“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.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

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

____________________________________________________________________________

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.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

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

trust in the Lord and rely on your God.”

Isaiah 50:10 ESV

_________________________________________________________________________________________

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.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

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

_________________________________________________________________________________________

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

“Between every

two pines

is a doorway to

a new world.”

–John Muir–

__________________

Frenzy in the Forest

by Debbie Allen

As a young girl, I remember spending nearly every weekend up at our family’s rustic, cabin during the summer months. My brothers and I loved it! Life was so different up there. For many years it was our home away from home on the weekends. Up at the cabin, my parents were far more relaxed. Even the dirt that seemed to follow us everywhere we went, didn’t seem to bother them.  It was almost as if my mom and dad expected us kids to get dirty. So, we did! We relished the idea of spitting watermelon seeds on the ground, wading in the muddy creek with our shoes still on, and playing for hours, taunting the campfire flames with our sticks; all without consequences.   Though many decades have passed since that time, my heart remains a treasure trove of precious memories linked to both my childhood and those carefree, cabin days. In many ways, those cabin memories and the experiences connected to them, have helped to lay the groundwork for how I chose to live my life out all these years! Let me show you what I mean.

It was early morning at the cabin, over 60 years ago.  While mom and dad were cleaning up after breakfast, I watched my brothers, Danny and Doug, removing a log panel on the frontside of the cabin. It was what we called, the secret door. It covered a hidden storage space.  A few hundred cobwebs later, they retrieved the old wooden ‘Red Flyer’ wagon from within that deep, darkness. Towing the wagon behind us, all three of us raced up the hill to our favorite spot, planning to ride it back down the mountainside! That wagon was the closest thing to flying we ever experienced as kids…even when the ride came to a crashing halt at the bottom of the mountain. Though the flight always came with turbulence, it proved exhilarating too, in spite of all our crash site injuries.

Most of the time, we’d spend half-days flying down that mountainside, but not on this particular day.  My dad’s cousins from Arizona, Weldon and Juanita, and their little girl, Elizabeth; were visiting for the day.  That meant all the men and boys were going to be hiking the wagon trail and exploring the remnants of a miner’s camp, on one side of the cabin property, while 5-year-old Lizzy and I spent our time wandering in and out of the forest trees on the other side of the cabin. My mom and Juanita just planned to sip campfire coffee all day long at the picnic table, while catching-up with each other. It sounded like the perfect plan for all of us…until it wasn’t.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“IN THE WOODS WE RETURN TO REASON AND FAITH.”

–Ralph Waldo Emerson–

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

You see…Lizzy and I, and her baby doll, really did wander in and out of the forest trees for the rest of that morning. We were so busy laughing and talking, playing and gathering pinecones to make her dolly a forest bed to sleep in; I didn’t notice the cabin was no longer in my sights. Realizing nothing in our surroundings looked familiar to me anymore, my heart raced to the tune of my dad’s warnings to my brothers and I, whenever we played out in the forest.

“If you can’t see the cabin, then you know you’ve gone too far.”  

Up until now, I’d always abided by that rule.

“We’d better be heading back to the cabin, now.” I suggested to Lizzie, not wanting to scare her.  One of us shaking in our boots was enough.

Slipping her hand in mine, I picked a direction I thought was right and we started walking. But the trees grew thicker and thicker, and the pathway steeper. Every step I took led me to believe I was still going in the wrong direction.

Stopping to rest, I felt Lizzie’s eyes on me.

“It’s going to be ok, Lizzie.” I said with a forced smile.

My expression must’ve contradicted my words to her, because the next thing I watched Lizzie do was to pat her dolly’s back as if consoling her. 

“Shh-h-h, its ok, baby.” she whispered, “We’re just a little lost.”

I swallowed hard at Lizzie’s words. Hearing her say the word ‘lost’ out loud somehow made the reality of our situation too painfully real. What if we never get back? I thought to myself.

“You’re right, Lizzie…we are lost.” I admitted.  “And I’m not sure which way to go.”

I expected to see crocodile tears welling up in her blue eyes by now.  Even I was trying hard to blink tears back.  But the next thing I knew, Lizzie was wrapping one of my hands around hers, and the other around her dolly’s hand. She followed suit.  Soon, we’d formed what I now know to be a prayer circle, right there in the midst of all our forest frenzy. Our heads bowed; I opened my mouth to pray but Lizzie had already said it all for both of us. 

“Dear God…we’re just a little lost, so please send us a little help?  Amen.”

The forest was so hushed in that moment you could’ve heard a butterfly land on a wildflower.  But not for long. After Lizzie’s ‘amen’, that changed.  Something belted out a squawk so obnoxious, it startled us both to our feet. I felt Lizzie trembling, so I covered her ears and pulled her closer.  I just wanted whatever it was to go away…but it continued squawking even louder. And to that horrendous melody, the ‘squawker’ added chattering and screaming! Finally, still holding onto Lizzie, I spun completely around to find a giant, Blue Jay glowering down at me from one of the highest treetops on the mountainside!   Though I was deathly, afraid of birds, I somehow found it in me to glare right back at him. It seemed as long as I did so, he remained quiet.  In the silence of that ‘little-girl vs winged-beast’ stare down; I was able to capture the distant rumbles of a motorcycle growing closer. By the time its rumbles turned into roars, I knew the motorcycle passed us by, somewhere way up above our heads. While watching the Blue Jay fly off in the direction of the fading motorcycle sounds, something occurred to me. The road my dad drove me up here on must be up above us! All we had to do was climb up the mountainside to get to the road… and then follow the road back to where the cabin driveway intersected with it!

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“HE WILL SHOW THEM THE PATH THEY SHOULD CHOOSE.”

Psalm 25: 12b NLT

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

With tremendous effort, Lizzie and I and her dolly did hike up the mountainside to the road that day.  I carried Lizzie a good portion of the way, so by the time we reached the cabin driveway it was a welcome sight. Though our young brows were drenched, our stomachs growling, and our lips parched, our hearts were filled with joy. Lizzie wriggled down out of my arms, and her feet hit the ground running at the sight of the cabin.  I wasn’t too far behind her! If the big-word, hallelujah, would’ve been a part of my little-girl vocabulary back then; the sounds of me shouting it throughout the forest would’ve far surpassed even the Blue Jay’s squawking that day! In much the same way Lizzie prayed for us earlier in the middle of our forest frenzy; this little girl with wisdom far beyond her years, again spoke enough for both of us. For the entire length of the driveway, Lizzie bolted towards our mothers’ open arms, shouting at the top of her lungs, “I been found… I been found!”

 My pounding heart could do nothing in that moment but fully agree with her; for I too… had been found.  By a squawking Blue Jay, planted on a branch and meant to draw my eyes upward…a roaring motorcycle, whose timely arrival pointed out to me the road home…and my God, Whose Hand of Love and Faithfulness I’ve been able to trace throughout many similar experiences, my whole life long.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“HOW SATISFYING TO TURN FROM OUR OWN LIMITATIONS…TO THE GOD WHO HAS NONE.”

–A.W. Tozer–

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Dearest Father, Lord, and Savior…how deeply intimate and far reaching is Your Love. Yours is an endless Love that is beyond measurement.  It transcends our human understanding…and yet, it’s simple enough for a little child to grasp.  The little girl inside of me still cries out to you, “Show me the right path, O LORD; point out the road for me to follow…” for you are still Faithful to do so in every one of my life’s circumstances. “You are the hope of everyone on earth…” “You formed the mountains by Your Power…” “We stand in awe of Your Wonders.”  “From where the sun rises to where the sun sets, You inspire shouts of joy!” (Psalm 25:5b,6a,8b).  Lord, continue to show us the paths You choose for us and supply the strength and wisdom we need to walk on them in a manner that brings Your Name Glory!

IN JESUS NAME…AMEN

God performs wonders

that cannot be fathomed,

miracles that cannot be

counted.”

Job 5:9

Treasure in the Darkness

by Debbie Allen

Fleeing for her life on a midnight drive from Virginia; Angela hadn’t time to ponder what life might look like for her as a single mom, struggling to raise three kids on her own. All she knew that night was this.  After catching a glimpse of her fresh, black eye in the rear-view mirror, alongside the reflection of the three loves-of-her-life, asleep in the back seat of her car; it was enough to keep her driving for days on end. By the time the adrenaline surge inside her heart subsided, Angela found herself and three little ones, standing before a total stranger; listening while he pointed them in the direction of a one-room cabin he had for rent in Pinecone Junction; a small town nestled high up in the Colorado mountains.

Angela and her children arrived in Pinecone Junction, with little more than the clothes on their back and determined looks on their faces. After handing Mr. Harvey, the kind, stranger, one month’s rent on-the-spot, her cash supply was nearly depleted. She knew she needed to make-do until she could find a job. But, for now…the thought of a little cabin they could call their own for a while was a welcome change from eating roadside, and sleeping in the car; like they’d done for the last two weeks. 

“Ok, boys…watch for a sign that says, Snowman Gulch.”  “That’s our turn-off. “  

Just short of reaching the edge of town, 8-year-old, Tony piped-up.  “Mom!  I see it…it’s right there!   Snow…man…Gulch!

They hadn’t driven more than a mile down that dirt road before Jack, 6 years-old, spoke-up, in his usual inquisitive tone.   “Mommy, I see deers and bunches of flowers in the field but…I just can’t see any snowmens.”  “Where are they?”

“Oh, Jack…” Angela answered, trying not to smile, “It’s summer here now. You know snowmen can only be seen in the winter after the snow falls!”

By the time she finished her sentence, the car was filled with laughter.  Jack was laughing at himself.  Tony was laughing at Jack…and Ellie, 3 years-old, was laughing, just because she could! 

As they pulled up in front of the little cabin-in-the-woods; a tear rolled down Angela’s cheek.  Her heart was full at the sounds of her children laughing together once again. One of many things that fear had erased from each of their lives back in Virginia. Helping Ellie up onto the porch, Angela’s heart raced with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. Turning the key in the rustic lock, she and the boys pushed the creaky, pine plank door open.

“Oh wow…its perfect, Mom!” Tony assured her.

“And I can get up on this and look for the snowmen…when they come!” Jack insisted, boosting himself up onto a little bench under a picture window overlooking the porch. He wasn’t thoroughly convinced yet that snowmen didn’t live all-year-round in a place named Snowman Gulch.

“This place will be what we make it, boys!” Angela replied, already feeling safer than she’d felt for a long time.  Tony and Jack ran for the bunk beds on the opposite side, shouting as they went, “I get the top bunk…I get the bottom bunk!”

Angela scooped up little, Ellie, clinging tight to her leg with her thumb in her mouth. 

“I guess us girls will take that beautiful brass bed in the corner!”

Wriggling free from Mama’s arms, even Ellie ran for her bed screaming, “Mine…mine!” all the way there.

“Yes…” Angela thought, watching Ellie claw her way up onto the big, brass bed.  The cabin was small, but it truly was a Godsend!”

With her past waitressing experience, Angela took on a job right away at the local diner. Though she didn’t make much, with tips, her salary covered the rent and bought a few sparse groceries to keep on hand.  On the nights when the cupboards were bare bone, her boss, Lilly, just seemed to know when to send home extras from the diner with her, to feed the kids. Lilly also loaned Angela a car to drive; when Angela was forced to sell her own car for enough cash to keep them afloat. She’d cut up all her credit cards when they left Virginia to lessen the possibility of her where-abouts ever being traced.  Her desire was to sever all ties with her husband, Ken. Both she and the kids had suffered enough at his hand over the years. And now that her dad recently passed away too, there was no going back to Virginia…ever.  Keeping Tony, Jack, and Ellie safe was her first and only priority these days.

 Though life in Pinecone Junction was good…Angela couldn’t deny that it had also been tough on them all.   Lilly, who became a close friend, Mr. Harvey, her landlord, and many other neighbors stepped in over the last six months, to help her out when they could. Angela was grateful for all the clothing donated for her and the kids; especially with the cold weather arriving. But tonight, was Christmas Eve. Though her paycheck covered the rent; there was next to nothing left over to buy gifts for the kids. Heartbroken at the thought of it, and exhausted from work, Angela plopped down in the big pine, rocking chair in front of a crackling fire.  The kids were tucked into bed and fast asleep, excited for their first Christmas morning at the cabin.  The sweet words Jack prayed at bedtime, still rang in her ears. 

“And God…could you please just bring me a snowman for Christmas? They’ve been hiding from me all year.”

With a sigh and a smile, she propped her feet up on the warm hearth wrapping herself up in the Christmas quilt she found in the cabin attic.  Despair, fear, and anxiety all pressing down on her heart at once, she began to sob. In between tears she caught sight of the three white, socks that Tony, Jack, and Ellie laid on the hearth for Santa to fill, knowing their Christmas stockings had been left back in Virginia.

“What precious children you have given to me. God” Angela sobbed.   “Oh, dear Lord…I don’t deserve them. They’ve been through so much. I feel like such a failure in so many ways…God, please tell me what to do.”

Burying her face deeper into the quilt to muffle her sobs, she heard something in the background.  Lifting her head to listen, Angela composed herself enough to tip-toe over and check on the kids. They hadn’t moved since she tucked them in. 

“There it was again!” she thought, growing even more alarmed.  “Something…or someone was definitely moving around on her front porch!” 

“Oh God…please keep us safe.” She prayed, feeling the all-too-familiar, panic rising-up inside of her.

 “Maybe it was Ken…had he finally found them…and now he was coming to take back his children with force and…who knows what he would do to her!!!”  she imagined silently, to the tune of her own pounding heart.

Crouching down now on the opposite side of Ellie’s bed, she reached up and grabbed the phone off of the night stand; then made her way over to the hearth where she could see to call the sheriff.  Half-way through punching his number into the phone, Angela stopped.  She listened once more intently, then turned the phone off.

 “It’s too late now to call the Sheriff anyway.” She reasoned.  If it was Ken, he would’ve already busted that old pine door down by now and been terrorizing them all.  

“Something strange was going on.” She thought, noticing an aura of colored light reflecting through the picture window.

Grabbing the fireplace poker, like she’d seen so many times in the movies; she tip-toed over to the front door and just stood there…listening. The shuffling noise had stopped. When what seemed like an eternity had passed, Angela took a deep breath, raised the poker, and turned the door knob slowly. Glancing back at the kids once more, she flung the door wide open!

“I can’t believe my eyes.” Angela whispered in awe.  “It’s a little Christmas tree, all lit up… it’s so beautiful.” She added, looking for signs of who might have delivered it. 

Underneath that tree were three Christmas stockings filled to the brim with gifts and goodies for the kids.  Even their names were embroidered on each stocking.

 “I…I can’t believe this.” Angela said, holding back tears and shivering in the cold. And if that wasn’t enough, what she saw over the top of the Christmas tree, out in the yard, nearly took her breath away! 

“Snowmen…someone built Jack his snowmen!”

As she looked closer at the snowmen, her heart melted. Never before had she seen anything like this before! Two snowmen…one of them a daddy, and the other one a child! Both of them appeared to be making snow angels in the snow.

“My Daddy and I made snow angels together, every Christmas Eve when I was growing up!” she whispered. “Thank you, God…only You could’ve known this…and how very much I miss my Dad this Christmas.”

With more than a grateful heart, Angela transported the stockings and the little tree back into the cabin, placing them near the hearth. 

“What a beautiful sight.” She marveled, plugging-in the tree again. It was decorated with envelope after envelope, tied to the branches with red, satin ribbon.  Angela reached for the one at the top of the tree first.  Her name was written on it.  Opening it, three hundred-dollar bills fell into her lap.

“This is the rent money, I handed to Mr. Harvey earlier tonight!”  

The unsigned note inside of it read simply, “Merry Christmas!”

The little Christmas tree’s branches were loaded with handwritten notes of encouragement, coupons for free babysitting, gift cards to the General Store, as well as many other shops in Pinecone Junction. There were even homemade cookies hanging on some of the branches.   

Overwhelmed with gratitude, Angela recognized that this Christmas tree was decorated with love. The love of strangers who, over time, became friends; friends who became family; and of course, the Love of God disguised in them all.

Curling up next to Ellie that night, in her big brass bed, Angela wept silent, tears of great joy.  She couldn’t stop thinking about her Dad, the snowmen making snow angels, and the beautiful Christmas tree placed on her porch. What had begun this Christmas Eve as a nightmare for her, had ended as a miracle. The miracle of Christmas was written across every gift she’d received tonight. And the next morning, it would again be written in the expressions that Tony, Jack, and Ellie are wearing when their sleep-filled, eyes behold the beauty of the treasures that came to them in the darkness…much like God’s Gift of Love, the Baby Jesus, came to us in the darkness of that first Christmas Eve night.

“Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift!” (2 Corinthians 9:15)

May you be inspired by Giving, changed by Love, filled with Peace, and touched by your own Christmas Miracles in this Season of Love, and in the New Year to come!

“Sometimes all you

can do is NOT think,

NOT wonder, NOT

imagine, NOT obsess.

Just breathe and

have FAITH because

miracles do happen.”

_________________________

A Matter of the Heart

by Debbie Allen

When I was only a young teen, I remember my Pastor peering over the top of his Clark Kent-glasses and addressing the congregation on ‘faith in difficult times’. In an effort to cement in our hearts a clearer picture of what that faith might look like; Reverend Massi finalized his message that day, with this quote by Corrie Ten Boom.

“When a train goes through a tunnel and it gets dark, you don’t throw away the ticket and jump off. You sit still and trust the engineer.”

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“When a train goes through a tunnel and it gets dark, you don’t throw away the ticket and jump off. You sit still and trust the engineer.” – Corrie Ten Boom-

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I’ve never forgotten the wisdom in those words to this day!  My own heart has dredged them up countless times over the years, especially while journeying through my own tunnels in life.

A few years ago, I sat confidently on the edge of a cardiologist’s examination table; awaiting the results of an echogram on my heart. I started coming to see Dr. J as a precautionary measure only…or so I thought.  But she discovered I had two heart valves showing signs of leakage.  Still in shock that what I deemed my perfectly good heart, didn’t receive the clean bill of health I’d expected; I winced at her next words to me.   

“At some point in time…those valves will need to be repaired.”  

 I asked her if there was anything I could do on my own to strengthen those valves in any way.   

“No…” Dr. J replied in a very cut-and-dry tone. “Once the damage has been done there’s really nothing you can do to reverse it.”

The finality in her voice left my mind reeling and my heart pounding. Out of nowhere, Fear lurched forth to see what chaos he could contribute. Slipping-in close, he murmured his own flawed words of encouragement to my heart. “Hopeless…Hopeless…H-o-p-e-l-e-s-s!”  he jeered, at least a hundred times before I reached my car.  Collapsing down into the warmth of a patch of autumn sunshine on my seat, made me feel as though I’d just climbed into the Lap of Jesus.  In that safe place I prayed, shedding a few reluctant tears and pouring out the matter of my heart to Him.

“Lord?  Here I am. Your child…Your broken child.  I know that nothing is hopeless with You in it.  But please…show me the way through this!”

By the time my car reached the edge of the parking lot that day, my heart heard His gentle response to the tune of my own quickened pulse; “My child… sit still… and trust… the Engineer.”

I couldn’t help but smile. Through these familiar words from my teen years, the Lord let me know that my life’s tracks had led me into a tunnel.  Though my eyes couldn’t see past the darkness of right now, the Engineer could.  My part on His Train was to ‘sit still’ and ‘trust Him’.

Five-and-a-half years have passed since my first visit to see Dr. J. In all that time, her diagnosis of my heart hasn’t changed, and the cardiograms all read about the same. Even her words to me after each check-up remained the same.

“We’ll just keep an eye on things and see you next year!”   

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Though my own eyes couldn’t see past the darkness of right now, I knew The Engineer could. My part on His Train was to ‘sit still’ and ‘trust Him’.”

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

This year, however, something did change.  Dr. J entered the room in silence, studying my cardiogram; frowning, and shaking her head.  Used to being in the dark by now; I chose to use her silence as the backdrop from which the Engineer’s words resonated down inside of me, “Sit still…Trust Me…Sit still…Trust Me!”  

When she finally spoke, her words startled me.

Still scratching her head, she shared, “Your cardiogram reading this time was r-e-a-l-l-y good! I can’t understand it.  It makes no sense.”

Somewhere between shocked and elated, all I could think to say back was, “What do you think caused that?”

 Dr. J turned towards me, still pondering the results, and clamoring for the right words.  “I…honestly… I don’t know,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

Knowing the answer to my own question at that point, I offered back,

“Must be the Grace of God!”

My words ushered a great silence into the room.  Though I knew she heard me, I watched Dr. J continue trying to make sense out of solid medical facts that weren’t adding up, and the plain truth of my miracle results. I honestly believe that Dr. J left the room that day feeling more perplexed than I ever did!

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 “Often, He takes you to unwanted places, in uncharted territories for our frail hearts; just to expose His Love in you, to the empty and unbelieving souls that pepper life’s way.”

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

Miracles, even small ones, and the stories connected to them draw a stark line between the doubts and denials of the unbelieving world, and the undeniable Truths of believers in Jesus.  Riding the rails of Life with Jesus as your Engineer, He promises you will see some amazing sights along the way. The mountains are high and steep, but Beauty often resides where the air is thinnest.  Countless times, He takes you to unwanted places, in uncharted territories for our frail hearts; just to expose His Love in you, to the empty and unbelieving souls that pepper life’s way.   There will be tunnels, too.  I have learned to look upon them as the Shafts of His Grace, carved by His Hand into our mountains, which reflect a picture of Jesus, carrying us through the darkness in His Strength.  In the place where our hearts can no longer see clearly; we are given an opportunity to learn what it is to ‘sit still’ and ‘trust the Engineer’.  His purposes are far greater than any mountain we will ever encounter in our life. As far as tunnels are concerned… God’s calling on the lives of His children doesn’t stop, even inside the tunnels we enter into.  Wherever we are, we are called to show the difference God makes in our life in a manner that points others to Jesus. For, sometimes we discover that it’s in the act of ‘trusting the Engineer’ in the darkness, that we become the miracle He’s performing in another’s life!

“[We are] God’s instruments to do His work and speak out for Him, to tell others of the night-and-day difference He made for you…” (2 Peter:10 b)

Father in Heaven, You are Lord over our lives whether in darkness or in light.  We will never know or appreciate Your Faithful Love in our lives until we learn to take it seriously. King David describes Your Love “as high as the heavens are above the earth.” (Ps. 103:11 CSB) It’s a Love way beyond our comprehension and ability to understand it.  But You do not ask us to make sense of it…just to ‘sit still’ and ‘trust’ in You.   Strengthen our frail hearts to see Your Hand at work in both our tunnels of darkness and our brightest of days. Teach us to see each of them as a chance for Your Miraculous Love and unfailing Strength to shine through us, into the unbelieving world! In Jesus Precious Name…AMEN

 

“Every detail in our lives of love for God

is worked into something good.”

(Romans 8:28 MSG)

_________________________________________________________________________

Miracle on Cobblestone Lane

by Debbie Allen

“Extra! Extra!” Sammy hollered, holding the latest edition of the Chicago Tribune high above his head. Sparsely, clad in the only tattered clothes he had to his name; Sammy struggled to keep his teeth from chattering. Every word he forced out into the wintry, Chicago gusts seemed to drop at his feet like little ice cubes.    It was two days before Christmas, so the city was bustling with people, but the world seemed strangely deaf to his desperate cries to sell newspapers tonight.

“Extra…Extra! Read all a-b-b-bout it!” he tried once more, watching an older gentleman, dressed in a top hat and overcoat, coming his way.

 “Get out of my way you little street-rat!” he grumbled, pushing Sammy away with his walking stick. “What’s this city coming to anyway? Go back to the alley you came from!” he barked back at Sammy.

“M-m-er-r-ry Chrism-mm-mas, sir!” Sammy offered back; remembering his father’s words to his own eight-year-old heart.

 “Sometimes hard times makes for hard hearts. If all you see is the bad…then that’s all there will be. But if you look for the good…no matter what, then goodness will find you.” 

“Snow flurries pummeling his face, Sammy tucked his frost-bitten ears under a wet cap and climbed on top of the stack of unsold papers. Papers that should have been sold by now…papers that would keep him from getting a pay-check at the end of the day. Head, face-down on his knees, he folded his frozen limbs up into a little ball, desperate for even the tiniest touch of warmth.

“Pa-pa” he whimpered. How can I ever make it on these streets without you? Even a street-rat has fur to keep him warm; but I …I have nothing. I’m just the boy who sleeps in a box in the alley.  Help me to see the good again. I miss you, Pa-p-pa.”

Lifting his head to face the icy blasts once more, Sammy felt a warm hand land on his shoulder.  It belonged to a policeman that Sammy often saw walking the streets and alleyways after dark. 

“Nice boots, son.”  The officer commented.

“Thank-k-you, s-s-sir…do you want to b-b-b-uy a newspaper?” Sammy asked timidly, eyeing the drippy wet newspaper he held-up to the Officer.”

“You know…I would like to buy that newspaper!” the officer said, watching Sammy drop the dime he gave him down into his soggy boot.

“Thank you, s-s-sir!”

“The name’s John…Sergeant John!” the policeman said, clicking his heels together and saluting Sammy in animated fashion.  But you can call me Sarge!”

“I’m just Sammy, Mr. Sarge.”

“Where do you live, son?”

Turning around, Sammy pointed to an alleyway not far away. 

“In there” he said, eyes pointed to the ground.

“I’m going that way…why don’t you let me walk you home?  With a blizzard heading this way, no one should be out on these streets.

Hesitant, a shivering Sammy eyed the stack of unsold newspapers.  Knowing he wouldn’t have a day’s wage coming to him anyway that night; or a job to come back to the next morning; made it much easier to just walk away from.

By the time Sammy shook his head in agreement; Sarge was already pulling a blanket out of a knapsack he always carried with him and wrapping it around Sammy’s cold shoulders.

“There you go, son…that should warm you up a little.”

Sammy was most grateful for the blanket and Sarge’s company as they walked and talked along the way. 

“My Papa died a couple weeks ago.  Got shot chasing a robber out of our alleyway. Now all I got to remember him by is these boots.  They was my Papa’s boots when he was younger.  Papa said someone r-e-a-l-l-y special gave ’em to him once and that I was to take extra-special care of them.”

“Them are some fine boots alright, Sammy.”

 Sammy shrugged his shoulders as they reached his alley.  “That’s my box over there against the brick wall…by the dumpster.”

“So it is…well, before you go, I want you to take this with you.”  Sarge handed him a thermos full of warm soup from his knapsack. 

“This should help keep you warm enough through the night.”

Stunned at this stranger’s kindnesses toward him, Sammy thanked him and headed down the alley. 

“See you around, Sammy.” Sarge hollered. But by the time Sammy turned to wave, he’d already disappeared.

 Sometime in the night, the blizzard arrived full force, leaving the city streets and Sammy’s box, covered in deep drifts.  Digging himself out the next morning, he wandered into and out of street shops all day, trying to keep warm. With only one day until Christmas, Sammy hoped he’d encounter a bit more Christmas cheer and generosity in the city. Shoppers and shop keepers alike, were repulsed at the mere sight of him standing inside their store. Heartlessly, they shooed him out of their sight.  No one took time to see him as the hungry and homeless orphan he’d truly become. 

Weary and cold, Sammy collapsed on the steps of the city’s Poor House. A ‘No Vacancy’ sign nailed across the door let him know that there was no room for him there either.  Between blasts of wind and flurries pounding him, he sipped on what little soup was left in the thermos Sarge gave him the night before. Struggling to get the last cold drop of it out; the unexpected warmth of a hand on his shoulder startled him.

“I recognize those boots!” Sarge said with a grin; wrapping his giant arm around Sammy. But why have they brought you out here in this blizzard tonight, son? Its brutal out here.”

“Sarge…I…I got nowhere to go. By now the blizzard’s turned my box into a pile of wet cardboard. No one wants a street-rat like me. I’m so cold and so hungry… and it’s just not Christmas without my Papa.”

 Shop keepers told me all day that, ‘A raga-muffin like me takes the shine right off of Christmas.’”

“Oh, Sammy…that’s far from true. It’s because of people like you…the homeless, the hungry, and the orphaned; that Christmas even came! Son…what’s in your pockets doesn’t make you who you are…it’s what’s in your heart that gives you worth. Let me tell you something. Eight years ago, Christmas Eve, your Papa came running up to me on the streets, holding onto a squalling, baby boy wrapped-up in rags. That baby was abandoned in the streets near your alleyway. It was your Papa that saved him and took him in as his own. Sammy…that baby was you! You were his most treasured Christmas gift that year.”

“You knew my Papa, Sarge?”

“Sure did! Over the years I’ve watched over both of you. I was standing with your Papa the night the robber shot him. That robber was in that alleyway to make trouble for your Papa that night.  He tried to make off with everything in this world your Papa loved; including you.  Yes… the price of loving you that night cost your Papa his life; but he was only doing what he always did; putting the one he loved before himself.”

Tears streamed down Sammy’s face, freezing as they hit the tops of his boots. “I miss my Papa…why does it have to be so hard, Sarge…why?”

 “Sometimes life is hard, Sammy.  And sometimes those hard times make hard hearts. If all you can focus on is the bad…then that’s all you’ll ever see. But if you dig deep into your heart and look for the good, no matter what… then goodness will find you.”

“That’s what my Papa always told me.”

“Believe it…your Papa was wise beyond his years, son.  He knew what he was doing when he saved you that Christmas Eve. He loved you without even knowing you; and he believed someday you’d change the world the same way you changed his; just by being you.

“I…I guess so.” Sammy offered through chattering teeth.

 Working against the wind and snow, Sarge pulled a dry blanket out of his knapsack and wrapped it around Sammy’s shoulders; in place of the wet one.  He knew Sammy wouldn’t make it out on the streets in the storm another night.

“Tell you what, Sammy…” Sarge said, pulling him up on his feet and brushing the snow from his face. “Let’s work on changing your world tonight, and we’ll tackle the rest of the world another day.  Sammy nodded in agreement.

The incandescent glow of the gas lamps lining the street, cast dancing shadows out onto the glistening snow. The very sight of them made Sammy feel warmer for a time.  Because the lamps grew fewer and fewer, the way grew darker and darker.  Sammy could hardly see as they crunched their way to the farthest edge of the city.   Then they stopped.

“Look up ahead, Sammy.  Do you see those lanterns burning on the porch of that white stone house on the corner over there?”

“Yes sir. Who lives there?”

“I have to head back to the streets to finish my shift but, I want you to go up to that house and knock on the door.  When the door opens, you just say the secret password, John 3:16… and a nice lady named Grace will let you inside.”

Knowing they were about to part ways, and feeling more like crying than being brave; Sammy clicked the heels of his boots together, stood at attention and saluted Sergeant John with half-frozen fingers.

“Thank you for everything, Sarge…Sir!” 

Sarge returned the salute, touched by Sammy’s unexpected gesture. “Don’t forget the secret password!” Sarge hollered, watching Sammy climb the stairs to the white stone house.  By the time Sammy turned to respond, Sarge had already disappeared back into the darkness.

Pulling a frozen hand out from under his blanket, Sammy knocked on the red door, decorated with a beautiful wreath of fresh holly.  Shivering and anxious, he shifted back and forth on his boots.  When the door opened, a beautiful, older woman stood before him smiling.

“John 3 :16,” Sammy repeated through chattering teeth.

“Come in out of the cold, son.  My name is Grace.”

“I’m Sammy, ma’am.”

Stepping through the doorway, Sammy saw that this place was like nowhere he had ever been before. After entering, no one called him a street rat, or pushed him aside, or even told him he took the shine right off of Christmas. 

Grace pulled the wet blanket from his shoulders and motioned him to sit down in an over-stuffed, chair stationed in front of a crackling fire. Then she left the room for a while. Feeling such intense warmth, goosebumps marched across Sammy’s frozen limbs in waves.  Kicking his wet boots off, he caught sight of twenty or more other pairs of black boots, identical to his; sitting up on the hearth. Puzzled, Sammy added his boots to the line-up to dry out.  Melting into the warmth of his chair, his head was swimming with questions. Something about this place made him feel strangely warm on the inside too.

 Sitting silent with his eyes closed, he listened to the crackling fire. Sammy thought to himself, “Hmmm… John 3:16. I don’t understand it, but it s-u-r-e makes a cold boy warm.” **

Grace poked her head out of the kitchen by now to see how he was doing.

“Are you hungry, Sammy?”

“So, s-o-o-o hungry Miss Grace.  I sure, sure am.”

“Come in here and help yourself to what I like to call my famous Christmas Eve feast.”

Wide-eyed, Sammy looked out across a long table filled with foods he’d never tasted before. A roasted goose, sweet potatoes, plum pudding, fresh-baked bread, and Christmas cookies and confectionaries, he’d only dreamed of eating until now. He filled his plate and ate and ate until his stomach growled no more.  It was the first time he remembered it not growling in his life. Pushing away from the table in an effort to breathe; Sammy thanked Grace over and over again. For Grace, it was enough just watching him fill-up on the many good things he’d lacked all his life.  Such a sight brought great joy to her soft heart.

Unbelievably content, Sammy thought in silence, “H-m-m-m-m, John 3:16.  I don’t understand it but…it sure makes a hungry boy full.” **

“Now, young man; why don’t you come with me.” Grace suggested, before taking Sammy upstairs to a huge bathroom with a giant, claw-foot tub filled full of warm bath water.

“There are pajamas I believe will fit you hanging on that chair.  You just enjoy your soak!”

After Grace left, Sammy immersed himself fully in the warm water. Scrubbing with the first bar of soap he’d ever touched; he couldn’t describe the peace he felt wash over him. He’d never had a bath before; excluding the gutter waters he ran through in the alleyway. While he soaked a little more, he thought again about John 3:16. “I can’t understand it…but it sure does make a dirty boy clean.” **

Hearing a gentle knock at the door, Sammy finished slipping into the flannel pj’s left for him.  They were warm and much softer than sleeping in his street clothes, as he had done his whole life long.

“I’m coming, Miss Grace.”

 Stepping into the hallway, Grace lead him two-doors down to the room where he’d be sleeping. It was warmed by a small fireplace and smelled like the Christmas tree downstairs. Tucking Sammy into a four-poster, feather bed, Grace pulled the quilt up around his neck, patted him gently on the head; and turned the lanterns off.

“Good night, Sammy…sleep well.” Grace whispered on her way out the door.

Though it grew dark quickly, it didn’t compare to the emptiness of the darkness he’d known inside his box. Here, there was a window.  Before dosing off, Sammy watched the snow whirling around outside in the moonlight. His last thought this Christmas Eve was about John 3:16. As he drifted off, he whispered aloud, “I really don’t understand it…but it sure makes a tired boy feel rested…z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z.” **

Christmas Morning, Sammy woke up hearing the beautiful sounds of the church bells ringing in the city. Slipping into the new set of clothes Grace left for him on the foot of his bed, he couldn’t believe how warm he still felt. Bounding down the stairs, in socks with no holes; he met Grace again. Joining her at the table, Sammy sat in awe of the king’s breakfast spread out in front of him. Sipping on hot chocolate, there was a knock on the front door; followed by the beautiful sounds of children’s voices singing in unison.

“Come, Sammy…I want you to come and see this!” Grace beckoned, opening the front door.

Sammy looked out and saw a very different scene on her front porch than he’d seen the night before. The blizzard subsided and there stood before them, what Sammy perceived, as a small army of children.  Children of all ages and sizes, joyfully singing the words to a song he’d never heard before. He found it strange that on every child’s feet was a pair of black boots, identical to his own. 

Miss Grace joined in the singing, too.  Sammy couldn’t put his finger on what was happening inside of him.  Though he didn’t know the song, his heart ached to know it.  Somehow, the words made him feel what he could only describe as a deeper-warm, a fuller-full, and a truer-peace than he’d ever known before.

“God Bless you all!” Grace said, placing both of her hands upon her heart and then opening wide her arms toward the children; as if giving them each a piece of her heart.

“Every Christmas, these children come and stand on my doorstep; singing the words back to me that changed their lives forever.   Once, they were just like you, Sammy.  Cold, hungry, and lost on the streets of a city that abandoned them. Their lives were changed by a knock on my door because they learned the secret of the password, ‘John3:16.’”

“Miss Grace…can a boy like me learn the secret, too?”

“Of course, Sammy. But first, I want to show you where the words to that song came from. There is enough Love in those words to cover us all.”

Pointing to a page in her Bible, Grace sang the words of John 3:16 back to him like the children had earlier:

“This is how much God loved us,

He gave his Son, his One and Only Son.

And this is why…by believing in Him,

Anyone can have a whole and lasting life!

Anyone who trusts in him is saved!”  Jesus

came to help us, to put our world right again.”

(John 3:16 MSG)

Brushing Sammy’s hair out of his eyes, Miss Grace pulled his face towards hers and spoke softly.

“So, Sammy…do you have room in your own heart for Jesus?

“Oh, I do, Miss Grace…I sure do. I want Jesus to make my world right again.  I don’t understand everything about John 3:16 yet…but I do know that it sure makes a lost boy feel safe!” **

Grace agreed and added, “I don’t think even I can ever understand the depths of a Love so great as this Love in John 3:16…but what I’ve learned in my life is this. That kind of Love sure makes life worth living!” **

When Grace tucked Sammy in that night, she handed him a present to open. 

“I thought you should have this, son.”

“Thank you…ma’am. It’s a picture of a policeman with a little boy.”

“Yes…  a photo taken of my husband, John, giving that little boy next to him his first pair of black boots. We give them to all the children who come through our home.  But that little boy is your Papa…and those boots he’s holding are the same boots you came in here wearing last night.”

Studying the photo, a little closer, Sammy looked up at Grace with renewed excitement.

“And standing next to my Papa is the policeman that fed me, and kept me warm, and helped me find my way here!  That’s Sarge!  When will he be home, Miss Grace?  I want to thank him too!”

Oh Sammy, dear…I’m afraid my John went home to live in Heaven more than ten years ago.”

Hugging the photo tighter, Sammy slipped back under his covers, trying to make sense out of   what she’d just told him.

“But, Miss Grace…that’s impossible.  I just saw Sarge last night!” 

“Sammy, dear…nothing is impossible when you have the Love of John 3:16 living down inside of you.  Jesus’ Love for you is bigger than anything you can imagine. And that includes finding yourself standing right in the middle of your own Christmas Miracle! Merry Christmas, Sammy!

**Original version of the inspirational story, “John 3:16”, author unknown; may be seen at this URL:

JOHN 3:16 – Inspirational stories, motivational stories, poems, (motivateus.com)

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

PRAYER: Dearest Father in Heaven, give us a fresh vision of Who You are in this coming year. Empower us to live the ‘John 3:16 life’ out before others; a life that daily reflects the Great Love we have living down inside our own hearts…Jesus. Bless, through each of us, those in the world who feel forgotten, tread-upon, or unseen and abandoned. Christmas belongs to them, too. Great peace comes with knowing that ‘every detail in our lives of love for God, is worked into something good.’ Apart from You, Lord…we have no good thing. IN JESUS NAME…AMEN

“I will thank the Lord with all my heart; I will declare all your wondrous works. I will rejoice and boast about You. I will sing about Your Name, Most High!”

(Psalm 9:1-2 CSB)

__________________________________________________________________________________

No Small Miracle

by Debbie Allen

A few years ago, I stepped into a new season in my old job; at a Middle School.  Due to shifting circumstances within the building and unexpected budget cuts at the district level; my job in the school office went away and a new position in the school library awaited me.  Knowing that when God ushers change into my life, it’s always for my good; I stepped through those library doors my first day with confidence and enthusiasm for whatever challenges lay ahead of me. The Librarian, Willy, however, did not share my enthusiasm.  When I watched her walking toward me that first day; she was wearing two expressions at the same time.  A haunting mixture of joy and hatred reflected in her eyes; while “Congratulations!” and “You’ll be sorry”, fought for first place passing through her pursed lips.   Extending my hand out to her, she reeled me into one of the tightest bearhugs I ever endured.  I tried to see it as a sign of hope for our future working relationship; somehow, I sensed that hug was only the first move in a wrestling match between her spirit and mine. The place where Willy’s power and qualifications took me to the mat at every turn, contending for a chance to prove what she referred to as my lack of library-knowledge and the wrong skill-set for tackling her Library domain.

 “Lord help me!” was the first prayer I uttered, sitting at my new desk in the library that day.  It was going to take a miracle for this new arrangement to work.   Little did I know it but…God was already in the process of doing that very thing.

After working my way through lists and lists of tasks expected of me, Willy called me into her glass office, just a few feet away from my desk.  Though I longed for a simple thankyou now and then, her reward for the completion of one list, was always to hand me another.  My servant-heart sometimes struggled with this curmudgeon behavior, but my prayer was that my face would never reflect it. After weeks of working through these lists, Willy finally solicited my help on a project she deemed as, “impossible!”

 She shared her attempts to try and find a new refrigerator for the library’s kitchen.  The hundred-year-old, refrigerator died; and the donated, mini-fridge plugged-in beside it wasn’t big enough to handle all the teacher’s lunches stored there daily. Feeling buried under the load of daily complaints piling-up on her; Willy, reached her wits’ end.  

Digging in the bottom of her purse for loose change, she went on to tell me, “Oh…and one more thing.  There’s no room in the school budget to purchase anything; so, unless you can buy a refrigerator for $25.00, we’ll have to make do!”

I left her office feeling set-up for failure.  I searched adds, went to garage sales, and kept my eyes peeled for a couple of months.  Nothing even came close to the limitations I was trying to stay within.  Ready to accept the failure that seemed pre-planned to fall on my shoulders, I almost gave-up the search and admitted it was impossible.    That’s when things shifted.

The following Monday evening, I waited in the foyer of the church where I attended Bible Study Fellowship meetings.  Standing at my assigned Greeting post, I welcomed a friend, as usual, on her way into the sanctuary.  After exchanging smiles and generalities, I stepped aside for her to pass. She didn’t. Instead, she flashed a half-smile at me and proceeded to share how her life circumstances were under-going a major shift.  She was putting her house on the market for a “quick sale”, having to move suddenly, and “Did I know anyone who needed a refrigerator?”

 I stood there stunned.  Reluctantly, I asked her how much she wanted for the fridge. Knowing our unrealistic budget, imagine my shock when she shrugged her shoulders and blurted out, “How about $25.00?”

The very next day, our custodian, took Willy’s $25.00, picked up the refrigerator from my friend’s house, and had it plugged-in and ready for us to use within the week!

The first time I put my lunch into that new refrigerator, my mouth fell open. It was a virtual condo for food!  Though it was eight years old, it looked like it came straight from the Sears showroom floor.  The brand name tag on the door said “Kitchenaide Superba” but, from my perspective, that tag might as well have read, “God-Gift Ultima”

Willy smiled more that week than I’d ever seen her smile before.  Though the story of my personal encounter with God’s Goodness in our time of need never really interested Willy; she had a larger- than-life, reminder sitting back in the library kitchen to do all the talking for me!  God’s Fingerprints were all over that refrigerator…and they always would be!

Of course …you won’t find the story of the ‘Miracle of the Kitchenaide Superba’   written anywhere on the pages in the Bible.  It doesn’t qualify as the ‘Story of Manna Falling from Heaven’ or the ‘Parting of the Red Sea’; but, it’s no small miracle to those of us who witnessed with our own eyes, what God can do with things that seem impossible for us.

 That particular year, I miraculously witnessed a refrigerator fall from the heights of Heaven right into Willy’s lap!  Though it’s been many years since that day, I can still picture that “God-Gift Ultima” standing in the library, kitchen. It still serves as an ever-present reminder to my heart of our Great God’s Provision to His children in our everyday living… even when we don’t stop to ask Him for it.  He continually sees and meets our needs before we speak them.

As the Thanksgiving Season approaches, I pray we continue to see the variety of the Beauty and Bounty that comes from the Hand of the Lord. Whether considering the abundance and goodness of the food and family we are blessed to sit in front of on Thanksgiving Day…or the refrigerator in our own kitchen where all the left-overs go to live; be reminded, they exemplify all God’s Good Gifts in our life.  His Care and Provision for us in all our seasons and circumstances, falls nothing short of being the miracle we should be looking for and thanking Him for …every day!  Praying you have a Blessed Thanksgiving!

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

PRAYER:  Dearest Heavenly Father, what an incredible privilege we have to be able to thank You and sing praises to You. We are so grateful to feel Your Love in Morning’s light; and so humbled to speak of Your Great Faithfulness each night.  May Your Presence and Your Words become the Joy of our hearts and the Peace that floods our souls. As we step into another year of the Thanksgiving Season, may the words of the Prophet Jeremiah press a little harder against our hearts:

“Let’s take a good look at the way we’re living, and reorder our lives under God.”

(Lamentations 3:40 MSG)

Enable our eyes to see more clearly, the Abundance of Your Hand…Your everyday miracles and the true Beauty that comes from experiencing Your Love, Care, and Provision in our daily lives. Praising You and Thanking You Always, LORD!  In Jesus Name…Amen

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________