” and “I Love U” hearts; embarrassment barged in and brought this Hollywood snippet to a screeching halt! My best attempt to both recover my dignity, and hold onto this memorable second-grade love story was to pop the pink, “Best Day” heart into my mouth, seal up that box quick, and call it good!
“My best attempt to both recover my dignity, and hold onto this memorable second-grade love story was to pop the pink, “Best Day” heart into my mouth, seal up that box quick, and call it good!”
I’d noticed Nicky since Kindergarten. This skinny, Italian boy with dark eyes and even darker hair; was famous for getting nose bleeds and passing out whenever he got nervous up in front of the class or during school programs. However, he never fully captured my attention until Valentine’s Day back in 1963. He’d been my heartthrob from day one, but no one knew it besides me. It was the words on those chalky hearts that changed how I looked at him. Those words only meant something to me because they came from Nicky. He was the boy who gave value and meaning to those words…and to the friendship that grew from them over the next few years. We became the best of friends for the rest of grade school. However, much like the Hollywood snippet of my reading of those conversation hearts came to an abrupt end; our friendship, too, was cut short. You see…Nicki and his family unexpectedly, moved away the summer following our sixth-grade year; and I never saw or heard from him again. It made me sad to think about it for a long time afterwards.
By the time my first day of Junior High arrived, I brushed aside my sadness as best as I could; and stepped across the threshold of uncertainty into the realms of teenage chaos. What I remember the most about the first day was watching kids who had no idea who they were, trying to tell the kids I knew (including myself), who to be…who to like…and how to walk if they were going to get anywhere in this upside-down world of theirs. It was like witnessing one big impress-fest!
Pushing my way through this kind of pandemonium in the hallways to class, it hit me that this was the first time I didn’t have Nicky standing somewhere nearby to bounce things off of. I swallowed hard and choked back a few tears. But…this was also the first time I recognized the gift he’d left behind for me. The rare, gift of having already known the thrill of what it’s like having someone in my corner of life who genuinely cared about the real me (knock-knees, freckles and all!). Even in this awkward stage of my life, I carried in my heart, a snapshot of what genuine friendship looked like and experienced what it was like to have a true friend. One who always had my back…whose words could be trusted…and whose actions never left room for questioning. What a rare gift I’d been given, indeed. The beautiful, gift of friendship…being seen through another’s eyes for exactly who I was… and then chosen and loved because of it!
There aren’t too many love stories in life that find their beginnings in a vintage box of conversational hearts. Besides my own second-grade love story; I can only think of one…and this one might surprise you. It is God. His is the Greatest Love Story ever told. His Heart was the very first Conversational Heart on this earth. It arrived in a box (manger) in Bethlehem… in the form of His Son, Jesus Christ. He is God’s Love… come to earth to live, die for our sins, and rise again so we could enjoy the wonders of Eternal Life.
The words I envision being written across His Heart are this: “You are Mine”. “I have loved you with an Everlasting Love; with lovingkindness I have drawn you to me.” (Jeremiah 31:3)
His Heart’s Message reminds us of this : “Be Mine”. These Words are not written across a chalky, heart shaped confectionary with red, vegetable dye. They are inscribed on your heart of flesh and written with His Own Life Blood. “I will inscribe My Laws upon their hearts, so that they shall want to honor Me; then they shall be My people and I will be their GOD.” (Jeremiah 31:33)
The greatest beauty I can envision in this life is to see Jesus, standing as our own Divine, ‘Conversational Heart’ beside God, in Heaven! Across His Heart, I visualize these words in big, bold letters: “Forever Friend”. “For Christ has entered into Heaven itself, to appear before God as our Friend.”(Hebrews 9:24a LAB)
Jesus is so much more than a Valentine Sweetheart or love’s first crush. He is our truest, Forever Friend! He stands at God’s side in Heaven, praying for you and I. He awaits your own heart-response. Jesus’ desire is to walk beside us and stand with us in this life in all our circumstances. He knows Heaven won’t be the same without you . Won’t you choose to give Him your heart? Reach into your own box of thoughts… choose the one that says: “U R MINE!” or “I AM YOURS”. Then you’ll have the rest of your life to thank Him for His Friendship!
“My choice is You, God, first and only. And now I find I’m Your Choice!” (Psalm 16:5 MSG)
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