Heart Trappings

  ” Sometimes you just need to talk to a three-year-old so you can understand what life is all about.”      -unknown-

written by  Debbie Allen

Brandon, stretched a dimpled hand anxiously toward the cell phone his Mom was about to hand down to him.  Nothing to this three-year-old was quite as special as FaceTime with his Grandma!  Whenever Mom’s cell phone rang,  in Brandon’s mind, Grandma was on the other end of that call waiting to FaceTime with him.  From the very moment her face was in his sights, he claimed her as his virtual, personal playmate. Off to his room he’d run with her!   Sometimes Grandma admitted this part of the journey made her a little sea sick; trying to keep up with all the blurred scenery and swift motions of a a three year old’s arms, sprinting up the stairs to his bedroom!  However, in the spirit of all  Grandmother-hood, she took this little rough patch in stride, claiming,

” I can’t think of a better reason in this world for taking a little Dramamine before a trip! “

Nearly every day Brandon showed Grandma nearly every toy in his room. He was always eager to share the things  he loved most in his world with her.  She, too, was more than receptive to hearing the enthusiasm that overwhelmed his voice during these exclusive Show-and-Tell times.  Though no actual pictures could ever be taken on these little trips she took with Brandon; the scrap-booker in Grandma opted for posting memories instead.  She placed them in  Grandma’s Book of Memoirs; a book tucked safely away in her heart.  It’s endless pages are now bulging with memories highlighting unforgettable moments with Brandon on their Dramamine-driven, FaceTime journey’s to his room!

Though Hollywood would never approve of the quality of these  FaceTime pannings of his room, Grandma treasured them!  Every shot was uniquely enhanced by the little-boy fingers that framed it!   Why…some of her greatest adventures lay at the end of those little fingers!  There was the time she watched as he built a Lego castle around her; and then had to knock the castle down just to retrieve Mom’s phone (and Grandma’s face!).  One of her scariest trips was the day Brandon needed both of his hands to climb up on his desk and retrieve a book from  the shelf above it.  Without warning, Brandon shoved Grandma in his back jean pocket and started climbing.  That was a dark, dark day for Grandma…literally! Maybe that was God’s way of sparing her from seeing the Mt. Everest heights Brandon had to climb to retrieve “Hansel and Gretel!”

Brandon’s FaceTime trips more than filled Grandma’s sense of adventure. He allowed her to experience numerous,  once-in-a-lifetime perspectives.  How many Grandmas do you know who have actually seen life from the metal seat inside the cab of  a yellow Tonka dump-truck?  Brandon put her there one day, and then climbed on top of the truck to drive them both over to his bedside.

“Brandon…where are you taking us today?”

“Going camping!” Brandon stated with exuberance.

Grandma smiled at the very thought of it.  From her spot in the cab of that truck she watched Brandon shove a giant stuffed bear under his bed covers to form a makeshift tent. Then he pulled her from the cab, slid her into the tent, alongside that bear ; and crawled in on the opposite side.

“Time for night night!” Brandon whispered, giggling at the snoring sounds already coming from Grandma’s side of the tent. Making special sound-effects was another of Grandma’s many areas of expertise in life!

Five minutes into that camping trip, Mom’s voice broke into the fun.

“Bran-don!  Time to eat dinner…tell Grandma bye-bye and come down!”

Unfortunately, Brandon did exactly what Mom said to do.  He leaned over and kissed the screen on the phone…told Grandma “Bye-Bye”… and went down to eat his dinner. Scooting out of the tent, Brandon dragged the bear out with him, unintentionally, which left Grandma laying under a pile of collapsed covers.

“Brandon!  Brandon! Don’t forget to take the phone back to Mommy!”  Grandma shouted out,  seeing the spontaneous darkness descending on her once again.

“Brandon…Brandon, are you still there?

” Brandon…I know you can’t hear me, but…I love you so!”  

Smiling  down at the darkness she viewed now on her own side of the cell-phone screen, Grandma pushed the “end call” button and took a moment to treasure the trip she’d taken with Brandon today.   Though most might look upon her dark screen as only an imperfect ending to a perfect day…she saw it for what it really was. Two new ‘firsts’ in Grandma’s life.  Her first time  ending the day as an under-cover agent. And the day she slept next to a bear…and lived!  This trip would go down in her Book of Memoirs as “Operation-Under Cover”.  The perfect title for a perfect day!

A good family friend shared this little story over coffee with me one day recently.  As one Grandma to another, her story touched me on so many levels.  You see, her FaceTime trips with Brandon, were born out of both necessity and a Grandma’s love.  Brandon had been undergoing cancer treatments for many months and  his weakened immune system kept him home for long intervals of time. FaceTime spared both their hearts the anxiety of a total but, necessary separation.

As I sat across from my friend that day, listening between the laughter and the tears,  my thoughts wandered from Grandchildren to God.  I couldn’t help but wonder what my relationship with God might look like if  He were to FaceTime Me?  Would it be anything close to Brandon’s FaceTime with his Grandma?  I pray… even more so. For the Face that would be looking back at me would be infinitely more than the  Face of just a heavenly Playmate.  I would be looking into the Face of  my Heavenly Soul-Mate…The One Whom my soul was created to love and be loved by in return.

“In the light of His face there is life, and His favor is like the clouds of the spring rain.” 

( Proverbs 16:15 NET)

Heart Trappings: Imagine with me for a moment, what your life might look like if God FaceTimed you right now. Would you ignore His attempts to connect with you while you finished sipping on your latte?  Or would you step in front of your cell screen with the excitement of a little child, wanting more than anything to see what adventure might be awaiting you? Do you trust Him enough to want to share your whole heart with Him? As you lift your cell phone to pan around the corners of your life…what would be the first thing on a list of ‘favorites’ you’d want to share with God in your own exclusive Show-and-Tell time with Him? What are you reluctant to share with Him. Have you ever left God lying in the dark while you ran off in response to ‘other’ voices calling out for your attention?  Do you believe that there is ‘life’ standing in the light of His Face?  Why or why not?

Prayer: Dearest Father, as much as I’d like to think I’d respond to Your FaceTime Call to me with the enthusiasm of little Brandon; if I were honest, I know I’d be the one sipping on a latte some days.  Truthfully, the thought of the Creator of all things ever choosing to FaceTime me is a thought too big for my finite brain to process.  Help me to remember that when You call Your children, it is because You Love them and You want to connect with us, to be an active part of our daily life.  Remove any fear we may have to answer Your Call, and replace our reluctance with anticipation and joy!   May the light on our own earthly cell phones be a daily reminder of this Heavenly Truth:  “In the Light of Your Face…there is life to be found.” May we continually seek Your Face.    Amen

 “GRANDKIDS fill an emptiness in our hearts we didn’t even know we had.”

written by Debbie Allen

Most mornings when I wake-up, I am facing the same night-stand, lamp and picture frame I placed by my bedside over five years ago. Because these bedroom artifacts are such familiar scenery, I rarely take time to focus on them anymore.  One particular morning, however, as I opened my eyes; I was strangely drawn to the pictures in that picture frame.  Not only that, I could hear the sounds of one distinct word resonating inside my head over and over again.    “Honor…honor…honor…honor.”

Now, I’ve heard  God’s Whispers in my life enough to know I needed to pay attention.  When my own life’s seemingly  ordinary ho-hums combine with God’s own Holy-Hums… something is about to change.  Usually, it’s me!

This persistent echo inside my head was enough to interrupt my heart’s silent, morning prayer-time before rising.  Though I had no idea how the word, honor, related to the picture frame filled with snapshots of my Grandchildren, I realized something else.  I wasn’t just lying in bed anymore.  Without having moved an inch, I’d managed to enter into my own Heavenly Intersection!

Yielding to the sights and sounds of that intersection, I treated it like a yellow stoplight in a busy crossing.  Yellow stoplights caution those approaching, to slow down and consider stopping for a moment; instead of just speeding through and never looking back!  Applying what I understood about yellow stoplights, I knew I needed to be looking in all directions for anything that might be  coming at me; then proceed with caution.

Ever-so-slowly, I mentally proceeded through that heavenly intersection.  About the time I did so, something hit me out of the blue!  No, not a crash; more of a break-through!  My eyes locked on the picture frame once more.  The frame formed a geometric triangle.  Each of its three, 5 x 7,  rectangular sides contained a picture of my Grandchildren.  Two smaller triangles sealed off both ends.  Inscribed on its top were these words,

” GRANDKIDS fill an emptiness inside us we never knew we had!”   (No truer words have ever been spoken! )

As I studied it further, I noticed things I hadn’t seen before.  The pictures didn’t change…but, my perspective had. For the first time in a long time, I was seeing those pictures …not just looking at them.  Makayla, a three-year-old Building Engineer, was making a Lego tower as tall as a mountain.  Wrapped in climbing gear, three-and-a half-year-old, Ryan, was attempting to climb his first mountain.  Brendan, sixteen-years-old, just reached a mountaintop on his dirt bike, after a day’s-worth of hard riding. Building a Mountain…Climbing a Mountain…Reaching a Mountain.  All of these moments captured my heart enough to frame these precious, loves-of-my-life, give them a special place in my heart and on my nightstand; and then to honor their sweet memory daily!

Still hearing the Holy-Humming going on inside my head, it didn’t take me long to make the connection between my picture frame and the word, honor. As a Grammie who frequently loves and admires her Grandkids, I quickly realized just how little it takes for us, as Human Beings, to bestow honor on our own.  We do it every day; one picture, one moment, one accomplishment at a time.  Yet…there is One (Jesus), Who is so much more  deserving than anyone on earth when it comes to receiving honor.  Too often, however, we shortchange Him and even stiff His outstretched Hands.

After all, when it comes to Building a Mountain…Jesus is the Maker of all Mountains!  How about Climbing a Mountain?  Jesus climbed the tallest mountain anyone will ever climb!  He did it shouldering a wooden Cross; dragging it up a steep and foreboding path.  Reaching a Mountain?  When Jesus reached His mountaintop, the world honored Him with a Crown of Thorns and nailed Him to the Cross.  He died there for you and me.

How thankful I am  for Heaven’s Yellow Stoplights on earth! When you enter into these Intersections in life, you are never the same by the time you reach the other side (Unless you’re one who speeds through yellow stoplights and never looks back!).   This is what happens when Heaven’s Divine Perspective intersects with the puniness of our own earthly thinking.  Though I will continue to love and honor my Grandchildren for the unique and precious gifts they are to me from above,  I will never see the picture frame on my nightstand quite the same.  I see two frames now. One is real and tangible, and  filled with pictures of my Grandkids. The other one is  a virtual Picture Frame.  It is both geometric and triangular in shape;  but, this one is filled with Snapshots of Jesus on every side.  Pictures of Jesus Building His Mountain…Climbing His Mountain… and Reaching His Mountain.

Every morning I open my eyes and see these Frames, I am reminded that there is a vast difference in the way I am to bestow honor on those being celebrated in those picture frames.  Honoring our own, and Honoring Jesus looks eternally different.  It is the difference between placing our loved ones up on a pedestal…and hanging God’s Only Son up on a Cross.

“O Lord, You are worthy to receive the glory and the honor, and the power…” (Revelation 4:11)

Heart Trappings :

How many of Heaven’s Yellow Stoplights have you rushed through without ever looking back?  Ever wondered how much of God’s Wisdom for your life you’ve missed by doing so? Think of your own loved ones and how you choose to honor them for who they are and what they’ve accomplished in this life.  Do you see them from a Heavenly Perspective?   Ponder Jesus for a moment now. When is the last time you sacrificed time and effort to honor Him?  Worship Him? Adore Him?

Prayer :  Precious Father, please forgive me for being so short-sighted when it comes to Your Heavenly Perspective.  I know Your Word tells us to “love and honor each other” (Rom. 12:10).  Teach me how to honor my Children and my Grandchildren in a way that honors them from Your Perspective. Help me to remember to love them for the precious gifts they are to my heart, and for what You are accomplishing in and through their lives for the Glory and Honor  of Your Son, Jesus. Thank You for Heaven’s Yellow Stoplights and for the Beauty yet to be discovered on the other side of those Heavenly Intersections in our life.  Amen

“Memories made at the Beach Stay in our  Hearts Forever!”

written by Debbie Allen

While sifting through the comments on my blog awhile back, I came across one remark which had absolutely nothing to do with anything I’d written on my post.  Truthfully, I’m not even sure she read the story. For some strange reason, I held off pushing the delete permanently button, allowing this person’s words to wash over my heart again and again. I marveled that a total stranger’s  words, randomly shared on a blog she accidentally stumbled upon because she just “…had to share her story  with someone”, could connect so deeply in my heart.  I sensed God’s Fingerprints all over this!

A young, single mom, living on the California coast went on to explain how she’d taken her four-year-old daughter, Emmy, for a walk on the beach  that day earlier. As they strolled along, kicking up loose sand with bare toes; Mom picked up a shell lying on the beach nearby.  Reminded of her own childhood, she showed it to Emmy.  Mom explained to her how God had hidden the sounds of the ocean’s crashing waves down inside of the shell.  Delighted, Emmy reached for the shell and pressed it up against her ear.  Just as quickly, Emmy dropped the beautiful shell, screaming and holding her ear, crying out, “Ouchie!  Ouchie!”

Puzzled by her daughter’s reaction to what promised only to be a beautiful, Mother-Daughter moment on the beach, Mom picked up the shell again.  Cautiously, she examined it, soon discovering a disgruntled sand crab, the size of a quarter; hiding down inside of it!  Mom laughed until she cried while Emmy just continued to cry!  What had begun as only the  shell of a past experience for Mom, ended for little Emmy as a very crabby beginning to her day on the beach!

Every new day holds its own promises for each of us.  Sometimes, without warning, those bright promises can turn into questions and speculations  that number the grains of sand on the sea shore. Life is a lot like this mother and daughter’s walk on the California beach that day.  One moment you can be walking in the sands of time, content with the promise of the familiar and the beautiful up ahead of you; and the next you are crying out in pain, wincing from the unexpected…or the unwanted.

Though this Mom couldn’t foresee what little Emmy never expected…the same is not true of us  in our own life. You see, we walk with a God Who Sees our life before we encounter it; even those unexpected things hidden in the darkness.

“He [God] changes times and seasons, He reveals deep and hidden things; He knows what lies in the darkness, and light dwells with Him.” (Daniel 2)

We walk through the sands of Time with the God who promises His children this:

“I have created you and cared for you since you were born. I will be your God throughout all your lifetime…”  “I will carry you along and be your Savior.” (Isaiah 46)

What better promises than these are there for the  moments, days, weeks, and years up ahead of us?  After all, we know Who holds our hands…Who Directs our hearts and Who Lights our darkness. Now, let’s just choose to let Him do it… while we kick some sand, walking with Jesus along our own beaches, blanketed with the  Sands of  Time.

Heart Trappings :

Have you ever seen  the Finger Prints of God in your own life?  Where, in your own life, have you encountered people, stories, or circumstances so unusually placed, perfectly timed, or profoundly simple, they captured your attention long enough to change your heart’s thinking forever?  What will be your response the next time you encounter the un-expected in the middle of your life’s beautiful?  Who’s Beach are you walking on?  Who’s Hand are you holding?  Who’s Light is lighting your way?

Prayer :  Heavenly Father, countless times I’ve walked the Sands of Time with You. Too often,  I confess that when my hopes have been dashed, plans abruptly changed, the un-expected tramples me,or death snatches a loved one away; I am prone to behave more like little Emmy on the beach with her Mom .  I turn loose of Your Hand and run away from You, crying and wincing in pain.  Help me realize I have turned loose of the only Hand that can Help me…the Only Eyes I can trust to Guide me…and the only Light I have in my darkness.  Thank You for seeing my life even before I encounter it.  Teach me to trust You more and to Seas the Moments I spend with You in the Sands of this Life!   Amen

  “Blessed is the nation whose God is the LORD…”                  (Psalm 33:12)

written by Debbie Allen

During the War of 1812, The ‘Washington Post’ headlines were, no doubt, plastered with bold one-liners like these; following the unbelievable, deadly, British attack on American soils:

“The White House is Burning!”  “Casualties on Our Own Shores!”  “Washington on Fire!”

No one expected this unwarranted attack on our young Nation. Even so, America scrambled back to her feet on high alert!  By the time the smoke cleared and the shock subsided, our Nation, along with the help of it’s growing and determined militia, was again about to engage in yet another battle for her freedom.  This time she faced another attack by the Royal British Navy  on the shores of Baltimore, Maryland.  While most of us remember the historic battle that took place on land that night; few of us know to look  beyond these same shores where we discover another intricate piece of history in the making!

A man called Frank, propped a rain soaked boot up on the polished side-rail of the British ship, detaining him against his will now, for over 20 hours.  Somewhere, stowed below deck on that same ship, was Dr. Beanes, Frank’s friend and the man he’d been commissioned by the President of the United States, to intervene for in a hostage-recovery mission.  Though a well-respected attorney back in Washington D.C., here on the water-logged deck of this British ship, Frank, too, was just another hostage now. For no other reason but taunting, the enemy shoved a brass spyglass into Frank’s hands, and then forced him to watch the ruthless, attacks on Fort McHenry in Baltimore.  After peering through the rain-washed lens of that spyglass for the duration of a 25-hour British bombardment ; silence finally reigned. No more red glare from rockets streaming through the night sky…no more bombs bursting in mid-air. No more trying to decipher whose casualties were greater. Frank dropped down on one knee and prayed silently.

“God, p-l-e-a-s-e…it is only by Your Grace our nation is here today; and only by Your Grace will it remain.  Amen

With exhausted arms and trembling hands, he rose to his feet, lifting the dreaded spyglass up against his bloodshot eye one last time. Frank pointed it in the direction of a smoldering, Fort McHenry. Great billows of smoke and ash rolled out into the silent harbor. By now, the rain too, subsided; only deepening the silence now threatening to smother him. The rhythmic beating of his anxious heart became the drum roll for what the spyglass was about to reveal to him. There in the dimness of dawn’s early light, Frank could see an American Flag being hoisted up onto the only thing left standing in Fort McHenry…the flag pole!

“Our flag is still there!” he shouted hoarsely, to anyone who might be listening

Turning to see the reaction of the soldiers on-deck; Frank spotted a British Officer fast approaching him with his friend, Dr. Beanes, in tow.  Cutting the ropes laced around Beane’s wrists, the Officer nearly knocked Frank overboard, shoving the Doctor towards him.

“Take your hostage and go back to your precious America… England deems you both as worthless as the soils you walk upon !”

Unscathed by this British Officer’s angry words, Frank was relieved to see his friend in good spirits.  Handing the spyglass to Beanes, he pointed it toward Fort McHenry. Still basking in the miracle of answered prayer and the beauty of the stars and stripes, Frank  pulled a damp envelope from his jacket pocket and began to pen these words,

“O say, can you see, by the dawn’s early light,

What so proudly we hailed at the twilight’s last gleaming.

O say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave

O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?”

“Blest with victory and peace, may the heaven-rescued land

Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation!

Then conquer we must when our cause it is just.

And this be our motto: “In God is our trust.”

And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave

O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.”

by Francis Scott Key (Frank) ———- September 14, 1814

The sight of those “broad stripes and bright stars” on the flag being hoisted over the shores of Fort McHenry  inspired Frank to write these fitting words; which eventually became the song we recognize today to be our National Anthem.  Nothing embodies a vision of freedom quite like the American Flag. Frank experienced it while looking through the spyglass back in 1814. You and I  sense the same pull it has on our own hearts today when we stand before ‘Old Glory’ with our hands cupped over our hearts, singing the National Anthem.

As we celebrate our own Freedom on Independence Day this Fourth of July; may we be reminded of the fearless courage and integrity, self-sacrifice and devotion of Americans, past and present; who willingly laid their lives down in defense of the freedom we walk in today. Dedicate your lives to the principles for which it stands.  Read between the stripes and see what Frank really saw when he looked down the shaft of that spyglass  back in 1814…

“One nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all!”

HEART TRAPPINGS :

O Say can you see…that Frank is perhaps reflnecting a much bigger picture of His-Story (God’s Story) than you or I ever imagined?  O Say can you see…the spiritual implications concerning your own heart and the price of freedom, whether on an individual basis or a national level?  O Say can you see…and consider these words from the Old Testament, pointing us to a different set of “Stripes” from our past ?

“…the burden of our peace was upon Him [Jesus] and by His stripes we are healed.” (Isaiah 53:5)

What will you do with these heavenly”Stripes”? Turn away from them…or consider the high cost of the Freedom they bought for you?

PRAYER : Father, Thank you for the freedom we both celebrate today on Independence Day, and experience so freely every day!   Bless this nation with both victory and peace. May we never forget that America is a Heaven-Rescued land!

“And the Star-Spangled Banner in triumph shall wave

O’er the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave!” 

Amen

“Shearing Day on the Farm leaves a permanent

   mark of shear joy on little girl’s heart!”

written by Debbie Allen

Most of us would agree, there is simply nothing like being a child.  It should be no surprise then, to discover that after we grow-up; we often just wish we were a child again.  Somewhere along the way, as adults, we lose sight of the simple joy that characterizes childhood. We lose touch with the wonder that God has tucked into the folds of our days.  We begin to wonder “why?” concerning our circumstances instead of being filled with the wonder of The One Who controls those circumstances.    It is in this breach between the wonder-filled  hearts and our wondering minds, that we begin  to push joy and Truth  through our own filter of circumstances and logic; ending up with only  a strained version of  true faith.  Let me show you what I mean.

A few months ago, Billie, the librarian at the middle school where I work; shared with me the little bits and pieces of her childhood; growing up on a small sheep and cattle ranch in the middle of windy, Wyoming.  She spoke fondly of the brazen, fun-loving Dad she loved so dearly; and the staunch, God-fearing, Mom who she adored.

She remembered watching her Dad and Uncle back a flatbed truck up next to their barn on Shearing Day.  Then, they hung a lengthy, burlap, fleece-bag down over the truck bed.  To me, a city girl, Shearing Day sounded like anything but fun. However, Billie’s expression told me otherwise. Her eyes danced while she spilled the specifics to me.  She was like a child reliving every moment again!

Shearing Day took place on the farm, in Wyoming, in the heat of summer.  This day was also characterized by scorching winds dancing across sweat-drenched brows, while swift and sweaty palms worked shear magic to transform the wild and wooly into the scraped and scrawny.    Sheep bleating, clippers clipping, and fleece flying!   All of this sounds like more than enough exhilaration to rate “extremely-high” on a child’s joy meter.  Billie’s face reflected this as she proceeded to act out her part in this scene from her childhood.  While still sitting in her rolling desk chair across from me, Billie threw both arms out to the side, lifted her feet straight up, and began to re-enact the dance that little four-year-old Billie remembered dancing on Shearing Day; after being placed down inside of a fifteen foot tall, burlap, fleece-bag dangling from the barn loft high above her.

“I can’t remember how I got down inside of that bag”, Billie pondered, grinning “…I just remember being there; laughing and giggling for an entire day, while endless fleece rained down on top of my head!”

Now…like every other task performed on the farm, Billie’s Dad did not just place his precious, Baby Girl down inside of that stuffy, burlap, fleece-bag without a much greater purpose in mind. She was given a very specific job to do for her Daddy.  She was his own, personal fleece-stomper!  He was to her, the fleece-maker.  He sheared and sheared…Billie stomped and stomped.  At the end of that day, pounds and pounds of sheared fleece became bags and bags full of compressed wool to take to market.  I’m sure each bag brought a great price, but, do you know what I consider to be the most valuable take-away from the farm at the end of Shearing Day?  The expression of joy that Billie still wears on her face nearly five decades later. Shear joy!  It comes from the heart of that little farm girl inside of her who, even now, looks back on all her stomping…and sees dancing.  She remembers her sweaty, pint-sized brow…and still calls it fun.   She ponders growing tired…yet, still draws strength from her Daddy’s simple words of encouragement to her that day, “Just keep stomping, little Bill, keep stomping!”

“Just keep stomping, little Bill, keep stomping!”  These words continued to resonate in my own thoughts.   They were simple, yet wise.  The expression of joy Billie wears on her face today, might have been very different had she not heeded her father’s words that day.

What if four-year-old Billie woke up on that hot, windy, Wyoming, Shearing Day on the farm and said, “No!” to the joy awaiting her in that day (As we adults too often do)?  She could’ve chosen to dwell purely on the facts surrounding her.  She was too little…too tired…too busy…and the job was too much for her littleness to comprehend.  But, she didn’t!  Instead, in the way of a little child, she sought her father out and without questioning him, accepted her small part in his BIG world.  Grasping her Daddy’s hand in total trust, she went willingly down into the burlap, fleece-bag which swallowed her up whole and then kept her from seeing him at all.  Little Billie could’ve felt trapped or even alone in this unfamiliar place.  Fear might have won.

But, looking up, instead of giving up, she cried out, “Daddy?”

“I’m here!” Daddy reminded her…and fear was done!

Quickly, she learned that just because the fleece-maker was invisible to her; didn’t mean he wasn’t still standing there beside her.  And when the clumps of fleece from her Daddy’s hands tumbled down upon her head, she didn’t wince or cry out, “Why?”  She simply remembered her littleness…in light of his nearness; and joyfully danced to the sounds of her Daddy’s voice.

“Just keep stomping, Little Bill’…

Keep dancing for me!”

“And let joy teach your heart

to really see!”

 Most of us forfeit the chance to really see because we become paralyzed by, or choose to focus only, on the circumstances falling down around us.  If Little Billie had chosen to do the same, she would have been buried alive at the bottom of the fleece-bag on Shearing Day.  However, she didn’t.  She chose wisely to heed her Daddy’s words and responded with obedience.  She stomped and stomped, tromping the fleece falling on top of her head, beneath her feet.  In time, with both diligence and fortitude, she rose steadily to the top of that bag; climbing out into the arms of her Daddy’s treasured, embrace.  Though hard work and difficult circumstances abounded in this day, joy overwhelmed it.  Joy enough to teach a child’s heart that trust and obedience brings both treasure and reward at the end of any given day.  Shear joy, so deeply infused in a little girl’s heart; it is still worn on the adult face of that little fleece-stomper today.

The story of the Fleece-maker and his Daughter speaks loudly to my heart about the kind of relationship each of us is meant to live out before our Heavenly Father.  Shearing Day emulates waking up each morning and saying, “yes” to Joy.  It is seeing past the obvious; I’m too tired…too busy…and the job is too much.  Seeking our Father out, without question, we are to accept our small part in His BIG world.  Grasping our Father’s Hand in total trust, we are to go willingly, as He slips us down into the unforeseen circumstances surrounding us each day.  And yes…they swallow us up without reservation and keep us from seeing the Face of our Father at all!  Feeling alone down in these unfamiliar places; Fear fights to win!

But, we look up and cry, “Father?”

He answers, “I AM here,”

And Fear is done!

Quickly, we learn in such secluded places, that just because our Father is invisible to us, doesn’t mean He isn’t standing right there next to us.  And when the circumstances that fall from our Father’s Hands come crashing down upon our heads; our Father’s Love has taught us we don’t wince and cry out, “Why?”

We remember instead, to ponder our little-ness in light of His Near-ness and joyfully dance to the sounds of our Heavenly Father’s Voice…

“Just keep stomping, Little Child,

Keep dancing for Me;

Let Joy teach your heart

To really see!”

 “For in Your Presence is fullness of joy; at Your right hand are pleasures forevermore.” (Psalm 16:11 NKJV)

HEART TRAPPINGS:  How many of your own childhood memories still flood your heart with deep-seated joy?  How willing are you to accept  your small part in your Heavenly Father’s BIG world? How do you react to the circumstances falling down around you?  Will you choose to keep dancing…or will you succumb to being buried alive by your circumstances?  What in life is hindering you from seeing your own little-ness… in light of your Father’s Near-ness?

                        PRAYER:  Father, I pray You help me learn to trust You more like a little child, concerning the circumstances falling down upon my         head.  Tune my ears to hear Your Voice and may I never doubt that just because I fail to see You…doesn’t mean You are not standing right there next to me.

“Not all treasure is silver and gold, mate.”

  (Jack Sparrow, Pirates Of The Caribbean)

written by Debbie Allen

After Winter’s frigid breath blows its final veil of frost across a cold, barren earth, there reigns a silence.  A pause between the seasons, into which the welcome voice of Spring speaks the Creator’s Good News of New Life and Eternal Hope into all the earthly places  where death once seemed to rule.  In so many ways, Spring is a vivid re-enactment of the miracle of the Easter Story.   This season is imprinted with the message of Jesus dying on the cross…laying silent in death’s grip for a time…resurrected from the grave to New Life.   Death for a season…silence for a time…new life springing forth! This is the pattern of Spring.

As I walked the perimeters of my backyard , hiding Easter eggs for my Grandchildren one Easter afternoon; it didn’t take me long to realize this pattern was everywhere!  Hiding Easter eggs under the withered stalks and dead leaves of  last year’s lifeless flower beds, I noticed the ground now studded with tender, green shoots pushing up through the dirt and springing forth with the beauty of a Day-Lily’s new bloom.   While maneuvering colored eggs into the crooks and forks of backyard bushes and trees,  I realized the barren tree branches, once laden with snow, were now covered with new buds; pregnant and ready to give birth to the snow-white blooms of the Wild Plum tree.  Any traces of winter that may have lingered behind in my heart were banished in an instant, by the unexpected warmth I felt just hearing the sweet chirps of a Robin’s new song in this new season.   Never before had Spring’s pattern been more evident to me.  Death for a season…silence for a time…new life springing forth!

After hiding all the eggs, I looked up to find my husband standing under the patio, laughing and pointing up at the tree I just walked away from.

“Looks like we have a joiner… an early treasure hunter!” Jim announced, laughing.

When I turned to see what he was talking about, I spotted a squirrel perched on a branch high up in our Cottonwood tree.  His paws were wrapped around the plastic Easter egg he’d managed to steal from the bush below.

That little squirrel recognized treasure in my backyard that day, too!  He wasn’t content to just give it a quick look and scamper away. He somehow understood the value of that treasure and his need to have it. So… he took a risk, leaving his place of safety to obtain it.  He worked furiously with both teeth and claws to bore a hole in the egg.    Because the egg was taped shut, that squirrel struggled for over thirty minutes before retrieving the chocolate candy stuffed inside of it.  Once  the sweet contents were in his little belly, with a surge of new life (His first chocolate high!), that squirrel disappeared out of sight, leaving the empty shell behind!

Spring is beautifully laced with the telling and re-telling of the Easter Story! This season mirrors, in unique ways,  the Story of the Savior’s Victory over Death and the New Life that springs forth because of it. Eternal Life!  Without a doubt, Jesus is the Greatest Treasure mankind will ever seek in his lifetime.  However we, like the little Easter squirrel, must first sit up and take notice of this One-of-a-Kind, Priceless Treasure, realizing that our greatest need in life is to lay hold of it.  Eyeing it from afar is not enough.  Just knowing it is there will not work. We must be willing to risk all, stepping outside our comfort zones to  receive this Treasure for ourselves.  Only then will we discover  it takes a personal sampling of the Sweet Contents of this Personal and Priceless Treasure to awaken us to the New Life that is within us!   Happy Easter…and Happy Hunting!!

“You will seek Me and find Me when you seek Me with all your heart. I will be found by you, declares the Lord.” (Jer. 29:13-14 NIV )

“The fear of the Lord is your treasure.   “( Isaiah 33:6b NIV)

  Heart Trapping –  What”imprints” of the Easter Season and the pattern of Spring do you see in your own back yard?  What treasures in life are you seeking?   How much are you willing to risk in life to attain them? Have they any Eternal value?   Do you believe that Jesus is your Greatest Treasure in this life?  Why or Why not?

Prayer –  O God, You are my God. You alone are my Treasure in this life.  My soul longs to find you. I hunger deeply for You; my whole heart longs to be satisfied by treasures beyond the silver and gold of this world.  Help me to find the Beauty of Your  undeniable and Priceless Presence in this Easter Season.  Thank you for Your gift of Hope and New Life…     Amen.

       “RYAN THE GREAT!”          

“The real secret of Magic lies in the performance.”  (by David Copperfield)

written by Debbie Allen

Not long ago, I walked into my kitchen and heard my 7 year-old Grandson, “Ryan the Great”, speaking his own magic words and waving a wand over a little black box on my kitchen table. He loved the idea of being a magician so I decided to check out his first show!  Scanning the crowd, an audience of three, Ryan the Great, quickly singled me out and fanned a deck of cards out before me.

“Pick a card, Grammie…any card will do!” He advised me.

The card I picked was the Queen of Hearts. Taking the card back, Ryan placed the Queen of Hearts inside of the little black box on the table. Magic wand in hand, he tapped the box and cried,” Abracadabra!”

The audience’s eyes grew wide, anticipating what was next!  Ryan the Great’s eyes grew wide, too, for when he opened the box, the card was still there! Undaunted by failure, this great table-top magician simply shrugged it off and closed the box once more to try again. After studying the instructions inside the Magic Kit for a moment, Ryan tried once more.

“Alakazam!” he hollered out, this time tapping the box twice.  When he opened the box…there she was! That stubborn Queen of Hearts, still smiling back at him.

After shushing the audience (who chose to clap anyway), the Great and Powerful Ryan drew in a deep breath and put on his most solemn expression. Raising his magic wand higher than ever before, he tapped the black box three times, and spoke with the greatest of 7-year-old authority, these powerful words,

“IN THE NAME OF GOD!”

Do you know what? This time when he opened the black box, that stubborn Queen of Hearts had disappeared!  I imagine with words like those being spoken over her…that queen had no choice but to flee!

Every great magician’s first intention is to create an illusion that completely baffles the mind and dazzles the eyes of his audience.  Knowing the instructions for how to make that Queen of Hearts disappear from the little black box were packaged inside of Ryan’s Magic Kit; my eyes weren’t nearly as dazzled as my mind was baffled!  Baffled because when push came to shove…and life wasn’t offering the ending 7-year-old Ryan expected; he set aside the world’s magic words and generic instructions for success, and called on the Name of the One he knew was the difference between failure and success.  “IN THE NAME OF GOD!”

These words will forever be connected in my mind to the growing legacy of one of the greatest table-top magicians of all times (at least in Grammie’s kitchen and heart!) “Ryan the Great”, who even at age 7, understands where his greatness comes from!

“You are my King and my God. Decree victories for your people.  For it is only by Your Power and through Your Name that we tread down our enemies.” (Psalm 44:4)

Heart Trapping:  Where do I find success in my life? What or Who am I calling on for help when failure stalks me again and again? Is my  daily performance before a watching world telling others… I am Great! Or do I cry out to the One Who is greater than I to do Great things through me?

Prayer:  Father, “In the Name of God!”  may each of us experience success by placing all we can do…and all we can’t do, under His Great Name and His Great Power, remembering where true greatness comes from.

                                                                                  “TWO-WEEK-OLD CHELSEA”

“The most precious jewels I’ll ever wear around my neck…are the arms of my Grandchildren.”           

written by Debbie Allen

 Over the course of time, each life is marked by certain moments or seasons of change so influential, the rest of our life remains defined by it.  One such moment for me came about three years ago.  Sitting out on the patio with family, my son handed me my three-week-old granddaughter, Chelsea.  She lived 100 miles away, so I savored any moment I had to hold her close. As her sky-blue eyes pried open, I found myself searching them deeply… wondering what beautiful things God had planted down inside of her heart.  Then, it happened!  Though only for a split-second, our eyes locked and I watched an unexpected smile form across her tiny, rosebud lips. Her first smile.  Overcome by that unforeseen smile, my eyes teared at the realization that something much deeper and more profound than I was stirring my heart.  It wasn’t just Chelsea I was connecting with when our eyes locked.  I felt as though God were looking back at me through her. The innocence of her little heart overwhelmed mine. Her gaze and her smile seemed to be assuring me that I was both known…and loved. It was in that moment, my new little Granddaughter…whom the world tells me, thinks no thoughts past immediate hunger, thirst, or pain; and whose smile is simply the result of very timely gas; was teaching her Grammie a profound and unforgettable Truth.  A Truth I too often forget, in the bustle of my ever-changing circumstances.  My Heavenly Father wants nothing more from me than what I desired from Chelsea in that brief moment.  To rest assured that I am known and loved by Him…and then, for me to just “let” Him Love me back.

This defining moment in my life is a beautiful picture of the pure, undefiled level of trust God desires from us and the unfathomable Love He offers His Children when we just “let” Him Love us back. When we just lay still and helpless as a new born baby, in our Father’s Arms. His Arms will never fail us and if we lay there long enough, we will begin to hear the Melody of His Great Heart beating.  Every beat resounds with the Message of His Eternal Love for you and I…

“I have loved you with an everlasting Love. With unfailing love I have drawn you to myself.”  (Jeremiah 31:3)

Heart Trapping- “What would my own life look like if I learned to trust You more like a new-born baby in my daily walk with You, God?”                

 Prayer:  Teach us, Father, help us to find our rest in your Unfailing Arms, even in the midst of life’s ever-changing circumstances.Hold us close and tune our ears to hear the Message of Your Great Heart…resounding  with every single beat, Your Eternal Love for each of us.    Amen

“Autumn’s beautiful heart is, in so many ways, the Divine Artist’s signature on the portrait of her life.”

written by Debbie Allen

When lazy summer days disappear every year under the shadows of the fall season; I sense the Hand of the Divine Artist brushing His most lavish changes onto the canvas of our world.  My eyes are captivated by the trees; as emerald leaves surrender to the kaleidoscopic beauty of bold tangerines and russets, shades of scarlet and deep plums.  Every year I find my heart scarcely able to contain the unmatched beauty of His Fall Glory!  But, all too soon the leaves drift down to the cold, brown earth; each a silent message from Heaven that the Artist is again at work.  This time He white-washes the canvas; leaving only the barren trunks of those same once beautiful trees, shivering along the horizon.  There are no leaves.  There is no color.  What can be the purpose of His brush strokes?

“Why, God?” I ask, watching my favorite season slipping away.

“Why strip these trees of their beautiful autumn raiment, leaving them to weather the coming storms without a decent covering?” “Where is Your Gory to be found in such a scene?”

I’m quite sure the Divine Artist’s Brow must have wrinkled at such a question coming from such a finite mind.  For not long afterwards, it seemed as though He tapped me on the shoulder, took His brush between His Fingers and began painting me the most vivid picture of autumn I could ever have imagined! One I will never forget.  Let me explain.

You see, I took on a part-time job at the end of the summer this past year.  Every morning since August, I stand in the midst of rows and rows of orange lockers; located in a girl’s locker room at a local middle school.  I am, who the girls deem, “The Locker Room Lady.” I am the one who stands in the doorway, arms crossed and a half-smile; ready to blow the whistle if things get too out of hand.  I hand out hair ties, retrieve lost gym suits, and referee dirty sock fights.  Though my job description doesn’t list it, I’ve also found my place among these girls as an official heart-monitor.  The one who steps in and listens to the bleating hearts of twelve-year-old love stories and fourteen-day romances gone awry.

Major drama here, I might add!  Something I’m not accustomed to; being the Mother of three boys.

Let me put it another way.  Watching sixty to seventy girls a day in this locker room setting is not too far removed from my days of watching ants in an Ant Farm with my boys when they were growing up.  Except…now I’m sealed in on the other side of the glass with the ants and the ants I’m watching seem to all be on steroids!

These unique, two-legged, middle-school Creaturettes tunnel furiously in and out of each other’s lives, gathering any little tidbit of love, friendship and acceptance they can find to keep their self-esteems alive in the hours ahead of them.  They run helter-skelter over each other’s hearts, and in and out of each other’s minds; feeding on the little crumbs dropped there by their peers.  Miraculously, they seem to thrive on this steady diet of carelessly misplaced words, vain opinions of who they are, and unrealistic expectations of who they should be.  It’s all part of living up to an unwritten Rule of Thumb that I’m convinced must be posted above every Creaturette’s tunnel entrance.  A rule which if written out, would no doubt read something like this:

“You are not who you are.

You are not even who others think you are.

You are who you think others think you are.”

          With a rule such as this in constant play, it shouldn’t surprise you to learn that the locker room is no safe haven for these girls.  It’s a rough ‘n tumble, ant-eat-ant environment where someone’s world is always at risk of caving-in.  Sounds a lot like the real world, doesn’t it?  A frenzied place of constant clamoring for love and acceptance.  If you can’t dig yourself into all the right places while the world’s eyes watch you do it; then, in the spirit of Ant-Farm mentality, your world is quickly reduced to a place where there’s nowhere to run and nowhere to hide!

In any case, life is full of such hindrances and the locker room is no exception.  By the end of the first week as the Locker-Room Lady, I thought I’d grown accustomed to all of the sights and sounds of so many different personalities colliding in a girl’s locker room.  The wind-tunnel effect of several hand dryers blowing full blast.  The ear-shattering squeals emanating from multiple giddy, teenage girls.  The echoes of twenty locker doors all slamming at different times.  All of these things combined made it impossible to actually hear anything in here.  But, one day, right in the middle of all of this controlled chaos; I managed to zero-in on someone’s faint cries echoing from a nearby bathroom stall.

“Can someone help me, please?” I heard a little voice cry out again.

Walking toward where I thought the voice came from, I listened for a moment.  Nothing.  There were two stalls so I bent over casually to inspect the ground for a pair of feet.  To my surprise, I instead found a pair of eyes looking back up at me from under the first stall door.

“I…I can’t get this door open…could you please help me?” the girl asked me softly.

“Sure thing.  Just stand back while I push on it.” I warned her, having been a prisoner in this same stall the day before.

Wham!  Bam!  A couple of hefty jolts with both my hands and the door flung wide open.  That’s when I came face to face with the owner of those two chocolate-brown eyes; now peering back at me from under thick strands of shoulder-length, licorice-black hair.

“Thanks.”  The girl said, speaking just above a whisper.

I introduced myself as the new Locker Room Lady and watched as she brushed her hair out of her eyes with a multi-scarred right hand.  A hand missing all of its four fingers.  Not much more than a fleshy palm with an appendage to the side that had been fashioned to serve as a thumb. No doubt, this was the very reason she’d struggled with the door in the first place.

“I…I’m Autumn,” she said to me, pulling back the curtain of bangs veiling her face.  As she did so, she exposed the face of a young girl whose entire countenance appeared ravaged by angry flames some time in her earlier years.  Trying not to stare, my eyes were quickly drawn back into hers.  It took every ounce of concentration in me not to shed the tears I felt welling up inside of me for what life had been allowed to take from this girl at such a young and tender age.  Oh, how the mother in me wanted to throw my arms around her at this moment.  To run interference for her and try to protect her from the awkward stares and abrasive comments I knew would come from the other girls.  How my heart broke as I watched the other girls glance in her direction and then walk, not just by her, but, around her; like she didn’t even exist. Watching Autumn walk away from me to follow her peers into the gymnasium; the mom in me began to cry softly; while the more brazen, Locker Room Lady proceeded to question God about another of His seasons in Life.  This time…the uninvited season of change that descended into this young girl’s life.

“Why God…why these brush strokes?” I asked, still in shock.

“Why leave her so exposed in this cold, cold world?”

“Where is Your Glory to be found in this scene?” I whispered for the second time in a week.

This time my words didn’t just fall from my mouth.  They, instead, flowed from the depths of my heart.  A heart in unexpected anguish.  A heart with no answers for my own questions.  A heart now made ready for the Divine Artist to step down into and set up His Easel to Paint.

Over the next few weeks, I watched Him paint a portrait of this young lady for me. Her assigned gym locker ended up being right around the corner from where I stood for most of my supervisory time in the locker room.  This allowed me to remain within earshot of many conversations that took place between Autumn and some of the other girls.  Curiosity drove the girls to tunnel a lot deeper into Autumn’s past than I would ever have dared to go.  As I listened to the other girl’s chatting back and forth, I soon learned that Autumn began her life as an orphan; left on the steps of a two-story Chinese orphanage.  She was abandoned by her birth-mother shortly after birth. When Autumn was eleven months old, a fire swept through the orphanage, consuming everything and everyone in its path.  Numerous babies and children lost their lives this day but, not before the wrath of the fire inflicted its permanent damages on her.  Unrecognizable and a near-casualty, baby Autumn spent an extended time in the burn unit of a Chinese hospital.  Nurses and doctors cared for her around the clock; treating extensive burns to her head, face and body; including her right arm and hand.  Burns which left her blind in one eye and bearing the tragic scars that now placed her on a low-eligibility list, concerning Chinese adoption status.  However, Chinese adoption status was no match for the Hand of God in this matter.  For, waiting back in the United States was a family who deliberately chose to adopt this living miracle; above all the other children made available to them.  She arrived in the United States as a toddler and since then, has undergone repeated surgeries and multiple skin grafts.  These surgeries will remain a necessary part of Autumn’s life for as long as she continues to grow and change.

Over the next few weeks, my desire to shelter her never went away.  But each time I felt compelled to run to her assistance, I also felt the Hand of the Artist holding me back…tugging on me as if to keep me out of the way of the portrait He was still painting for me.

“Just watch,” I heard Him whispering into my anxious heart every day…”Just watch.”

And so I did.  Every day I watched the other girls flock to the full-length mirrors, hanging on the ends of the locker bays like ants drawn to sugar.  There they stood, beholding their own reflections; conducting their own mini-beauty contests.  By the time I watched them put a third layer of mascara onto already foot-long lashes, I could almost hear them chanting in their hearts,   “Mirror, mirror, on the wall…It’s true; I’m the fairest of them all!”

Then…I watched Autumn standing in their shadows unnoticed.  She paused there only for a moment; long enough to share a tiny corner of the same mirror.  Though she had no lashes and no vision in one of her eyes, I watched a smile quietly invade the scars stretched so taut across her face.  A beautiful smile.  One that told the story of a grateful heart, uttering with every single beat, “I’m here…and just thankful to be alive!”

I watched the girls banging on their locker doors with both fists in frustration when locker combinations didn’t open up on the first try.  Unwilling to try again, they always hollered out for the Locker Room Lady to, “…”bring us the key!”

Then, I saw Autumn crunched down silently on her knees before her bottom-row locker. I watched as she turned the combination over and over and over again with great difficulty.  Never did she utter a complaint or think to call out for help.  I suppose that in a lifetime that has been filled with endless moments of frustration, this is only one more time of her choosing to not give up.  One more time for her to be thankful for the full use of her one good hand.

On Picture Day, I watched some of the girls break into tears because the picture on their school I.D. didn’t reflect the perfect, unblemished image they hoped to project to the outside world.

But…Autumn only tucked her I.D. away in a book bag with a shrug, claiming, “It’s just a picture…it’s not the real me.”

My heart melted at her words.  Autumn may live inside of a thirteen year old body, but she speaks with a level of wisdom that most adults never reach in a lifetime.  It is the wisdom that comes with learning to see life from the inside out.  A Heavenly Insight, daily reassuring her that the contours of a person’s face should never be given a higher priority than the shape of a person’s heart.  Her beautiful heart is in so many ways, the Divine Artist’s Signature on the portrait of her life.

I stand amazed every day as I watch this young girl whom the world has deemed less-than-perfect , helping to make the world around her a more perfect place to be.  She reaches with her one hand, farther than most of us will ever be willing to go with two good hands.  Though blind in one eye, she never fails to see the needs of those around her.  She has plenty of reasons of her own to cry over…but instead, she saves those tears for the times I’ve seen her sitting on a locker room bench consoling a broken-hearted peer.

There is a quiet strength that abides deep within Autumn.  One that allows her to withstand the coldness that surrounds her.  To live above the Locker Room’s unwritten Rule of Thumb, which dictates, “You are who you think others think you are.”

How fitting that her adoptive parents should choose to name her Autumn.  She is a beautiful reflection of the Fall season.  A season marked by change.  A season that mirrors so well, the meaning of self-sacrifice…the quiet surrendering of a beautiful raiment, so a cold, brown earth might be touched and changed for a time by its leaves of gold.

The Seasons of Life sometimes offer us branches, stripped bare and standing in wide open abandonment on a whitewashed horizon in a cold, cold world.  At first glance, most of us find it too difficult to see past the barrenness of such a scene.  Some of us will even go so far as to question the brush strokes of the Divine Artist; daring to ask Him,

“Why? What purpose is there?”  or even,  “Where is Your Glory to be found in such a scene?”

Whether looking at His portrait of a young teenage girl named, Autumn; framed in the chaos of a girl’s locker room…

Or gazing out across the barren branches of trees, shivering along the whitewashed horizon of a Fall landscape…

Hear His Voice. Just watch, while He sets up His Easel in your own heart to Paint.

The Divine Artist’s Answer will always be the same.

“Because the branches are bare… My Glory shines brighter there.”

“The Lord doesn’t see things the way you see them.  People judge by outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the Heart.”  (I Samuel 16: 7b NLT)