by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 Her only son is dead. And she’s a widow. Women in her time and culture, had no means of survival or sustenance outside of a husband or son providing it. She is suddenly plummeted into uncertainty and poverty.
We find Jesus walking with his disciples into the town of Nain, and into the middle of this scene, just as this broken hearted, grief stricken widow and her accompanying mourners carry her son’s body outside the town gate to a burial place.
There is no mention this widow had ever heard of Jesus. She didn’t run to Him as others had, begging for help, pleading for the life of her son. Immersed in the depths of loss and sorrow, she was unaware of His presence.
Grief consumes. It overwhelms everything. At Mike’s memorial service and in the months following, I was mostly unaware of who and what surrounded me.
People rotated in and out of my days, brought things, did things, hugged, spoke words. I barely remember any of it. It’s all a blur, still. A horrid slow motion video with sight, sound and activity taking place on the far edges of my existence. None of it making sense in the permanent absence of the man who, for years, had been my most intimate partner in life. I was the walking dead, a zombie going through the motions of the legalities and responsibilities Mike’s death had suddenly thrust upon me. The entire time my mind repeating like a scratched vinyl record, “He’s dead, he’s gone. How can this be real?” And my heart screaming in refusal to accept what my head already knew. This was it. It’s done. He’s not coming back to us anymore.
There is this me that understands what the widow was feeling. But what I find most stunning about this account is how it completely implodes the long standing belief that it’s our job, my job, to have ‘enough’ or ‘more faith’ so God will notice, show up and do something. How do you have ‘enough faith’ when you can barely breathe? When your heart throbs with aching and your mind is a hurricane of fear, confusion, shock? When you’ve lost all appetite for food, are sleeping only thirty minutes a night for months on end, and are so mentally, emotionaly and physically exhausted the only thing keeping you upright is the adrenaline of grief? How?
“And when the Lord saw her..”
That’s it right there! She didn’t see Him. She was unaware. Blinded by her sorrow. Deaf in her lament. He saw her. “He had compassion on her..” His heart suddenly exploded with mercy and love. He understood the desperation of her circumstance and without needing ANYTHING from her. Without being asked. He dried her tears and touched the stretcher that held her son’s cold body. Everything and everyone stopped as he returned life to this little family.."and Jesus gave him to his mother."
Though I begged and pleaded for it at the moment of Mike’s death, I, of course, didn’t get a resurrection story. At least not in the way I would have preferred. Wouldn’t that have been awesome! But what I find comforting and am coming to understand, is in the midst of pain, confusion, anger, suffering, sorrow, Jesus is always doing resurrection work.
It’s not easy this coming back from the dead, but His compassion, mercy and love does not look away. Never forsakes or abandons.
He Sees.
Notices.
Touches.
Renews.
Resurrects.
Even when I don’t know how to trust. And even when I don’t have ‘enough faith’ to see. It’s Who and What He Is and Does.
2 Timothy 2:13 "..if we are faithless, he remains faithful—for he cannot deny himself."
Luke 7:11-15 Soon afterward he went to a town called Nain, and his disciples and a great crowd went with him. As he drew near to the gate of the town, behold, a man who had died was being carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow, and a considerable crowd from the town was with her. And when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her and said to her, “Do not weep.” Then he came up and touched the bier, and the bearers stood still. And he said, “Young man, I say to you, arise.” And the dead man sat up and began to speak, and Jesus gave him to his mother.
John 11:25 “Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me, though he may die, he shall live”
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 I have always been a believer in the truth that our breath is God given. “And the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living being” Genesis 2:7.
We don’t own our breath. We borrow it. He supplies it for life on this planet and when that last breath leaves our lungs we return to Him.
Humans have no ability to create the absolutely necessary intangibles of breath and air. They belong to our Creator and thus, we belong to Him.
The evening I returned home to find my late husband dead, I instantly couldn’t breathe. In fact it was difficult to breathe in the weeks, months and even the first year following that life changing event. For months, I gasped for air in the middle of reoccurring panic attacks and often held my breath without realizing it. Breathing, which occurs involuntarily and without thought, became something I was constantly and noticeably aware of in Mike’s absence. The loosing of him literally took my breath away and I wonder now, if the abnormal heart arrhythmia I began experiencing in the months that followed, were tied not only to my broken heart, but possibly a full lack of oxygen it needed to function properly.
In this pandemic year, the literal masking and partial breathing of the oxygen our body needs to fully function has been hard on all of us. We’ve become afraid of the people and air around us. Breathing has suddenly become scary. Fear, suspicion and grief hold us in their grasp as we deal with a variety of great loss - health, loved ones, finances, safety, security, freedom and a lack of cultural civility.
During the past several years the importance of intentionally taking time to stop and breathe has often rescued me. Father God has repeatedly reminded me, His breath is inside me. He holds my life in His heart and hands.
I need not fear what is happening around me. Do I still? Yes. Of course. More than I should. But He is patient to reassure when my thoughts wander into crazy territory. He understands how afraid and emotionally frail I am. He has deep concern for my humanity.
He doesn’t condemn, but calls me to be still.
Sit quietly for a while. Turn off the noise. The news. The social media. Eat a healthy meal. Drink some water. Share my thoughts with a trusted friend. Stand outside for a few minutes. Walk in nature. Take in the beauty of His creation. Talk to Him with raw and open honesty. Exhale the anxiety and the pervasive and swirling negatives. Inhale Father’s goodness, allowing His peace to permeate the spirit and soul once again.
And put this on repeat, like a reminder notification, popping up daily (or even hourly) on a mobile phone.
In the midst of these trying times, every now and then, we have to take the mask off our face and our soul and simply breathe. Don’t forget.
Breathe. Breathe. Just Breathe.
“The Spirit of God has made me and the breath of the Almighty gives me life.” Job 33:4 “..he [God] himself gives to all mankind life and breath and everything.” Acts 17:25
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 It’s a new year. A new decade.
In my life time, I’ve marinated in environments where it’s expected I should declare prosperity, health, blessings and all things good for the new year. And why not? Isn’t that what we all hope for?
But honestly, we don't know what a year will bring. I’ve had good years and others where things have gone horribly wrong, with no foresight of what was coming, no matter what I had declared at it’s start. Years where the collision of my bless-me-club-membership faith and actual reality shattered me into tiny pieces and everything I was certain of, understood and believed, lay broken at my feet.
As the years come and go I‘ve come to ask myself, are these declarations of only having what I define as good in life, nothing but a demand for God’s stamp of approval on what I want? Isn’t it arrogant to believe I can take a few scriptures mixed with my wants, my desires and throw them at God, as if He’s some genie in a magic bottle or cosmic vending machine, demanding He heal, prosper, alleviate, rescue me from every heart rendering circumstance of death, despair, disability and disillusionment?
Ask? Yes.
Declare and demand? No.
Maybe we should just declare that whatever happens God will be with us. In it all.
Maybe all He wants is us, not all our plans or demands. He just wants to be inside this life with us whatever that ends up looking like.
Maybe He just wants us to discover the simple certainty of this, He is Emmanuel. God With Us. He will not abandon or forsake us in 2020 or any other time.
And maybe knowing that is enough for a new year.
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 It’s been two years. Today.
What I never knew, what you can’t know until you’re here, is the large part of you that dies with your spouse. It can’t be helped. Through the years of togetherness your existence becomes so completely entangled and intertwined, you loose entire pieces of yourself when they’re gone.
Not only do you suffer the loss of a person but also the unique history the two of you created. The glances, the personal jokes, the comfortable silence only you both understood. The way you often knew what the other wanted, liked or thought without even asking. The decisions made together that shaped the path of your life. The parts of your mind, soul and body only your loved one knew. All of the small nuances and intimate sharing that was just the two of you. These all have vanished and nothing or no one else can ever replace them.
I lost so much when I lost him. Ironically one of the last sermons Mike preached was on how to handle loss. One statement he made that has stuck with me is this, “God is the God of all we’ve lost and the God of all we have left”. For seven hundred and thirty days, I‘ve lived in the aftermath of stumbling, faltering attempts to move forward. My heart has been much slower to accept what my brain has known since the evening he left me, Mike is gone from this earth and he’s never coming back. And while the passing of two years has done nothing for the missing of him, I must continue to live.
Discovering who I am without my husband is a daunting task. I still don’t know. But God does. “The LORD says, "I will guide you along the best pathway for your life. I will advise you and watch over you.” Psalm 32:8
He is the God of what is left of me. As year three begins, only He can show me where to go from here. I‘m Hoping. Trusting. Listening.
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
Good Morning Father. I’m awake.
Another day, and my first thought as always, is he’s gone.  Still.
His side of the bed unruffled. Comforter flat and wrinkle free. Pillows smooth and in place.
Here I am without him. Again.
I can’t do this widow thing. But You can.
I can’t do this single mom/caregiver of a grown son with disabilities thing. But You can.
I don’t have enough faith. But You do.
I am without hope. But You’re not.
I’m not strong. But You are.
So I will push this blanket back. Put my legs over the side of this bed and my feet on the floor.
I will stand and get ready for whatever this day brings.
I’d rather pull this blanket over my head and stay right here. But You’re with me.
He’s not here. But You are.
Thank You for never abandoning us. You and Your Son have not forsaken me and mine.
You have and are everything I need. I place my trust in You.
We will do this day together. Here we go.
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 I admit, I‘ve run out of words.
Well, ‘run out’ might not be the exact terminology. Words still exist, but they are a continuous whirlwind of thoughts, crashing into each other and shattering in uselessness to the bottom of my brain.
I‘ve been asked, why I‘m not writing and posting regularly like I was. When you can’t make sense of anything, expression can be difficult. Everything I once thought I knew, believed, subscribed to, seems trivial and irrelevant. All the knowing-of-things I once held dear, is nothing but the fluff of a spent dandelion blowing in a tornado.
I need to drown out the noise of this world, the constant chatter both past and present, ricocheting off the walls of my heart and mind. So many words and ideas others have spoken into me since childhood. Piled deep and high. I’ve been stripped inside to the nakedness of my soul and exhausted by years of ideas, opinions and dogmas I have heard and still hear.
Confession time? Complete honesty? All my cards laid out on the table? I‘m too tired to figure it out anymore. Too broken to put me back together. I‘ve reached the end of myself and I don’t care how unspiritual it looks. The mask is off. I can’t fake it ‘til I make it. Can’t stomach the cliches and pat answers I always thought were truth.
I am asking God to help me understand Him in ways I never have before. I am begging my Father to reveal Himself to me. Not from the interpretation of others. And not from my own contrived misconceptions of who He is. But for Himself.
What about Him do I not know? What about Him do I not understand? If I’m going to move forward from here I desperately need to hear His voice and understand His heart. For me. There’s little to say right now. I must be still and learn to know He Is God.
I‘m like Mary, who after the angel appeared to tell her she would bear God’s Son in human flesh, pondered all these things in her heart.
Or Job, who after striving with so much sorrow before his Creator, put his hand over his mouth and shut-up, realizing he had spoken things without knowledge, from the limits of human reasoning.
Or Paul, who considered everything he had ever accomplished prior to knowing Christ, the power of His resurrection and fellowship of His suffering, nothing but garbage. Manure. Useless.
The encouraging news in the dark night of my soul is this; even the dandelion, that blooms, withers and blows away, is rooted in solid ground and when the winter is over, lives again. Even the garbage heap can be recycled into new usefulness. Even the manure pile is tilled back into the earth to enrich a new harvest. In the fullness of time and the proper season of renewal, all can be restored.
So in this season, I exist on what I still know that I know to be true. God is good. He is faithful. He does not abandon. And He loves me. At present little else matters to me.
It is all the words I have. And it is enough.
For now.
Psalm 46:10 “Be still and know that I Am God.”
Luke 2:19 “But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart.”
Job 40:4-5 “I lay my hand over my mouth. Once I have spoken, but I will not answer; Yes, twice, but I will proceed no further.”
Job 42:3 “I have uttered what I did not understand, Things too wonderful for me, which I did not know.
Philippians 3:8-10 “ Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith— that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death.”
Lamentations 3:22-24 “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.”
Matthew 28:20 “I am with you always, even unto the end of the world.”
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 There was water all around. No land in sight on any horizon.
So small and insignificant in the sea, the cork was lost and floating aimlessly. Disconnected from her original purpose. Identity gone. Afraid. Alone. Without hope of rescue.
Suddenly a wall of water loomed in the distance, racing forward, a formidable tsunami wave that would certainly be the end of it all. The force of the wave shoved the cork, flipping and swirling, to the bottom of the ocean and the overwhelming despair and fear accompanying it became far greater than the violence of the water itself. Instant panic seized her. She would never survive. Not this time.
The swirling current subsided and the cork drifted to the top, exhausted and disoriented. Just when a moment of relief came to the great sea, another wall of water appeared, sending her to the bottom of fear and loss again, this cycle continuing in never ending successions.
In slow agonizing increments, the waves eventually pushed the cork toward shore. She tumbled back and forth in the swirling breakers until she was finally left lying for days, with little energy left to care, in the sand.
On a bright sunny day a woman and her child walked the beach looking for treasures to fill their plastic pail. They found the cork, took her home, washed her and made her part of a useful and beautiful display in their home. The cork had come through the deep, dark waters and found purpose. New, different, even foreign, but a purpose just the same.
In my deepest despair I asked God for something, anything, to reassure me I would survive the devastating death of my husband.
He gave me this dream. I am the cork.  Can new life be restored after such loss? Can the thing meant to destroy, become the catalyst for rescue and new meaning? Can the waters of dark despair bring forth renewed hope?
God promises I will not drown. Hope, like a cork, rises again. It’s true, life will never go back to what it was. I will never be the same. There are moments, hours, days, nights when I hate the reality of this truth, but I long for the time when I might be excited about living, when I finally wash up on the shore of hope and find new joy, new purpose.
As each reoccurring wave continues to bury me in the depths, I hang on to Jesus, my life preserver, until hope floats again.
“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you, I have called you by name; you are Mine! When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they will not overflow you.” Isaiah 43:1-2
“And now, O Lord, for what do I wait? My hope is in you.” Psalm 39:7
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 I explained to Jon on the way to the hospital the doctor was going to give him some medicine to help him take a nap and would go inside him with a tiny, tiny camera to look around. I didn’t give him the medical term. Bladder Cystoscopy. After we arrived, nurses moved in an out of the blue curtains of the outpatient operating room waiting area. All of them pleasant, helpful and patient. “Here Jon, take off all your clothes. Put on this gown.” “Get in the bed, Jon.” “We need to put these stickers on your chest so we can check your heart.” “Is it OK if we put this blood pressure cuff on your arm now?” “You need this oxygen clip on your finger.” “It’s time to put the IV in. Can you give me your arm?” So many instructions. So much to process. The expressions rolling across Jon’s face like a fast forwarded movie, told me he was confused by it all. Our friend Judy, who came to be backup support, had quietly explained to several of the nurses, out of Jon’s hearing, that his father died recently and I knew Jon was thinking about that right now. No one else would know it but me. I saw the fear in his eyes. He walked to me, closer than usual and stared into my eyes. I asked him very quietly, “Are you afraid Jon?” He put his forehead against mine and answered, “I‘m going to be just like Dad.” I grabbed him close to me and started to cry. “Oh no Jon. You are not. You’re going to be OK, Honey. Dad didn’t die in the hospital. I know you still think he did but that’s not true. These doctors and nurses will take very good care of you and you will be just fine. And Judy and I will be here to take you home when you wake up.” I hugged him so hard and he didn’t resist, this son of mine who rarely wants to be touched, who usually flinches or shrugs my touch away. I heard nurses sniffling behind us. I‘ve yet to tell Jon how and where his father died. How do you tell this guy, “Your dad died in the front yard while he was home alone with you. While you were watching a movie in your room your dad went to be with Jesus.” How do you say that to him? What and how much to say about the traumas of life is always a challenge with Jon. He understands way more than people realize. Anyone who hangs out with him for long figures this out. But he has a hard time expressing what he’s thinking. The thoughts and words are stuck somewhere inside him and no one knows more than those who have gone through this incredible grief how healing it is to be able to say exactly what you’re feeling all the time. It’s part of the moving forward process. Does Jon need to know his dad died right here at home? Will that knowledge make him afraid of his home, the one place of safety he has in the world? And if he knows it, how will he ever be able to process it? These questions and uncertainties roll around in my mind at night and spring from me in the form of tears and prayers. I’ve asked Jon several times over the past few months if he wants me to tell him what happened to his father. So far he’s given no indication he wants to know the truth so until he does I guess I‘ll keep it at that. Maybe it’s better this way for both of us. I don’t know. For now I’ll keep asking God for wisdom. Discernment to understand my son’s heart and patience to deal with whatever arises with another sun. I‘ll keep reminding my son his dad may not be here with us anymore but Jesus is still and we’re going to be OK. Even when we’re afraid of all these new unknowns, even when it doesn’t feel good or safe, we can lean our forehead on His. We can tell our Savior, “I‘m afraid.” He will wrap us in His arms and reassure us, “I’m here. It’s going to be OK.” Psalm 56:3-4 “Whenever I am afraid, I will trust in You. In God (I will praise His word), In God I have put my trust; I will not fear.”
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 In October 2017, when my husband died, this sudden, life altering earthquake shook me to my core. Everything that was secure, safe and predictable took a seismic shift. I feel as if I‘m clinging to the edge of open ground, trying not to fall into the deep chasm it has created. If I‘m honest, I have no dreams right now and many moments I struggle to have hope. It’s daily survival mode around here. So where do I go from here? I’m still taking care of an adult disabled son who needs me and there are so many complicated layers to this dynamic I’m often at a loss to explain. Jon requires most of my breathing hours. I’ve heard I should have dreams, goals. I should allow God to resurrect them. I should go back to where they died and bring them back to life. But how? Where? When? At this point I can’t even recall any. My life has been spent supporting my husband and taking care of my children. There’s been very little of it that’s been about me and I’m not one bit sorry for it. My youngest son is grown and on his own now and my husband is gone. He’s not coming back. There’s no resurrecting that! As I talked to my Heavenly Dad about it this morning He spoke quietly to my heart. “Daughter, This is not complicated. YOU are MY dream. I AM your goal. Your dream should be to know you are LOVED by ME. Your dream should be to KNOW ME. Every other thing you do, have, want and become will flow from there. Walk with ME through the Valley of the Shadow of Death and Darkness. Don’t struggle so much to figure it out. Trust MY LOVE FOR YOU and let your dream and purpose unfold as we travel this road together.” I‘m not very good at this yet and I ‘m struggling to trust Him in this new, hard place. I have neither the energy or faith to dream but He has all the strength and faith I need. HE is my faith. HE is my source. HE is the wellspring of my life. Dreams that never existed can’t be resurrected BUT could it be, God can create brand new ones after everything inside me has died? For those of us who feel like it’s over and there’s nothing left to resurrect - Yes!! He can make all things new! Even ME. Maybe someday I‘ll dream again. That’s all I got for now and what I’m holding on to. Revelation 21:5 “And he who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.” Also he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.”
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 In March of 2017, Mike and I went on a seven day cruise with our son, David and our daughter in law, Clara. Finding someone to stay with Jon that long is rare, but our good friends, Lou and Thelma, graciously offered to hold down the home front for us. It wasn’t so much about where we went and what we did, but the opportunity to unwind and be uninterrupted together. It took Mike about four days to leave the weight of his many responsibilities behind. I watched his shoulders relax, the worry lines across his forehead fade, saw his dry wit and easy laughter return. And the fun of cruising got us talking seriously about his retirement when he turned sixty five, still five years away. Retirement seemed like a mute point to him without us having freedom to come and go. We needed a solution for Jon if we were going to be able to travel and do some of the things we’ve always wanted to do. On Friday of cruise week, he sat us all down at lunch, excited about a great idea he had. He wanted to build a caregiver house on our property and have someone live there to help with Jon. It would be a one time expenditure, something we could pay off, unlike life long residential care, and would provide a long term solution to our retirement challenge. The four of us agreed it was a good idea if we could convince the code and permitting powers that be, to approve it. In Mike’s typical get-on-it, gotta’-fix-it-now style, he started in as soon as we arrived home. Checking out tiny house architectural designs, taking out a loan, calling the city, arguing with permitting, lining up the general contractor, surveyor and land clearing. As usual, he began moving through the process methodically, with the weight of a freight train and the efficiency of an ant army. Before the concrete slab was poured, he was craigslist surfing and sale shopping, buying appliances, flooring, paint, sinks, faucets, lighting, a hot water tank and AC unit. All of which are still piled in packing boxes in the garage.  Things propelled into fast forward and we were excited to see block walls going up. The project was scheduled to be completed by the end of December. Then, in early October, my husband died. I put the project on hold, seriously considering bulldozing the whole thing down. Why care about retirement now? And why would would I want to travel or do anything without him? This was his dream for our future and he literally died at the door of it. That is where I found him when I came home that evening, leaving our future in ruins at my feet. This little house had suddenly become a reminder of all that was not to be and a barely completed weight added to the many new responsibilities I now had to carry alone. Every time I looked at it, it reminded me of life in my sorrow-filled season: sad, empty, incomplete, uncertain and burdensome. I began to hate that house, but realized God knew the timing of all this. It had been constructed far enough for me to see the foolishness and waste of tearing it down. So I resolved to finish it.  After four months it is back under construction (along with a new roof going on the house we live in, another project landing in my lap when Mike exited). My property is swarming with construction people this week. It is anything but peaceful here. Life is always under construction. Change comes. Ripping down. Rebuilding. Clearing away the old. Making space for something new. Some construction we look forward to and just as often, are the times we would never choose the abrupt, difficult and complete re-structuring we find ourselves in. Construction is loud, messy, noisy, annoying and feels endlessly incomplete. But it’s goal is for a finished product. A purpose. Something useful up ahead. Though I don’t see it, can’t feel it, and hate the place I’m in, I must believe God has my best at heart. Only He can complete me. “And so I am sure that God, who began this good work in you, will carry it on until it is finished on the day of Christ Jesus,” Philippians 1:6. My entire life is currently under construction. Fortunately, God is a patient master builder. He leaves nothing undone. While everything feels chaotic and uncertain, I’m hanging on to the hope of a finished product that glorifies Him and the promise of a future that looks to Jesus, ‘the author and finisher of my faith’ (Hebrews 12:2). And I pray something beautiful will rise up from the dust of this unwanted situation. “Come let us return to the Lord; for he has torn us, that he may heal us; he has struck us down, and he will bind us up” Hosea 6:1 “Unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain..” Psalm 127:1
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 I’m asked a lot these days, “How you doing?” I’m not sure if people want the standard answer or the real answer. I’m not even sure I know the answer. Trying to get through another day without my husband is pure agony. I still can’t believe he’s gone or that I’ll never again hear his familiar, “What’s up!” coming through the door at the end of a work day. As a staff pastor and the financial administrator at the church where he ministered and worked, he was somewhere in the building anytime I arrived there. If he wasn’t waiting for me, I could always find him. Trinity Church is and always will be associated with Mike in my heart and mind and it’s difficult for me to be there right now, because he’s not. Five Friday’s have come and gone since the evening he died. Friday was Mike’s day off. Our ‘date day’. Jon’s caregiver would come to the house in the early afternoon and we would leave for the day; go shopping, see a movie, eat out, spend time together. Our date days have ended. I don’t like Friday anymore. I have no ability to categorize any of this right now. It all swirls around in my head and becomes a wrecking ball of pain and sorrow for my heart. I try to fill up my days with tasks clamoring for my attention, those that used to be his and those that have always been mine. Evenings and nights stretch eternal and each morning sunrise is another reminder that I’ll live another day without him. I’m being told by so many I’m not alone. God is with me. I'm aware of this completely. He’s here in the middle of it all. I’ve sensed Him in my deepest sorrow, have not blamed Him for any of it and in some unexplainable way, I trust Him. But I still wear skin. My spirit exists in a physical body and world, one that involves taste, touch, sound and sight. I long for my partner with skin on, a man I could see, hear, touch, whose presence filled up my life and years. When God made the first human he said, “It is not good for man to be alone” (Genesis 2:18). He was right. It’s not. Yes, God is here. I’m not alone. But Mike is not and I’m so lonely. Just another life contradiction I don’t understand.
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 I've spent a lot of time home alone with Jon the last fifteen years. But this 'home alone' is entirely new territory. Mike's physical presence missing in this house is tangible. Knowing he will never walk through the door again is haunting. It's just me and Jon now. I have no idea what our future looks like without Mike here. We depended on him greatly. He was fiercely loyal, responsible, a get it done kind of guy you could lean on. It's hard getting up in the morning and going to bed at night without him. The days ahead seem long and dismal. Everyone around me tells me I'm doing good. I don't know what they are seeing. Nothing seems good or right in this. I don't feel 'good'. The initial shock and numbness of Mike's sudden death is wearing off and the reality of doing life alone, without him in it, is settling in heavily. I wear it constantly, like a thick coat in a hot desert place. Yet in my constant sorrow, there is no struggle to trust God. So much I don't understand but I have not once blamed Him for any of it. There's no where else to go but to Him, so why would I push Him away? Why would I turn my back on Him? And knowing Mike is with Him gives me hope. I proclaim as did the disciple Peter, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You alone have the words of eternal life" John 6:68. All the hard places in my life have taught me God can be trusted. This one is the highest level of learning so far. Leaning. Reaching. Longing for my Heavenly Father to fill me up with more of Himself. There's no where else to go. But to Him. So here I am Lord. The sun has risen again and I'm living another day you've given without my husband at my side. I surrender it to you. I surrender me to you. I surrender Jon to you. I have no answers. So much I don't know. But of this I am certain: TODAY we are Yours.
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 Most of us have experienced sorrow in our lifetime. I certainly have. A child born with a disability. An illness that stoled my ability to do certain things. My grandmother and my parents when they died. A brother who has struggled with mental illness most of his life. Dreams that haven’t come true. Loss of friendship. Circumstances that took me down paths I never planned on. This current grief has taken me to an entirely new level, like nothing I’ve ever faced before. It is complicated. And messy. And confusing. It takes my breath away. Makes my heart feel like a rock inside my chest and haunts me with thoughts of packing a bag and fleeing to outrun it. It wakes me up in the night, fills me with dread, fear and tidal waves of sobbing I never knew were humanely possible. I never would have suspected anger to be part of grief. This emotion has surprised me the most. It sneaks up on me at the most inopportune moments and is triggered by ridiculous things. Like struggling to open a jar that I would normally hand to Mike and when the lid won’t budge I’m overwhelmed by a sudden urge to throw it across the room. I don’t know how many times in the past few weeks, I’ve said out loud to my missing man, “So where are you when I need you? Sure, you’re prancing around on streets of gold having the time of your life and I’m stuck down here with all this mess! Thanks a lot for leaving me!” I’ve found myself angry for having to do all the things he usually did. Taking the trash to the roadside on Tuesday nights. Dealing with the hurricane roof that needs to be replaced. The endless amounts of paperwork and phone calls and cleaning the pool. Most people hate pool maintenance but Mike liked it. Maybe because It’s mindless work. He used his brain so much overseeing the finances of entire organizations and managing people that cleaning tranquil water had a relaxing effect on him. Almost every night after work, he’d come home, change his clothes and go scoop out the pool. In the hot summer months he’d clean it while he was in it. The disadvantage of having a garden inside your pool screen is the leaf debris that ends up in the pool. Last week after a windy rain, I went to scoop leaves and floating flowers out of the water. The scoop pole is long and awkward, I kept smacking the screen frame and kitchen windows with it and it took me longer than I expected. Debris I just picked up would escape the net and I was getting frustrated. Mike always made it look so easy. I finally finished, slammed the pole back onto the hooks where it hangs and yelled up at the sky, “There! I cleaned the stupid pool! I did YOUR job and it looks nice! Aren’t you proud of me?!” Then I went back in the house and slammed the door. One minute later I was sobbing. It’s so confusing, this grief. While I’ve considered myself to a pretty stable person, the roller coaster I’m on right now surprises me with twists and turns I don’t see coming until I’m in them. I don’t like roller coasters. They fill me with fear and make me sick. I avoid them. But it seems I’ll have to ride this one out for a while. I do know God is in the seat next to me and He’s not surprised by any of it. He know’s I’m flesh. I’m week, flawed and tired and He doesn’t add guilt or condemnation on top of anything I feel right now. And I’ve lived long enough to know feelings are only reactions to stuff we don’t want, like or understand. They are the like mist rising off my pool on a cool Florida morning. Ascending, dissipating and rising again while the water remains, solid and steadfast underneath. I miss my Mike with everything in me and my tipsy, flimsy faith, reaches for the Solid One who undergirds me in all of life. God has been and always will be the constant who provides an anchor point where my faith and reality collide. This roller coaster will come to a stop and eventually I’ll get off and say, “Whew, what a horrible ride. But I made it.” Looking forward to that. A lot. I’m honestly admitting I don’t like where I am right now but when “I walk through valleys as dark as death…the Lord is with me” (Psalm 23:4). He’s with me in the anger, the sorrow, the sobbing, the confusion and even brief moments of joy. He’s bigger than my emotions and greater than my circumstance. He is my God. He weeps with me, loves me and isn’t freaked out by anything I feel or how I react to this new normal I’m adjusting too. I trust Him to carry me through this process and bring me out on the other side because “[my] Maker is [my] husband: the Lord Almighty is His name. He is [my] redeemer. He is called the God of all the earth” Isaiah 54:5.
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 I’ve gone to the grocery store almost every week in my forty two years of marriage and family raising. Multiplying fifty two weeks in a year by forty two years equates to two thousand one hundred and eighty four times. Other than a parking lot ding on my car’s bumper, an occasional broken jar, squished peach or the bottom falling out of a full bag, it has been a nondescript task. Tuesday, October 3rd, 2017, I came home from the grocery store to find my husband dead in the front yard. There is absolutely nothing nondescript about that and I’m not sure I’ll ever look at buying groceries the same again. Mike’s last words to me were, “I’ll see you when you get back.” He didn’t. Now I attempt to navigate from here. The shared weight of responsibility Mike carried for Jon has been added entirely to me. It is heavy. I feel as if I’m suffocating right now. I’m hanging on to Jesus like the leaf of a tree in a hurricane. I see and feel the concern, love and prayers of those around us and am incredibly grateful to all who are rallying around me and Jon. But I’ve noticed the frequently asked question seems to be, “How are you doing?” So I’m feeling the need to explain to those who have yet to experience this particular type of storm, the difficult answer to this question. Quite honestly, I don't even know how I'm doing. There is no answer. However, an attempt to put it into words might go like this. I am a bucket of mashed potatoes. I have been picked, peeled, quartered, boiled, whipped, shoved through a sieve for extra fine-ness and tossed onto Florida’s Interstate 4 at rush hour to be run over by three hundred vehicles a minute. For the unforeseeable future, my answer to the ‘how you doing’ question will be “Mashed Potatoes and God is still good!” Just have a spatula to peel me off the pavement and a little salt and butter when you see me. I’m hoping these mashed potatoes will eventually be able to feed a hurting, desperate soul somewhere on the interstate of life. “The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Psalm 34:18
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 Jon's been to the sedation dentist five times in the past eight months. We still have two to three more appointments to finish all the repair needed and then there's the question of whether there'll be more in the future. There's always this thing about Jon's future (and not just his teeth). It wants to hang over me like a dark cloud, more than I care to admit. I don't worry about our son, David. I think about him everyday, but never worry about him. But Jon? Oh yes! I worry about him plenty and have for many years. The older he and I get, the more it weighs on me. Maybe this is normal for parents of kids who need care and supervision their entire lives. Is it? Or am I alone here? I can be having a conversation with you and in the far recesses of my mind I'm thinking about Jon. I can be at the grocery store, in a church service, on a cruise, visiting my grandson; I can be anywhere doing anything and Jon is present in my thoughts. He's always on my mind. Other's tell me, "Well you shouldn't worry so much. It's in God's hands." I smile and reply, "Thank you, that's true. You're right. Pray for me." But honestly, what I sometimes want to shout is, "That's easy for you to say!" So how do we trust God in situations that continue day after day, year after year? It's real. It's in our face every morning when we rise and every night when we lay down. How do we find peace and contentment in this place? Can I ever reach a place of total surrender here? Can I ever mature enough in God to never feel this anxiety again, even when nothing has changed? Can I get through a day without having to lay it down at Jesus' feet again and again? Today. Tomorrow. And the next day. Or the one after that. I don't know. I want to. Worry wears me out. It's exhausting. Jesus said not to worry about tomorrow (Matthew 6:34) but in context, He was talking about material goods needed for life: food, drink and clothes. He wasn't talking about my son. Apostle Paul also wrote in Philippians 4:12 that he had "learned the secret of being content in every situation" but also related this to material needs; hunger, abundance and lack. He wasn't talking about Jon either. So I look at these: "Cast your cares on the Lord and He will sustain you.." Psalm 55:22. "Don't worry about anything, instead pray about everything." (Apostle Paul) Philippians 4:6. "..Cast all your anxiety on Him (Jesus) because He cares for you" 1 Peter 5:6-8. "Come to Me (Jesus) all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest" Matthew 11:28. "Peace I leave with you; My peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid" (Jesus) John 14:27. I read these promises and realize this worry free existence we hope for, may NOT be a 'I've finally arrived' deal. I wonder if we ever reach the pinnacle of ability to sail through a trouble filled earth life without angst. As believers in an all powerful and involved-in-life God, maybe we do ourselves and others a disservice when we expect to reach a super spiritual level of never worrying about anything, ever again, this side of Heaven. We read our Bibles and cliché these scriptures into meaninglessness, beating ourselves up for failing and feeling sub-standard for not measuring up. Could it be these promises aren't about removing worry from life permanently, but instructions for surrendering it daily? If "faith is the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not yet seen," (Hebrews 11:1) then everyday I need to lay what I hope for at His feet. Everyday while I wait 'for what I have not yet seen' I need His strength to battle the enemies of worry, doubt and fear. Everyday I pray. Everyday I cast my anxiety on Him. Everyday I come to Him for peace and rest. Everyday I run to Him with my problems. Everyday I choose to trust Him. Everyday I believe He loves me. Everyday I lay my questions, concerns, fears and worries before Him. Everyday I surrender Jon, his future and mine, back to Him. Today. Tomorrow. And the next day. And the one after that. The better question to ask is this: "Can trouble or problems or persecution separate us from His love?" Romans 8:35 When I remember I'm loved, it's easier to let go. When I remember I'm loved, I worry less. When I remember I'm loved, I breathe deeper. When I remember I'm loved, I surrender completely. "But in all these troubles we have complete victory through God, who has shown His love for us. Yes, I am sure that nothing can separate us from God's love.." Romans 8:38. In my daily surrender, God's love overtakes my worry. When His love is always on my mind, His love always wins. "..nothing in the whole created world—will ever be able to separate us from the love God has shown us in Christ Jesus our Lord" Romans 8:39. Nothing. Will ever! Not Today. Tomorrow. And the next day. Or the one after that. Hallelujah!
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 Our story inspires people. At least, that’s what I hear. That’s what some tell me. I find that fascinating because it usually doesn’t feel the least bit inspiring while living it. It often feels frustrating, lonely, difficult, challenging, frightening and exhausting. But there’s one thing I’ve figured out about my wise, loving and mysterious God. He enjoys showing up in the middle of our mess! He loves to partner with us to make Himself known. If releasing the Hebrews from bondage was God’s only objective, He could have swooped into Egypt all by Himself and in any number of ways, set the Israelite nation free. So what was the long, drawn out process all about? The negotiating, petitioning, plagues and frustration. Moses was only doing what God had instructed. Why wasn't it easier? Scholars estimate the duration of all the plagues, until Israel’s release, was at least two months and possibly up to a year. The ancient Egyptians worshiped over 2000 deities. They had a god associated with every aspect of life; agriculture, fertility, water, rain, animals, death, insects, earth, sky, sun and moon. Even Pharaoh was thought to be a god. While delivering Israel, Jehovah was also trying to reveal Himself to the nation of Egypt as the One True God. The only way to do so was to prove His power greater over all the gods they imagined. Each plague addressed, at least one and maybe more, of their gods. In His mercy, God orchestrated this series of events to access the heart of Pharaoh and give him opportunity to change. But Pharaoh continually hardened his heart. The 'ahh-hah' moment never came. Pharaoh never accepted the revelation of a real God who cared enough about him to speak loudly and clearly, "I AM THE LORD!" not all these other things you worship. God will go out of His way to make Himself known. If only one Egyptian came to know the One True God in the middle of Israel’s mess, it was worth the struggle. Apparently some believed, because Exodus 12:37&38 tells us, "That night the people of Israel left Rameses and started for Succoth..a rabble of non-Israelites went with them.."  This thing you're going through right now might not be only for or about you. It might be so others see God's power at work in you while He is simultaneously orchestrating your solution. Don't be discouraged because your rescue, problem or promise is taking so long. Be patient. Trust the process. Remember others are watching. Someone else could be changed because of your faith and trust in a time of trouble. Someone else could see God's power at work in your struggle and have that 'ahh-hah' moment. "When I raise my powerful hand and bring out the Israelites, the Egyptians will know that I am the Lord" Exodus 7:5. Someone else could come to know He Is Lord, because of what He is doing for YOU! Exodus 9:29 “All right,” Moses replied. “As soon as I leave the city, I will lift my hands and pray to the Lord. Then the thunder and hail will stop, and you will know that the earth belongs to the Lord." Exodus 14:4 "I have planned this in order to display my glory through Pharaoh and his whole army. After this the Egyptians will know that I am the Lord!” Exodus 14:17&18 "My great glory will be displayed through Pharaoh and his troops, his chariots, and his charioteers. When my glory is displayed through them, all Egypt will see my glory and know that I am the Lord!”
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
When our boys were crawling babies and old enough to start noticing and exploring the world around them, Mike would often pick them up and carry them, through the house, outside, in malls or restaurants, just about anywhere at any random moment, and show them things up above their vision. Since they spent their entire day on the floor it was almost impossible to see or know what was up above.  He let them touch clocks, pictures, candles and other things hanging on walls. He showed them flowers, plants, leaves, trees. He let them look out windows, took them into closets and pointed out items on shelves and walked them in restaurant lobbies to let them see whatever was at eye level. Every item seen or touched was prefaced with, "Wow! What is that?" Then he would name it and add a simple explanation, "That's a clock. It's round. Watch that second hand go. That's pretty awesome isn't it?" Watching their precious faces light up at the discovery of some new wonder was priceless as they absorbed the novelties of their world and every tiny discovery in amazement. These 'Wow Walks', as we came to call them, resulted in Jon's first word, not being DaDa or MaMa, but "Wow!" Our nine month old crawling and exploring grandson was with us last week. The first thing Mike did when Asa was comfortable with us holding him, was take him on a "Wow Walk." He had quite a few of them while he was here, to the point where if he was fussy, his mom or dad would ask him, "Asa, do you want Grampy to take you on a Wow tour?" The answer was a big smile and outstretched arms. His way of saying, "Yes Grampy, take me, take me."  As we age and mature, we often lose this childlike sense of wonder. The responsibilities, problems and heaviness of our existence on this planet can easily mire us down, into negativity and despair; things once new and exciting as a child become commonplace. We can see a beautiful sunset, without celebrating it, walk past a rose without smelling it or look at a rainbow without contemplating its mystery. We begin evaluating others through eyes of cynicism or mistrust and miss moments of joy and beauty in everyday life. Why are we reminded by Jesus to remain, not childish in behavior, but childlike in faith? “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven." (Matthew 18:3). I believe He knew how quickly the belief and wonder could fade; after all, He was here, walking as one of us, when He said this. He also came to return that sense of amazement to life. Not just a, plodding along, trying to keep our head up and survive, sort of reality, but abundance (John 10:10). Is the wonder and joy of life far from your grasp? Do the problems and struggles you face keep you down? God can lift you up. Let Him lift you from the floor of limitation. Trust him as a small child trusts a loving grandfather. Reach for Him with outstretched arms. Allow Him to carry you higher and show you great and marvelous things. Lift up your eyes, believing there is much more above and beyond where you are right now. Don't settle for a 'Woe Is Me’ walk through life. Make it a 'WOW’ walk! But Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.” Matthew 19:14 "Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.” Luke 18:17 "The thief comes but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly." John 10:10 "But you, O Lord, are a shield about me, my glory, and the lifter of my head." Psalm 3:3 "I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth." Psalm 121:1-2 "But as it is written, eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him." 1 Corinthians 2:9 "Call to Me, and I will answer you, and show you great and mighty things which you do not know." Jeremiah 33:3
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
I watched it, from my kitchen window, fluttering against the screen, desperate to get out. The butterfly was trapped. It flew in through the large roof opening of our pool frame, a hole the hurricane left behind when a screen came loose in the wind.  The butterfly showed no interest in the array of flowers we've planted inside, it wanted out and bumped along the side panels until it needed to rest, finally clinging to the screen instead of flying against it. I dried my hands, grabbed a Rubbermaid container and lid and went out on the deck. I figured if I could trap it inside the container I could set it free, but it flew off before I could catch it. I grabbed the pool scoop, the thing that looks like a large butterfly net, and followed the creature, gently swiping at it as it darted and glided above my head. Opening the screen doors on each end of the enclosure, I attempted to guide it to freedom, but it flew too high or darted away in another direction. Butterfly obviously didn't understand my good intentions. It couldn't believe I was concerned for its welfare, though several times it was only inches from the open door. "You're so close! Come on Butterfly. Work with me. I know this is scary for you but I'm trying to help you here. Why can't you understand, I'm just trying to help you be free?" Eventually the butterfly exhausted itself and rested again, on a side screen, within reach and I gingerly set the Rubbermaid container over it and slid the lid underneath. The frightened creature panicked and crashed violently against the walls of the plastic prison. I carefully carried it outside, far away from the pool enclosure and lifted the lid. The butterfly burst from captivity and soared away above the trees in a joyous dance of freedom. In every place where my mind, heart and soul are trapped, every obstacle I so violently and fearfully bump up against, every towering wall I encounter with no escape, God is on a continuous rescue mission to set me free. He is there waiting, as I kick against my prison walls, believing I must find my own way out. He longs to show me how to soar. He patiently moves me closer to the open door, closer to liberty, while my heart flutters in fear and my soul lifts in pride. My Merciful Father patiently waits until I retreat in exhaustion and there, submit to the gentle nudge of His heart to my own. "Come on Daughter. Work with me. I know this looks scary and you don't understand, but I'm trying to help you. I'm just trying to set you free. Trust Me." With gentle restriction He apprehends me, changes me, and then sets me free to rise above the challenges of my own thoughts, heart and life. Wings are not meant to fly against obstacles, but over them. Wings take us places we can't normally go. Wings are meant for freedom. Today, I submit to God's capture. I will Trust Him, because soon, confinement will be over. Freedom will come at last. And I will soar. Isaiah 40:31(NKJ) “but they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings..” Acts 26:14-15 (AMP) “ And when we all had fallen to the ground, I heard a voice in the Hebrew dialect saying to me, ‘Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting Me? It is hard for you to kick [repeatedly] against the goads [offering pointless resistance].’ And I said, ‘Who are You, Lord?’ And the Lord said, ‘I am Jesus..” Galatians 5:1 (ERV) “We have freedom now, because Christ made us free. So stand strong in that freedom. Don’t go back into slavery again.” John 8:36 (ESV) “So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.”
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 I awoke at 3:42 AM in a heart racing panic and find myself at this place more often than I care to admit. It weighs heavy in the back of my mind, no matter how I try to push it away, the unknown haunts me. What will become of my son when we are no longer here? With the passing of every year, every birthday, his and mine, the question looms larger. So I guess it's confession time. It's time for me to admit, to say it out loud; I don't trust God in this. My re-occurring fear and worry prove it. I'm convinced no one will take care of him as well as I do, after all I Am Mom and have invested most of my life here. Other than Mike, who else will care enough to do that? I don't know and the not knowing eats at me, plagues me and some days, consumes me. Trusting God with a child is a tall order for any parent. We are so hands on, heart invested, all in, with our kids and it's easy to default back to a place of worry. But a child, who needs continual, life time supervision and assistance, elevates investment levels to exponential heights. So often I feel like the dad who brought his son to Jesus and cried out, "Lord, I believe, help my unbelief!" Maybe Jesus understands this parental desperation more than we know. He healed the boy in spite of dad's wavering faith. And that gives me hope. I've thought a lot about faith. What is it? How does it work? What should it look like in my life? Honest questions from a girl who grew up in a church culture equating struggle, disaster, illness, and tragedy with a condemning lack of faith; feeling failure and shame whenever my sunshine, lollipops and rainbow life disappeared behind onimous black clouds for a season. Understanding what it means to really trust God has been a huge re-learning process for me. I've seen His unlimited goodness and faithfulness through the years, in both the easy and hard places of my life, but realize I'm still lacking when it comes to radically abandoned trust. I've also lived long enough in my Heavenly Father's amazing grace to understand we are always in process. Every day and every situation brings new opportunities for my faith to rise to higher levels. An infant isn't a full grown adult one week, one month or even a year after he is born. He grows incrementally day after day, over the span of many years. And we don't condemn him for it. A twenty year old will not have the wisdom and experience of a seventy year old. Full maturity comes with time and age. We know instinctively this is the natural order of things, yet we Christ followers can beat ourselves and others up when we are not spiritual giants overnight. Wayne Jacobsen ( thegodjourney.com) put it like this: "I like the process of God winning us to trust. It's not that we should trust Him or have to act like we trust Him even where we don't. God wins us...I think life puts us in different points of extremity..but those opportunities when He says, "OK, we're going to go deeper here, you're going to get to learn to trust Me more"...I think all of my days I'm still going to find myself in places going, "OK, my trust doesn't extend here yet, but God let it." Maybe that's the Author and Finisher of our faith, He's going to grow it into a reality...the faith I live in today was not mine to produce but [grew as] I cooperated with Him." When Jesus calls out his followers with, "Oh, you of little faith," we see it as a negative, a criticism, a scolding, but maybe it was more of a reminder than a rebuke. After all, He said we only need faith the size of a mustard seed to throw a mountain into the sea (Matthew 17:20). A mustard seed is slightly larger than a grain of sand. That's tiny! Could He be telling us we don't need as much as we think, we just need to exercise what we already have and watch it produce? After all He does the work, the miracle, the impossible. We just do the believing. There's a tension, a balance, between planning for the future and worrying over it and our manual for living, the Bible, addresses both. Proverbs 6:6-8 tells us to consider the ant who stores up and plans for the days ahead. Jesus tells us to consider the lilies who don't fret or toil but are clothed in beauty by the Provider of all things (Luke 2:27-40). While we plan as much as possible for Jon's future, we must trust God with the rest. We do our part and believe He will do His, because He always has. Today, I absorb what Apostle Paul stated in Philippians 4:6-7, into my heart, mind and spirit, "Never worry about anything. But in every situation let God know what you need in prayers and requests while giving thanks. Then God’s peace, which goes beyond anything we can imagine, will guard your thoughts and emotions through Christ." So Lord, today, I give Jon and his future back to You. Once again, I lay him at your feet and place him in Your capable hands, knowing You have a good plan already in mind for him. I thank You for it, even in my inability to see or control it. I may need to do this again tomorrow and the next day and the day after that, Father, but I offer my mustard seed faith to you, thankful for Your patience while it grows into larger trust I have yet to obtain. Lord, I believe. Please touch those places in me where I don't believe, those areas filled with doubt, worry and fear. I give them, along with my son, to You and thank You for never giving up on me but continuously calling me into Your amazing faith, trust and peace. Today I choose I choose Faith. Today I choose Trust. Today I choose You! "Never be afraid to trust an unknown future to a known God." ~Corrie Ten Boom Romans 15:13 "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope." Proverbs 6:6-8 "Go to the ant, you sluggard; consider its ways and be wise! It has no commander, no overseer or ruler, yet it stores its provisions in summer and gathers its food at harvest." Luke 12:27 “Consider the lilies how they grow: they toil not, they spin not; and yet I say unto you, that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these." Matthew 6:34 "Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
I celebrated another birthday last month. An odd thing about the years adding up, you realize how much you don't know while also becoming wiser in the things you do know. Quite paradoxical, I've surmised.  So on the wisdom theme; I've been thinking about clichés lately, both biblical and otherwise, those phrases we throw around as magic wand solutions to life. You know, stuff like "The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence," God won't give you more than you can bear;" statements that help us feel better when we don't know what else to say. I've been wondering where they came from and if they're actually true. Lately I've been contemplating this one: "Is your glass half full or half empty?" and have decided I don't want my cup to be half anything. I want it filled to the brim and overflowing with thankfulness, grace, love, encouragement, joy, laughter and peace. God has blessed me in many ways this past month, my glass is full and I want to acknowledge a few of these blessings with gratitude. - My husband took me out, brought me flowers and spoiled me. He spoils me all year actually and I'm awestruck that he has celebrated four decades of birthdays with me so far. I don't deserve such love and loyalty.
- We were able to visit our son, David, his wife, Clara and our cute, adorable, babbling, hug-able, my-heart-is-bursting-with-love, little grandson, Asa, for a long weekend. Someone please remove the stars from my eyes and forgive me for turning into the obnoxious grandmother I said I'd never be!
- I have great friends! Three of them brought a surprise lunch to me on my birthday, cooked it in my kitchen and served me at my table. For someone who spends half her life in the kitchen (or so it seems) it doesn't get much better than this. A few days ago, friends from Kissimmee drove up and stayed the day, brought gifts, food, laughter, a massage table (with essential oils! Ahhh!) and took me out for dinner before going home. And I had a night out with another beautiful friend this week who is rich in wisdom, overflows with love, makes me laugh way too much (if that's possible), and challenges my heart and brain with stimulating conversation. God has surrounded me with the very best of His human creation.
- I was able to get Jon to his dentist appointment on time (miracle!) and as he was waking up from sedation (our doesn't want to be touched and doesn't talk much son), held my hand and began quoting the 23rd Psalm and singing The Lord's Prayer. God gives us deep glimpses into our Jon's heart now and then, and reminds me that the heart of a person is more valuable than what is seen on the outside.
- I'm not running marathons, but I'm more pain free and healthier than I've been since I was in my twenties, thanks to the knowledge I've gained in recent years about diet and nutrition. God has been faithful to lead me down a path of understanding my body as a temple of His Holy Spirit, and all this entails.
Life is far from perfect, there are constant obstacles and challenges but the longer I live, the more I’m aware of the perfection that exists in beautiful moments of time. Yet our selfish flesh loves to wallow in the mud of misery, negativity and pity. The enemy of our mind and soul delights in reminding us how hard our situation is, how difficult that person is, how we don't have enough, how we aren't enough and most of all that our God is too small! I can choose to remain mired in negatives and dwell on downers or allow Jesus to fill my cup to the brim with goodness, mercy and joy. Remember, an overflowing cup is going to spill all over somebody. With every today, I want to live in a refreshing overflow of God's presence, discovered in the richness of an imperfect life. Perfection in imperfection, it's the ultimate paradox lived in and through Christ. John 7:38 "He who believes in Me, as the Scripture said, 'From his innermost being will flow rivers of living water.'" John 4:14 "But whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a fount of water springing up to eternal life." Luke 6:45 "The good man brings good things out of the good treasure of his heart, and the evil man brings evil things out of the evil treasure of his heart. For out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks." Proverbs 4:23 "Watch over your heart with all diligence, For from it flow the springs of life." Psalm 68"19 "Blessed be the Lord, who daily loads us with benefits, The God of our salvation!"
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
Our son, David, texted me from Wisconsin, where he, Clara and little grandson, Asa, were at Clara's parents for the week with the rest of her siblings, their spouses and kids for a family gathering.  David's text said Asa was meeting his many cousins for the first time. Without much thought my reply was, "That's fun, because he'll never have any on this side." "Yeah, I've been thinking about that." He responded. It hadn't hit me until this moment; David's children will never have cousins from our side of the family. It was another 'never' moment in our life with Jon and I was suddenly saddened with a loss I fought for several days. Loss always brings varying levels of grief and comes in many forms, through death, rejection, betrayal, disappointment, regret, hijacked hope, disabled dreams or what could have been. We swim in this deep ocean of life, joyfully splashing, serenely floating or treading water, when loss washes over us like an unexpected wave. We're swept under by its powerful force, breathless and fearful, struggling to find air and a way to resurface. I don't know, maybe other parents of special needs kids do this better than me, but I still experience blindsided takeovers in my life with Jon. I'm buzzing along in our daily thing, trusting God, thankful for the blessings we have when it hits again, another huge wave, reminding me of more 'nevers'. You'd think after all these years I'd see it coming but they still catch me off guard. My heart sinks, panic and desperation threaten. I spit and sputter and cry out to God, once again, asking to be pulled from the depths of despondency. And He does. He always does. He reminds me He understands my mother's heart. He assures me He is there to bring me through. And He keeps His promises. When the wave subsides I rise again and get back to the good in life, looking on the bright side with a completely full, instead of half empty cup, counting my blessings instead of my lack. Asa won't have cousins here it's true, but he will have grandparents who love him. And because he has Uncle Jon in his life he will grow, as did his father, to be kinder, gentler, more compassionate and more accepting of other's differences. Our grandson will be shaped and influenced by the unique dynamic of our family in ways others cannot offer. Each of us have opportunities to dwell on the can't, the won't and the never. Yours are probably different than mine but we all have them. It's human to be pulled under the waves of despair at times but it's NEVER okay to stay there. Drowning is certainly an option, but not a good one. Ecclesiastes 3:1, says there's a season for everything, so we do our grieving, kicking and flailing, then grasp the hand God extends beneath the turbulent waters of living, resurface, breathe and move on. “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they will not overwhelm you.." Isaiah 43:1-2. Here’s one ‘never’ I can rejoice in. There's never a need to drown in despair! My God possesses perfect life guarding skills. He will always carry me back to solid ground. Psalm 40:2 “He lifted me out of the pit of despair, out of the mud and the mire. He set my feet on solid ground and steadied me as I walked along.” Psalm 42:11 "Why are you in despair, O my soul? And why have you become disturbed within me? Hope in God, for I shall yet praise Him, the help of my countenance and my God." Ecclesiastes 3:1 "For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven..”
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 One week ago our grandson, Asa Connis, pushed his way into the world and added a brand new dimension to life. After sixty years, I've finally joined the Grandmother Club and I'm still trying to understand the overwhelming love I feel for this tiny guy when I haven't met him yet. According to Google maps he is five hundred and seventy two miles away from me, but the evidence of his awaited arrival, streams daily onto my iPhone screen, giving me faith to believe he finally exists and hope for the day I will soon meet him. I've received a sound clip of his first cries and a picture of him in his first hour. I can scroll through my phone for more pictures; him bundled up in his car seat, sleeping in little footie pajamas, wearing the little hat we bought him, curled up in a classic fetal position in his newborn diaper, and a heart melting video of him sporting hiccups on his dad's lap. We are accumulating a massive amount of evidence Asa has arrived, in texts, updates and FaceTime calls. Though I have not felt the weight of him in my arms or seen his adorable little face with my own eyes, I know my grandson is here. Because we live in a physical reality, we often have trouble believing something not yet seen or experienced. Faith is defined as "the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen" (Hebrews 1:6). Some believe if God can't be seen He doesn’t exist, yet place great faith in what can be physically seen, but not fully trusted. We trust the driver coming toward us in the other lane will stay there, the airplane will remain in the sky and take us safely to our destination, the grocery store will have needed food when we pull in the parking lot, and our paycheck will arrive at the end of the week. We trust the pill the doctor gave us will make us better, the water coming out of our faucet is safe to drink, the repairman will show up to fix our hot water tank and the roof overhead will remain intact during the next storm. We trust in so many temporary things, but fail to trust our Creator and Eternal God. There are those who sincerely set out to disprove the existence of God but found it impossible to do so. Lee Strobel, in his book, "The Case For Christ," and Josh McDowell, in his book, "Evidence That Demands a Verdict," both explain how extensive research to disprove the reality of God led to their transformation from atheist to believer. Unlike these men, though I've never seen God with my own eyes, I've believed in Him most of life. There is overwhelming historical proof He came to Earth through His son Jesus, and for those with open hearts, evidence He exists is all around us. For me, He shows up in numerous ways everyday; in the intricate designs of nature, in the laughter of a friend, in the quiet thoughts and impressions downloaded into my heart and mind, in His written Word gifted to us as a life manual, and in the miracle of my precious new grandson. Jesus said to His disciple Thomas, "Because you have seen me, you believe. Blessed are those who have not seen and still believe" (John 20:29). If seeing is the only way to believe, then true faith is absent and without faith it is impossible to please God (Hebrews 11:6). If you love someone you want to make them happy and steadfast faith makes God happy. In this life I see in part, the things of Heaven and Eternity are obscured, as if I'm looking through a distorted mirror. This often creates a faith crisis. 1 Corinthians 13:12 tells me, "for now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known." Bottom line, God simply desires a life of total trust from me, even and especially when, I can't see clearly. My trust demonstrates I understand how much He loves me and how He has my best interest in mind. Always. God has set a date (Psalm 139:16) when I'll leave the boundaries of this earth and go home to Him. I will finally see my Savior face to face (John 3:2) and the faith, I've struggled to hold onto through all the storms of life, will finally become sight (2 Corinthians 5:7). For now, I'm seeing my grandson through a glass screen, but a trip is planned and soon I will see him face to face. I'm excited. So I press on, looking forward to the time I see little Asa and eventually, one day, my Heavenly Father.. ..with unwavering Grandmother faith. "For I am mindful of the sincere faith within you, which first dwelt in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice, and I am sure that it is in you as well." 2 Timothy 1:5 "We shall behold Him O yes, we shall behold Him Face to face in all of His glory We shall behold Him Yes, we shall behold Him Face to face Our Savior and Lord.." ~"We Shall Behold Him," Dottie Rambo~ "It will be worth it all when we see Jesus, Life's trials will seem so small, when we see Christ; One look at his dear face, all sorrow will erase, So bravely run the race till we see Christ." ~ Hymn, "When We See Christ," Esther Kerr Rusthoi, 1941~
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 Jon was fourteen years old when we visited Catalina Island off the coast of California. Our friends, Earl and Pat, had moved to the island from Maine when Earl took the job of maintenance overseer for a large girl scout camp located there. Summers at the beachfront camp were noisy and chaotic, with hundreds of girls and camp counselors arriving constantly in one to two week shifts. But winters were long, quiet and lonely; a good time to visit, and since we were homeschooling, the boys and I planned a six week stay during the winter of 1994. From the day he arrived, Jon decided Earl (or Pa, as the boys and every other ‘grandchild’, related or not, called him) was going to take him fishing in the ocean. “And I’m going to catch an octopus,” he declared to all of us. “It's really hard to catch an octopus Jon,” Pa told him, “they live way, way down, too deep in the water to get on your hook.” But every day Jon kept insisting and reminding us, as soon as Pa took him fishing, he was going to catch an octopus. We were there several weeks before Earl finally had a free day for fishing. They packed a lunch and eagerly climbed into the boat along with Jon’s younger brother, David, and a neighbor, Ken, the caretaker of the yacht club located a few miles down the beach. Jon told Pa and Ken as they left the shore, “I’m going to catch an octopus now.” Ken replied with the same explanation Pa had given. Everyone was trying to lessen the disappointment that was coming, in spite of Jon’s insistence. They left in the morning and in late afternoon I heard Jon running up the beach to the house shouting, “Mom, Mom, I caught an octopus! Mom! I caught an octopus!” I went outside to meet him. He was grinning from ear to ear. Jon has always had a huge and slightly quirky imagination so I figured he was fantasizing in his head again, pretending he had caught one because it’s what he’d wanted so much. Earl met me halfway to the dock with a giant smile on his face. “Well, you’re never going to believe it, I still can’t, but Jon caught an octopus today.” “You’re kidding.” I was stunned and delighted all at the same time. “I thought you said it was impossible?” “I’ve been fishing in the ocean for years and never have I or anyone I know, caught an octopus. “ Earl looked as amazed as I felt. Turns out they were a few miles off shore when Jon felt a tug on his line. He reeled it in and to everyone’s (but his) surprise there was a baby octopus clinging to the string. Jon got his octopus! That was twenty one years ago. And I’ve never forgotten it. When I read, “Give all your worries and cares to God, for He cares about you” (1 Peter 5:7), or “Take delight in the LORD, and he will give you the desires of your heart” (Psalm 37:4), I’m reminded of a God who cares enough about a fourteen year old special needs kid to send a baby octopus from the depths of the ocean to his fishing line. In the hard times, circumstances and struggles of life, when you feel as if God isn’t listening and He doesn’t care about you or the details of your situation... ..remember Jon and his octopus. God knows. He sees. He understands. He cares. Keep believing for the impossible. Keep trusting. You never know what could be surfacing from the depths of despair, just for you.
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 It's no one's fault," the doctor in my hospital room said, the morning after our son was born. "These things just happen sometimes." Our newborn baby had Down syndrome and as the doctor began to explain the possible long term outcomes for him and our family, my heart raced in panic. My mind filled with a cloud of fear. "NO! This can't be happening! Not to my baby! Not to me! Not to us!" Isn't that how it goes when we're faced with circumstances beyond our control? When our carefully thought out plans are suddenly ambushed? We're cruising through life, a few bumps and glitches here and there, but nothing we can't handle. Then suddenly..Wham!! We find, not just the proverbial rug pulled out from under us, but the floor too. The ground has just opened up and swallowed us whole! And when we're done free-falling, we have to find a reason. The 'Why' must be answered. It has to be SomeOne's or SomeThing's fault. A friend sent me a card once that read, “Life is all about how you handle Plan B.” Plan A is what you want. Plan B is what you get and I wasn’t dealing well at all, with what I got. I fell into absolute despair trying to figure out what I did to cause my child's disability. For months it filled every waking moment and many sleepless nights. Those pesky, "I should have" and "I shouldn't have" scenarios, plagued my thoughts constantly. There was plenty of help in the guilt department from well meaning folks. Everything from, "You should of eaten more potatoes while you were pregnant," (no kidding) to "You must have bad sin hiding someplace in your life for God to punish you like this." Apparently there was a rash of babies born with Down syndrome at the time. In an attempt to find a common denominator (or something to blame) the Department of Health and Human Services for the State of New York called when Jon was about a month old to ask if they could survey me. "Do you live near power lines? How long have you lived there?" "Have you ever taken drugs? Did you take drugs while pregnant?" "How often do you drink alcohol? Never? Occasionally? Once a week? Everyday?" "What kind of make up do you wear? What brand of laundry detergent do you use?" After an hour long barrage of questions, I hung up the phone more convinced than ever I was the cause of my son's diagnosis. When I finally gave up blaming myself I turned my angst on God. He could have prevented this but didn't. It was His fault and I was mad. What kind of God did I believe in anyway? An overwhelmingly devastating question for me, since we were fresh out of Bible college and my husband was just beginning a lifetime of pastoral ministry. Though it seemed artificial to be so angry at God when my husband was a pastor, and I, the pastor’s wife, anger was all that made sense at the time. It was the easiest life raft to cling to. We see it in the daily news continuously. A crisis occurs, a shooting, tornado, flood, fire, mudslide, plane crash, death, violence or destruction. The talking heads start in, opinion-ating, analyzing, philosophizing and finally conclude with, "Something must be done to make sure this never happens again." Either people want to believe they have this much power, this much control, or placing blame is just a coping mechanism for the unanswerable and unexplained. Sometimes there is someone to blame but more often not. Sometimes stuff just happens because we live on a fallen, broken and sin cursed planet. Finding possible solutions is useful but the blame game often goes around in a monotonous circle until we are divided and estranged, from each other and from our only source of hope. God. It seems God is blamed for most everything that goes wrong, by people who barely acknowledge His existence the rest of the time or bother to thank Him for any of the good and right in life. In his book, Reframe. From the God We've Made to the God With Us, Brian Hardin said it this way: "We don’t usually start with God, but if we can’t find an answer we often end up there. God has become the cosmic trash heap for all humankind’s unexplainable suffering. He’s apparently got His hands in everything from tornadoes to human trafficking. From cancer to the reason the car wouldn’t start this morning. And this is the God we’re supposed to be in a relationship with?" If there's one thing I've learned, it's this: I can't control everything that happens to me, to those I care about or to the world at large. And I don't have to figure everything out, don't have to know all the answers. I only have to admit and own what I'm responsible for and trust my Heavenly Daddy has a greater plan and purpose than I can see. He will bring justice in His time. He will make everything right in His way and acceptance of this truth, deep in my heart and soul, not just my head, brings peace in a frenzied world. And for all my initial distress, despair, crying, sighing, shouting and blaming, my son turned out to be a blessing, a unique treasure God values and loves. Someone who is always teaching me the art of selflessness, drawing me closer to the heart of my Father. I eventually laid it down, the miserable scrutinizing, finger pointing and fretting over who or what was at fault. It was exhausting and served no purpose. Blaming drained life from me and returned nothing. The blame game was over and I lost. But I'm no longer a sore looser, just a grateful one. Job 40:1-5 The Lord said to Job: “Will the one who contends with the Almighty correct him? Let him who accuses God answer him!” Then Job answered the Lord: “I am unworthy—how can I reply to you? I put my hand over my mouth. I spoke once, but I have no answer—twice, but I will say no more.” Romans 9:20 "Who do you think you are to talk back to God like that? Can an object that was made say to its maker, “Why did you make me like this?” John 16:33 "I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.”
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 I was packing for a week long cruise, the first real vacation Mike and I have had together in fifteen years. It was a celebration of forty years of marriage and a long overdue get away. Our good friends had made time in their busy schedule to stay with Jon and our youngest son and his wife were joining us. Though we were excitedly looking forward to this time together, it was another family event Jon would miss and I was, again, contending with guilt attacks and assaults of sadness. I sent my conflicting emotions to the back room of my mind and updated the long list of Jon care instructions, made sure his prescriptions were filled, printed out a medical authorization letter and remembered to leave his insurance and ID card and keys to all the places we keep Jon-locked. After boarding the ship I knew bringing him would have been a disaster. Too many people, long lines, moments of hurrying then waiting, decks that didn't go all the way through the length of the ship causing creative strategies to find our way around, debarking for ports and making spontaneous plans and last minute decisions for the day then hurrying back to the ship on time so it didn't leave without us. Transitions. Transitions. More transitions. Something Jon never does well. There were other moments when we thought of him. "Jon would love this," we said. The never ending buffet, the puffer fish shaped cup wheeled by on a drink cart, the magician at our dinner table doing coin tricks, the casino and it's never ending spread of pricey "video games", a giant floating hotel to wander through and him curiously and slowly poking in every corner, nook and cranny. As we sat together at dinner each evening there was contentment in this extraordinary setting. Even our little grandson was along, growing inside the swelling womb of my daughter-in-law. But one of us was missing. My family was incomplete. There are random moments in life that trigger twinges of loss, a mourning for what should, but never will be. We are forever fighting enemies of guilt, regret and loss and constantly rising to new levels of acceptance. Acceptance is defined as an assent to the reality of a situation, recognizing a situation without attempting to protest or change it. It is derived from a Latin word meaning "to find rest in." Some things we can't control or change, we can only accept, but it’s often difficult to find a place of rest in circumstances beyond us. Living out of the 'what ifs' and 'if onlys' is pure misery and leaning into the, "Are you kidding me? I'm supposed 'to find rest in' this!" is hard work, but peace can only come with relaxing into the 'what is'. Even when life is great, it's still not perfect. On this cruise, we had to circumvent a hurricane and miss the most anticipated stop of the trip. While sailing on the far reaching edge of the storm, walking turned into a balancing act and we were woken in the night by rocking, rattling and clicking sounds and drawers, in our room, sliding open then thumping shut as soon as sleep came again. I was nearly attacked by a banana loving iguana on a Saint Thomas beach and every day was a bad hair day. But it was easy to overlook these uncontrollable situations in the anticipation and excitement of another sunrise and new adventures. Life sails on like a cruise. We board at birth and debark when taking our final breath. There are stops along the way, new places to explore, ports to experience. Some we appreciate, others not so much. Some we never wish to see again and others we hope for, but never experience when an unexpected storm changes the direction of our journey. There are long days at sea, as we're carried along, waiting, and trusting the Captain of our ship knows where we're headed and how to safely reach our destination. With God at the helm we are offered guilt free, acceptance-based cruising and a place to find rest in the storm. It’s the best way to travel and it’s never too late to book a lifelong trip. So don’t wait. Start now. Guaranteed, you'll love the adventure. "Jesus Savior, pilot me Over life's tempestuous sea Unknown waves before me roll Hiding rock and treacherous shoal Chart and compass come from thee Jesus, Savior, pilot me." ~ Edward Hopper, 1871 "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference." "Come unto me..and I will give you rest." ~Jesus, Matthew 11:28~
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 Twenty five years ago today our second son, David, arrived. Our firstborn, Jonathan, came to us with developmental disabilities and before the end of his first year, I was diagnosed with a chronic illness and told it would worsen with any subsequent pregnancies. In light of all the odds stacked against us, we decided one child should be enough. I lived with daily pain and exhaustion and it was difficult taking care of our son; one who needed so much extra care and attention. Adding more children seemed overwhelming and reckless. That decision, though sensible, saddened me. But the alternative seemed too much of a risk and quite honestly whenever I thought about it; fear overpowered sadness. So I settled into an unplanned life of doctors, therapists, prescription drugs and special education. It was an enormous shock when we discovered, ten years later, we had another child on the way. Jon was in school, developing slowly but doing fairly well, and I was still dealing with multiple health issues. I was older now, and because I’d already had a special needs child when I was young and healthy, my first response to the news was overwhelming fear and tears. As time moved forward excitement and expectation emerged and then love for the child growing inside me. He may have been unplanned but he was never unwanted. And though the fear never left, I knew I would face, by God’s grace and strength, whatever the future offered us and this baby. The night he was born, I fought my fear battle with each contraction, but when the mid-wife checked him over, looked me in the eyes and said, “It’s a boy and he’s perfect,” such relief and joy flooded through me I could barely contain it. God knew what I needed, even when I didn’t. David’s arrival did something for me that I’ve never quite been able to express. He was the piece of my heart puzzle I wasn’t even aware had been missing, until I held him. His arrival in our lives filled a gaping hole; an empty place inside my mother heart that I didn’t know I had until he was here. As predicted, my health problems became much worse after David’s birth but I didn’t care and I still don’t. I am thankful everyday for the gift of this son. His life has been worth every bit of pain and damage that has ravaged this fragile suit of flesh I reside in. Today, on David’s twenty-fifth birthday, he is distant from us in miles, but never in heart. He is fiercely loved and celebrated. And not just by us, but also by his wife, her family and many friends; so many others he has already impacted and touched for what is good and right in the world. David Micah Connis, is the best and happiest ‘accident’ we’ve ever had and we are unspeakably grateful to God who blessed us with such a wonderful surprise. Happy Birthday Son!
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 Since I was a child, I've always felt the shift of the clock from 11:59 p.m. on December 31, to 12:00 a.m. on January 1, should be magical, fantastical, miraculous; as if something incredible should happen at the very second a year flips over. Shouldn't the problem I've struggled over all year suddenly have resolution, or money fall from the sky like confetti in New York’s Times Square, or people desperately seeking restored health be instantly healed? Shouldn't broken hearts be renewed and shattered relationships repaired, mobile phones ringing and buzzing with offers of love and forgiveness? Shouldn't Jon come out of his room with a huge hug and Happy New Year wishes, and loved ones who've passed on, walk smiling through my door, shouting, "Hey! I'm back!"? You know...amazing stuff like...answers. Reversals. Miracles. I wait for it every year. Deep inside I admit to expecting it. But another new year seems to come and go as ordinary as most days. We celebrate it for a few hours, the fireworks fade and we wake up the next morning to another sunrise. Another start. Another chance. Another twenty four hours. What is it about a new year that makes us yearn for more? I think it's hope. Hope is defined as desire accompanied by anticipation, expectation and confident belief. Hope is central to our very existence. 1 Corinthians 13:13, combines "faith, hope and love," with love being the greatest. But how is love even possible without faith and hope? When hope walks out, all other longing goes with it. Proverbs 13:12 says , "Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life." The human heart has an incredible capacity to keep hope alive, even in the darkest times; to keep wishing for perfection, beauty, solutions, joy, and love. It shouldn't surprise us, for we are made in God's image, and He is all these and more. There is a spark of hope in us that ignites new promise for a new year. Maybe this year I'll get that raise or promotion. Maybe this year I'll meet that special someone. Maybe this year my situation will turn. Maybe this year my health will improve. Maybe this year my sorrow will turn to joy. Maybe this year will be my break through. Last year was hard, but it's over. This year will be better. I hope. We can't know what a year will bring, but of this we can be certain: God will be in this New Year with us, just as He always has been. He has not forsaken us, even though we may not feel Him near. His mercy is new and available every morning and His love for us is endless. He can be trusted with our future. As the year before us unfolds, my hope and prayer is, "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit," Romans 15:13. The best of blessings to you and yours in the days ahead. May your year be abundant with hopes fulfilled. image credit: http://www.freshpickedwhimsy.typepad.com/
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 I now own a virtual "I Don't Get It" Box. It was delivered to me over the weekend after a conversation I had with a good friend. She's had a tough year and great loss. We talked about faith, and how it processes us through life circumstances that are more than difficult. Sometimes stuff happens that doesn't fit into our neat and tidy theological boxes. We can't check them off our doctrinal lists. Things happen that we can't explain and we have no idea which (thought-I-had-this-all-figured-out-already!) category to file them under. After this conversation with my friend, I woke up the next morning with a picture in my head. Some people call them visions or awake dreams. Call it whatever you want, but I saw me with a long line of people stretched out endlessly behind me, standing in front of a huge box inscribed with a large glowing font that said, "I Don't Get It." Everyone in line, including me, had a piece of paper in hand. I had written on the paper, parts of my life I question, things I don't understand and circumstances I have faced or still face that are confusing and seem to have no answers. I stepped up to the box and threw my paper in. When it hit the bottom the font on the front of the box changed and began to flash in bright neon over and over again, "Just TRUST Me. Just TRUST Me. Just TRUST Me. Just TRUST ME...." I may not 'get' many things but I get this message loud and clear. I don't need to analyze, understand, explain and figure everything out. I can't know everything because knowing ALL would make me God. Wasn't that we could be like God by eating the only off limits fruit from the tree of knowledge of good and evil, the original lie of the serpent? Man fell for the deception. He believed it. Do we still? God wants our trust. He wants us to believe Him. It's all He's ever wanted. So I lay aside my need to know and simply trust.. Because God, I believe You are good. I believe You are love. I believe You are faithful. I believe You are merciful. I believe You desire only the best for me, Today, no matter what happens, how I feel, whether I understand or not, I throw it all into my "I Don't Get It" box and... Just Trust You! “You will not certainly die,” the serpent said to the woman. “For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” Genesis 3:4-5 “Those who know your name will trust in you, for you, LORD, have never forsaken those who seek you.” Psalm 9:10 “Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.” Proverbs 3:5-6 "Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. John 14:1
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
Caregiving is selfless work. Problem is, I'm not selfless. Not yet.  I've grown through the years I've been doing this overtime parenting/caregiving thing, but honestly, I still have a long way to go. There are times when I still struggle and it seems too hard, too frustrating, too confining, too self sacrificing, too...much. But love moves me forward another day. I love my son and he needs me, whether he realizes it or not. So I rise in the morning with new mercies, new grace and make the most of both the imperfect and fantastic days we are blessed to have. Comparison is a luxury I can't afford. Neither can you. When we start comparing our life to others our thoughts can travel into dangerous territory. Some comparisons that might spiral me into dark places: They go on vacation. We can't. They get in their car and go whenever/wherever they want. I can't. Their thirty something year old kid is self sufficient. Mine isn't. They don't have to worry about what will happen to their grown child when they're no longer here. I do. There's plenty more of these, but you get the idea. I can't allow my mind to dwell on what they are doing. Such thinking has to be 'taken captive' (2 Corinthians 10:5) and serves no purpose but a downward spiral into self absorbed misery. What I can think on is God's goodness; His provision, grace, strength and blessing. I have a roof over my head. I'm not hungry. I'm in functioning health. I have support from a good husband, caregivers, church and friends; a decent car to drive when I can get away, a yard full of awesome plants to enjoy and a son who only needs constant reminders to attend to his own basic physical needs. And some times, even while being grumpy and stubborn, Jon’s quirky, humor makes me smile. Things to be thankful for outnumber the they comparisons and inconveniences, two to one. Jesus modeled selfless caregiving when He loved me enough to lay aside His Heavenly crown, take on flesh and come to an Earth originally created in perfection by Him and utterly broken by the degradation of His greatest creation - man. The Ultimate Caregiver came to serve and give His life away. He came to provide solutions for the desperation of humanity and offers the grace and strength I need to serve and care as He does. Faithfully Patiently Cheerfully Lovingly Sacrificially Selflessly I pray everyday, as I struggle to set ‘me’ aside again, for the benefit of my son and for others, that I will emulate Christ’s love in some small way. Because true love lives to serve. John 13:4...he [Jesus] got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist. 5 After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him.12 When he had finished washing their feet, he put on his clothes and returned to his place. “Do you understand what I have done for you?” he asked them. 13 “You call me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord,’ and rightly so, for that is what I am. 14 Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. 15 I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you. 16 Very truly I tell you, no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. 17 Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them. (NIV) Matthew 20:26-28 "But whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be your slave, even as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” 1 Peter 5:7 ESV Casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you. Isaiah 41:10 ESV Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
We celebrated another wedding anniversary recently and as I dusted off our wedding album to reminisce, I smiled, flipping through the photos. Until I came to this one on the last page, this close up of our hands showing off our new wedding rings.  'Oh My Gosh!' I thought, 'My hands were so pretty and so straight once.' Six years after that photo was taken I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis. A crippling auto immune disease triggered at the birth of our first son and ten years later, ravaging through me like an eighteen wheeler squashing a bug, following the birth of our second. As much as I wanted to, I didn't have time to stay in bed and it really didn't matter, staying in bed hurt just as much as being up. Painful nights without sleep and miserable exhausting days were measured on a pain scale of bad and horrible, making the bad days seem good. My family needed me and with two active growing boys to care for, prayer and pills became my constant companion. Pain pills, steroids, low dose cancer drugs and weekly injections all kept me in function mode. My continuous prayers went from begging God for healing to demanding my body stop its destructive storm, and everything in between. As the disease progressed the cartilage and fluid cushion between joints eroded. Fingers and toes began to drift, tendons shifted and bones fused. Slowly I was forced to give up activities I enjoyed; skating, tennis, playing guitar, clarinet and keyboards, hiking, wearing sexy shoes, doing my nails and many more. The day I went to have my wedding ring cut in half to remove it from my swollen, misshapen finger was the culmination of how much rheumatoid arthritis had stolen. I cried tears of bitter resignation. Since then, I have made drastic changes which positively affected my health: our family moved to a warm climate, I renovated my eating habits, began light daily exercise and the practice of stress release through prayer, meditative scripture reading and writing, laughing often, letting go of offense, forgiving, listening to my body, pacing myself instead of pushing, saying 'No' when necessary, asking for help when needed and giving myself permission to have fun. Over the span of several years, I gradually reduced the amount of medications and have been off all drugs for a decade. But until God heals me completely, the joint damage remains. As I looked at that picture of my normal hands, a stark reminder of what once was, I realized I rarely think of it now. I've adjusted, adapted and moved on. My hands aren't pretty. I know that. They are crooked and disfigured. But they still function, awkwardly managing to do what needs to be done. They can still plant a seed or cut a flower in the garden, sew a stray button back on, slice an onion in the kitchen, butter toast, throw a load of laundry in the machine, reach for another person needing prayer, comfort or hugs, type this blog (two fingers at a time) and perform so many necessary tasks. I'm far from the young girl in that picture now. I can't go back there nor do I want to. Those days are gone and as the years roll by I am learning to be thankful for what is. Today. Right now. I am learning to trust God in all things - understood or not, healed or not - big or small. I'm grateful I still have hands. Crooked as they are, they belong to God. I will use them to bring help, blessing and hope to others as long as I can. And I will raise them in worship and surrender to Him as long as He gives me breath. Whether I'm healed on this side of eternity and in spite of the affliction and problems of this life, I choose to proclaim with Job of old: "As for me, I know that my Redeemer lives, and that as the last He will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been destroyed, yet in my flesh I will see God, whom I will see for myself, and whom my own eyes will behold, and not another." Job 19:25-27
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
The year 2004 was what I call Florida's Hurricane Summer. Four hurricanes plagued us in a span of about six weeks.  Exactly ten years ago today, Hurricane Charley, the storm that initiated the chaos, ripped through Central Florida. We were living in Kissimmee at the time in an older neighborhood with large lot lines. Our unique property, tucked away in a corner, consisted of two acres, a ranch style three bedroom, two bath main house with a pool and a detached, cozy one bedroom, one bath guest/in-law house out back, several sheds and a separate screen room where our hot tub lived.  The property backed up to a conservation area and was surrounded by lush jungle on all sides; thick Florida flora of wild palm trees, palmetto, gigantic oaks and hanging moss. Some people thought it scary and worried about what lived in those woods. Not me. I thought it was beautiful, until Charley. We moved to Florida in 2001 and had never been through a hurricane before, but as I looked out at all those trees, I began to wonder what they could crush if they started falling. The weather predictors vacillated for days over the path Charley might take, but when we finally knew the storm was coming for us, our family gathered in a tight circle and prayed for protection. Jon disappeared into his room and taped a paint stick perpendicular onto a yard stick forming a cross. He came back out and leaned it against the patio doors, his way of demonstrating God's watchful eye over us. He then went back in his room and refused to come out. I found him lying stiff as a board on his bed wearing a bicycle helmet, a jacket, and a pair of boots, clutching a flashlight. We'd had a new roof put on the main house a few months prior and fortunately never lost one shingle, unlike many of our neighbors, but the contractor forgot to nail down the three brand new skylights he installed and they blew off as Charley came barreling through. Rain was pouring into both bathrooms and the breakfast nook and it seemed as if the wind would lift the roof right off the walls. I ran to the storage closet and found some old plastic shower curtains and a large piece of clear vinyl, while Mike went out in the garage to retrieve his staple gun and an eight foot ladder. Wind was battering the garage door so hard he thought it would blow in. He quickly climbed over potted plants and outdoor furniture we had brought in from outside, to get to his tool chest. As hurricane rookies, we never thought about keeping the tool chest where it could easily be reached. Our son David, who was fourteen at the time, climbed up into those wide open ceiling holes in the middle of the storm to staple the plastic down. The pool solar panels had come loose and were flopping back and forth on the roof above his head. I held the ladder and prayed like a crazy woman for the panels to not slam through the roof opening and hit my son in the head, while the wind and rain roared around us.  By the time the storm passed it was dark outside and the power was down. We decided to wait until morning to go outside and access the damage. Neighbors went door to door with flashlights making sure everyone was alright. We didn't sleep much that night or the nights that followed It was a crazy, difficult time for many here in Central Florida. Our electricity was out for two weeks in the middle of Florida's hottest summer month.  But I learned to be grateful for things we Americans take for granted everyday: Water that comes from our faucets for bathing, cooking, cleaning, drinking. Without electric, our well pump was off and we had no running water in either house. I discovered how basic water is to human existence and realized I could live without many of the things we consider essential. I never want to be without water again. Every morning when I get in the shower and warm water runs over my sleepy body, I thank God for running water. Air conditioning in a summer climate that reaches into the mid to high nineties with humidity levels to match. The sheets felt wet when we lay down on them at night. The spices in the cupboard clumped into one large blob in their containers. We never sweat so much in all our born days. We all smelled bad, looked bad and were hot and miserable. I thank God every summer for AC. Garbage collectors became the most important people in the world. When all the food in the fridge spoils and there's no trash collector to come haul it away, it's not pleasant or pretty. Every week when I hear the trash truck stop at the end of our driveway I am grateful for those who do this vital work. Uninterrupted family time. Without TV, computers, phones or modern distractions we spent time playing table games by candle light, reading, talking and working together. David found Mike's old guitar in a closet and a hurricane catapulted our son's love affair with music into overdrive. He now plays, writes and arranges his own songs (listen at daveconnis.com). Safety of family and friends. Trees went down all around us, but the only structure crushed under a falling tree was one shed. It took months of cutting and clearing to rid our property of broken and fallen trees but my family, friends and neighbors were safe. No one was hurt. I am thankful everyday for the health and safety of those I love.  Looking back on it ten years later, Hurricane Charley is like the opening line in Charles Dickens' famous novel, A Tale of Two Cities. "It was the best of times; it was the worst of times." I hope to never go through a storm like that again but here's what I know, storms of all kind come and go. No one likes them, but we learn our greatest lessons in the middle of them. If we hang on through the blustering wind and pelting rain, pray and trust God we come out on the other side.. Humbler Wiser More thankful And a little more storm proof than we were before. Nahum 1:7 (ESV) The Lord is good, a stronghold in the day of trouble; he knows those who take refuge in him. Matthew 8:23-27 (ESV) And when he got into the boat, his disciples followed him. And behold, there arose a great storm on the sea, so that the boat was being swamped by the waves; but he was asleep. And they went and woke him, saying, “Save us, Lord; we are perishing.” And he said to them, “Why are you afraid, O you of little faith?” Then he rose and rebuked the winds and the sea, and there was a great calm. 2 Corinthians 4:17 (ESV) For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
My friend was married a few days ago. As 'best woman' I stood with her, my heart about to burst for joy, knowing what a long, long walk it was to that ceremony.  And I'm not referring to the stroll from the parking lot of the New Hampshire state park, up the frost-heaved sidewalk, onto pine needle dusted soil and down the center of the outdoor pavilion to a wall size fireplace, where the wedding took place. I'm talking about a lifetime of hurt, pain, shame, guilt, addiction, rage and change. We are often victims of man's free will. It’s natural to recoil when wounded, especially when the hurt isn't our fault. Then reactions become decisions, piling up and building insurmountable walls of defense. During the past twenty years I watched my friend kick, scream, cry, fight and forgive for a hard won freedom. She was willing to do what it took to excommunicate the demons of her past and experience an internal peace and liberty. She faced every challenge head on. It wasn't easy. And required unusual determination, endurance and more time than most are willing to wait. I was privileged to walk beside her for most of the process. We talked, laughed, prayed and cried through many hurdles as she gave in and gave up to the beautiful grace of God at work in her heart, over and over and over again. As the years flowed by I watched a slow but amazing metamorphosis; a hard, angry heart turned marshmallow soft, a dry lump of clay gently crafted into a useful vessel of outpoured love. The butterfly has emerged from the dark days of the cramped cocoon to fly freely into joy. There is no sin, no shame, no wound, no hurt, no scar that the merciful love of our Heavenly Father cannot heal when we surrender our life to Him. He takes any and every broken and yielded piece of us and makes it new. He restores all damage, makes us whole, forever erasing the pain of yesterday. When God renews, old things are passed away, sorrow and ashes turned into beauty. We are raised up to a life filled with promise and a future full of hope. I've watched and tasted this. In myself, in others and especially in my beautiful friend who at long last has been restored to love and trust; so evidenced by the large and diverse group of people who came to celebrate this special day. God's love was tangible, undeniable, surrounding all of us. Knowing we are loved changes everything. My friend finally knows, without a hint of doubt, she is valuable and she is loved. Of utmost importance, by God. Also by others. And by the incredible guy who took her as his bride. Freedom is such a beautiful thing. John 10:10 "The thief’s purpose is to steal, kill and destroy. My purpose is to give life in all its fullness." ~Jesus 2 Corinthians 3:17 "Now the Lord is the Spirit; and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty." Luke 4:17-18 “..the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was handed to him [Jesus]. Unrolling it, he found the place where it is written: “The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free..” "Everyone wants to change the world but no one thinks of changing himself." ~Anonymous
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 I'm convinced we idolize the wrong people in American society: movie stars, sports players, rock stars, country music singers, the rich and otherwise famous. Everyone wants to be them. Someone like Mary, the woman I met last night, not so much. Mary has been the around-the-clock caregiver of her younger sister for twenty eight years, since their parents passed away. Her sister has Down syndrome and is now sixty years old. Mary receives no acclaim, no ‘American Idol’ or ‘Emmy Award’, for her selfless act but she has just moved to the top of my personal hero list, for whatever that's worth. I lay awake last night doing the math. When Jon is sixty, if we're both still here, I'll be eighty five. The nightmare thought always lurking in the back of every parents mind is, who will love and care for my child after I'm gone. As I thought on this, the familiar feeling of panic and fear began to surface, so I did the only thing I know to do when I'm afraid, I started to pray. "Heavenly Father, pleasseeee let there be a Mary for my Jon when the time comes. I trust You with our future." God's Kingdom is so very upside down from mans’. God does not put great prominence on things we deem important. He celebrates the small and unseen. Jesus said if you give away a cup of cold water in His name you will be rewarded (Matthew 10:42). Imagine the award that is waiting for someone like Mary. One day God will host the ultimate Emmy Awards show of all time. I'm thinking Mary will be first in line. Luke 14:12-14 “He also said to the one who had invited Him, “When you give a lunch or a dinner, don’t invite your friends, your brothers, your relatives, or your rich neighbors, because they might invite you back, and you would be repaid. On the contrary, when you host a banquet, invite those who are poor, maimed, lame, or blind. And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you; for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.” Luke 16:15 (CEV) “ But Jesus told them: You are always making yourselves look good, but God sees what is in your heart. The things that most people think are important are worthless as far as God is concerned.”
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
In Luke chapter seven, we read about a widow woman whose adult son has died. In this culture this son  would have been the only means of support she had. This poor woman had just lost everything. As Jesus came near the town gate the funeral procession passed by carrying the dead man out and Jesus observed the mother weeping and mourning. There is no record of this widow having great faith or asking Jesus to help her. In fact there is no indication that she even noticed Jesus or knew who He was. She was so overcome with grief, I seriously doubt she noticed anything going on around her. She was too busy drowning in her sorrow to care. Verse thirteen says Jesus looked upon this scene and felt compassion for the woman. He went to her, told her to stop crying, then told her dead son to get up. The guy sat up immediately on his death stretcher and began talking. In an incredible instant, sorrow was turned into unspeakable joy! I've been told most of my life that God only answers in response to being asked and since this is scripturally supported, I agree, as stated in 1 John 5:14-15 and many other verses. I've also been told I need faith for God to respond to my requests and I agree with this as well. Hebrews 11:6 tells us we can't even please God without faith. But I'm discovering at any point I think I might have my doctrinal boxes built and the lids sealed tight, Jesus comes along and messes me up. He throws in just enough deviation from the theological equations we believers like to construct, to keep me from thinking I know it all, that I've finally figured out the sum total of every spiritual equation. One plus one is not always two in God's kingdom. He can mix up our constructs and confuse our theology anyway and anytime He wants. He is God and will have mercy and compassion on whomever He chooses (Romans 9:5) whether they have great faith, little faith or no faith and even if they haven't asked of Him yet. I never want to stop asking of Him or stop growing in my faith. But I also never want to think I'm so spiritually awesome that God can't respond, love, heal, deliver, rescue and redeem in any way He sees fit, outside of my preconceived theological formulas. I'm OK with God staying a bit mysterious and a lot sovereign. I'm alright with not knowing everything as long as I know The Great I Am. In realizing how small and limited I am without Him, its comforting to understand just how much higher, wiser and greater His ways and thoughts are than mine (Isaiah 55:8-9). God loves me. I trust Him. That's good enough for now. Luke 7:11 "Soon afterward he [Jesus] went to a town called Nain, and his disciples and a great crowd went with him. 12 As he drew near to the gate of the town, behold, a man who had died was being carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow, and a considerable crowd from the town was with her. 13 And when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her and said to her, “Do not weep.” 14 Then he came up and touched the bier, and the bearers stood still. And he said, “Young man, I say to you, arise.” 15 And the dead man sat up and began to speak, and Jesus gave him to his mother. 16 Fear seized them all, and they glorified God, saying, “A great prophet has arisen among us!” and “God has visited his people!” 17 And this report about him spread through the whole of Judea and all the surrounding country." 1 John 5:14 "And this is the confidence that we have toward him, that if we ask anything according to his will he hears us. 15 And if we know that he hears us in whatever we ask, we know that we have the requests that we have asked of him." Hebrews 11:6 "And without faith it is impossible to please him, for whoever would draw near to God must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who seek him."
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 The main character in my novel is experiencing deep disappointment today.
She has just received a report that something she has been longing for and doing everything she can to facilitate, has not been a success. She is sad, discouraged and downcast. Though she is despairing, I am not, because I am the author of the book. I am ordering her steps and writing her story and I know that I have a good end planned for her. It may not come in the time or way she wants but it is coming and as I write, I’m excited about the events and challenges unfolding along the way that will take her to a better end than she can know or understand at this moment. If I could, I would tell her to trust me. I would tell her, don’t waste time and energy on despair because I already have it all worked out. As I write my first novel, I’m gaining a greater understanding of who God is and how He works in my life. I may not be experiencing immediate success in everything I planned for or even see how He is at work behind the scenes of my life. My task as the main character in this unfolding drama of life, is to simply follow Him; trusting that He has a better plot line for my life than I could ever write on my own. The Author wants this author to believe Him and finds a million ways a day to tell me... ...just trust. The end is good. Everything is going to turn out alright! That is not fiction, that is fact. Because God is the Author of my story. Hebrews 12:1-2 “…let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith…” Ecclesiastes 7:8 “The end of a thing is better than its beginning…
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
What am I to do when the circumstances of life become more than I can bear; when rising from my bed in the morning is like climbing a mountain and putting one foot in front of the other is exhausting, painful, overwhelming; when questions assault me on every side, my mind becomes a windstorm of thoughts, tears flow like rivers and my heart is broken? I had to know. So I asked. I found a simple, yet most difficult answer. Trust. Do I believe in a God who can heal? Absolutely. I’ve seen and experienced healing and know He can and still does. Do I believe in a God who can miraculously deliver me out of trouble? Definitely. I’ve encountered that in my own life and the lives of others. Do I have faith for instant miracles? No question. All I need is faith the size of a mustard seed. I sweep dust from my kitchen floor bigger than that. Do I believe God is sovereign and I won’t always understand His ways? Yes. So my mission is simply to believe Him, to trust Him. No matter what. To trust I am loved. Romans 8:38-39 For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. To trust I am never on my own. Matthew 28:20 I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” Hebrews 13:5 "I will never leave you nor forsake you." To trust in the darkest place. Psalm 23:4 Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. To trust He has a plan for me. Jeremiah 29:11 I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope. Philippians 6:6… being confident of this very thing, that He who has begun a good work in you will complete it. To trust He will bring me through. Isaiah 43:1-3 Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior. To trust He knows what I need. John 6:68 “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and to know that you are the Holy One of God.” I have nowhere else to go. I’ve searched everywhere. No one, nothing, provides the answers I want or need. It is only Christ who proves strong in my weakness, mighty in my suffering. “As a father shows compassion to his children, so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear Him. For He knows our frame; He remembers that we are dust.” Psalm 103:13-14 Jesus walked where I walk, He felt what I feel. He experienced the wide range of emotions life on Earth brings. He knows my frame, how I’m put together and what makes me tick. He knows without Him I’m nothing but a pile of dust. He lived, died and resurrected to fill the breach between Heaven and Earth. He did all that for me. When I’m weary, broken, my faith is small and my hope is almost extinguished, Jesus sees and hears. Compassion overtakes him. I imagine Him, sitting to the right of the Father, his nail scared hands resting on the arms of the throne room chair. He leans into God’s ear and pleads my case, reminding His Dad that it’s not easy being here, being human. He rehearses what it was like to come to Earth and wear the same flesh suit I wear, walking this hard, dusty ground; totally immersed in what it is to be one of us; hungry, tired, thirsty, in pain, rejected, despairing, alone. He understands I’m having a hard time, struggling under the weight of my affliction, breaking under the heaviness of my pain and pleads with the Father to provide extra mercy, a little more grace, to pour out some additional love from His endless supply; reassuring the hosts of Heaven that I’ll come around. I’ll be alright. When it’s all said and done I will come out of the furnace refined like pure gold, shining a little more like the beautiful gem that I was made to be. This adversity will transform me, “for I know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose.”Romans 8:28 I’ll say like Joseph, “..you meant evil against me; but God meant it for good.“ Genesis 50:20 I’ll say with Apostle Paul,” But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God.” 2 Corinthians 1:9 In everything. At all times. And especially when life is too hard to bear. In God I will trust. “When there's no getting over that rainbow, when my smallest of dreams won't come true I can take all the madness the world has to give, but, I won't last a day without you.” ~ From the song, ‘I Won't Last A Day Without You’ by The Carpenters~ 2 Corinthians 4:7-10, 17-18 “But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us. We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed; always bearing about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life also of Jesus might be made manifest in our body…For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, works for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory; While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal.”. 2 Corinthians 12:8-10 “Concerning this thing I pleaded with the Lord three times that it might depart from me. And He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my strength is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore most gladly I will rather boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in needs, in persecutions, in distresses, for Christ’s sake. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”
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