“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