History offers no man a more unique gift than that of a bicycle. This priceless set of wheels began as a simple walking machine known as the Hobby Horse; back in the early 1800’s. Today’s bicycle has gradually evolved into a modern day two-wheel miracle structure, whose framework flaunts the very secrets to living a successful life! No one will ever find a visible set of these ‘instructions’ inside any box containing the parts of a brand-new bicycle. Such secrets are well disguised, but well worth the effort it takes to discover them. You see, most anyone can learn to ride a bicycle, but to grasp the ‘magic’ involved in learning to pedal with purpose across the paths of time…THAT is where the secret lies.
Everything I ever wanted to know about a bicycle, I learned from my dad. One hot summer afternoon, I remember my dad dumping hundreds of loose pieces of metal from an over-sized cardboard box, into a pile on our front porch. My eight-year-old brain swam aimlessly around in that metallic sea of confusion. Dad seemed to understand it all. With skillful hands he assembled each piece, glancing occasionally over at a paper scrawled with thousands of tiny, meaningless words and confusing diagrams. Dad proved himself a real miracle-worker that day! From my perspective, he took metal from cardboard and referring every so often to a piece of paper… he created my first bike!
“There you go, Debbie. It’s all yours!” he said, standing it up in front of me.
I paid my dad in hundreds that day! Hundreds of times of squealing, “Thank you…thank you…thank you!” while jumping up and down a hundred times more! I marveled at her beauty as I stood before my bike with my dad. Her radiant blue color struck me so, I went on to name her, “Big Blue!” From that moment on she became for me an adventure waiting to happen.
Oddly enough, the first adventure that Big Blue and I shared was just trying to keep her upright. My Dad positioned me on the seat, put the pedals in an up-down position, and held me steady.
“Let me go, Daddy! Just let me go!” I cried with confidence. As the front wheels rolled forward, I could hear my dad trying to warn me.
“Are you sure you don’t need these training wheels?” he hollered.
By the time Dad spit out his last word, I’d already wibbled and wobbled my way into a three-foot deep ditch. Though I landed in soft green grass, my pride was brutally shattered. Big Blue went down, and she took me with her…or had it been the other way around?
In the days to come, my dad spent countless hours coaxing, coaching, and chasing me up and down the driveway. His hand never failed to steady me when I leaned a little too much one way or another. And I always did. For every time I managed to keep Big Blue upright, I fell down five more times. I became well acquainted with what my dad called the “ground rules!”
“It’s ok.” he often repeated. “Falling is just part of the learning process. One of these days soon you’ll catch the magic!” he assured me with a smile.
Hills of discouragement heaped themselves all around me. I spent hours in these hills in the beginning stages of befriending my Schwinn. In those moments of doubt, I often sought refuge in the sounds of Dad’s voice, echoing from hilltop to hilltop.
“One of these days, you and Big Blue will become the best of friends!” Dad promised me.
Two weeks later, Big Blue and I did share our first moment of true friendship as I sailed upright, down the full length of our gravel driveway! Elated, I skidded to a halt and turned to find Dad jumping up and down at the other end of the driveway, giving me two thumbs-up! He paid ME in hundreds that day! Hundreds of times of yelling out, “Good job, Sweetie…good job!” “You just needed to keep pedaling!”
F-i-n-a-l-l-y, my young heart grasped the principles he’d been trying to instill in me all along. My Dad believed in me from the very beginning…even when I didn’t. The sounds of his voice, not too far behind me, helped to keep me in proper balance between Big Blue’s wheels. My dad never did let me buckle under the idea that the task was too big for me to master. After all, he knew what I could accomplish under the loving guidance of his hand.
Big Blue and I began a ride that day which has carried me from childhood into my adult years. For me, my bi-cycle proved itself to be among the most significant of all the cycles of life. Its framework has provided the support system I needed for learning balance in life, and the unwritten instructions for living it successfully.
You see, I still wibble and wobble my way across Life’s pathways. I am forever running ahead of my Heavenly Father crying out, “Let me go! Just let me go!” (“Pride ends in a fall…”Proverbs 29:23 LAB). I fall!
From the midst of the ditch, I hear His Voice asking me, “Are you sure you don’t need the training wheels?” (“There is a way which seems right to a man, but it’s end is the way of death.” Proverbs 14:23 LAB).
Over my lifetime, my Heavenly Father has spent countless hours rescuing, wooing, and instructing me along bumpy roads, blind curves, and dead ends. Frequently, in my own discouragement, I have heard His Voice whispering softly in my ear, “It’s ok…falling is just a part of life’s learning process. Keep on pedaling, and one of these days you’ll catch the magic!”
Do you know what I’ve discovered that ‘magic’ to be? It is the unfailing Promise of His Hand, always there to steady me. My Father’s Hand…nothing short of an invisible wall holding me upright throughout Life’s Journey.
Everything I learned in life about riding my bicycle, I learned from my dad. Everything I learned on my bicycle about living my life, I learned from my Heavenly Father. My bicycle is still that beautiful piece of machinery from whose framework I gleaned the secrets of living a successful life. From childhood to becoming a child of God, the message remains the same. “Trust your Father’s Hand…hear your Father’s Voice.” Discover the magic and experience the freedom that comes when you f-i-n-a-l-l-y find yourself balancing upright between the Wheels of Life. Hear your Father calling out to you from behind, ” Just keep pedaling…but pedal now with greater purpose across the Pathways of Time!”
“But with
[my Father]
all things are
possible!”
(Matthew 19:26 b)
(This story is dedicated to the memory of my dad, Norman Hutton, 1934-2025, on Father’s Day 2025)
These are the words that flowed so beautifully from my Granddaughter, Chelsea’s mouth one day after I returned home from work. In her dimpled hand was her Daddy’s cell phone, and on it played the melody that stirred her little heart to sing out these words of Truth. She didn’t just sing them…she belted each word out! Chelsea did so with unbridled passion, even choreographing her own 60-second dance segment in the middle of my kitchen. Grammie and Grandpa’s hearts melted right there on the spot. We stood there clapping, tears rolling down our cheeks, as we watched our little girl’s spontaneous joy and love for God spilling into the room non-stop!
February…or Loveuary, as Hallmark Movies have come to call it, has been defined as, “A month to celebrate love in its entirety.” But not even Hallmark’s most beloved Valentine movie ever…could capture my heart the same way Chelsea’s spontaneous 60-second song-and-dance routine did in my kitchen that day! To me, her passionate routine was a great picture of what life looks like when God is still your First-Love. Her song reflected the words of The One living down inside of her beautiful three-year-old heart. Strong Words…True Words…Uncompromising Words. Jesus’ Words. Words that she both responded to and then chose to share passionately with those around her.
After finishing her dance, Chelsea pulled me down close to her and whispered, “I love Jesus,” into my ear.
“Why do you love Jesus?” I questioned her, just to hear the sweet response she always gave me.
“I love Jesus because Jesus loves me!”
Then she again broke out into an encore of her song and dance, “God is so Strong and so Kind and so Powerful!”
Our love for God is the very foundation on which all of our lives are meant to be lived. Each of us was created by the Hand of Love…to live a life of love. Chelsea’s genuine passion and love for her God was so beautiful and so captivating to be around that day…especially after having spent the day navigating the ‘harshness’ of my work world. Too often, our preoccupied minds and overburdened hearts make us forget that we were made to be loved. We acknowledge our need to be known and loved by our spouse, family, and friends surrounding us, but have a tendency to lose touch with the deepest longings within us to be loved by our Creator…the Lover of our Souls. After all, God’s first and greatest commandment in the Bible is to ‘Love Him First.’ Our calling in life is to “Love the Lord your God with all of your heart and with all of your soul and with all of your mind and with all of your strength” (Deuteronomy 6:5). This is the essence of what we should be striving for in our everyday lives. And on those days when this broken world we live in tries to blur what it looks like to ‘Love God First,’ I think of little Chelsea and her passionate song and dance in my kitchen that day; and am reminded of why I, too, love Jesus…because Jesus Loves me! From now into eternity, choosing God as our First Love is, and always will be, our deepest response back to Him, “The One Who First Loved us!”
“We love because He first loved us.”
(1 John 4:19)
HEART TRAPPINGS PRAYER:
Dearest Heavenly Father,
Forgive us for allowing the things of this broken world to come between You and our love for You. Create in us a clean heart…a heart that continually desires to know You as our First Love in this life. Help us to experience the Strength…Kindness…Love…and Power of living life from Your Perspective in the days to come. Teach us, as you taught little Chelsea, to sing and dance joyfully before You, to the Tune of Your Voice in our hearts, because it changes the world around us. May the Joy of the Lord always be our strength!
“May you be blessed with the Spirit of theseason, which is Peace…the gladness of theseason, which is Hope…and the heart of the season, which is Love.”
–unknown–
Bubble Gum Smiles…
by Debbie Allen
Pastor Jonathan juggled his brief case and a steaming cup of coffee, while making his way up the crumbling, cement steps of the Presbyterian church on Maine Street, in Olde Towne Littleton. It was his church, as well as a second home to him, for the last twenty years. With great difficulty, he struggled to turn his key in the hundred-year-old arched, oak entryway door. Placing a weary shoulder up against the door. he gave it a hefty push until it flung wide open. Once inside the foyer, he secured the door again; knowing it would be a couple of hours before anyone else would enter the building.
A set of double doors which opened up into the small sanctuary before him drew his gaze.
“Hmmmm…someone must have left the lights on last night.” he thought, heading for the switch inside the doors.
Poking his head inside the double doors, his jaw dropped. Hundreds of tiny strands of morning’s first-light streaming in through an eastern exposure of stained-glass windows splattered an array of color across the entire sanctuary in kaleidoscopic beauty. In the midst of this rare display of quiet splendor, Pastor Jonathan’s eyes fixed themselves on his pulpit. It had been beautifully transformed into more of a pedestal of Hope. Stretched out across the top of it, lay a perfect smiling reflection of the little Baby Jesus.
“Good morning, Lord.” Jonathan uttered, smiling back. “And thank you. Thank you for giving me such a beautiful picture to dwell upon this morning.“
Sipping on his coffee, he lingered a moment longer in the sanctuary and then added softly, “I know You surely must mean it as the replacement thought for that dreadful image of the empty green chair that haunts me every morning. But Lord, my heart…it’s still so tender. And the emptiness…well, it just seems so incredibly big.”
Pastor Jonathan continued praying silently, while walking down a narrow corridor leading him into his study. He looked upon this early morning refuge as more a place of solace than of duty. Lately, these early hours provided him a much-needed hiding place, to escape his unwanted thoughts of the empty green chair back at home. His wife, Lorna’s chair. The one sitting so silently in a corner of his living room.
“Only six short months ago…” he thought, shaking his head. That’s when the cancer stole her away from him so suddenly. Every morning since then, he tried to turn his eyes away from the chair as he passed by it. But the image remained…as if branded into his thoughts. Plagued by the thought of it, Pastor Jonathan made his way over to his desk and sat down to try and focus on Sunday’s sermon.
The ‘Big Green Chair’ in Pastor Jonathan’s life haunted him daily with thoughts of the unexpected emptiness that still consumed him in this season of overwhelming loss.
Opening his Bible, he read quietly for the next hour and a half. Thats when his eyes fell upon these words in Ecclesiastes.
“Everything is appropriate in its own time. But though God has planted eternity in the hearts of men, even so, many cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from beginning to end.” he read aloud. (Ecclesiastes 3:11).
His Bible still in hand, he walked a few steps beyond his desk to bask in a shaft of warm sunlight, streaming in through a cathedral window.
“Everything is appropriate in its own time.” he repeated again.
“How true this is, Lord. Even as a man of God, I can barely see my way past this one green chair in my life.”
“E-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g.” No doubt this word includes my emptiness.” He said in a reflective tone.
Glancing up from his book, Pastor Jonathan caught sight of a group of small children waving at him from the courtyard below. He couldn’t help but smile as they giggled and ran away the very minute he acknowledged them. In a remote corner of that same courtyard, he spotted a young couple almost hidden by a maple tree reaching over them like an enormous umbrella. Studying them for a bit, he shook his head sadly, as he watched the young man storm-off in another direction, leaving the girl sobbing in the corner by herself.
“Emptiness again, Lord. It is in every corner of our world these days.”
Returning to his desk, he grabbed his pen. Eyeing a blank page in his journal, he began to write:
Monday…Oct.4, 1998
Concerning ‘emptiness…’
A blank piece of paper. The silence of a song whose melody remains unwritten. A green chair where no one comes to sit anymore. The strained beating of a heart steeped in the pain of a broken relationship…
All of these are reflections of the shadowy side of life. They each speak of a hidden void which eventually seeps into every human soul, as we encounter our battles in life. Each in its own way reeks of the cruelty of emptiness. But Lord… Is it ever possible for emptiness to present itself as a ‘gift’ in this world?
By now Pastor’s two deep-brown eyes had taken refuge under the precipice of his great brow. Spidery creases ran throughout his forehead like little tributaries, cut there by a swelling river of concern for the needs of those all around him. In the midst of wrestling with life, Pastor Jonathan glanced up to find three-year-old, Jenny standing silently in the doorway; just looking at him.
“Well, hello Jenny.” He said, surprised to see anyone standing there.
Jenny had been one of the children who waved to him from the courtyard a few moments earlier.
“Just what is it that brings you in here today, little one?” he said, kneeling down to her eye level.
Jenny immediately flashed a million-dollar smile back at him before answering.
“Mmm…nuffing, Pastor Jonafin.” she managed to say before shrugging and looking down at her feet. “Mommy is parking the car. She said for me to wait here… an…ummm…I have sumfing for you.”
With these precious words, Jenny opened her tightly crumpled fingers revealing three shiny, new pennies.
“For you.” She repeated, her eyes sparkling like diamonds as she spilled them out into his giant hand.
“For you,” Jenny repeated, her eyes sparkling like diamonds as she spilled three shiny new pennies into Pastor Jonafin’s giant hand.”
Carefully, she folded his fingers up around the pennies, pushing his hand gently away from her.
Even though her hand was now empty, Pastor Jonathan could see that her heart remained as full as any three-year-old’s heart could ever be.
You see, as she stood in the doorway of his office earlier, she studied the look he wore on his face. Every line…. every grimace…every fold troubled her. Though she could not begin to understand the reason for them; somehow… in the wisdom of a little child, she knew she needed to do something to bring back his missing smile. The one she so loved seeing on his face.
“Thank you, Jenny…thank you!”
His heart still melting inside his chest, he reached up and pulled her face into his gaze. He could find no more words, but she seemed perfectly content with the ear-to-ear grin he now displayed.
“It wooked!” she shrieked, giving Pastor Jonathan a big hug.
Right away she remembered the joy she felt when her Mommy placed those pennies into her own hand that morning. Immediately, visions of pink bubblegum began to dance in her head! And…in the mind of this three-year-old ‘visionary’, the same miracle just worked for Pastor Jonathan too.
Watching her skip out the door, Pastor Jonathan sighed, feeling as though he’d just been given a bear-hug by God Himself.
“Whoever thinks to look for the answer to some of the world’s biggest problems in some of the world’s smallest places…in the hand of a child?” he marveled silently.
With pen-in-hand, he again sat down to write. Seeing the three shiny pennies on the desk before him continued to warm his thoughts, filling up his heart like the warm waters of a sweet tea descending into an empty cup. Closing his eyes, he pictured Jenny’s little hand laying in his own giant palm. When those three pennies fell from her hand into his, he clearly remembered hearing a still small Voice within him saying, “Come to Me…and let Me teach you.”
Inspired by Jenny’s generosity, Pastor Jonathan’s thoughts flowed faster than his ink could form the words on paper.
“Truly…” he wrote, “…even emptiness, is appropriate in its own time.” Within the next thirty minutes, he completed Sunday’s sermon. He entitled it, “Unselfish Giving”.
The following Sunday, Pastor Jonathan delivered this message to his congregation. Not one dry eye remained in the sanctuary by the time he finished speaking…including his own. As he stepped from behind his podium after the service, a man intercepted him before he could reach the foyer.
“Here you go, Pastor. These are for you!” a man spoke through a toothy grin, before dropping three quarters into his hand.
“There’s one for each of Jenny’s pennies.” he explained. “Thank you.” Pastor said, still somewhat taken back by such a gesture. On his way to the foyer, another member of the congregation stepped forward and placed three one-dollar bills in his hand.
“Powerful message…” the lady said still daubing her eyes as she walked away from him.
To his astonishment, one of the choir members intercepted him in the parking lot, handing him three one-hundred-dollar bills.
Watching the man walk away, Pastor Jonathan sat humbled, and speechless in his car; overwhelmed by the generosity and response of so many in his congregation.
“How could I have ever doubted what You are able to accomplish through the hand of a little child, Lord?” he pondered on the drive home.
And so, it went throughout the next week. Every morning when Pastor Jonathan entered his study, he continued to find new stacks of donations in a pile on his desk. After giving it much thought, he decided he needed to do something special with the money.
“Janice…” he said, peeking his head out the door in search of the church secretary. “You know that drinking fountain we’ve been needing in this foyer for so long?”
“Yes, Pastor…” she replied in a hopeful tone.
“Go ahead and have it installed.” “Oh and…one more thing. I need you to have a bronze plaque made with these words inscribed on it,” he added walking towards her.
Her brow scrunched; Janice picked her way through the scribbles written down on the little piece of paper he handed her.
“JENNY’S THREE PENNY FOUNTAIN,” she read aloud, a giant grin of approval overtaking her frown.
“That’s right, Janice. I want to dedicate the fountain to little Jenny. I want it to be a constant reminder to those of us who pass through this foyer, of how God takes such small beginnings and turns them into a much greater end.”
“I’ll give her parents a call, too.” Janice added, turning to pick up the phone.
On the following Sunday, Pastor dedicated that new drinking fountain to little Jenny. Slipping her small hand into his own, they both approached the fountain together.
“Do you know what that sign says, Miss Jenny?” Pastor inquired, pointing up at the little bronze plaque hanging above it.
Tilting her head to one side like she’d been reading since birth, Jenny recited, “Jenny’s Thwee Penny Fowtain.”
“That’s exactly right…and now you get to take the first drink from your fountain,” he said, picking her up so she could reach the spigot.
“Mmmmm…the water’s just prefit!” she said in a very grown-up way, wiping the overspray from her cheek.
Pastor smiled, knowing she’d meant to say perfect.
“Indeed, it is, Jenny.‘‘Prefit’ in every way!” he added letting a mouthful of the cool waters tumble into his own open lips.
Waving good-bye to Jenny, he watched her walk away with her parents, still wiping water from her face.
Bending down to sip again from the fountain, something else occurred to him:
The Greatest Blessing that this world has ever known also entered into this world through the emptiness of a little Child’s Hand. God’s Child…the Baby Jesus. From the emptiness of a manger, Jesus’ little Hand reached out into the darkness of this world. Those tiny fingers contained the price of One life, which He willingly spilled out into the hands of this world, to purchase a Fountain for His Church...a Fountain that flows Forevermore!
Pastor’s eyes fell upon the bronze plaque once more. Running his fingers across each individual letter, he whispered softly,
“Lord… Your plaque would’ve read, “Jesus’ Fountain of Living Water.”
Touched by this thought, Pastor Jonathan continued to marvel at how many ways God had chosen to weave the story of Jenny’s ‘Three Penny Fountain’ into his own emptiness. Heading into his office for the last time, he sat down at his desk to make one final entry into his journal for the week. Eagerly, he wrote the answer to his question from the Oct. 4th entry.
Sunday…Oct.16, 1998
Concerning the Gift of Emptiness:
Lord…I ask this question once again, “Is it ever possible for ‘emptiness’ to present itself as a gift to this world?” From the perspective of both a Pastor and a child of God, all of the wisdom that is needed to answer this question still lays in the Hand of a Child…Your Son, Lord. From the Wisdom of a little Child my heart has come to know these truths:
Carefully, she folded his fingers up around the pennies, pushing his hand gently away from her.
Even though her hand was now empty, Pastor Jonathan could see that her heart remained as full as any three-year-old’s heart could ever be.
You see, as she stood in the doorway of his office earlier, she studied the look he wore on his face. Every line…. every grimace…every fold troubled her. Though she could not begin to understand the reason for them; somehow… in the wisdom of a little child, she knew she needed to do something to bring back his missing smile. The one she so loved seeing on his face.
“Thank you, Jenny…thank you!”
His heart still melting inside his chest, he reached up and pulled her face into his gaze. He could find no more words, but she seemed perfectly content with the ear-to-ear grin he now displayed.
“It wooked!” she shrieked, giving Pastor Jonathan a big hug.
Right away she remembered the joy she felt when her Mommy placed those pennies into her own hand that morning. Immediately, visions of pink bubblegum began to dance in her head! And…in the mind of this three-year-old ‘visionary’, the same miracle just worked for Pastor Jonathan too.
Watching her skip out the door, Pastor Jonathan sighed, feeling as though he’d just been given a bear-hug by God Himself.
“Whoever thinks to look for the answer to some of the world’s biggest problems in some of the world’s smallest places…in the hand of a child?” he marveled silently.
With pen-in-hand, he again sat down to write. Seeing the three shiny pennies on the desk before him continued to warm his thoughts, filling up his heart like the warm waters of a sweet tea descending into an empty cup. Closing his eyes, he pictured Jenny’s little hand laying in his own giant palm. When those three pennies fell from her hand into his, he clearly remembered hearing a still small Voice within him saying, “Come to Me…and let Me teach you.”
Inspired by Jenny’s generosity, Pastor Jonathan’s thoughts flowed faster than his ink could form the words on paper.
“Truly…” he wrote, “…even emptiness, is appropriate in its own time.” Within the next thirty minutes, he completed Sunday’s sermon. He entitled it, “Unselfish Giving”.
The following Sunday, Pastor Jonathan delivered this message to his congregation. Not one dry eye remained in the sanctuary by the time he finished speaking…including his own. As he stepped from behind his podium after the service, a man intercepted him before he could reach the foyer.
“Here you go, Pastor. These are for you!” a man spoke through a toothy grin, before dropping three quarters into his hand.
“There’s one for each of Jenny’s pennies.” he explained. “Thank you.” Pastor said, still somewhat taken back by such a gesture. On his way to the foyer, another member of the congregation stepped forward and placed three one-dollar bills in his hand.
“Powerful message…” the lady said still daubing her eyes as she walked away from him.
To his astonishment, one of the choir members intercepted him in the parking lot, handing him three one-hundred-dollar bills.
Watching the man walk away, Pastor Jonathan sat humbled, and speechless in his car; overwhelmed by the generosity and response of so many in his congregation.
“How could I have ever doubted what You are able to accomplish through the hand of a little child, Lord?” he pondered on the drive home.
And so, it went throughout the next week. Every morning when Pastor Jonathan entered his study, he continued to find new stacks of donations in a pile on his desk. After giving it much thought, he decided he needed to do something special with the money.
“Janice…” he said, peeking his head out the door in search of the church secretary. “You know that drinking fountain we’ve been needing in this foyer for so long?”
“Yes, Pastor…” she replied in a hopeful tone.
“Go ahead and have it installed.” “Oh and…one more thing. I need you to have a bronze plaque made with these words inscribed on it,” he added walking towards her.
Her brow scrunched; Janice picked her way through the scribbles written down on the little piece of paper he handed her.
“JENNY’S THREE PENNY FOUNTAIN,” she read aloud, a giant grin of approval overtaking her frown.
“That’s right, Janice. I want to dedicate the fountain to little Jenny. I want it to be a constant reminder to those of us who pass through this foyer, of how God takes such small beginnings and turns them into a much greater end.”
“I’ll give her parents a call, too.” Janice added, turning to pick up the phone.
On the following Sunday, Pastor dedicated that new drinking fountain to little Jenny. Slipping her small hand into his own, they both approached the fountain together.
“Do you know what that sign says, Miss Jenny?” Pastor inquired, pointing up at the little bronze plaque hanging above it.
Tilting her head to one side like she’d been reading since birth, Jenny recited, “Jenny’s Thwee Penny Fowtain.”
“That’s exactly right…and now you get to take the first drink from your fountain,” he said, picking her up so she could reach the spigot.
“Mmmmm…the water’s just prefit!” she said in a very grown-up way, wiping the overspray from her cheek.
Pastor smiled, knowing she’d meant to say perfect.
“Indeed, it is, Jenny.‘‘Prefit’ in every way!” he added letting a mouthful of the cool waters tumble into his own open lips.
Waving good-bye to Jenny, he watched her walk away with her parents, still wiping water from her face.
Bending down to sip again from the fountain, something else occurred to him:
The Greatest Blessing that this world has ever known also entered into this world through the emptiness of a little Child’s Hand. God’s Child…the Baby Jesus. From the emptiness of a manger, Jesus’ little Hand reached out into the darkness of this world. Those tiny fingers contained the price of One life, which He willingly spilled out into the hands of this world, to purchase a Fountain for His Church...a Fountain that flows Forevermore!
Pastor’s eyes fell upon the bronze plaque once more. Running his fingers across each individual letter, he whispered softly,
“Lord… Your plaque would’ve read, “Jesus’ Fountain of Living Water.”
Touched by this thought, Pastor Jonathan continued to marvel at how many ways God had chosen to weave the story of Jenny’s ‘Three Penny Fountain’ into his own emptiness. Heading into his office for the last time, he sat down at his desk to make one final entry into his journal for the week. Eagerly, he wrote the answer to his question from the Oct. 4th entry.
Sunday…Oct.16, 1998
Concerning the Gift of Emptiness:
When you find yourself staring into an empty page…let His Words fill in the blanks.
When facing the unbearable emptiness of a big green chair…Know that His Shoulder is already waiting there for you to cry on.
If it is a song in life, you lack…the melody has already been written for you. It is Jesus’ Love Song, written especially for you. The Melody of this Song can always be heard…above even the loudest pounding of your broken heart.
Whatever you find to be the ‘emptiness’ in your cup…allow the Hand of Jesus to spill Love into your own hand. Let Him sweeten your life and fill your cup with the Waters which flow from His Fountain. It is the Fountain that will always flow; with the unspoken and unforeseen blessings found so unexpectedly hidden in the emptiness of a little Child’s Hand. Though sometimes we can’t see it, nonetheless it is there. God put it there…perhaps as a reminder to each of us of the “Blessedness of Emptiness!”
“Come to Me…and let Me teach you.”
(John 11:28a, 30b)
HEART TRAPPINGS
PRAYER: Dearest Heavenly Father…we live in a broken world where it seems unwanted emptiness of every kind taunts us at every turn in life. When the weight of it presses-in upon our frail hearts; keep us from surrendering to the pressures of it. and falling prey to the lies that surround it. Enable us to hear Your Whispers crying out to us instead… beckoning our hearts to see past the emptiness and find the Gift that awaits us there. Like little Jenny and Pastor Jonathan, may we discover for ourselves, those ‘bubblegum smiles’ in life that can also prove to be Gateways leading us to Your very Presence, Lord…. and You are the Gift we find right in the midst of our every ’emptiness.’ Teach our hearts to heed Your Words and Truths in the coming new year, Lord.
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, “Ouchy! Ouchy!”
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 seashore. 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 Fingerprints 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? Whose Beach are you walking on? Whose Hand are you holding? Whose 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!
My Granddaughter, 7yr. old Makayla, preparing to hike on some of the same paths I walked on as a little girl, while enjoying time at our rustic family cabin.
“Between every
two pines
is a doorway to
a new world.”
–John Muir–
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Frenzy in the Forest
by Debbie Allen
As a young girl, I remember spending nearly every weekend up at our family’s rustic, cabin during the summer months. My brothers and I loved it! Life was so different up there. For many years it was our home away from home on the weekends. Up at the cabin, my parents were far more relaxed. Even the dirt that seemed to follow us everywhere we went, didn’t seem to bother them. It was almost as if my mom and dad expected us kids to get dirty. So, we did! We relished the idea of spitting watermelon seeds on the ground, wading in the muddy creek with our shoes still on, and playing for hours, taunting the campfire flames with our sticks; all without consequences. Though many decades have passed since that time, my heart remains a treasure trove of precious memories linked to both my childhood and those carefree, cabin days. In many ways, those cabin memories and the experiences connected to them, have helped to lay the groundwork for how I chose to live my life out all these years! Let me show you what I mean.
It was early morning at the cabin, over 60 years ago. While mom and dad were cleaning up after breakfast, I watched my brothers, Danny and Doug, removing a log panel on the frontside of the cabin. It was what we called, the secret door. It covered a hidden storage space. A few hundred cobwebs later, they retrieved the old wooden ‘Red Flyer’ wagon from within that deep, darkness. Towing the wagon behind us, all three of us raced up the hill to our favorite spot, planning to ride it back down the mountainside! That wagon was the closest thing to flying we ever experienced as kids…even when the ride came to a crashing halt at the bottom of the mountain. Though the flight always came with turbulence, it proved exhilarating too, in spite of all our crash site injuries.
Most of the time, we’d spend half-days flying down that mountainside, but not on this particular day. My dad’s cousins from Arizona, Weldon and Juanita, and their little girl, Elizabeth; were visiting for the day. That meant all the men and boys were going to be hiking the wagon trail and exploring the remnants of a miner’s camp, on one side of the cabin property, while 5-year-old Lizzy and I spent our time wandering in and out of the forest trees on the other side of the cabin. My mom and Juanita just planned to sip campfire coffee all day long at the picnic table, while catching-up with each other. It sounded like the perfect plan for all of us…until it wasn’t.
You see…Lizzy and I, and her baby doll, really did wander in and out of the forest trees for the rest of that morning. We were so busy laughing and talking, playing and gathering pinecones to make her dolly a forest bed to sleep in; I didn’t notice the cabin was no longer in my sights. Realizing nothing in our surroundings looked familiar to me anymore, my heart raced to the tune of my dad’s warnings to my brothers and I, whenever we played out in the forest.
“If you can’t see the cabin, then you know you’ve gone too far.”
Up until now, I’d always abided by that rule.
“We’d better be heading back to the cabin, now.” I suggested to Lizzie, not wanting to scare her. One of us shaking in our boots was enough.
Slipping her hand in mine, I picked a direction I thought was right and we started walking. But the trees grew thicker and thicker, and the pathway steeper. Every step I took led me to believe I was still going in the wrong direction.
Stopping to rest, I felt Lizzie’s eyes on me.
“It’s going to be ok, Lizzie.” I said with a forced smile.
My expression must’ve contradicted my words to her, because the next thing I watched Lizzie do was to pat her dolly’s back as if consoling her.
“Shh-h-h, its ok, baby.” she whispered, “We’re just a little lost.”
I swallowed hard at Lizzie’s words. Hearing her say the word ‘lost’ out loud somehow made the reality of our situation too painfully real. What if we never get back? I thought to myself.
“You’re right, Lizzie…we are lost.” I admitted. “And I’m not sure which way to go.”
I expected to see crocodile tears welling up in her blue eyes by now. Even I was trying hard to blink tears back. But the next thing I knew, Lizzie was wrapping one of my hands around hers, and the other around her dolly’s hand. She followed suit. Soon, we’d formed what I now know to be a prayer circle, right there in the midst of all our forest frenzy. Our heads bowed; I opened my mouth to pray but Lizzie had already said it all for both of us.
“Dear God…we’re just a little lost, so please send us a little help? Amen.”
The forest was so hushed in that moment you could’ve heard a butterfly land on a wildflower. But not for long. After Lizzie’s ‘amen’, that changed. Something belted out a squawk so obnoxious, it startled us both to our feet. I felt Lizzie trembling, so I covered her ears and pulled her closer. I just wanted whatever it was to go away…but it continued squawking even louder. And to that horrendous melody, the ‘squawker’ added chattering and screaming! Finally, still holding onto Lizzie, I spun completely around to find a giant, Blue Jay glowering down at me from one of the highest treetops on the mountainside! Though I was deathly, afraid of birds, I somehow found it in me to glare right back at him. It seemed as long as I did so, he remained quiet. In the silence of that ‘little-girl vs winged-beast’ stare down; I was able to capture the distant rumbles of a motorcycle growing closer. By the time its rumbles turned into roars, I knew the motorcycle passed us by, somewhere way up above our heads. While watching the Blue Jay fly off in the direction of the fading motorcycle sounds, something occurred to me. The road my dad drove me up here on must be up above us! All we had to do was climb up the mountainside to get to the road… and then follow the road back to where the cabin driveway intersected with it!
With tremendous effort, Lizzie and I and her dolly did hike up the mountainside to the road that day. I carried Lizzie a good portion of the way, so by the time we reached the cabin driveway it was a welcome sight. Though our young brows were drenched, our stomachs growling, and our lips parched, our hearts were filled with joy. Lizzie wriggled down out of my arms, and her feet hit the ground running at the sight of the cabin. I wasn’t too far behind her! If the big-word, hallelujah, would’ve been a part of my little-girl vocabulary back then; the sounds of me shouting it throughout the forest would’ve far surpassed even the Blue Jay’s squawking that day! In much the same way Lizzie prayed for us earlier in the middle of our forest frenzy; this little girl with wisdom far beyond her years, again spoke enough for both of us. For the entire length of the driveway, Lizzie bolted towards our mothers’ open arms, shouting at the top of her lungs, “I been found… I been found!”
My pounding heart could do nothing in that moment but fully agree with her; for I too… had been found. By a squawking Blue Jay, planted on a branch and meant to draw my eyes upward…a roaring motorcycle, whose timely arrival pointed out to me the road home…and my God, Whose Hand of Love and Faithfulness I’ve been able to trace throughout many similar experiences, my whole life long.
Dearest Father, Lord, and Savior…how deeply intimate and far reaching is Your Love. Yours is an endless Love that is beyond measurement. It transcends our human understanding…and yet, it’s simple enough for a little child to grasp. The little girl inside of me still cries out to you, “Show me the right path, O LORD; point out the road for me to follow…” for you are still Faithful to do so in every one of my life’s circumstances. “You are the hope of everyone on earth…” “You formed the mountains by Your Power…” “We stand in awe of Your Wonders.” “From where the sun rises to where the sun sets, You inspire shouts of joy!” (Psalm 25:5b,6a,8b). Lord, continue to show us the paths You choose for us and supply the strength and wisdom we need to walk on them in a manner that brings Your Name Glory!
“Peace on earth comes to stay… When we live Christmas every day” –Helen Steiner Rice–
“He performs wonders that cannot be fathomed, miracles that cannot be counted.” (Job 5:9)
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Treasure in the Darkness
by Debbie Allen
Fleeing for her life on a midnight drive from Virginia; Angela hadn’t time to ponder what life might look like for her as a single-mom trying to raise three kids on her own. All she knew that night, was that after catching a glimpse of her fresh, black-eye in the rear-view mirror, alongside the reflection of the three loves-of-her-life, asleep in the back seat of her car; it was enough to keep her driving for days on end. By the time that adrenaline surge inside of her heart subsided, Angela found herself and three little ones, standing before a total stranger; listening as he pointed them in the direction of a one-room cabin he had for rent in Pinecone Junction; a small town nestled high up in the Colorado mountains.
Angela and her children arrived in Pinecone Junction, with little more than the clothes on their back and determined looks on their faces. After handing Mr. Harvey, the kind, stranger, one month’s rent on-the-spot, her cash supply was nearly depleted. She knew she needed to make-do until she could find a job. But, for now…the thought of a little cabin they could call their own for a while was a welcome change from eating roadside, and sleeping in the car; like they’d done for the last two weeks.
“OK, boys…watch for a sign that says, Snowman Gulch.” “That’s our turn-off.
Almost to the edge of town, Tony, 8 years-old, piped-up. “Mom! I see it…it’s right there! Snow…man…Gulch!
They hadn’t driven more than a mile down that dirt road before Jack, 6 years-old, spoke-up, in his usual inquisitive tone. “Mommy, I see deers and bunches of flowers in the meadows but…I just can’t see any snowmens.” “Where are they?”
“Oh, Jack…” Angela answered, trying not to smile, “It’s summer here now. You know snowmen can only be seen in the winter after the snow falls!”
By the time she finished her sentence, the car was filled with laughter. Jack was laughing at himself. Tony was laughing at Jack…and Ellie, 3 years-old, was laughing, just because she could!
As they pulled up in front of the little cabin-in-the-woods; a tear rolled down Angela’s cheek. Her heart was full at the sounds of her children laughing together once again. One of many things that fear had erased from each of their lives back in Virginia. Helping Ellie up onto the porch, Angela’s heart raced with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. She’d not had the freedom to make such life-altering decisions for a long time. Taking a deep breath, she turned the key in the rustic lock and the boys pushed the creaky, pine plank door open.
“Oh wow…its perfect, Mom!” Tony assured her.
“And I can get up on this and look for the snowmen…when they come!” Jack insisted, while boosting himself up onto a little bench under a picture window overlooking the porch. He wasn’t thoroughly convinced yet that snowmen didn’t live all-year-round in a place named Snowman Gulch.
“This place will be what we make it, boys!” Angela replied, already feeling safer than she’d felt for a long time. Tony and Jack ran for the bunk beds on the opposite side, shouting as they went, “I get the top bunk…I get the bottom bunk!”
Angela scooped up little, Ellie, clinging tight to her leg with her thumb in her mouth.
“I guess that leaves us girls with that beautiful brass bed in the corner!”
Wriggling free from Mama’s arms, even Ellie ran for her bed screaming, “Mine…mine!” all the way there.
“Yes…” Angela thought, watching Ellie claw her way up onto the big, brass bed. The cabin was small, but it truly was a God-send!”
With her past waitress experience, Angela took on a job right away at the local diner. Though she didn’t make much, with tips, her salary covered the rent and bought a few sparse groceries to keep on hand. On the nights when the cupboards were bare-bone, her boss, Lilly, just seemed to know when to send home extras from the diner with her, to feed the kids. It was also Lilly, who loaned Angela a car to drive; when Angela was forced to sell her own car for enough cash to keep them afloat. She’d cut up all her credit cards when they left Virginia to lessen the possibility of her where-abouts being traced. It was also Angela’s way of trying to sever all ties with her husband, Ken. Both she and the kids had suffered enough under his hand over the years. And now that her Dad had recently passed away too, there was no going back to Virginia…ever. Keeping Tony, Jack, and Ellie safe was her first and only priority these days.
Though life in Pinecone Junction was good…Angela couldn’t deny that it had also been tough on them all. Lilly, who became a close friend, Mr. Harvey, her landlord, and many other neighbors stepped in over the last six months, to help her out when they could. Angela was grateful for all the clothing donated to her and the kids; especially with the cold weather arriving. But tonight, was Christmas Eve…and though her paycheck had covered the rent; there was next to nothing left over to buy gifts for the kids. Heartbroken at the thought of it, and exhausted from work, Angela plopped down in the big pine, rocking chair in front of a crackling fire. The kids were tucked into bed and fast asleep, excited for their first Christmas morning at the cabin. The sweet words Jack prayed at bedtime, still rang in her ears.
“And God…could you please just bring me a snowman for Christmas? They’ve been hiding from me all year.”
With a sigh and a smile, she propped her feet up on the warm hearth wrapping herself up in the Christmas quilt she found in the cabin attic. Despair, fear, and anxiety all pressing down on her heart at once, she began to sob. In between tears she caught sight of the three white, socks that Tony, Jack, and Ellie had laid on the hearth for Santa to fill, knowing their Christmas stockings were left back in Virginia.
“What precious children you have given to me. God” Angela sobbed. “Oh, dear Lord…I don’t deserve them. They’ve been through so much. I feel like such a failure in so many ways…God, please tell me what to do.”
Burying her face deeper into the quilt to muffle her sobs, she heard something in the background. Lifting her head to listen, Angela composed herself enough to tip-toe over and check on the kids. They hadn’t moved since she tucked them in.
“There it was again!” she thought, growing even more alarmed. “Something…or someone was definitely moving around on her front porch!”
“Oh God…please keep us safe.” She prayed, the panic she was all too familiar with, rising up inside of her.
“Maybe it was Ken…had he finally found them…and now he was coming to take back his children with force and…who knows what he would do to her!!!” she imagined silently, to the tune of her pounding heart.
Crouching down now on the opposite side of Ellie’s bed, she reached up and grabbed the phone off of the night stand; then made her way over to the hearth where she could see to call the sheriff. Half-way through punching his number into the phone, Angela stopped. She listened once more intently, then hung up.
“It’s too late now to call the Sheriff anyway.” She reasoned. If it was Ken, he would’ve already busted that old pine door down by now and been terrorizing them all.
“Something strange was going on.” She thought, noticing an aura of colored light reflecting through the picture window.
Grabbing the fireplace poker, like she’d seen so many times in the movies; she tip-toed over to the front door and just stood there…listening. The shuffling noise had stopped. When what seemed like an eternity had passed, Angela took a deep breath, raised the poker, and turned the door knob slowly. Glancing back at the kids once more, she flung the door wide open!
“I can’t believe my eyes.” Angela whispered in awe. “It’s a little Christmas tree, all lit up… it’s so beautiful.” She added, looking for signs of who might have delivered it.
Underneath that tree were three Christmas stockings filled to the brim with gifts and goodies for the kids. Even their names were embroidered on each stocking.
“I…I can’t believe this.” Angela said, holding back tears, and shivering in the cold. And if that wasn’t enough, what she saw over the top of the Christmas tree, out in the yard, nearly took her breath away!
“Snowmen…someone built Jack his snowmen!”
As she looked closer at the snowmen, her heart melted. Never had she seen anything quite like this before. Two snowmen…one, a daddy, and one of them a child…both making snow angels in the snow. “My Daddy and I made snow-angels together, every Christmas Eve when I was growing up!” she whispered.” “Thank you, God…only You could’ve known this and how very much I miss my Dad this Christmas.”
With more than a grateful heart, Angela transported the stockings and the little tree back into the cabin, placing them near the hearth.
“What a beautiful sight.” She marveled, plugging-in the tree again. It was decorated with envelope after envelope, tied to the branches with red, satin ribbon. Angela reached for the one at the top of the tree first. Her name was written on it. Opening it, three hundred-dollar bills fell out on her lap.
“This is the rent money, I handed to Mr. Harvey earlier tonight!”
The unsigned note inside of it read simply, “Merry Christmas!”
The little Christmas tree’s branches were loaded with handwritten notes of encouragement, coupons for free babysitting, gift cards to the General Store, as well as many other shops in Pinecone Junction. There were even homemade cookies hanging on some of the branches.
Overwhelmed with gratitude, Angela recognized that this Christmas tree was decorated with love…the love of strangers who, over time, became friends; friends who became family; and of course, the Love of God disguised in them all.
Curling up next to Ellie that night, in her big brass bed, Angela wept silent, tears of great joy. She couldn’t stop thinking about her Dad, the snowmen making snow-angels, and the beautiful Christmas tree decorated with love. What had begun this Christmas Eve as a nightmare, had ended as a miracle. The miracle of Christmas was written across every gift she’d received tonight. And tomorrow, it would be written all over again in the expressions that Tony, Jack, and Ellie would be wearing when their sleep-filled eyes behold the beauty of the treasures that came to them in the darkness…much like the Love of Jesus came on that first Christmas night.
“As Angela looked closer at the snowmen, her heart melted. Never had she seen anything so beautiful. It was like looking at a frozen memory from her past…one of her as a little girl making snow-angels with her Daddy on Christmas Eve.”
” May you be inspired by Giving, changed by Love, filled with Peace, and touched by your own Christmas Miracles in this Season of Love and in the New Year to come! ”
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