“The beauty of the rose

lasts for a moment

but its memory can

last for a lifetime!

–unknown–

A Trail of Roses…

by Debbie Allen

Ever since I can remember, my heart has always been drawn to roses. Perhaps this fascination stems from my mother having shared with me as a child, that a vase of pink roses was the very first gift I ever received; after she brought me into this world. As a little girl, mom further cemented in my mind just how special roses are; the day she took me by the hand and showed me a couple of those same little rosebuds from the hospital; still pressed between two pages in my baby book.  Though much too fragile for me to touch, just seeing a lock of my baby hair taped beside its faded, pink petals stirred something inside my heart that day…something I wouldn’t understand or even be aware of until decades later.

That stirring process deepened every time my grandma asked me to work alongside her in her rose garden.  One day after she and I finished trimming-up all of her rose bushes, she stood watching me struggle to arrange a few loose pink buds and roses in a vase on her kitchen table. Questioning my own 7-year-old flower arranging skills, I turned and asked her, “Grandma, does this look ok?”

Without hesitation, she stooped down, pulling my face into hers; and with the world’s biggest grin, she responded, “They are just like you, my little Rosebud…perfect and beautiful!”  Standing there blushing, all I could think to do in that moment was to hug…hug…hug her; for even at the tender age of seven, I’d come to know and understand just how treasured a little rosebud could be in this world; and now I’d become one of them!

Though my grandma has long-since passed away, her endearing nickname for me remains a precious gift to my heart. Even today, when I’m working out in my own rose garden; I still hear the faint whispers of her voice calling me her little “Rosebud.”  That memory continues to warm my heart.  It was no accident that day when God allowed the nickname, “Rosebud” to fall from my grandma’s lips down into my heart.  I believe my Creator…the One Who ordered all the steps of my life and wrote them each down in His Book; already knew my life was destined to be repeatedly shaped and defined by the rose over and over again.

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The Rose exposes in its own beautiful ways; the tenderness of God’s Love for us.

“…the earth is filled with His tender Love.”

Psalms 33:5b lab

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Glancing back over my life since that time, it’s not hard for me to see that a growing trail of roses has been gathering behind me since birth. Not only were there my birthdays, holidays, school dances…my piano recitals, baptism, and graduation; but dating, love, marriage, and eventually the joyous births of my own three boys. Even with all of these, there were still countless other significant events and seasons in my life from childhood on; all marked somehow by the presence and beauty of roses.

  In more recent years, the rose itself even became the defining moment of my life! By the time I reached 60-years-old, the thought of getting a tattoo began resonating in my head. This was anything but a typical direction for me to be thinking in. I was more a tea-and-roses sort of girl…not an ink-and-tatts rebel.  But, with much prayer, God inspired me to blend these two opposing ideas together beautifully. I designed a wrist tattoo of a little pink rose; bearing the words “I AM His…” and the numbers “1:17” inscribed above it. My desire was two-fold. I wanted first, to convey to the world around me that “I am a child of God’s.”  The number’s 1:17 are significant because they represent my life’s chosen verse: Colossians 1:17, which reminds my heart daily of this truth: “All things hold together in Him.”

For the next three years after this, every morning when I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was that pink rose tattooed on my wrist.  It became for me an ever-present reminder to my heart, that I am precious and chosen by God…and that whatever else my day might hold; my God would hold me together no… matter… what. I believed these words with all my heart; or so I thought.  Then, one Saturday morning, I woke up half-blind in my right eye without warning. By the end of the next day, Easter Sunday, my vision was gone in that eye!  By the time I woke up on Monday morning, even focusing both eyes on my rose tattoo; I could only see half of the rose, and just two of the three words visible above it.  I whispered those two words softly to myself, “I AM.”  Though terrified by the thought of what was happening to my vision, I recognized there was something even more profound transpiring with my perspective.  Seeing ‘I AM’ standing alone and knowing it to be the Name of God; I began to see it differently, in my unexpected darkness. This was God’s Signature across my life in this moment. His lavish way of deepening me to the reality and intensity of what it is to bear His Name on my wrist; and to be called ‘His’.  I believed my Father was deepening me… telling His child, in this unwanted, unfathomable, and deeply personal way:

“Trust in Who ‘I AM’, and rely on Me,”

“I AM” … there were those words again. The words tattooed only skin-deep across my wrist for the last three years, were now descending deeper into the depths of my heart; spoken and planted there by my Father.  There was no question what my part was to be in this unwanted story. My role was to ‘trust and rely’ on the One Who “holds all things together” …including me.

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“If you are walking in darkness, without one ray of light,

trust in the Lord and rely on your God.”

Isaiah 50:10 ESV

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Seven years and three major eye surgeries later now, this child of His can tell you with all of her heart, that My Father did indeed, ‘hold me together’. Not only physically and emotionally…but spiritually, too. When the retina inside my eye unraveled that day…in my human frailty, I could’ve followed suit.  But my God, Whose Purposes far exceeded mine, chose to use my blindness to help me see Him more clearly.  Ironic as this sounds, the little pink rose on my wrist, the one I had tattooed there to draw the world’s attention to me, and my relationship with my God; was never intended by God to point me out to anyone. Only to point me back to Him…the Great “I AM.” The One and Only Answer to all… that I am not.

Too often, most of us don’t take time to recognize some of the most significant moments of our lives. Those Divinely timed moments are meant to help define and shape us into who God designed us to be.  For me, those significant moments came in the form of a trail of roses winding behind me throughout my entire life. I’ve learned to see this winding trail of roses in my heart, as God wrapping His Grace around me in every stage and changing season of my life. Now, as I look back over the memories of the roses planted there, I see roses that taught me how treasured a little ‘Rosebud’ could be in this life. I still hear my grandma’s whispers here. But now I know that even her whispers were meant to point my heart towards a Love much greater than even my grandma’s. They were pointing me to the God Who Loves me and calls me His Own.

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“Roses don’t just talk about God’s Beauty…they show it!”

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Every rose is somehow a reflection of God’s Love. Looking back over my own trail of roses, I see evidence of God’s Grace at every twist and turn. There are reflections of peace and love, joy and celebration, growth and flourishing, passion and gratitude, wonder and awe, and beauty unspeakable.  But… like the rose itself, there are thorns there, too.   Portions of my trail were darkened at times, by unwanted trauma and despair, sorrow and fear, pain and disappointment, sickness, and even death. In these places, I cried out more than once, “No rose could ever survive here!”

 But by the time I reached the other side of those thorns; I discovered I was wrong. Every time I dared to turn and look a little deeper at those thorns… I saw the most beautiful Rose ever… planted right in the midst of what my own heart deemed too broken, and too barren to sustain life.  It was the Rose of Sharon…Jesus, Himself! He was the Beauty in these despairing places.  His Beauty and His Presence were planted there to bring me rescue, redemption, and restoration.  Given the choice, I would’ve bypassed these thorny places; yet… at the same time, my spirit was strangely drawn here by the Presence of this Rose of Sharon, time and time again.  Though weariness often prevented me from seeing thorny places as anything but shadows and brokenness… my surrendered heart soon taught me to perceive them as the Sacred Place He’d chosen to shed His Light into my darkness. To kneel beside Him in these unwanted places is where I saw my faith was expanded and my Hope enlarged. Here…I experienced an undeserved exchange.  I received His Joy for all my tears… and His Wholeness for all my broken pieces.  

Every rose planted along this Grace-Laced, trail of roses still growing behind me; has somehow brought me closer to His Heart. But it’s my Rose of Sharon I still cling to the tightest.  His Beauty and Presence always come with the Promise of life and new beginnings; especially when we are called to walk in thorny places. Jesus is the One Whose timely Whispers brush up against His rosebuds in earthly gardens, and their tender petals begin to unfold, grow, and finally bloom in full. Likewise…the only Hope any ‘Rosebud’ on earth has of finding life, maturing, and flourishing in this world; lies in hearing and responding to the Tender Rushes of His Whispers against the petals of our own hearts.  For His Whispers are His Beautiful reminders of just how treasured a little ‘Rosebud’ can be in this world…and in the next!

“God will always guide you where to go and what to do.

He will fill you with refreshment even when you are in a dry and difficult place.

 He will continually restore strength to you, so you will flourish like a well-watered garden…”

–Isaiah 55:11 TPT–

Father in Heaven, thank you for filling this earth and our hearts with the Tenderness and Beauty of Your Great Love! Help us, Lord, to live making every day our love-gift back to You! You’ve spoken every day since I was born, through the Rose to my own heart. You taught me how treasured a Rosebud can be in this life. Through my own trail of roses…You’ve wrapped all the times and seasons of my life in Your Grace. Youve spoken to my heart of Beauty and Pain…Petals and Thorns…and of Sunshine and Shadow. You are in every season you call Your children to walk through. May we not just see thorns in the hard times; but dare to look deeper and see our own ‘ Rose of Sharon’ planted there in the midst of our brokenness. And like the Rose…enable us to hear and then respond to the brushes of Your Whispers against the petals of our own hearts; so that we may find at the end of all the thorns, we too, have blossomed and bloomed for Your Glory!

IN JESUS NAME WE PRAY…AMEN

“To be grateful is to

recognize the

Love of God

in everything!”

–Thomas Merton–

Christmas Left-Overs

by Debbie Allen

New Year’s Day marks the beginning of a brand-new beginning. Ironically, this new beginning for me, always begins with   putting the pieces of the old year away.  Christmas trees and ornaments go back into their boxes, festive holiday dishes are slipped back   into the darkness of the buffet once more, and all the greenery and lights we strung up to warm our hearts throughout the Christmas season are suddenly stripped away.  In that first week after New Year’s Day, the stark barrenness of my own severely, un-adorned house nearly overwhelms me.  But then I remember I still have what I ‘ve come to call, my ‘Christmas leftovers’ to look forward to. Those things left behind from the un-decorating process that never made it into the storage closet or the trash. Each time I run on to one of them, they become the hints of a season gone by that enable me to s-t-r-e-t-c-h the memory of Christmas just a little further into the new year.  These leftovers can be something as simple as a run-away ornament that rolled under my couch, or a Christmas cup still stored in the recesses of the dishwasher. Other times, they’ve been a belated Christmas card re-discovered in a stack of mail, or even the surprise discovery of a forgotten tin of pizzelles, hiding out at the back of the pantry. This year, however, one of those Christmas leftovers surfaced in a most unusual place! It turned up in one of the farthest corners of my own heart.   Much to my surprise, it was hidden right out in plain sight…as if beckoning to be found once more.

All of my former Christmas leftovers, up until now, transported me backwards to treasured memories… but this one was different. It was propelling me forward, into the new year. 2024 was scrawled across the top of it, in an all too familiar Handwriting, The Fingerprints of God were all over this memory. I recognized it to be the Macy’s department store, 2023 Christmas commercial! It’s beautiful and inspiring message had touched my heart from the beginning! Even reminiscing over its contents once again was all it took to re-capture my whole heart!

This commercial begins with a father who is trying to keep up with his six-year-old son, doing some Christmas shopping inside a Macy’s store. The son is the only one shopping. First, he samples a generous squirt of men’s cologne.  Nose wrinkled and shaking his head, he walks away, climbing on the escalator with his dad. Jumping off on another floor, we see him racing in a new direction. We watch this little boy trying out cookware on his own. It’s obvious he’s out to find the perfect gift for someone. Maybe his mom…or even his dad?  As the camera pans a red-satin bedspread adorned with white fur; this little guy takes a flying leap and lands on his back in that bed, where he begins making a snow angel in the midst of all that white fur. Adorable! Even that’s not good enough for him. (By now we know that mom is holding a spot for her son in the l-o-n-g line of kids waiting to see Santa) Knowing time is growing short, we see both dad and son bolting through the store to get to mom in time.  When the boy passes by the toy department, he quickly shields his eyes from even being tempted to look in the direction of all the toys he loves. Once again, adorable!  Just as mom steps to the front of the long line, the little boy comes running up behind her. Then, he walks over to Santa, holding something behind his back. As the little boy steps in front of Santa, he presents him with a pair of men’s designer slippers, all tied-up with a red satin bow.

 “For you…” the boy tells Santa in his raspy voice.  “This is for after work.” He adds with a smile of satisfaction. 

Needless to say, this little boy’s selfless gesture renders Santa speechless. In the last scene, Santa’s face radiates uncontainable joy, and the little boy knows in his heart he’s chosen him the perfect gift. The bold caption which appears on the screen over them both in this moment reads:

“GIVE LOVE”!  “GIVE STYLE!”

Obviously, this inspiring commercial more than captures the spirit of love and giving. But every time I watched this commercial on T.V.  something else stood out to me too.  It was this little boy’s thankful heart.  He displays an unexpected devotion towards Santa, for who he is and for all the good gifts Santa’s brought to him over his young life.  Such devotion and appreciation are rare. It can’t be seen in the long line of kids still waving their ‘gimme’ lists in Santa’s direction. In the wisdom of a little child, this young boy miraculously grasps the importance of giving over getting.  He sees value in expressing a heartfelt ‘thank you’ instead of just becoming another of this world’s endless ‘gimmes.’  Though the commercial portrays a pair of designer slippers as being the perfect gift…I believe it was the rare and beautiful gift of this one little boy’s grateful heart that moved Santa’s own heart beyond words!

I share this Christmas leftover with you because I believe God placed it in that corner of my heart for a much greater purpose. This leftover wasn’t about me and my memories this time…it was about remembering Him.  This commercial magnifies, in a very real way, the grateful heart that God desires all of His children to have as they stand before Him. When I look at the little boy in Macy’s commercial…I see him as so much more than an adorable marketing strategy to boost yearly sales.  He is a picture of adoration and awe, devotion and thankfulness as he stands in the presence of his gift-giver.  In a world full of gimme hearts, this boy’s grateful heart stands out far, far above the rest.  And so should the hearts of all of God’s children.

Our God is so worthy of every thankyou our lips will ever spill forth in praise before Him; plus, ten thousand more besides. He is the Greatest Gift-Giver our hearts will ever experience. He’s given us the Greatest Gift mankind has ever, or will ever, know since the beginning of time: His Only Son, Jesus, our Savior.  Should not our own hearts respond by giving Him, the greatest “Thankyou” we’ve ever offered to Him? You see, the praise and thankyous flowing from a grateful heart, are also good indicators of our spiritual health.

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“The Praise and Thankyous flowing from a grateful heart, are also good

indicators of our own spiritual health.”

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As you and I step into this coming New Year, may the greatest desire of our lives be to become a more extravagant display of our devotion and appreciation to the Lord; in a world growing ever more saturated with gimme hearts. Much like the little boy who captured my heart in the Macy’s commercial; may we strive to walk out our lives in 2024, with more grateful hearts. God is constantly giving us more than we need or deserve. It’s His Goodness and Generosity that should spur us on towards living out of a more grateful heart.  A heart that is filled with genuine devotion for our Greatest Gift-Giver; so that our own lives and actions will become His living testimonies on earth.  You see, we are His commercials in this world, meant to play out our roles in 2024 in a way that captures every eye, and points every heart towards God’s Love, Generosity, Mercy, Forgiveness and Unending Grace.  As we stand in the Presence of our Generous Gift-Giver at the end of every day; I pray the advertising tagline, written in bold letters over our heads reads something like this:

“GIVE LOVE…GOD STYLE…WITH A GRATEFUL HEART!”

“It is good to give thanks to the Lord, and to sing praises to Your Name; to declare Your Lovingkindness in the morning, and Your Faithfulness every night.”

(Psalms 92:  1-2 NIV)

Dearest Father in Heaven, You alone are our Greatest Gift-Giver. You are so worthy to receive our thanks and praise. You remind us in Your word that ‘Giving thanks is a sacrifice that truly honors You” (Ps. 50:23).  Please enable us to do so, knowing this is the way to keep our own ‘gimme’ hearts in right relationship with You. Keep us from forgetting that You are our Greatest Gift in life. Strengthen us and continue to teach us how to live before you in this coming new year, out of the abundance of a grateful heart.

In Jesus Name…AMEN.

 

“Only the knife

knows

what goes on

in the heart

of a pumpkin!”

–Simone Swartz-Bart–

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“The Pumpkin and the Carver”

by Debbie Allen

As the end of October arrives, the radiant foliage that captured and raptured our hearts for much too short a time, has all but disappeared now. There’s an uninvited crispness hanging in the air, further reminding us that fall has truly fallen…and the first frost has permission to brush its icy masterpieces onto the faces of every pumpkin growing in the pumpkin patches all around town!

As a little girl, I can remember my heart racing at the first thought of making a trip to Jackson’s Pumpkin Patch, with my brothers and three younger cousins. My mom and my aunt drove us there nearly every year. It was the highlight of our October!  Dressed in our warmest sweaters, my brothers, cousins, and I raced through the pumpkin patch in opposite directions with one idea in mind. To pick a pumpkin we could call our very own! After an hour of what we kids liked to call, search and rescue in the pumpkin patch; each of us toted our selections back to the car. My brothers loaded the six pumpkins we chose into the trunk of my aunt’s car, while mom found a place alongside of them for twelve muddy shoes.  Then we headed back home to enjoy the hot spiced cider and doughnuts mom set out for us before carving our pumpkins. With very little help from the adults, six sets of children’s hands went to work, eagerly designing our personal pumpkin heads. With bursts of laughter and occasional sighs of frustration echoing out of our hollowed-out pumpkins; we all sliced and diced and scraped; poked, prodded, and pulled-out everything that hindered our pumpkin heads from becoming the masterpieces we intended them to be. Their expressions ranged from cute…to comical…to creepy (my brothers pumpkins were always the creepy ones).  But nothing our own hands carved that day could’ve brought those pumpkins to life any more than the candles we placed down inside of them when we were finished. The moment my mom lit a match, and its flickering flame collided with the tips of the candlewicks; a magical transformation occurred inside each of our pumpkins. For us kids, it was like watching new life explode inside each pumpkin head! Every beautiful expression carved… came alive in that moment! Needless to say, our own faces lit-up at the sight of them, too!  When darkness fell that evening, we carried our new creations outside and lined them up on the front porch step for all the world to see. After all, who wouldn’t want to share something so beautiful? 

Every one of those pumpkins we carved as kids, had its own unique story to tell the watching world. Because of the willing hands of a few young carvers that day, every pumpkin head’s story was literally transformed from its former life in the pumpkin patch; into a story of light…not of darkness anymore.  You see, the carver is the pumpkin’s only hope in this world!

Though you and I are anything but a pumpkin in this world, still…a pumpkin’s journey from the pumpkin patch to our own front porches; uniquely points our hearts towards the process of what it’s like to become a child of God:

–Much like a pumpkin, God (The Heavenly Carver) sees you in a field ripe for harvest; and runs for you. Then He picks you up, washes the dirt off you, and calls you His very own. You become His chosen treasure.  

God tells our own hearts this in His Word: “Then I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you will be clean.  Your filth will be washed away.” (Ezekiel 36:5a NLT)

–The pumpkin, at this point, knows the carver can be fully trusted.  The pumpkin invites the hand of the carver in, willingly surrendering as the carver works to make a new opening in the pumpkin’s hard outer shell.

God tells our own hearts this in His Word: “I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice, I will come in…” (Revelation 3:20a NLT)

–The carver’s hand again, wields his blade deeper into the pumpkin’s heart…removing all the seeds of sin, doubt, lust, impurities…cutting away the excess…scraping and smoothing its walls; all in preparation for the gift of light the carver plans to leave inside of the pumpkin.

God tells our own hearts this in His Word: “I will take out your stoney, stubborn heart and give you a tender, responsive heart.  And I will put my Spirit in you…”  (Ezekiel 36:26a,27a NLT).

–No pumpkin on its own can ever come to know this priceless gift of light inside of it without the touch of the carver’s hand.

God tells our own hearts this in His Word:

“Your lives light up the world! So don’t hide your light!  Let it shine brightly before others, so that your commendable works will shine as light upon them, and then they will give their praise to your heavenly Father in Heaven.”  (Matthew 5:14a, 16 TPT)

Only the carver’s hand can give the pumpkin new eyes to see with…eyes capable of seeing far beyond the darkness of the old life it once knew, sitting in the dirt of the pumpkin patch. Finally, the carver’s blade leaves the pumpkin with a giant smile…reflecting to the watching world, that nothing in life compares to the gift of being cleaned from the inside out! Seedless… the pumpkin now gratefully, bears the precious light of the carver himself!

–God tells our own hearts this in His Word: “But you are God’s chosen treasure, set apart as God’s devoted ones. He (The Heavenly Carver) called you out of darkness to experience His marvelous Light, and now He claims you as His very Own. He did this so that you would broadcast His Glorious Wonders throughout the world. For at one time, you were not God’s [children] but now you are.  At one time, you knew nothing of God’s Mercy, because you hadn’t received it yet, but now…YOU ARE DRENCHED with it!” (1Peter 2:9b, 10 TPT) 

“Autumn shows us

how beautiful it is

to let things go.”

–unknown–

The Whispers of Fall

by Debbie Allen

I once heard it said, “The only constant in life is change.” If ever there was a season in life that typified this truth, it is the season of autumn.  I’ve always loved it!  At the first sign of it, my heart begins to yearn for another glimpse of the indescribable colors God paints in broad strokes, all across the face of the Rocky Mountains.  Sometimes, as I look at those glory-splashed hillsides I feel as though I’m seeing a combination of hues taken from God’s Own Divine Palette that may never be there again! That’s when I can hear the Artist Himself whispering down into my spirit, “For your eyes only….my child!”  What a privilege it is as His child, to bear witness to this limited-edition beauty of God’s Handiwork.  His Hand-Painted Masterpieces brushed onto the mountainsides of my own world! Who wouldn’t want to glimpse such splendor?   It’s the very reason my husband and I faithfully embark on our mountain drives every fall season. In all the years we’ve been going on these fall excursions, my heart has only been disappointed once…and it taught me something my heart will never forget.

You see, I have a tendency to set myself up for disappointment by assuming things are going to be the same as they’ve always been.  A few years ago, when the fall season descended on me, my spirit was particularly thirsty for a glimpse of those glory-splashed mountainsides.   I’d undergone several surgeries on my right eye for a detached retina and for most of that particular summer, I was restricted from any sort of mountain drives, due to the pressure change it placed on my healing eye. When that constraint was finally lifted by my doctor, both my heart and my eye leaped for joy!  Jim and I climbed into the car and headed straight for Squaw Pass; a favorite mountain retreat from which we love to view the Aspens.  A recent summers-worth of hardship behind us now, I fully expected a show of glory-splashed hillsides like no other. But as we rounded each curve, near-empty aspen branches already shivered in an early fall breeze.  The entire forest echoed with the crunch of coffee-brown leaves being scattered all across the forest floor.  These were not the colors I’d expected from the Artist’s Palette.  Only once did we spot an aspen tree with golden leaves still clinging to it. Though I understood that this scenery, too, was the Handiwork of God’s Brush, it was hard to picture this one splotch of gold standing in the midst of a mountainside full of barren branches as being the feast my eyes and heart came to devour.  Worse than this, an unanticipated silence reigned in my soul because of it.  To me…it seemed that the only thing highlighted in this particular day’s scenery was disappointment.

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“Like Autumn leaves…we fade, wither, and fall.”

(Isaiah 64:6)

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The following morning, I headed for my parent’s house to help care for my 83-year-old Dad, still recuperating from surgery.  As I walked through his front yard, the sound of my feet crunching in ankle-deep, fallen leaves shifted my focus back to yesterday’s disappointment. Though I was standing in a different corner of my world; the scenery surrounding me was strikingly similar to the mountain drive we’d taken the day before. Barren branches, broken limbs, and a sea of lifeless, mushroom-colored leaves, yielding one last time to the chilly, autumn breeze.  Had it not been for a single, burgundy, maple leaf that wafted down from a neighbor’s tree and came to rest in the middle of this sea-of-sameness; this landscape, too, was void of any color at all.  I stood there not quite sure of how to react to another of Heaven’s one-splotch-of-color Masterpieces.  In response, my beauty-starved spirit prompted me to pull out my phone and snap a picture of that single burgundy, maple leaf. And for the second time this autumn season, I left that scene in silent disappointment.  Thankfully… the story didn’t end here.

That same evening, I sat at my desk reading a passage from Philippians 4:

“Be cheerful with joyous celebration in every season of life.” (vs. 4)

“Fasten your thoughts on every glorious work of God, praising Him always.” (vs.8b)

These words spoke directly to my heart that night. In the silence of the next few seconds, I pulled out my cell phone and glanced again at the picture I’d snapped earlier…the one I’d deemed anything but beautiful.  That’s when I heard the Whispers of the Artist Himself speaking again, “For your eyes only…my child.”  Though His words had made perfect sense on all our drives through glorious, color-splashed mountainsides, I struggled now to understand them in the context of His one-splotch Masterpieces.” Before I could utter even one question back to God, He was already gently, reminding my heart of this, “I am here, too.” 

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“Beauty still resides even in the midst of this world’s barrenness.”

–D. Allen–
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His last four words impacted me in a way I will never forget. Nor will I ever look at the gift of God’s one-splotch Masterpieces quite the same. In reality, His words were His Signature on both of them. As my husband and I drove by those barren hillsides that fall day; we missed the true Beauty of that One-splotch of Gold we did see.  In our disappointment, we also missed seeing the message that every aspen tree’s barren branches were pointing our hearts towards: Beauty still resides even in the midst of all this world’s barrenness.  

Sometimes the things that we deem as ‘anything but beautiful’ in this life… are anything but what we deem them to be. God’s Perspective is as far removed from ours, as His Ways are higher than our own. Even so…just how often are we intentionally looking for Him in the circumstances of our seasons? Many times, I’ve regretted not having looked deeper at my surroundings that day while I stood in my dad’s front yard, ankle deep in lifeless leaves and broken branches. Had I done so, I may have seen it more as the timely Masterpiece God wanted me to see all along. I would’ve seen His Signature scrawled across that single, burgundy leaf, and I would’ve known that He placed it there as a reminder to my fragile heart in its own season of struggle, of this Beautiful Truth…  “I Am here, too.”  Here in your barrenness.  Here in your brokenness. And here, standing before you as your Greatest Hope in the midst of all this world’s hopeless-ness.

“Fasten your thoughts on every glorious work of God, praising Him always.”

(Philippians 4:8b TPT)

Dearest Father, help us to see the beauty you are continually painting onto the mountainsides of our own seasons in life.  Open our physical and spiritual eyes to see the Beauty in both the Glory-splashed, Hand-Painted Masterpieces you set before us…as well as those one-splotch works of art that our frail hearts tend to question so frequently. Whatever season we find ourselves standing in…may we cry out in the words of King Asaph, “How we thank you, Lord!  Your mighty miracles give us proof that YOU CARE.” (Psalm 75:1) Teach us to look for Your Signature…especially in our brokenness. You are our only Hope in the hopelessness that surrounds us in this life.

In Jesus Name…AMEN

“God has a bigger vision for

our friendships than we can

ever begin to understand.”

–Angela Sackett –

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The Glory of Friendship

by Debbie Allen

There is a divine beauty to be found in that moment when we first discover the gift of friendship has come our way in life. Instantly, two hearts can feel at home in each other’s presence. Even though they may have just met, they already feel like old friends. Ralph Waldo Emerson put this another way: “The glory of friendship is not the outstretched hand, not the kindly smile, nor the joy of companionship; it is the spiritual inspiration that comes to one when you discover that someone else believes in you and is willing to trust you with a friendship.”

Nearly a lifetime ago now, just such a friend stepped into my life. The first few moments of what was to become a life-long friendship, began in the hallway of the Baptist Church we attended with our families.   My best friend, whose name was also Debbie, and I were both young mothers still in our twenties, at the time.  After church one Sunday, Debbie and I decided just a smile-in-passing wasn’t enough anymore, so we stopped to chat face-to-face. Conversation flowed comfortably between us from the beginning. The only thing that was uncomfortable as we stood across from each other that day in the hallway was me. I couldn’t imagine Debbie seeing me as anything but a giant olive standing on two toothpicks! You see, I was v-e-r-y pregnant with my youngest son at the time. Of course, that was anything but true from Debbie’s perspective! She eventually shared with me that what she’d really seen that day when she looked across at me was… ‘the friend she’d been praying for so long for God to bring into her life.’

 You can imagine how very humbled this ‘olive standing on two toothpicks’ felt in that moment! SO humbled…but at the same time SO very grateful; for I, too, received a gift that day! The gift of true friendship which I still treasure, now over forty years later!

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“A friend loves at all times.”

Proverbs 17:17

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Debbie’s always been a true friend to me; the kind of friend whose footprints will remain imprinted in my heart for all eternity.  She and I have shared so many precious times together. At one point, we were seen so often together, we were dubbed by others as, “The Debbies”. Our response? “Two-gether is always better!” No one ever argued the truth of that!

Whether Debbie and I were away on a church women’s retreat, sharing coffee and chat at our favorite Starbucks, or sipping on a glass of cabernet while doing crafts in her basement, the camaraderie only grew sweeter and the friendship deeper because of those times we chose to pass sitting in each other’s presence.  Eventually, our friendship expanded to include our husbands and children.  In our younger years, our families camped, hiked and canoed together, times too numerous to count.  Debbie and I still reminisce fondly over all the memorable weekend getaways she and I planned and spent with our Hubbies.  There were also the seasonal concerts we attended, and the family sleepovers we participated in on New Year’s Eve for many years. Such occasions provided us the perfect back drop for engaging in an all-night game of Pinochle or Texas Hold ’em! And last but not least…there were the good old days of the Backyard BBQ’s and Bubinga Nights that will never be forgotten! Bubinga was a very special telescope Debbie’s husband, Bruce, designed and built by hand. He spent so many hours and such late nights working beside Bubinga; that Debbie came to refer to this ‘thing of great beauty’ as ‘the mistress.’ Of course…we all understood Debbie was just kidding. And yet… somehow Bubinga ended up in pieces; stashed between the bedroom closet and the farthest corner of the garage.  Perhaps Bubinga’s silent message to the world in all of this is, ‘Some friendships are meant to be, and some are not. LOL!

In all seriousness, friendship is not to be taken lightly in this life.  All friendships are built on a certain level of love, devotion and trust, but I consider Debbie and I’s friendship unique, in that it was also founded on the wings of prayer. God was and still is at the heart of our friendship. Because of that, the time we share together…whether in seasons of great blessing or in great sorrow, the bond of friendship is both deepened and heightened by God’s Greater Love present between us.

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“A sweet friendship refreshes the soul.”

Proverbs 7:9

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Finding a true friend who’s willing to take time out of their own life, to strengthen you with their presence and prayers, bless you with their love and devotion, and faithfully, encourage your heart with fresh hope and inspiration; is a rare and beautiful gift. Ecclesiastes 6:14 speaks of such a friend as being “a great treasure.”

 Through this legacy of friendship Debbie and I have shared down through the years, God has taught me that true friendship magnifies God’s Heart in so many ways. Friendship is about just ‘being with’ someone who allows you to be yourself in their presence; and they love you anyway. Over time, they become our most trusted confidants, and the prayer warriors our hearts can count on, to drop to their knees at a moment’s notice and struggle alongside of us in every season and through every storm of our life. We always have the freedom to laugh or cry and sometimes both, in the trusted presence of a true friend. Friends are always a phone call or text away, and never fail to step in and act as the timely voice of wisdom when our hearts are hurting the most.

Even as I write these words, I can’t help but see the Goodness of God’s Heart woven throughout the gift of True Friendship.  Every aspect of it points us to God’s Unconditional Love and His Abundant Grace. If I look a little deeper, I see the glory of friendship as two-fold. From my own experience I’ve come to look upon this gift as both a rare treasure and a great reward.

 A rare treasure, in that as we walk side by side in a true friendship before others, we become God’s earthly reminders to a hurting world that we don’t have to walk through life alone. There is Someone Who Loves us for who we are, no matter what. 

God also intended the gift of friends to be a great reward to you. When you feel the warmth of a friend’s arms around your shoulders, hear the voice of encouragement in your ears, or sense the strength that rises when a friend comes alongside you in your pain; your heart can know without doubt… that it is the very Presence of God Loving you through the gift of that friend He gave to you!  And that has to be the Greatest Reward that any true friend could ever receive on earth!

“The Faithfulness of God’s Love is the very Source of Love

that sustains and nourishes every true friendship.”

–D. Allen–

Dearest Lord, the treasure of true friendship on this earth is one of Your greatest gifts to us. Please help us to walk wisely within them, and to see friendships as the blessings you meant them to be to us. Thank you for the joy they bring us, for the prayers they pray with us, for the shelters they become to us, and for the encouragement they offer our hearts in every season. I praise You Jesus, for being our Greatest Friend in this life; and for the Faithfulness of Your Love, which is the very Source of Love that sustains and nourishes our truest friendships on earth. May our friendships continue pointing others to the One Who Loves them most in this broken world we live in. Your Friendship is our Greatest Treasure and our Highest Reward both now and forevermore! In Jesus Name…Amen

“Love recognizes no barriers.

It jumps hurdles, leaps fences,

penetrates walls to arrive at its

destination full of Hope.”

–Maya Angelou–

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Relentless Pursuit

by Debbie Allen

Spring has long been thought of as a season of new beginnings. Birds are singing again, bees are buzzing, and sleepy-eyed bears stumble from caverns of darkness into warm sunshine after long winter naps. The once cold, and lifeless soils of a season gone by now teem with the tiny, green shoots of newborn daffodils, crocus, and tulips.  Trees mysteriously, unveil both buds and fragrant blossoms, bursting forth on barren branches as a reminder to our winter-dulled senses of the coming beauty this new season holds!  Though it’s true these thoughts all lay at the heart of the Story of Spring, there is something much deeper and more profound than you can imagine still pressed between its pages. if we thumb through the story too quickly, our hearts are apt to miss it.

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“The Lover of Our Souls knows what thrills our hearts and speaks to our souls.”

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Many years ago, when I was still dating my husband, Jim, Spring came and almost went unnoticed. The world was in bloom all around me but, I was too preoccupied to dote on its beauty.  I was a busy twenty-year-old, working full-time as a checker in the same grocery store where I met Jim.  At the time, I was also living in an apartment located extremely close to a set of railroad tracks.  The rent price was right, or my roommate and I would’ve chosen very differently. The novelty of living by those railroad tracks wore off quickly every time the train whistle blew at midnight, and the intense vibrations from the train going by, sent the knick-knacks on my windowsill crashing to the floor.  As it ended up, the good that came from living next to those train tracks far outweighed these nuisances! 

One night, I returned home from work to find a beautiful bunch of Spring flowers in a vase on the kitchen table. 

My roommate explained, “Your sweetheart brought them to you…or should I say, he ran them to you!”

 Seeing my puzzled expression, she went on to explain that Jim, with flowers in hand, ran the train tracks stretching between his house and my apartment that night, just to bring me flowers! He intended to surprise me before he went away on a trip to California for a week. I called him every night he was gone to thank him for those beautiful flowers! Though I regretted missing him that night, the fragrance and beauty of those flowers became a lingering reminder of his sweet presence in my life.  They pointed me to the kind of man Jim was, and to the special love we shared. No one had ever done anything like that for me before.  As I stood out on the balcony that evening, looking down on those railroad tracks, I could only envision Jim running towards me with those flowers in his hand. My heart beat faster just thinking about it. There was something beyond special about being pursued in that way…and I’ve never forgotten it. 

That Spring season in my young life made an indelible mark on my heart. Not only did God provide me a beautiful picture of the heart of the man I was going to marry; He allowed my heart to see the image of Jim, running down those tracks toward me with flowers in his hand, as a stunning reflection of the way the Lord Himself pursues each of our hearts with His Love.   Intentionally…Faithfully…and Relentlessly!

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“With knowledge of God’s Love pursuing us every moment of every day of our life; why would we choose to run in any other direction but towards Him?”

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Not a Spring has passed since this time that I don’t look out my kitchen bay window and see the bold, bright colors of returning wildflowers, and the fragrant, pastel blossoms of the plum tree branches, as anything less than the flowers God is holding in His Hand…while He’s running towards my heart every Spring. They are the fragrant reminders of His Love and Sweet Presence in my life. The Lord’s Love for us is the greatest reason I can think of for calling Spring, ‘The Season of Love.’

Nothing on earth compares to being relentlessly pursued by the Lover of our souls.  Through every facet of beauty planted inside the Spring season, I sense God enticing our hearts to experience for ourselves the depth of Love He feels towards us. Much like the bouquet of flowers Jim surprised me with so many years ago; every petal and blossom of Spring expresses in its own way, the Lord’s desire to ‘be with us’ all the days of our lives. Every Fragrance is a sweet reminder of the Eternal Love He offers us, until His return.  With knowledge of such a Great Love pursuing us every moment of every day of our life; why would we choose to run in any other direction but towards Him? That’s a question each of us must answer for ourselves.  What will be your response, when you look down the tracks of your life and see the Lover of your soul running towards you, Flowers in Hand, in Pursuit of your heart?

“Your unfailing love is better than life itself…”

(Psalm 63:3 NIV)

HEART TRAPPINGS PRAYER: Father, my heart is so thankful You are the Lover of my soul. As the beauty of Spring surrounds us, enable our winter-dulled senses to see You truly are the Beauty found in the midst of every fold and flower in this season!  King David cried out more than once, “Your Love is better than life!”  Spring echoes this same cry in its own way at every turn. There is not one corner of creation that isn’t somehow a reflection of Your living Hope, Love, and Faithfulness.  As You did for my own heart years ago, grant each one of us a fresh vision of Your Intentional…Faithful…and Relentless Love, always in Pursuit of our hearts!  We love You beyond words, Lord.

IN JESUS NAME…AMEN

Love’s Portrait

by Debbie Allen

It’s often been said, “Love is just a word until someone comes along and gives it meaning.”  That ‘someone’ for my parents, Norm and Shirley Hutton, was the gift of ‘each other.’  They began their lives together as high school sweethearts, who fell in love and married soon after they graduated. For nearly 70 years, they walked together; side-by-side and fingers entwined, as each other’s soul mates, best friends, and lovers.  Sadly, the beautiful love story they shared over a lifetime was cut short this past year, when my mom passed away in December after a long battle with Alzheimer’s Disease.   Over time, Mom and Dad became each other’s ‘everything.’  That’s why it’s not surprising to find my dad’s eyes pointed toward heaven occasionally, in search of her. No doubt, he sees my mom standing on Heaven’s Stairway looking back at him; their hearts both agreeing that if they could’ve lived their lives on earth all over again, they’d have done it sooner…so they could’ve loved each other longer.

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“Love is just a word until someone comes along and gives it meaning.”

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 Not long ago, Dad and I sat sorting pictures to be used in my mom’s memorial service.  In all our digging, I ran across a heart-shaped pillow I’d made them for their 50^th wedding anniversary celebration.  On one side of that satin pillow was mom’s graduation picture, and on the other side, my dad’s. What a stunning couple they were! And what beautiful memories awaited them at that point in their life. As I ran my fingers over the heart-shaped lace, framing my mom’s young face, I found it hard to look upon that pillow as anything less than a portrait of love.  A precious reminder to me of the timeline so many of us walked with my mom throughout her life.  So many of those good times reflected the richness of who she and my dad were; especially when they were together. One memory in particular, stands out above the rest.

About six years ago, my mom was recuperating from pneumonia, and my dad ended up in the hospital with a septic gall bladder.  He nearly died from all the complications that followed. Recovery from it all was slow.  By the time Dad returned home from the hospital, there were many health restrictions placed upon him; and multiple visits to be made by home-care nurses and physical therapists. In addition, I made daily trips to their house, monitoring and recording his vitals on a chart. Because I was such a stickler about Dad doing everything the nurses told him to do, he lovingly, nicknamed me ‘Nurse Ratchet.’  One day, while I was busy doing all the things I was supposed to do for him, Dad was just as busy doing everything the therapist and nurses asked him not to do.  Eating fatty foods that aggravated his gall bladder, drinking juices that worked against his blood thinners, and walking about the room without his oxygen or walker anywhere in sight!  Frustrated, I felt Nurse Ratchet clawing her way up to the surface of me; more than anxious to deliver an impromptu health and safety lecture, geared for the elderly who hear…but do not listen!  My tongue, a willing springboard for Nurse Ratchet’s stern words at this point; was unexpectedly silenced. Nurse Ratchet was disarmed in a split second by the familiar touch of a Hand on my shoulder. It was Jesus’ Hand.

Feeling His Presence beside me and knowing Nurse Ratchet’s ways were not His Ways; I felt compelled to watch what I’d deemed as unwanted chaos in front of me; with a new set of eyes.  Speechless, I saw my dad pull the oxygen tubing off of his own face again.  But this time he hobbled a few steps closer to Mom. With clumsy fingers, he secured the halo under her nose, rounded it up over each of her ears, bringing it down to a point beneath her chin.  Ironically enough, my eyes were drawn to the undeniable heart-shape the oxygen halo formed, laying against the contours of mom’s face.   

“There you go, my love…” Dad told her, “…you need this air worse than I do.”

Kissing Mom on the top of her head, his final instructions came to her in a loving whisper.  “Now… just breathe.”

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“You gave me life itself, and incredible Love.  You watched and guarded every breath I took…”

(Job 10:12 MSG)

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That moment took my breath away! So often, God hides His Beauty right in the midst of our everyday struggles. Somehow, our struggles deepen us to His Presence and often leave us with the memory of an experience we carry around in our hearts for the rest of our lives.  Even now, the tenderness of this scene between Mom and Dad that day still brings fresh tears. It wrecks me spiritually, when I think of just how great a Love was on display before me that day. With His Hand resting on my shoulder, Jesus used this moment in my parents’ love story to reflect to my heart the Greatest Love Story there ever was or ever will be! Jesus’ Love Story.  A picture of God’s One-and-Only Son giving-up His Own Breath for us; the day He died on the cross for all our sins. His is the greatest story of True Love and Sacrifice our hearts will ever encounter.  He has already chosen you to be His own.  Will you not respond by choosing His Love Story for your own?  Allow the soft Whispers of the One Who Loves you most, to resonate deep in your soul. Hear His Voice reminding you, “Just Breathe…for not only are you My Love, you are My Life.”    My heart knows well, there is no greater Portrait of Love than this! 

 

                             

Dearest Heavenly Father, thank you for the beautiful portrait of love You gave me through my parent’s own love story. I will carry this priceless gift in my heart for the rest of my life. It continually points me to Your own Portrait of True Love.  Only Your Love is big enough to fuel our hearts for the many difficulties we are promised to encounter in this life. Stand by us, Lord, in those times.  Steer us clear of the endless counterfeit loves that lie in our paths every day. Tune our ears to hear Your Voice beckoning our spirits to, “Just Breathe…” for there is beauty in even our struggles.  Sustain us with Your True Love and may our hearts find comfort in this great truth:   

 “True Love bears all, endures all, and triumphs in the end!”

IN JESUS NAME…AMEN

“Open my eyes so I may see

what You show me of

Your Miracle-Wonders!”

(Psalm 119:18 MSG)

by Debbie Allen

Valentine’s Day has long been considered a day of celebrating romance and love.  Many of us go to great lengths on this day to assure our love ones they reserve a special place in our hearts. It’s a night for sharing romantic candlelight dinners, and for taking time to gaze, uninterrupted, into each other’s eyes.  Jewelry counters all over town are standing-room-only.  Beautiful, bouquets of flowers and heart-boxes full of exotic chocolates are bought and delivered on doorsteps throughout the day. And don’t forget those Valentine cards we purchase! Those Hallmark cards…beautiful pages bursting with the BIG words of love our own hearts struggle to express on a day-to-day basis. Love is definitely the focus of our hearts on Valentine’s Day but, what happens to it after the candy is eaten, the cards are tucked away, and the flowers have wilted?

All of us know that true love may wilt at times but, we don’t just toss it out or stow it out of sight. Love is to be looked upon as more of a ‘continual feast’ (Proverbs15:15 NCV). A precious gift from our hearts to be given away every day; not out of duty, but out of desire.  Though every day can’t be Valentine’s Day, it’s wise to consider the truth that if love is not nurtured over time; it can slip very quickly from wonderstruck …to ordinary.  Why would any one of us want to settle for ordinary in our relationships when our hearts were designed for wonderstruck?

Well-known, author and speaker, Beth Moore once shared, “I am convinced our hearts aren’t healthy until they have been satisfied by the only completely healthy love that exists:  the Love of God Himself.” (Above All Else p.170 Family Christian Press)

The Bible tells us, “…God is Love” (1 John 4:16a NIV).  The Psalmist, King David, is a stunning example of a life who lived and loved in total awe of his God. He lived wonderstruck at the very thought of God, the Creator of the Universe and everything in it; knowing his name. David marveled at the thought of God writing all the days of his life in His book; planning each day out before a single one of them even began! You can hear the wonder in his voice as David speaks to the God he loves:

“For it was You [God] who created my inward parts; You knit me together in my mother’s womb.” (Psalm 139:13)

“…all my days were written in Your book and planned before a single one of them began.” (Psalm 139:16b CSB)

“Your eyes saw me when I was formless…” (Psalm 139:16a CSB)

Incredible as it sounds, God allowed David’s heart to grasp the intimate truth of God’s Presence, inside the darkness of his mother’s womb, creating him. Even more wonderful, is that when God looks at David’s embryo…He doesn’t see what the world today so flippantly calls ‘lifeless tissue’. God sees the one He purposely, knit-together in Love and named for a purpose in this life.  God sees David! (V.16a)

When I consider this Hand of Love that knit each one of us together in our own mothers’ womb, my heart can only cry out with David, “This is too much, too wonderful—I can’t take it all in!” (Psalm 139:6 MSG)

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“Our Creator, God, is the very first Heart to express Love to our own hearts in life…even before

the world knows we exist!”

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God’s Love is the absolute purest and truest Love our hearts will ever know. Because of God’s intimate connection to us in the womb from the very moment of conception, I believe that God Himself, our Creator, is also the very first Heart to express Love to our own hearts in life…even before the world knows we exist!  Those Whispers of His Love echo down inside our hearts our whole life long; continually wooing us to:

“Come closer. “Let Me hold you once again.” “For though you’ve changed, My Love has not.”

Valentine’s Day is fast approaching.  As we scurry to buy our cards, order our bouquets, and sit starry-eyed across from the ones we love; let’s not lose sight of the One Who Loves us most, both heart and soul…since the beginning of time itself.  Our Creator…the God Who is Love.  What we choose to do with this Love so Wondrous, as we walk-out our lives on this earth; is our choice.  God’s Love for us never changes…but our own hearts too often fail to ever grasp the Truth of the Wonder of God’s Love, encircling us.

I see His Love poured-out into all of creation. Tangible, visible reminders of God’s Heart; from the outer-most edges of the Universe to the remote earthly paths we walk upon.  I like to think of them as “God’s Conversation Hearts to the world He Loves. As you chew on these Sweet Truths, my Valentine’s Day prayer for us all, is that our hearts come to know, like King David did; what it is to walk inside of the Wonders of God’s Love…all the days of our life. Our world will be a better place the day we all choose to embrace the Love of the One Who first embraced us. Have a Blessed Valentine’s Day!

G0D’S “CONVERSATION HEARTS”:

The Heart Nebula: 7,500 lightyears away from earth there is a glowing, red Nebula on the outer edges of our galaxy.  If the size of this heart is any indication of the size of God’s Love for us (and it is!) …we should be living “wonderstruck” every breath we take!

“For as high as the heavens are above the earth,

so great is His Faithful Love toward those

who fear Him.”

(Psalms 103:11)

• 

TINY HEART PEBBLE:

“You will seek Me and

find Me when you seek

Me with all your heart!”

(Psalms 36:7)

On a sliding scale of “Ordinary” to “Wonderstruck,” where does your love for God fall?

“For God so loved the world [Your heart and mine] that He gave His One and only Son [Jesus], that whoever believes in Him will not perish but have everlasting life.” (John 3:16)

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Dear-in-the-Headlights!

by Debbie Allen

My husband, Jim, and I were driving to dinner one Friday night; when I noticed her. Just another pedestrian on foot… maybe a stranger-in-passing.  Or so I thought.   As I studied the woman, while waiting at the same stoplight intersection; there was something so familiar about her.  I watched her hunched, figure step down off the curb into the crosswalk with great difficulty; as she wrestled with the reluctant piece of luggage behind her.   In the glow of headlights surrounding her, she turned her head in our direction; just long enough for me to glimpse the dear-in-the-headlights look that overwhelmed her gaunt, expression.  My heart sank.   It was her.  The Lady-with-the-big-blue-suitcase. I couldn’t believe those ragged wheels were even still turning. That battered, blue, suitcase-on-wheels was her trademark.   Sadly enough, over the years it had also become her name.  She’d roamed the city limits with it trailing behind her for over 40 years now…homeless.  Business establishments in the area recognized her by it; teens passing her by on the street taunted her because of it, and policemen identified her by it.  What a great testimony for a piece of luggage; but what an incredibly sad story it tells about the life still towing it behind her.            

“There goes the Lady-with-the-big-blue-suitcase!” I told Jim, with mixed emotions.  I was relieved to see that nothing happened to her after all this time, but saddened by the toll homelessness had taken on her; both physically and mentally. In days gone by, when I saw her crossing a busy street, she’d shake a clenched fist at speeding cars; shouting her own blend of obscenities back at every passing driver. Her brazen behavior, while standing in the middle of the street, added a whole new meaning to the term, road rage. Seriously though… I remember praying for her safety many times over the years. And now, here she was in front of me once more.  It was clear that things had changed for her.  Yelling out colorful words and raising angry fists had long since been replaced by extreme shortness-of-breath and two mis-shaped, weathered hands giving it all they had just to drag the old, blue suitcase up on the curb one more time.   As the stop-light turned green and we pulled away, I watched the Lady-with-the-big-blue-suitcase shuffle down the roadside; her heavy load in tow. My heart ached for her and I found myself praying for her again.  I couldn’t help but wonder what tears and trials and tales of woe may await her in the days up ahead.

 As my husband and I pulled up to the restaurant, my heart was flooded with questions about the Lady-with-the-big-blue-suitcase.  After we ordered our meal, every question once silent inside of me; flooded out into our dinner conversation. 

“What must it be like to live your entire life on the streets, surrounded by a hostile, world of people that turn their heads and pretend they don’t see you; or shake their heads in disgust at the very sight of you? To never hear the words, ‘I love you’…or ‘It’s going to be ok.’ How would it be to never experience the peace of knowing where you will sleep at night…what you will eat…or how you will keep warm, stay cool, or be safe?”

“It’s gotta be tough.” Jim responded, compassionately.

Her dear-in-the-headlight expression continued to haunt me. It was a look of such utter despair.  Her sunken eyes told my heart a silent story of time growing short; in a journey that had grown so long.

“You know,” I told my husband, “…even after seeing this lady around town for over 40 years, I don’t even know her name.  The closest I ever came to our paths even intersecting was while standing in line at a Starbucks, right before management booted her out of the building for having used the facilities for her personal dressing room.”

“Kirsten…” Jim blurted out right after that.

“What did you say?” I responded.

“Her name is Kirsten.”

After I recovered from the shock of Jim knowing the Lady-with-the-big-blue-suitcase’s name; he went on to share with me how a co-worker of his at King Soopers, sat down and spoke with Kirsten one late night, while on a break.  You see, Kirsten was given permission by King Soopers for a short time, to spend the cold winter nights sleeping in a chair at one of the tables near the Delicatessen; as long as she was gone before opening the next day.  It turns out that Kirsten, though homeless for the last forty years, had both a home of her own and a daughter who lived there!  Kirsten shared that she was afraid to go home for fear of being put into a mental institution.  She chose homelessness for most of her life; over living in her own home with family because she feared the lifestyle change that may or may not have come with that choice. Was that fear founded on fact? I don’t know and probably never will. But the reality of that fear in Kirsten’s mind caused her to run in a direction she was never meant to go in. No one knows the depth of the pain and struggle behind Kirsten’s story except God Himself.

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“A decision always accompanies the battles we face— God’s Way or our own.” —Chuck Swindoll–

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 I don’t doubt that His Heart broke every day He looked down and saw Kirsten huddled in a rainstorm, under a make-shift tent on a shopping-center median; eating from a can she opened with a screw driver.  A can, which had been thrown at her by a passing motorist in an attempt to share his indignation with her lifestyle. 

“Get off the streets…you’re nothing but an eyesore in the city!” he’d shouted at her as he sped by.

 The ironic thing about this incident was that the can the angry motorist hurled at Kirsten with the intention of hurting her that day; ended up being the same can that God fed her from later!

Until this night, I hadn’t known the Lady-with-the-big-blue-suitcases’ name.  After Jim shared her name with me, it only seemed to deepen the pain I felt for her all these years. I should’ve been comforted by the fact that I could now pray for her by name.  However, I was haunted by it now.  I lay awake thinking of Kirsten’s dear-in-the-headlight expression…her gaunt face and crippled hands. “What am I to do with this, Lord?” I prayed. 

Within seconds of my asking the question, I heard God Whispering into my heart, “Look deeper, my child.  S-e-e her.”

Puzzling over His words to me, I rehearsed the scene in my mind over and over again. The big, blue, suitcase.  The shell of a human being she’d become over time. I saw a worn-out woman; a mother, who remained nameless to a world that despised her for most of her life. For who she was, for everything she was not; even labeled by a stranger as being a human-eyesore to society.  For her own reasons, Kirsten chose homelessness over having the home that was already hers for the asking.  Instead, fear of what might happen or have to change in her life if she chose home, drove her towards living the vagabond life of the Lady-with-the-big-blue suitcase; and all the tears, trials, and tales of woe that followed her for years on end.

  “It seems to me, Lord, that Kirsten is desperately searching for wholeness in her life…everywhere she turns there are so many broken pieces.”

Then God gently reminded me, “Wholeness cannot be found in a broken world…not without Me.”

Fear drove Kirsten to choose, and even justify, the broken and destitute pathways she walked on for most of her life.  Fear and homelessness dragged her un-mercilessly, down roads that Love and choosing a home and family never would’ve. In her eyes, homelessness was her way of ‘having her own way’…but it was really yielding to the voice of fear telling her that ‘she had no other way.’   

Even now, when I see Kirsten’s hunched figure still dragging the big, blue suitcase up onto another curb; I continue to pray for her. For I’m reminded that with every step Kirsten takes in her arduous, life’s journey; she is still only one phone call away from being rescued from her homelessness. But… she won’t make that call.

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The Lord, our God, urges us to call upon His Name in all seasons: and He will rescue us. (see Psalm 118)

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To this day, I am still haunted by Kirsten’s gaunt expression and the dear-in-the-headlights-stare; but I am also frequently reminded of God’s words to my heart that night, as well.

“Wholeness cannot be found in a broken world…not without Me.”

His words sank deep into my spirit that night, unlocking the truth of why Kirsten’s story touched me so, down through the years.  I realized in that moment, that Kirsten’s dear-in-the-headlights stare haunted me because the Lady-with-the-big-blue-suitcase’s story has, all along, been God’s picture for my heart in this physical world; of what can happen to any one of us in the spiritual realm.  It very clearly reflects what happens to us spiritually, when we choose to go our own way in life…instead of trusting God for the life He’s planned for us, the Rescue Story He longs for us to become a part of, and the eternal Home He promises awaits us;  all for calling out to our Heavenly Father. Your life was meant to be a living declaration of God’s Goodness; a daily reflection of His Glory to the world around you.   I urge you to choose to cease your wanderings, and make the call! Only then will you discover what so many already have…that there really is, no place like Home.

“Call to Me and I will answer you.  I’ll tell you marvelous and wondrous things that you could never figure out on your own.”

—Jeremiah 33: 3  MSG—

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PRAYER: Dearest Father in heaven…forgive us! Our world can be such a hostile place for those so near and dear to Your Heart; both the homeless in the physical streets, and the homeless, who are wandering in life as spiritual nomads. Help dear Kirsten to find the courage to call out to You. Keep those without a home spiritually, from pressing on in ignorance of the wholeness You give us for the asking… in exchange for all our broken pieces. We call to You, God. We cry out to You to help us. The psalmist, King David reminds us, “From Your Palace, You hear our cry; and our cry brings us right into Your Presence—a private audience!” (Psalm 18). Our desire to live well can never be fulfilled without You. Restore to us our peace of mind, heart, and soul…continue to guide us in our journey towards Home. In Jesus’ Name…Amen

by Debbie Allen

“It was the best of days; it was the worst of days.” One summer day, back in the early 1900’s…no one could tell the two little girls left sitting at the kitchen table on their family’s Missourian farm, any different! Breakfast was over but, Hazel, 9, and Nina, 6, lingered behind the rest of their siblings; who’d marched off routinely to knock out their chore lists so they could play. Giggling non-stop, the girls recounted chasing the chickens around the coup that morning before gathering-up enough eggs in a basket to feed the twelve of them.

“Mama wasn’t pleased,” confessed Hazel, looking down in an effort to hide her uncontainable half-grin.

Little Nina lowered her gaze too, adding, ” Daddy was mad when I dropped the milk pitcher he just filled for me. He told me not to skip…but, I love skipping.”

A moment of silence reigned between them in an attempt to mourn their most recent poor choices. However, as soon as their gazes locked, this inseparable, duo-of-girlish-whims, wriggled and giggled their way back to the kitchen sink where Mama’s stern expression and towers of dirty, breakfast dishes awaited them.

“I’m the oldest so I’ll wash and you can dry!” Hazel chimed in, tossing the dish towel towards Nina.

Before the towel landed on Nina’s face, Mama caught it in mid-air, glaring at both of them.  Her patience now gone, Mama grabbed a pencil and the girl’s chore lists. With every new giggle or accidental, playful gesture between the girls, Mama added a new chore to their lists.

Eyebrows scrunched by now, and dresses dishwater-soaked, Nina and Hazel protested, “But Mama…that’s not fair!”

 “I’m too little for this big chore list!”

Without another word, Mama handed each of them a revised chore list.  Then she laid her apron aside and walked out the back door; knowing she’d struck the Achilles heels of these two little trouble-makers.  Her troublemakers… the two little girls whose hearts always beat in unison when it came to knowing how to turn serious work into play.

Before it was all over, Mama wore her own half-smile; for not only had she gained the upper hand…but a whole day off!

“It was the best of days…it was the worst of days!”

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“It was the best of days…it was the worst of days!”

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The two little farm girls pictured in the story above grew up to become my Dad’s Aunts from Missouri. Though their childhood antics followed them on into adulthood, both Aunt Hazel and Aunt Nina grew up to become the much-loved, faith-filled women, sisters, wives, mothers, and aunts that I, too, had the privilege of knowing and loving in my younger years. 

Hazel was tall and lean, anything but shy; creative and outspoken in all she said and did.   Nina was petite in both stature and size, quiet-natured, and soft-spoken to all. They were like vinegar and honey.   Each of them offered their own unique flavors to this world; but when you combined the two of them together; they became their own sweet remedy for turning anything serious into play. 

In their later years, long after their children were grown, husbands passed away, and great-grandchildren were too numerous to count; they sat across from each other visiting in the same kitchen at the farm house where they grew up. Aunt Nina was working on a sewing project and ran out of the color of thread she needed to finish it.  Determined to get it done that day, she turned to Aunt Hazel.

“Sis…is there any way we could drive into town to buy more thread?”

Almost without hesitation, Aunt Hazel responded.

“Yes…I imagine anything is possible; but we both know it’s going to take a little doing to get us there!”

After this conversation, both of them headed for Aunt Hazel’s old blue Ford, Betty; parked in front of the farmhouse.  It’d been sitting there since Uncle Ross passed away a year earlier.  Aunt Nina climbed into the passenger seat.  Aunt Hazel positioned herself behind the steering wheel.  Feeling along the steering column for the ignition, she turned the key and held her breath. 

“Come on Betty, give us one more time!” Aunt Hazel pleaded, before the engine sputtered and coughed, and finally cranked over.

Then…just as she’d done so many times when they were little girls, Aunt Hazel took charge; issuing Aunt Nina some final instructions for their roles in this grand adventure.

“Now remember, you do the talking and I’ll do the driving. Just keep me centered in the road and we’ll surely get there!”

Putting the car in gear, they coasted down to the single-lane, country road at the bottom of the driveway.  Aunt Nina hollered “LEFT…NOW RIGHT…LEFT AGAIN!” and Betty and the girls headed for the craft store; more than ten winding, miles of dirt-road away!  This is probably the only time in her life Aunt Nina ever hollered at anybody. 

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“It may be the best of drives…it may be the worst of drives, but…none of us can make any of those drives on our own.”

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For this 80-some-year-old, duo-of-girlish-whims, this day had the potential of becoming the best of days…or the worst of days.   You see, at the time, Aunt Hazel was totally blind…and her guidance system, Aunt Nina, had never driven a day in her life!  Miraculously, Betty and the girls made it to the craft store that day, bought the thread needed, and returned home unscathed; but not without a few near-ditch experiences!

 This story is tucked-away deep inside the pages of my family history.   It was only by accident that my Dad happened to share it with me. The thought of it still captures my heart! It’s so much more than just a story of childhood antics following these two dear, ladies into old age. It’s a tale of two sisters who, over the course of a lifetime; found a sweet, abiding contentment in each other’s presence.  I see one risking all… for the sake of another’s needs.  I see a heart willing to embark on a journey with only the sounds of another’s voice to guide them down an unseen stretch of road. I see unwavering obedience and blind trust in that same voice to keep them centered, in spite of near-ditch experiences all along the way.

If you look a little deeper, you also see the beauty of Heaven woven in and out of this tale. It’s a reflection of Jesus’ Heart.  His Desire…He longs for us to find contentment in His Sweet, Abiding Presence. His Love… always intentional and sacrificial, with our highest good in mind.  Hope…He gave us His all, His Life; so that we could have one.

Whether we like to admit it or not, all of us are blind to what the road stretched out in front of us looks like. If we choose to make the drive on our own, life will be one white-knuckle, near-ditch, experience after another; with no guarantee of ever reaching home. Consider the wisdom of two little farm girls from Missouri. Let’s invite Someone to sit next to us on the journey. Then choose to tune the ears of our hearts to the Sounds of His Voice for Guidance. His Love and Faithfulness demand and deserve our blind trust. Jesus is the only one who is able to keep us centered in our own life’s journey. “It might be the best of drives…it might be the worst of drives but…none of us can make any of those drives on our own.”

PRAYER: Dearest Father in Heaven…Thankyou for loving us through every journey we embark on. Forgive us for being so short-sighted in so many ways. Give us the courage to admit how blind we are when it comes to finding our own way around in this life. Help us to faithfully tune the ears of our hearts to the sounds of Your Voice. May we not miss hearing Your instructions for the drive we are making in this life. Fix our eyes and our ears upon You. Thankyou for being the God Who is always with us and Who never fails to Rescue us. We love You. In Jesus Name…Amen