“The more sand has escaped from the hourglass of our life, the clearer we should see through it.” –Niccolò Machiavelli–
“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.
“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.”
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.
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–
HEART TRAPPINGS:
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.
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?
“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.”
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)
HEART TRAPPINGS
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!
The Shoemaker often said, “A good pair of shoes changes the way you walk through life.”
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 tallestamong 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!”
HEART TRAPPINGS:
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)
Valentine’s Day has long been considered a day of celebrating romance and love. Many of us go to great lengths on this day to assure our love ones they reserve a special place in our hearts. It’s a night for sharing romantic candlelight dinners, and for taking time to gaze, uninterrupted, into each other’s eyes. Jewelry counters all over town are standing-room-only. Beautiful, bouquets of flowers and heart-boxes full of exotic chocolates are bought and delivered on doorsteps throughout the day. And don’t forget those Valentine cards we purchase! Those Hallmark cards…beautiful pages bursting with the BIG words of love our own hearts struggle to express on a day-to-day basis. Love is definitely the focus of our hearts on Valentine’s Day but, what happens to it after the candy is eaten, the cards are tucked away, and the flowers have wilted?
All of us know that true love may wilt at times but, we don’t just toss it out or stow it out of sight. Love is to be looked upon as more of a ‘continual feast’ (Proverbs15:15 NCV). A precious gift from our hearts to be given away every day; not out of duty, but out of desire. Though every day can’t be Valentine’s Day, it’s wise to consider the truth that if love is not nurtured over time; it can slip very quickly from wonderstruck …to ordinary. Why would any one of us want to settle for ordinary in our relationships when our hearts were designed for wonderstruck?
Well-known, author and speaker, Beth Moore once shared, “I am convinced our hearts aren’t healthy until they have been satisfied by the only completely healthy love that exists: the Love of God Himself.” (Above All Else p.170 Family Christian Press)
The Bible tells us, “…God is Love” (1 John 4:16a NIV). The Psalmist, King David, is a stunning example of a life who lived and loved in total awe of his God. He lived wonderstruck at the very thought of God, the Creator of the Universe and everything in it; knowing his name. David marveled at the thought of God writing all the days of his life in His book; planning each day out before a single one of them even began! You can hear the wonder in his voice as David speaks to the God he loves:
“For it was You [God] who created my inward parts; You knit me together in my mother’s womb.” (Psalm 139:13)
“…all my days were written in Your book and planned before a single one of them began.” (Psalm 139:16b CSB)
“Your eyes saw me when I was formless…” (Psalm 139:16a CSB)
Incredible as it sounds, God allowed David’s heart to grasp the intimate truth of God’s Presence, inside the darkness of his mother’s womb, creating him. Even more wonderful, is that when God looks at David’s embryo…He doesn’t see what the world today so flippantly calls ‘lifeless tissue’. God sees the one He purposely, knit-together in Love and named for a purpose in this life. God sees David! (V.16a)
When I consider this Hand of Love that knit each one of us together in our own mothers’ womb, my heart can only cry out with David, “This is too much, too wonderful—I can’t take it all in!” (Psalm 139:6 MSG)
God’s Love is the absolute purest and truest Love our hearts will ever know. Because of God’s intimate connection to us in the womb from the very moment of conception, I believe that God Himself, our Creator, is also the very first Heart to express Love to our own hearts in life…even before the world knows we exist! Those Whispers of His Love echo down inside our hearts our whole life long; continually wooing us to:
“Come closer. “Let Me hold you once again.” “For though you’ve changed, My Love has not.”
Valentine’s Day is fast approaching. As we scurry to buy our cards, order our bouquets, and sit starry-eyed across from the ones we love; let’s not lose sight of the One Who Loves us most, both heart and soul…since the beginning of time itself. Our Creator…the God Who is Love. What we choose to do with this Love so Wondrous, as we walk-out our lives on this earth; is our choice. God’s Love for us never changes…but our own hearts too often fail to ever grasp the Truth of the Wonder of God’s Love, encircling us.
I see His Love poured-out into all of creation. Tangible, visible reminders of God’s Heart; from the outer-most edges of the Universe to the remote earthly paths we walk upon. I like to think of them as “God’s Conversation Hearts to the world He Loves. As you chew on these Sweet Truths, my Valentine’s Day prayer for us all, is that our hearts come to know, like King David did; what it is to walk inside of the Wonders of God’s Love…all the days of our life. Our world will be a better place the day we all choose to embrace the Love of the One Who first embraced us. Have a Blessed Valentine’s Day!
G0D’S “CONVERSATION HEARTS”:
(Photo: IC 805/Nasa/Pinterest)
The Heart Nebula:7,500 lightyears away from earth there is a glowing, red Nebula on the outer edges of our galaxy. If the size of this heart is any indication of the size of God’s Love for us (and it is!) …we should be living “wonderstruck” every breath we take!
“For as high as the heavens are above the earth,
so great is His Faithful Love toward those
who fear Him.”
(Psalms 103:11)
(worleygig.com/Pinterest)
TINY HEART PEBBLE:
“You will seek Me and
find Me when you seek
Me with all your heart!”
(Psalms 36:7)
On a sliding scale of “Ordinary” to “Wonderstruck,” where does your love for God fall?
“For God so loved the world [Your heart and mine] that He gave His One and only Son [Jesus], that whoever believes in Himwill not perish but have everlasting life.” (John 3:16)
“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)
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