Category Archives: Believing Life

Blurred

“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.” 1 Corinthians 13:12

I‘m still sorting through my late husband’s forty years of sermons, thoughts and reflections, written on paper scraps, napkins, post-its, notebooks, stacked in drawers and cabinets.

When I think I‘ve exhausted the collection, I find more. I’m organizing the typed copies into a three ring binder but most I won’t keep. There’s too many, and since Mike’s penmanship was equivalent to a doctor’s handwritten prescription, they aren’t legible without a lot of effort.

This morning, the grief journal I’ve kept since his death, received this entry:

“Now that you’re gone from the limits of time and earth knowledge, into the presence of God, the question running through my mind, as I sort years of your study, interpretation and thought process is, how much of all this is complete truth? How much of it could be misinterpretation? How much of it is just a drop in the ocean of what is yet to be discovered about who God really is? I wish you could tell me what you know now, compared to what you THOUGHT you knew when you were here.”

Humans like certainly. I know I do. It helps us feel ordered, safe, smart, disciplined. Technology has opened up a world of opinion, belief, ideals and thought to sift and categorize. And those of us who read, study and share the Bible, often think we have the corner on figuring out exactly what it means, who God is and what He might want from us.

According to recent statistics, “there are more than 45,000 [Christian] denominations globally. Followers of Jesus span the globe. But the global body of more than 2 billion Christians is separated into thousands of denominations.” ~Feb 27, 2021, livescience.com~

If true, it’s obvious no one holds the market on certainty with so many Jesus followers (me included) united in their belief of his existence – his birth, life, ministry, death and resurrection – but fractured on the finer points of Biblical content and context.

My late husband dedicated his life to discovering who God is and sharing what he believed. There’s nothing wrong with that. But as I slowly reduce the pile of paper he left behind, I’m thinking we see little more than the tip of the iceberg on what remains to be known.

When the Apostle Paul talks about “the manifold wisdom of God” in Ephesians 3:10, maybe he was thinking the expanse of who God is never ceases to unfold. He is mysteriously and interestingly complex, variegated and multifaceted and if we think we ever have the entirety of His loving greatness decoded, we are deceiving ourselves.

“For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away.” Corinthians 13:9-10

What does Mike know that we have yet to discover?

With open hearts and minds we continue to probe the mysteries of God, until our own glass is dark no more.

Useless Words

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.”

Out of Sync

Two grandfather clocks stood side by side, polished wood grain gleaming in the dim light. They were beautifully ornate without being gaudy. It was obvious much care had been taken to keep them in good working order.

Their pendulums swinging in perfect synchronization created volume louder than normal as they chimed in harmony. Then suddenly, one stopped ticking, it’s pendulum coming to an abrupt halt, hanging motionless from the clock face.

In my dream I panicked. Terror ripping through me in disbelief. The sight and sound of the silent clock, sent waves of shock and sorrow deep into my soul. This couldn’t be happening! It can’t be real! But it was. It is.

God ordained for man and woman to become one in marriage. It doesn’t happen all at once but with the slow steady pattern of learning one another over many years. A rhythm develops, a synchronized ticking of two hearts, minds and souls. At some point you know each other so well, in many ways, you become one another.

When one clock stops, the loss of rhythm, identity and certainty is large. There’s no desire at first to continue keeping time on your own. Time becomes irrelevant, a matter of annoyance. Caught in this moment between the past and the future, you’re now faced with the great challenge of learning how to keep going on alone, resetting the clock to a solitary rhythm.

Ironically time is the healer of this unsettling dilemma and though there’s no end to missing the heart that beat with our own, I’m told eventually there will be release from this purgatory of in-betweenness. It can neither come fast enough or be hurried. I must be patient, let the process play out. Once again time is the Master and I am subject to it’s whims.

But Ecclesiastes 3:11 tells me God has written eternity on the human heart; that there is more than what I feel, more than what I see. Believing there is satisfaction above what this transient world provides, is comforting.

I’m thankful for the knowledge that God, who created time, also lives outside of it. My husband ticks on in eternity away from the time limitations of this earth. He’s already knows what I have yet to experience.

“Brothers and sisters, we want you to know about people who have died so that you won’t mourn like others who don’t have any hope. Since we believe that Jesus died and rose, so we also believe that God will bring with Him those who have died in Jesus,” 1Thessalonians 4:13-14.

The day will come when time no longer holds us in it’s greedy grasp. Such a wonderful hope in the depths of great sorrow.

“..and the two shall become one flesh So they are no longer two but one flesh,” Mark 10:8.

“He has made everything appropriate in its time. He has also set eternity in their heart, yet so that man will not find out the work which God has done from the beginning even to the end,” Ecclesiastes 3:11.

When I Am Afraid

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.”

Just Passing Through

Mike and I moved a lot through the years. We’ve owned slightly more homes than can be counted on ten fingers, rented some, and resided in New York, Oregon, Maine, New Hampshire and Florida, relocating at times, within each state. We’ve always been blessed with great places to live but this repeated movement may be why I‘ve never attached much to a house or material goods.

Home was wherever Mike was. That’s just how it worked.

Now that he’s gone I’ve been wondering where home is. I feel like a foreigner on this earth without him here, so it’s helpful to be reminded that I actually am one.

We all are.

God called Abraham from his homeland to an undisclosed place. His task was to get the promise land thing going, and though he never saw it, Abraham’s willingness to do what God was asking of him resulted in incredible benefits for generations not yet born.

The Lord said to Abram, “Go from your country, your people and your father’s household to the land I will show you (Genesis 12:1). The writer of Hebrews tells us Abraham “was looking forward to the city that has foundations, whose architect and builder is God (Hebrews 11:10).

Peter called Christ followers ‘strangers and pilgrims’ (1 Peter 2:11). In other words, we’re just passing through. Jesus made it clear, His kingdom was not of this world (John 18:36). If we follow Him, then it stands to reason, neither are we (John 17:16).

Jesus came. Jesus left. As will we all. But while He was here, He “went about doing good,” (Acts 10:38). If Christ is our example then we should do no less during our temporary stay on this planet.

We are challenged to do good, spread His love, share the Good News and all the while keep our eyes on the goal of eternity. What that looks like and how it’s lived out may be different for each of us, but this is God’s plan and our purpose for being here.

This world is nothing but a stopping off place. It’s not our permanent home and never will be. Mike has already gone Home and took nothing of this world with him when he left. The material goods accumulated in a lifetime, have been transferred to me to deal with as long as I stay here. And when I‘m gone it will be handed off to our son.

Eventually, I will exit and leave all this behind. So will you. We don’t know when our time here is up but while we remain our assignment is to deposit treasure into Heaven’s bank, leaving an earthly legacy that extends into eternity. What we send on ahead will never rust, never need repairing, painting or replacing and can’t be withheld, stolen, broken or destroyed (Matthew 6:19-21).

Thank God!

So let’s deposit some Jesus style good in the world today and add to our eternal account. While we still can.

John 18:36 Jesus answered, “My kingdom is not of this world. If my kingdom were of this world, my servants would have been fighting, that I might not be delivered over to the Jews. But my kingdom is not from the world.”

John 17:16 I have given them your word, and the world has hated them because they are not of the world, just as I am not of the world. I do not ask that you take them out of the world, but that you keep them from the evil one. They are not of the world, just as I am not of the world.

1 Peter 2:11 Dearly beloved, I beseech you as strangers and pilgrims, abstain from fleshly lusts, which war against the soul

Philippians 3:20 But our citizenship is in Heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ

Hebrews 13:14 For here we have no lasting city, but we seek the city that is to come.

Acts 10:38 God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Ghost and with power: who went about doing good.

Matthew 6:19-21 Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

Life Under Construction

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

Clinging To Hope

It’s been two months to the day. Two months since Mike left and two months have not yet made a difference. Not in the deep longing, or the quiet despair. In some ways it’s worse than in the beginning.

The initial numbing denial has lifted and reality settles in. The rush of people and non-stop activity have faded. Others have gone back to their lives, as they should, while Jon and I, continue to step cautiously, into unknown territory, learning to navigate without our husband and father. This is becoming our new normal.

Death was never part of God’s original plan. From the beginning it wasn’t meant to be part of our human experience (Genesis 2:17) and life without Mike, feels foreign, as if I’ve been carried, against my will, to a far away land where the geography and language are unknown. Where everything is unfamiliar.

Every cell of my being yearns for his presence. My soul is broken. I’m surprised when the sun rises in the morning and my heart is still beating and my lungs have breath, without the only man I’ve ever loved next to me.

It seems the severe pain of loss has overtaken even the keen awareness of God’s presence in my life. But I walk by faith, not feelings, and I know God is with me. I wouldn’t have made it this far if He wasn’t. My Father promises to lead me through this dry, dark valley (Psalm 23:4) and He keeps His promises.

Hope is the compass of the human heart. There are times we have little else for the journey so it’s best we attach it to something solid and permanent. I’m trusting in my Good Shepherd’s mercy and faithful love and believing in the promise of a renewed life, restored soul and overflowing cup on the other side.

I‘m clinging to Hope.

“The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I lack.
He lets me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside quiet waters.
He renews my life; He leads me along the right paths for His name’s sake.
Even when I go through the darkest valley, I fear no danger, for You are with me;
Your rod and Your staff—they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.
Only goodness and faithful love will pursue me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord as long as I live.” Psalm 24

“Be of good courage and He will strengthen your heart, all you who hope in the Lord.” Psalm 31:24

“Let your mercy be upon us O Lord, as we hope in you.” Psalm 33:22

Duck Outside the Box

From an early age we learn to associate, categorize and label, this is one of the ways we make sense of our world. A few of us become so fixated on organizing every nuance of life we become the obsessive Type A personality. I used to be one of those, more like a type A-plus. Everything had to be perfectly ordered in my world or I was seriously miserable, which meant I was miserable quite often. I liked things categorized and neatly put away in their place, not only material objects but also beliefs, doctrines, opinions, rules, regulations and people. I was very proficient at labeling people, placing mental descriptions on them and filing them away in a preconceived category in my mind.

I also became very accomplished at putting my ideas about the God I had learned of since childhood, in a box and nailing down the lid. Placing God in a box didn’t mean He was actually restricted to one or ever has been. My notions of Him were all in my mind. But time and circumstances have a way of changing us and I have come to understand that God doesn’t do boxes and neither should I.

During a day visiting our nearby Sea World, I was reminded how much God likes messing with me, popping the lid off my ‘boxes’ and stirring up my perfectly categorized little world. Just about the time I think I have Him figured out, He shows me that it is impossible for me to fully comprehend His ways. He doesn’t see like I do or think as I do. His ways are higher, wider and deeper…unlimited. While there is order in His creation, He left enough mystery to illustrate His divine sovereignty and mixed it all with a bit of humor. I picture Him chuckling as He presents a new clue just to keep me wondering.

As Mike and I wandered leisurely through Sea World enjoying the beautiful landscape and many creatures, we stopped by a small water feature, a waterfall and pond built for ducks and other water loving birds. We leaned against the railing for a long time, absorbing the tranquility of the scene. The many varieties of ducks were happily swimming, quacking, wagging their tail feathers and preening themselves and other than differing feather colors and configurations they had much in common.

Now everyone knows all ducks quack. It’s one of the things we learn as a toddler playing with our first alphabet toy, ‘D is for duck, the duck says quack.’ Then there’s the idiom we hear, ‘If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck and quacks like a duck then it’s probably a duck’. But none of these labels applied to one duck that we didn’t see at first, only heard.

“Who keeps whistling?” Mike asked, as he looked around.

I visually swept the area around us. No one was in sight at the moment and I realized the sound was coming from behind a shrub next to the water’s edge. “It’s something over there,” and pointed toward the bush. Just as I did a bird walked into the open. He looked like a duck in some respects, web feet, beautiful feathers and a wide, rounded bill but had a long giraffe type neck and when he opened his mouth to quack, out came a loud sound similar to a person whistling to get someone’s attention. We stared at him then looked at each other and laughed.

“Can you believe that?” Mike said. “God makes all ducks to quack then He has to throw in one that whistles… amazing!”

We found out that this species is called the (surprise!) Whistling Duck and comes from South America. Since then I’ve discovered the Barking Tree Frog. This guy doesn’t croak like other frogs, but makes the sound of a Pomeranian puppy high up in a tree in my Florida backyard, or how about the Upside Down Jellyfish who sits on its’ head on the ocean floor with tentacles in the air waiting for food to float by or the several varieties of Walking Fish whose fins act more like legs than rudders. Some people attribute these oddities to evolution; I prefer to accredit them to a divine Creator who enjoys throwing in a bit of surprise now and then just for fun.

We have a need for God to be humanized, to fit into what we can understand, but by an act of faith, dismantling the limits we have constructed for Him allows us to be receptive to the unusual and the impossible. The Spirit of God continually comes in many ways, even through nature (Romans 1:20), and attempts to take apart the confines of our heart so that all that is not truth and all that restricts us can be swept away.

I’m not a Type A-plus personality anymore. Over the years, I’ve been systematically and happily demoted to possibly a B-minus and what freedom comes in discovering it is God’s job to keep all my ducks in a row, not mine. Whether they quack or whistle, I can trust Him to keep my world ordered, even when I don’t fully understand!

Romans 11:33 (NLT) Oh, how great are God’s riches and wisdom and knowledge! How impossible it is for us to understand his decisions and his ways!

Thinking of You

Today I am thankful that the election madness is FINALLY over. Whether you are disappointed with the outcome or not, here’s some good news–God is thinking about you and me today. Can you believe that? The Creator and King of the Universe thinks about you — constantly!

The president of my country doesn’t even know my name and once I have cast my vote, I am just a ballot in a sea of humanity. But God knows my name and every little detail about me. He even knows how many hairs I swept from my bathroom floor this morning and cares to calculate what is left on my head (Matthew 10:30).

Psalm 139:17-18. “How precious are Your thoughts to me, O God! How great is the sum of them! If I should count them, they would be more in number than the sand”

Isaiah 49:14 “But Zion said, ‘The Lord has forsaken me, and my Lord has forgotten me.’ Can a woman forget her nursing child, and not have compassion on the son of her womb? Surely they may forget, yet I will not forget you. See, I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands; your walls (your dwelling, your life) are continually before Me.”

It is not possible for God to forget about you. The nail scars in Jesus’ hands are the permanent inscription of your name in His heart and mind. He can no more stop thinking about you than I can stop thinking about my son Jonathan, who needs me so much (even when he thinks he doesn’t :).

It would be good then for us to spend some time today thinking about Our Lord and Savior too. It could bring the peace of mind we so desperately need because “You [God] will keep him [me] in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on You” Isaiah 26:3

Be Thankful

“Oh, that men would give thanks to the LORD for His goodness and for His wonderful works to the children of men!” Psalm 107:8,15,21. Did you know this exact same verse appears three times in the same chapter? I think someone is trying to tell us something.

We are full swing into November, the month we focus on thankfulness, so I am making an attempt to voice something I am thankful for everyday until Thanksgiving Day (on my Facebook status). Care to join me? Most of us have more to be thankful for than not.

Today I am thankful for hot, running water. As I think of our struggling neighbors in the northeast, I remember Florida’s hurricane summer of 2004, being without power for two weeks in the middle of August. We had a well, so no electricity meant no power to the pump which resulted in no water to our house. It was 96 degrees every day with matching humidity and we were disgustingly hot and sweaty with no way to shower or bathe. I told my husband, I can forgo many things but I never want to be without running water again.

Thank you Lord that I can turn on a faucet in my home and water flows, hot or cold, my choice. Such a blessing that I never want to take for granted!

A Place Called Special

a look inside a special life