Category: Devotional

Too Loud For Quietness


My thoughts lately often turn to the subject of quietness.  I’m not talking about the external quietness that we so often desire.  I get more of that sort of quietness than many people do, especially you moms with young children or those of you that work outside the home.  No, I’m talking about the inner quietness of my heart…….the quietness of contentment and peace, no matter what distractions I have around me. 
This type of quietness is hard to achieve outside of having a deep faith and trust in God.  Yet even though I may give myself daily to the Lord, beginning each morning with a new resolve to stay totally in tune with God and trust Him completely, I often find my heart……my insides……..my thoughts……..churning and stewing over this and that until I drown out the still, small voice of God that calls me to quietness.  
Life happens.  The world keeps turning and the news doesn’t get any easier to hear on most days.  Friends are hurting, neighbors need us, obligations demand us, chores press in on us……….life.  Even the dog needs to be fed!
And for me, there’s Aaron.  Last Monday he was in a terrible mood, but with God’s help I was able to be calm and to defuse him.  A stop for cheddar pasta salad worked miracles, believe me!  I was full of thankfulness, and was thinking over and over about how much God speaks to me through these lessons with my son…………lessons about God’s great love to me when I am most unlovely.  Boy, was that ever driven home the next day when I exhibited my unloveliness!  I totally lost my temper with Aaron, and then was full of guilt and remorse.  That day, I was the one who needed extra love.  And my heart was anything but quiet.
We never know what a day will hold.  There was Wednesday, after the upheaval of Monday and Tuesday, when Aaron had a doctor appointment.  We went to lunch at Chili’s after his doctor visit and just had a delightful time together.  Who would have thought that two hours after this picture was taken, Aaron would be laying in his bed having a huge seizure during his nap?  As usual, there was no warning……..nothing to prepare me or him for that.  And there again was another disruption to my quiet heart.  
 
On Saturday, we had a funnier disruption.  I was sitting on the patio, taking a break after doing some yard work.  Aaron joined me as Gary continued weed eating nearby.  As usual, Aaron was talking up a storm……and the more he talked, the more he rocked in the patio chair.  I looked down for a second and suddenly heard a grunt.   Looking up, I saw that Aaron’s chair had fallen backwards and he was laying in the grass…….laughing, thankfully.  One minute he was rocking and talking……the next he was flat on his back, feet up in the air, and thankfully unhurt.   Funny, but unexpected.
 
I remember when our children were young that there were many times I thought, “Oh, if only I had a day to myself.”  Now the kids are grown and gone, except for Aaron……but he’s gone to his day group every weekday……..during a good week.  Anyway, now I find myself thinking, “Oh, if only I had a day with Andrew and Andrea.  Too bad they live so far away.”   Then there are those evenings now when I think, “Oh, if only Aaron wouldn’t keep talking to me or asking me to do something with him.  If only I had an evening with no expectations or interruptions.”  And many times when I think, “Oh, if only Aaron wasn’t so grouchy……or so loud……or so demanding……..or so whatever.”  In other words, I tend to be pretty demanding myself of what I think will make my life just as it should be.  And out the window goes any hope of a quiet heart as I try to manufacture the perfect life that will create the quiet heart I crave.
I just started reading the book Keep a Quiet Heart by Elisabeth Elliott.  She said, talking about developing a quiet heart in this loud world, that “The secret is Christ in me, not me in a different set of circumstances.”  Wow!
So often I want the different set of circumstances……when in reality, the circumstances I am in are the ones that God wants to use in order to develop in me a quiet heart……..a heart of trust despite what’s going on around me.  A heart of acceptance for what He has allowed and even ordained to be in my life.  
Elisabeth also said, “Every assignment is measured and controlled for my eternal good.  My assignment entails my willing acceptance of my portion.”  It’s how I respond to my circumstances that will dictate my level of quietness and peace………not the circumstances themselves.  Like Paul said, “I have learned in whatever state I am in, therewith to be content.”
I’ve walked with the Lord for a long time, and still I have so much to learn.  I sure am glad that God is patient, even when I’m not.  I still want to tell Him that He’s using the wrong measure for me.  “Lighten up, Lord!” I sometimes say.  Instead I should be accepting and even thankful for what He measures out in my life.  That’s when I know I will experience a truly quiet heart.  
For quietness really is surrender, even while life spirals around us.  It’s Who we surrender TO that makes the difference……not what we’re kept FROM. 
Be quiet…..and know that I am God.

Lessons From the Beetles and Worms


It’s been an interesting June here in Kansas.  We’ve had lots of rain…..over 10 inches!  It’s been really nice.  Our grass is so green, flowers are pretty, and our vegetable garden is thriving.  But looking closer the other morning, as I was finally able to gingerly walk on the muddy ground among the vegetables, I was very disappointed to see a familiar sight.  Some of the squash plants had a familiar wilt about them……sagging leaves that point to that old squash beetle that attacks the roots.  Sometimes you really have to look to find the beetles, but you don’t have to look hard to see the evidence of their destruction. 
Then over the past several days, Gary and I have made another discovery in our pecan tree in the front yard.  Caterpillars.  I know there are technical names for the variety of caterpillar they are, but suffice it to say that these web worms are destroying the leaves on our pecan tree.  We fight them every year, but this year they have just multiplied tremendously in a short time…….and now we have quite a mess.  We can definitely see these ugly worms, and can surely see the damage they are causing.
This morning I walked out to the garden to take a quick look.  It was still too muddy to venture in yet after receiving several more inches of rain night before last, so I just stood there at the edge in the wet grass, looking at the summer squash and the zucchini and the cucumbers.  The summer squash plant that I first saw made me really stop and think.  The right side of the plant was droopy even in the morning coolness.  Not just droopy, really, but downright wilted……gone…..dead, I do believe.  You could definitely see the tall weeds growing up around the dead leaves………weeds that had been able to proliferate because I had been unable to spend time fighting them.  Weeds that were clearly seen now because the leaves were hanging over, dead as can be.
 
The other part of the plant looked healthy and strong.  Its leaves were upright and vibrant in the morning sun, belying the fact that right beside it was its wilted half.  It’s like a fight was going on there…..life and death……good and evil.  Again, I couldn’t see the culprit……the squash beetle was hidden from my sight.  Yet I sure could see the result of the battle that was taking place there.
I later walked around to our pecan tree, checking once again on our worm situation.  There they were, thousands of worms doing their dirty work for all to see.  Both of these plants need our attention if they’re going to live and grow.  Both are in real danger if we don’t do something soon.  


 
I’ve been feeling like my squash plant looks lately.  Part of me is all vibrant in my walk with God, and some days I feel strong and spiritually productive.  But on other days, no matter what, I have a heaviness around my heart and feel like I’m wilting.  What are the culprits on those dead days?  Why is it that I can spend time reading my Bible and praying, and still feel like I’m just getting nowhere? 
Like the squash beetles, out of sight, I know that Satan is trying to eat away at my roots.  I find it hard to concentrate, find it difficult to pray, and often can’t really put my finger on the problem.  It’s easy to just want to give it up…….to wilt and say there’s no use in continuing to try.
Other times, I’m like the pecan tree.  I can see the problem for sure, just as we can see the worms crawling all over that tree bark.  I can point to the sin that so easily besets me and then confess it.  
 
I feel like some of you are like me.  I know that God warns us to be alert.  Satan is slinking around, working overtime to discourage us.  Sometimes we can’t identify the cause of our weaknesses, and other times we can see the cause very clearly.  Either way, we need to take action.  Paul told the Ephesians to “be strong in the Lord and in the power of His might.”  He told them to put on the full armor of God in order to stand against the schemes of the devil.  Paul told the believers in Ephesus that they were in a battle against spiritual forces in dark places, and he told them how and what the armor of God is……how to take it up, put it on, and use it to its full capacity.  God’s Word…..faith….truth…..righteousness……the gospel.
And to pray at all times while being alert.  Pray…..when we don’t feel like it.  Pray…..when we’re wilting.  Pray…..when we see our sin outright.  Pray….when hidden sin is eating away at us.  Pray…..when we don’t understand why we’re weary and tired.  Pray…..when we do understand why we’re weary and tired.  Pray anyway.  Pray always.  Just pray……faithfully pray, with thanksgiving……with confidence……every day.
We’re going to fight our beetles and our worms that are trying to destroy our squash and our pecan tree.  And I’m going to fight, with God’s power, the schemes of Satan that are trying to bring me down. 

My Chains


I had a huge reality check this morning as I read a chapter of the book The Message of Philippians by J.A. Motyer.  The apostle Paul was imprisoned when he wrote the book of Philippians.  He was suffering unjustly and painfully, simply for believing in Jesus and proclaiming the gospel.  He had suffered so much over the years in every area……physically, mentally, spiritually.  So here Paul sat in prison and what does he say?
“…so that it has become known throughout the whole praetorian guard and to all the rest that my imprisonment is for Christ; and most of the brethren have been made confident in the Lord because of my imprisonment, and are much more bold to speak the word of God without fear.”  (Philippians 1:13-14)
Motyer gave the visual then of Paul holding up his chained wrist, but instead of pointing at his chafed wrist he makes us look at what effect those chains are having in his own life and especially on the work of Christ in others.  The guards are hearing the gospel…….others are hearing the gospel……..the brethren are gaining confidence……….believers are becoming bold.  
And I thought about myself, and the puny little trials that I have gone through.  What do I often do when I hold my chained wrist up?  I know me, and I’ll tell you what I find it so easy to say and do.  I point to my bleeding wrist and I talk about my pain.  I wonder about why this or that happened, even when I know God is in charge.  I concentrate on the pain that my chains are inflicting on me.  I focus on the injustice and the ones who are responsible.  In other words, I so often do everything but what God wants me to do.
God wants me to look through the links of that chain into His eyes, and to trust Him totally.  He wants me to see Him instead of the chain.  And more importantly, He wants me to point others to what I see as I look at Him.  I see His love and I trust His character, and He wants me to talk about that instead of pointing to the chains.  
It’s not about me, as much as I want it to be.  It’s not about proclaiming my pain or the wrongs I may have suffered or the hurt I am enduring.  It’s so easy to do that, though…..to focus on me and on the suffering.  There is actually a strange kind of comfort in that attitude, but it’s so wrong.  
Speaking of Paul, Motyer said, “He did not see his suffering as an act of divine forgetfulness (‘Why did God let this happen to me?’), nor as a dismissal from service (‘I was looking forward to years of usefulness, and look at me!’), nor as the work of Satan (‘I am afraid the devil has had his way this time’), but as the place of duty, the setting for service, the task appointed.”
Even when God directly answers prayer I sometimes cringe, pull back in pain, and then act surprised by the route God has chosen for me.  Whatever the issue is in my life, I need to realize that God wants to be honored in it……..not questioned.  It takes time and practice and great trust to accomplish that attitude, which unfortunately sometimes means more time in the trial.  More time with those chains around my wrist.
So I hold up my wrist to others, and what do they see?  They see what I focus on……what I talk about……..what I point toward.  Will I be Paul and magnify Christ with my chains? 
“How that word ‘now’ needs to eat its way into our minds and hearts and wills!  It is now that we must show how great Christ is.  Never again will we have the chance to live for Him through this moment, to please Him in this circumstance, to gladden Him by trusting in this ordeal.”
It’s not easy.  It takes resolve to change my focus.  Every single day, many times a day, I know I must refocus my eyes.  My hurting wrist……the rusty chains…..the ongoing pain.  Whether it’s Aaron issues or hurt from others or sadness from those I love who are suffering or worry about our loved ones………it doesn’t matter.  God is there.  He has a plan and a purpose.  
Now…today…this moment – holding up my hands to God and not even noticing the chains.  That’s my desire. 

Lessons From the Little Rose


Gary and I were ready to take Aaron to meet his group last Thursday morning, and then head down to Texas for Andrea’s graduation.  We were right on time as I walked past our thriving Carpet Rose bush and opened the passenger door of the van, ready to climb inside so we could leave.  A flash of red, though, caught my eye and caused me to pause.  I looked down and right away I spied the small red hue, nearly hidden by all the green foliage of the rose bush. 
I leaned down for a better look and there I saw the first little rose bloom of the season.  It was so small and nearly hidden that it was really a miracle that in my rush I even saw it.  The fragile bloom was probably several days old from the looks of it.  Yet I was delighted to see this wee flower, not only for its beauty but also for the sheer delight it brings to look upon God’s design, and to also see that my rose bush is still growing and producing.  
Lately I’ve had some thoughts go through my mind………some thoughts that are unwelcome and honestly, defeating.  Thoughts about what purpose I have in life at this stage………what am I accomplishing that is of any importance or value……..what else should I be doing or could I be doing………..or what should I have done differently in the past.  Sometimes these thoughts can spur me on to action in areas where I need to act, but I know that of late I’ve been discouraged more than spurred to action. 
I think I get caught up in bigness.  The ones who seem to make the greatest impact are the ones who are the most visible, right?  The teachers and the singers and the authors and on and on and on.  Nothing wrong with any of those things.  But what am I doing?  
Today the Lord has been gently reminding me of lessons I say I’ve learned…..but which seem to need repeating in my head and heart over and over.  It’s not the bigness of the act, or the public attention it may garner that is important.  God desires our obedience above all, and for most of us that obedience is in the daily moments of life that come our way…….unannounced and sometimes hardly recognized.
It’s listening to the dental receptionist tell about her sons and what they’re doing in their lives.  It’s thanking the hygienist for her work and telling her she did a good job.  How often does she hear those words?  It’s seeing a fellow mother of special needs sons……yes, more than one……..and standing in the grocery store parking lot under the sun, sharing our concerns and sharing a lingering, needed hug.  It’s showing the elderly woman how to put her grocery cart in the right line and get her quarter back, which meant so much to her.  It’s letting the young woman with only four items go in front in the grocery line, and seeing her deep appreciation for such a small act.   
It’s giving a listening ear to the neighbor whose husband is on hospice care, and then later taking them some homemade rice pudding………seeing their delight and watching her stand at the counter eating a big spoonful as she grinned from ear to ear.  It’s taking the time to enjoy an unexpected visit from an old friend of Andrew’s who unexpectedly stopped by the house.  It’s in the hug of my husband, welcome and loving.  It’s in stopping to listen to Aaron even when I’m tired……….really listening, and relishing the uniqueness that I would have missed if I had hurried on my way.  It’s in giving an ear to a friend’s call, full of frustration and desperation……….though I have no certain advice. 
It’s in finally climbing into bed and thanking God for the day, praying for my children and for others before I fall asleep.  It’s in pausing to recognize God’s leading in this day, when making rice pudding and sitting down for a surprise visit caused my plans to fall by the wayside……..but what a beautiful journey those wayside trips can be!
All of us wake up with a day before us, a day full of opportunity to serve and love and reach out in what seems like the simplest ways.   Just like my little rose shining there nearly hidden underneath all the crowded leaves of the rose bush, so are these basic acts of kindness that come to us in any given day.  Isn’t that what Jesus did?  Reaching out to the common people around him, meeting their needs and loving them in His name.  
That little rose caught my eye and made me pause in a moment of simple joy.  And our little acts of love and help to others can likewise cause the people we encounter to stop, their spirits caught by surprise perhaps by a kindness that will bless them deeply.  
Bigger isn’t necessarily better when it comes to living our daily lives.  God said that obedience is better than sacrifice.   I want to remember the little red rose, out of sight though it was.  I want to remember to be that rose in others lives.  To be a splash of joy, a beautiful color of blessing, in the most ordinary of ways………but the ways that often mean the most. 

Mother’s Recipes


I’m a child of the 50’s and 60’s.  It was for the most part still a time of innocence and good old fashioned values.  Growing up on North Third Street in Princeton, West Virginia was an experience that I dearly treasure.  There at nearly the top of third street sat our house, with large maple trees out front and apple trees in the back.  We were surrounded by neighbors, most with kids the age of us King kids.  I remember riding bikes, skating, playing hop scotch and jumping rope in the street, sledding in the winter down the Lockhart’s hill, climbing trees, having sleepovers with friends, and playing kick-the-can until our parents called us in at night.  It was a wonderful, carefree childhood. 
Certain sounds and smells carry me back to that time.  When I smell fresh mowed grass, I think of Saturdays when Dad or John would mow the lawn.  Then I can almost smell Mom’s pinto beans, onions, cornbread, and fresh tomatoes out of their garden.  That was a summer Saturday routine at our house.  So many of the highlights of my youth seem to end up in our kitchen where Mom worked her magic.  Our kitchen was the heart of our home.  We cooked and ate and talked and laughed and cried in that one room. 
Of all the things that my mother did so very well, I think her cooking is the thing that we and others remember the most.  Mom was an expert seamstress, a great organizer of our home, a responsible director of the school food service programs in nine WV counties in later years, a college graduate, and she was a beautiful soloist.  But oh, her cooking……
I can still see our kitchen table overflowing with her homemade rolls, ready for her to package and put in the freezer.  She cooked in bulk and cooked ahead because she was just that organized.  Down in our basement, there were two upright freezers full of all sorts of goodies and essentials.  Not only did she freeze, and also can, garden vegetables and fruits, she also made endless dozens of cookies and then froze them in empty coffee cans.  Who can count the number of trips we kids must have made to those freezers, where we would open the door, crack open the coffee can lid, and snatch a frozen cookie…….and then breathe into it as we held it in our mouth, our breath thawing each bite just enough as we ran back outside to our play.
Inside those freezers were stacks of her homemade pizza crusts, each crust separated by waxed paper from the one underneath.  There were little bags of frozen homemade pizza sauce in just the right proportion for each pizza, as well as bags of frozen toppings such as cooked hamburger or sausage, pepperoni, and cheese.  Her pizza was the best!
I’ll never forget how she would bake hamburger on large sheet pans and then cut our hamburgers into squares.  And because you shouldn’t put a square hamburger on a round bun, she made her own square buns.   She even made hot dog buns, and somehow got the recipe for Dairy Queen chili, to boot!
Who of us can forget preparing for Thanksgiving dinner?  Mom’s Cranberry Jello Salad was a staple every year.  She would let each of us kids take a turn at her food grinder, dividing up the cranberries and the whole orange slices equally between us.  We would then turn the handle of the grinder as we listened to the popping of the cranberries and the squishing of the oranges.  The experience is just not the same now with the whirring motors of our food processors.  But it all comes back to me in a rush every time I taste that salad in my own kitchen.
Sunday dinners were always a large affair, with a roast or maybe some fried chicken, and all the fixings.  Often we would have a pastor or a visiting missionary eat with us.  Then we would eat in the dining room and use her good china.  She even had autumn china that had leaves on it, which I thought was pretty amazing.  She taught us the proper way to set a table…….fork on the left, knife on the right with the serrated edge facing the plate, and then the spoon. Drinking glass on the right, above the knife and spoon.  We all knew Mom’s strict rules, too.  Do NOT take seconds until the guests have had seconds.  Do NOT put your elbows on the table.  Do NOT interrupt the conversation.  And by all means, do NOT look at each other and start laughing during dinner!!  That was the hardest one to obey, trust me!  Laughter was always just seconds away at our house.  
  
Sometimes when money was low at the end of the month, Mom would make fried mush for us to eat.  We just loved it, all buttery and soft.  Mom was embarrassed, though, and we never understood why until we were older.  And sometimes after church on a Sunday night, we would all sit around the table and drink her wonderful hot chocolate while we ate buttered toast.  
We never left for school in the mornings without breakfast.  But it wasn’t only breakfast that Mom made sure we had.  She would also have us open our Bibles with her, and she would then read the devotional Our Daily Bread with us before we left to hurry off to school.  We would follow along with the scripture in our Bibles as she read, and then we would listen to her read the devotion, and we would pray.  
I have some of my mother’s recipes.  Actually, I have many of her recipes.  I spent a year at home between college graduation and marriage, so I took lots of time at home to copy her recipes.  Most are in my hand writing.  
 
I especially treasure the ones that are in her handwriting.  They are bent and stained and are becoming hard to read as they fade with time, but I would NOT trade them for the best typed recipe in the world.  Not at all!  For her handwriting makes me feel that I have a part of her with me each time I use that recipe.  
 
Our mother gave each of us, however, the most important recipe there could ever be.  She taught us how to live, teaching us about the proper ingredients and the instructions of living life in the right way.  It went far beyond how to behave at the dinner table when company was there.  It was much more than how to cook a meal, clean off the table, and wash the dishes in the unique way that she followed………and that I bet each of us girls still follow today.
Our mother taught us how vital it was that we ask Christ to be our Lord and our Savior, which we each did at an early age.  She made sure that we knew the importance of beginning our day with time in the Bible and in prayer.  Dad left for work very early so it was up to Mom to be sure that happened……and she faithfully did just that, even when she had to go to work as well.  She taught us to consult the Bible about decisions; to let God have the final say when we wondered what to do about all the issues we faced as we grew up; and to be faithful in attending church, not letting any other activity be more important in our lives.
She taught us girls to be modest, and what to look for in a husband.  Her favorite quote, which she shared many times with me, was – “God gives His very best to those who leave the choice with Him.”  She taught us to handle life’s good times with thankfulness and the bad times with trust.  And she showed us how to handle any situation…….ANY and ALL situations…….with humor.  
Her recipes for life are hidden in our hearts, not written on a card and tucked away in a file.  Her five children, and hopefully our children, carry those values with us every day.  Those instructions are seen in our decisions, our values, our attitudes, our hopes, and most certainly in our laughter.  
Our mother doesn’t know us now.  She doesn’t remember Dad.  She is struggling with some health issues and with Alzheimer’s.  But the ingredients with which she raised us are, and always will be, a part of us.  Her life is bearing fruit in her children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren.  It’s a sweet savor, more wonderful than the smell of her fresh baked rolls.
            “She looks well to the ways of her household, and does not eat the bread of
            idleness.  Her children rise up, and call her blessed.”

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.  We love you.

Unconditional Love in the Storms

A couple weeks ago, Gary and I returned home from church and sat down to eat lunch.  We knew there might be some storms that day, but the view outside our kitchen window was of a somewhat cloudy sky with more sun than clouds.  Soon, though, we heard rumbles and noticed the wind picking up in intensity.  As we sat there, we literally watched a storm forming to our west.  The clouds darkened and built in volume, and the thunder increased along with the lightning.  It was fascinating and awesome to see the changes happen so quickly.  The power was unstoppable.  Soon there was some rain and then hail that pelted our roof and yard.  The storm didn’t last long, but the effects were felt all day as the temperatures decreased by over 40 degrees in a very short time. 
 

The whole process seemed so sudden to us, but the ingredients for this stormy day had been building up in the atmosphere for much longer than what we saw on the ground.  The storm formed quickly because the necessary storm components were there all along…….far away out west of us, and far up in the sky above us.  We bore the brunt of the strong winds, the vivid lightning, the loud thunder, and the driving rain and hail.  The actual storm didn’t last long but the coldness lingered all that day and into the next.

 
How we handled the storm and the ensuing hours afterwards made a huge difference in our peace and comfort.  I ran around closing windows while Gary took care of some matters outside.  Later, as the cold set in, we changed clothes and dressed warmly.  Aaron and I put on jackets that evening when I drove him to Sonic for a burger.  Simple matters, yes, but necessary for us during that change.

I’m pondering all this as I’ve had a morning with Aaron.  Those of you who know us through this blog, or through family and friendship, know what I mean by that statement.  Aaron was fine earlier today, but when it was time to go to Paradigm he reacted heatedly with anger and words.  He pounded on a door once, but nothing major, as I talked to him softly and tried to steer him through his anger.  I let him decide what he would do today…….stay home or go to Paradigm.  He knew that staying home had its own consequences, though I didn’t mention them.  He also knew that going to his group had consequences for him as well.  He would have to get out and be around people on a bad day; have to obey rules; have to get away from his computer and maybe go somewhere that doesn’t thrill him.

He eventually chose to go to Paradigm, but he was very much on the edge of a full melt-down.  God gave me grace, seriously, to remain calm and soft with Aaron.  It wasn’t easy.  His words were not nice.  They weren’t aimed at me personally, but they were not good words.  He was coming along as we drove to Quik-Trip and listened to some of his favorite music.  I knew that his ride would be late since we had cancelled earlier, and then changed our minds, so as I pulled into the parking lot I asked him if he wanted a sausage biscuit.  He was surprised at that offer……taken off guard with kindness when he knew that he had every right to expect punishment.  We left the store a few minutes later with his treasured sausage biscuit AND some Skittles.  And a softening Aaron.

As we waited for his ride and listened to more music, I saw that Aaron was having trouble with an itch on his back.  I had him lean forward and I scratched his back.  Then I tickled his back, which he dearly loves, and he calmed noticeably.  He talked and smiled.

“It’s just that I didn’t want to go to Paradigm today,” he said.  I assured him that I knew that as I smiled, and he just relaxed under my hand on his back.  Soon his ride came and he willingly got in their van with his kind staff.  Just a few minutes ago, Barb sent me this picture of Aaron on her couch at Paradigm.  He’s happy with his food and he’s happy with those there that care for him, and hopefully he will have a good day after all.
 

The storm blew in so quickly this morning.  I literally watched it form in Aaron’s room when I told him it was time to get off his computer.  I know that the storm ingredients were building in his mind for some time, unseen by me but there nonetheless.  I bore the brunt of the storm as I heard Aaron’s words and tensed as he hit the door. 

But how I reacted………how I handled this storm……….made a huge difference in our peace and comfort.  I do not say this to my own credit.  It is seriously the hand of God’s grace reaching down and calming me in the midst of confusion and anger.  I knew what would happen if I yelled at Aaron or if I gave him impossible ultimatums at that point.  It was best to help him work through this process while gently pointing out the repercussions of his decisions. 

And one more thing.  It was a time for me to practice unconditional love for my sometimes impossible son.  Unconditional……..meaning ‘not limited.’  Oh, how hard that love sometimes is!  All of us as parents can attest to this truth.  My love for Aaron is not limited to his good days……..when he makes me laugh and he obeys willingly and is polite and doesn’t even whack me on the back…..much.

Nope.  This unconditional love is for the stormy times like I faced today.  It’s a love that sees Aaron for who he is at these volatile times, and it’s a love that bundles up in the cold that sometimes follows these storms.  It’s a love that gives him a good old “A#1 back scratching,” as my dear dad called them.  I may have felt like giving his back a resounding slap, but the back scratch and the back tickle worked much better……..because it showed love and warmth to my frustrated boy.

I was at an event recently where I saw the long-term effects of a love that has been conditional.  A love based on limits and on who I am, and what I have or have not done.   This sort of limited love produces coldness and pain, not warmth and healing.  It gives no room for forgiveness and growth.  No hope of reconciliation.  How utterly sad………how wasted and unnecessary. 

I don’t want that to be true of me in my relationships with anyone, and definitely not with my children.  All of us parents know a thing or two about unlimited love………..loving our children through the good and the bad……..the pride and the disappointments. 

And those of us with special needs children, especially special needs that cause behavior issues, can attest to how difficult unconditional love can be.  Yet how rewarding to see the results of this love and to know that in the long run, we will reap more through love than through anger and harshness.  Sometimes we need to enforce discipline, but always with love and with forgiveness in store. 

When I fail at this, which I have done more times than I can count, I have the love of my Heavenly Father.  His love is always, always unconditional toward me……….and I’m so very glad that it is, because I blow it so often.   It’s through Him that I have learned what true, unlimited love is.  And through Him alone that I can practice this love…….most of the time………with Aaron.

I hope that the storm is totally gone when Aaron comes home.  I hope the temperatures are warm and the mood is bright.  But if not……

I’ll get out the back scratcher and grab Aaron’s floor pillow and get to work on his back.  No hugs for Aaron but a good back tickle should work.   

And I’ll tell him that I love him, though he rarely says those words back to me. 

Unconditionally.

What Kind of Thank-You is THAT?

This past weekend I was messaging my good friend, Wendy, during a particularly rough time for her.  Elijah, their special son, has been going through some really hard times.  Someday I hope that Wendy will write their story.  If she doesn’t, then I want to do that.  God is setting her apart in order to bless many people someday, even more than she already has.  Anyway, on this particular occasion last weekend I felt compelled to share a reminder with Wendy from Philippians 4:6…….a verse that she knows all too well. 

“Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.”  I talked to her about being thankful even in her very difficult circumstances, even if it’s just to be thankful for the next breath she drew, or to be thankful for a characteristic of God.  She and I messaged privately some after that as I wanted to be sure that I had not offended her.  You see, these thankful issues are something I struggle with often…….especially when the going gets tough with Aaron.

I should have known that God would put me to the test after I so freely gave out advice.  This past week with Aaron was really hard, as I’ve written about in my last blog.  I wanted to chuck it all and just drive off into the sunset more than once.  Man, he was nearly impossible at times!  On his worst day, Tuesday, I was driving him to meet his group when all my advice given became advice that I knew must be taken……by me!

There I was, driving on Maple to meet his group at Quik Trip, and listening to Aaron be verbal.  Not verbal in a nice way, either.  Reasoning with him at that point was futile, I knew.  Plus I was at a boiling point and my words would probably not have been kind.  Then I remembered what I had told Wendy, and I smiled inwardly………a very small smile, mind you.  I knew that the words I had so freely dished out now needed to be on my own plate as well.  “OK, Lord,” I thought, “I’ll try to do what I told Wendy to do.” 

I didn’t feel like being thankful.  I felt like hitting Aaron, to be honest.  But I did thank the Lord for…..let’s see……the beautiful blooming trees that we passed.  And the sunshine.  And the fact that God let me see a new day……dismal as it was……….but back to being thankful.  Let’s see.  I told Wendy to thank the Lord even for the breath she drew, so I did that.  And I thanked Him for loving me and for loving Aaron……because he sure needed someone to love him right now. 

I was reminded of all this earlier this morning.  Aaron, who has calmed down after his awful week, came upstairs to ask me if he could have the remaining coffee…….and would I pour it before Dad and I left for church?  When I went to the kitchen a little later, there was Aaron’s coffee cup already full of hot coffee and creamer.  Gary had already fixed Aaron’s extra cup of coffee.

I told Aaron that he needed to go downstairs to Gary’s study and thank him for fixing his coffee.  Thankfulness is something that definitely doesn’t come naturally to Mr. Aaron.  In fact, saying those two words is very difficult for him.  Aaron knew that drinking that wonderful cup of coffee hinged upon him saying thanks, so he went obediently down the stairs. 

“Dad,” I heard him say.  Then Aaron chuckled and continued, “I expected to get two cups of coffee.” 

So does Aaron really feel like this is a thank you, I thought?

“I’m glad I got another one,” he said……and then rounded the corner to head back up the stairs. 

He looked up, though, and saw me standing at the head of the stairs.  “Did you say thank you?” I asked him.

“I put it THAT way,” he explained….and he lumbered up the stairs. 

He took his hot cup of coffee from the kitchen counter where I stood, and matter-of-factly said before he left the kitchen, “You’re weird, Mom.”

Then up to his room he thumped, trying hard not to spill his coffee. 

And I shook my head, as I do so often, and thought about his comment to Gary.  Aaron’s version of saying thank you was to say that he was glad he got another cup of coffee.  Gary understood Aaron’s heart and he appreciated Aaron’s thankfulness, put THAT way, as Aaron said.

I believe my Heavenly Father understands me and understands Wendy, too, when we try to express some measure of thankfulness while staggering under the load of our special children’s needs……..and their behaviors……….and such a myriad of decisions and emotions that we face so often.  I believe that God understands us when we don’t say thank you right away, or when we say it through gritted teeth and clenched fists.  He understands our exhaustion and our hurt and our feelings of guilt.

I’m so thankful that God is long-suffering and kind.  I’m comforted in realizing that God even understands our thankfulness when it’s put THAT way……..such as saying thank you, Lord, that I didn’t strangle Aaron today.  I’ve thanked God for that more than once!

But God isn’t weird for wanting us to be thankful like Aaron thinks that I am weird.  God knows exactly what He’s talking about.  He knows that being thankful will bring honor to Him, which is our goal in life as a believer, and being thankful will divert our minds from the trap that Satan is trying to lure us into.  It’s a trap of defeat and guilt, which is the last thing I need when I’m already struggling on some days with how I’ve handled Aaron.

The next verse in Philippians says, “And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” 

Ah, sweet peace.  I know that Wendy and I both could use that……..some days much more than others! 

Thank you for putting it THAT way, Lord.

 

You Know…..What’s Her Name

I love how God reaches out to me through His Word, and often through little known characters, in order to either challenge or bless me…….and sometimes to do both.  Once again I was reading in 2 Kings this morning, this time in chapter 5.  It’s another story that we are familiar with, but it’s the unfamiliar that spoke to me today.

We remember Naaman, the captain of the army of the king of Aram.  He was a great man and highly respected because God used him to give victory to Aram.  Naaman had easy access to the King of Aram, so he was right up there hob-nobbing with the great ones.  He was wealthy, too, with money and property and servants.

There was one problem, though.  Naaman was a valiant warrior, yes, but Naaman also was a leper.  Lepers outside of Israel were not always isolated, but the life sentence was the same.  There was no cure.  Disfigurement and eventual death awaited powerful Naaman just the way that it awaited everyone who had this awful disease. 

In Naaman’s home there lived a little Israelite servant girl who had been taken captive by one of the many roving bands of Arameans.   Imagine what that little girl had endured.  Now she waited on Naaman’s wife, and one day this little unnamed girl said to her mistress, “I wish that my master were with the prophet who is in Samaria!  Then he would cure him of his leprosy.”

 
Obviously Naaman’s wife told her husband what this servant girl had said, because soon Naaman was telling the king about it.  The king of Aram wrote a letter to the king of Israel, and soon Naaman was on his way.  With him he took a huge wealth of silver and gold, along with ten changes of clothes.  He was ready to impress and he was willing to pay the price.

Eventually Naaman made it to the prophet Elisha.  There stood Naaman in Elisha’s doorway, along with all of his horses and chariots and wealth and changes of clothes…….and servants.  I’m sure that was quite a sight to see.  Not only a large caravan at the front door, but an enemy caravan to boot.

Now wouldn’t you think that Elisha would come out to greet Naaman?  It was pretty impressive to have this group show up at the front door.  But no……Elisha stayed inside and instead sent a messenger out to give Naaman a message.  The message was that Naaman should go wash in the Jordan seven times and then he would be healed.  That’s it.

Naaman obviously wasn’t used to being treated this way.  He was furious as he went away from Elisha’s house.  “I thought for sure that Elisha would come out and call on the name of the Lord his God and wave his hand over the place and cure the leper!” Naaman exclaimed. 

“And furthermore, are not the rivers of Damascus better than all the waters of Israel?  Can I not wash in them and be clean?” he continued.   So Naaman stormed off in a rage and all seemed lost.

But once again, there were servants who came to the rescue.  Unknown servants……unknown to us.  “My father,” they said to Naaman, “had the prophet told you to do some great thing, would you not have done it?  How much more then when he said to you to wash, and be clean?” 

Naaman listened to his servants.  He didn’t seem to hesitate but instead went down to the Jordan, dipped himself in the waters seven times, and then came out with the flesh of a little child…….pure and clean.

What I love about this story is the impact of the servants.  The little servant girl…….what’s her name?  Oh, we don’t know her name.  And those other servants?  Now who were they?  We don’t have a clue.  But look how they were used by God.  The little brave servant girl set things in motion for Naaman to be healed, and the possible terrified servants of Naaman encouraged their master to obey the prophet’s God and go dip in the Jordan. 

What if the servants had been afraid to speak to their masters about what they should do?  What if they had felt unqualified to say anything?  What if they had decided that they really didn’t like their masters and so they would remain quiet? 

What if that little country woman in the mountains of North Carolina had not spoken to that tall young man back in 1975?  That young man was Gary, my husband of nearly 35 years.  But back in 1975 he was a disillusioned young man who had been drafted during Vietnam, and had returned vowing that no one would ever tell him what to do again.  Gary lived in the beautiful Smokey mountains, working by day and reading philosophy books at night as he sought after truth. 

One day he was in a grocery store when an unkempt mountain woman, her cheek full of snuff, looked at him and said, “Young man, you need the Lord!”  And Gary, with his long hair and his long beard and his head full of philosophy but not truth, was pierced to his heart by those simple words……words spoken by that unnamed woman.  He began reading his Bible and remembering the words of his godly grandmother, and one day he cried out to God……and was amazingly saved. 

But it was the simple words of that simple woman, a woman he never had seen before and never saw afterwards, that caused Gary’s heart to be stirred and brought deep conviction to his spirit.   She wasn’t attractive or presentable, even, and certainly not educated or wealthy.  She probably had few if any accomplishments.  We don’t even know her name. 

Yet she spoke to Gary, a word of exhortation and challenge, and God took that simple exchange and changed Gary’s life for eternity.  My life as well, and those of our children…..and who knows who else? 

We may never know until eternity how one little word or phrase can change someone’s life.  We don’t have to be in the limelight, speaking or teaching before crowds of people, to be impacting other’s lives.  So often it’s the behind-the-scenes interactions that God will use the most.  A smile…..a hug……a card……a call……a prayer.    We just have no idea what God will use.

But I know who He can use.   God can use you and He can use me, in the very simple ways that are often the most profound.  We don’t need to have our names in lights, well known to all.

You know……what’s her name? 

It’s all right.  God knows.

 

 

 

Connecting the Dots

A year ago, Gary and I were in midst of making a very difficult decision……a decision that meant we would leave a place and a people that we loved because reconciliation had been denied to us.  It was a painful time for us, as well as for some dear friends that were left behind.  One day one of those friends called and asked if she and her husband could come over that evening to talk to us.  Gary and I were happy to have them come, but we didn’t think we should talk too much about the situation.  We really didn’t know what the visit would entail………or what a huge blessing awaited us.

Mike and Beth sat on the love seat in our living room that night, while Gary and I sat on the couch.  We exchanged small talk, and then one thing led to another as Mike and Beth started telling us about their youth.  They told us how they came to know the Lord; about how they met; about their dating days and their engagement, and then their marriage.  Through laughter and shaking of heads, they shared with us some stories of their early rocky experiences but also of how gracious God was to them in so many ways.  Their differing backgrounds and their stubbornness and their immaturity all melded together over the months and years as God worked on them, and exhibited to them His continuing grace.  They grew in their love for the Lord and their love for each other.  God blessed them with three wonderful children who love and serve the Lord today. 

Gary and I sat there, listening and laughing as they told their story.  Yet I must admit that I wondered why they were telling us all of this.  We thought that Mike and Beth had come to encourage us in this painful time, and while our visit was very enjoyable it just wasn’t exactly what I expected.  Until Mike reached a point in their story where he sat up on the edge of that love seat and excitedly said, “You see, God had a plan for Beth and me.  All along, He was connecting the dots in our lives and bringing us to where we needed to be…….and He still is doing that today.”  Mike continued, “I don’t know what all has happened with you guys, and I don’t need to know.  But I do know that God is connecting the dots in your lives, too.”

So simple.  So amazing.  God pried open my heart with those words and the tears rolled down my cheeks.  I didn’t have to say a word or share a word about our situation.  The Holy Spirit was there, directing the conversation and using it to soothe our hurting hearts. 

I’ve given that night and Mike’s words a lot of thought over the months since.  God connecting the dots………orchestrating the events in our lives in such a way that the end result is a beautiful picture, full of His handiwork and love. 

It reminds me of the pictures I used to work on in my coloring books, those dot-to-dot pictures.  I used to love doing those.  Sometimes it was fairly easy to see what the finished picture was going to be, but as I got older I enjoyed the harder pictures.  Those were the ones that were more difficult to figure out before they were fully finished.  There was just a mass of numbered dots but no order.  Yet as I carefully followed the numbers……1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and so on, the picture eventually took shape. 
 

 
In Psalm 37:3, David said that a man’s steps are established…….are directed……by the Lord.  Each step of ours God directs, even bringing us back into order when we mess up.  It’s easy to look back now and see how step 1 led to step 2 and so forth.  But I’m still stepping and still following, often unsure of where the next dot is or the next number, but knowing that God has promised to direct each step that I take.  Just as I can look back at some of the connected dots and see the picture taking shape, I can also look ahead with full trust that God is connecting the dots, guiding my way.

 
And there’s another beautiful truth connected to all this business of connecting the dots.  It’s something that Peter wrote about in I Peter 2:21.  He said that Jesus left us an example to follow.  That word for example means an outline of a sketch that is waiting to be filled in with details.  Jesus designs the sketch of our lives and then carefully fills in the details that are designed for each of us.  My unique details will not be your unique details.  Or my husband’s or my children’s, even. 

 
God is leading me, step by step.  And as each step is taken, each dot is connecting and forming a sketch……a design made just for me……..in which God then carefully colors in the most beautiful details that I can ever imagine. 

 
Some of the dots may be full of pain…..others with laughter…..some with doubts and questions…….many with hurt…….and a few with carefree ease.  Parts of my sketch may already be completed, other parts are partially done, and still some haven’t even been started.  But one day, I’ll be able to look and see a wonderful picture, whether simple or complex, completed with God’s direction and with His brush strokes of sovereign love.

 
There sure is a lot I don’t understand about so many things.  I still have questions that roll around in my mind during the dark hours of the night…….pain in my heart at some of the hurt we’ve experienced……..wondering why and how things happened the way they did.  But I love thinking about those dots that are connecting into what will someday be a complete and fully understood picture, thanks to God’s grace.

 
When I last talked to Mike and Beth about that night, and asked if I could write about it, both of them laughed and said they couldn’t even remember what all they said.  Oh, but Gary and I remember, because God wanted us to hear those words and to have that lesson penetrate our hearts. 

Connecting the dots. 

And seeing a sketch filled in with God’s perfect details. 

 

 

 

 

Mountains and Valleys

Many years ago, in the land of Israel, there were two battles that God used to speak greatly to me right here in 2014.  It’s just another example of how powerful and living the Word of God is, and how God uses his timeless word to speak to us where we are today.  This story involves the wicked King Ahab and the wicked Arameans and the weak Israelites……except that the Israelites had God on their side, which is all they or any of us need.

The Arameans decided to come up against Israel.  They had a great multitude, especially compared to Israel’s small numbers.  However, God isn’t worried about numbers, and so with His strength and wisdom He enabled Israel to attack the Arameans and win the battle. 

The Arameans didn’t take this defeat sitting down.  Soon they decided, through the counsel of their king’s advisers, to attack Israel.   The first battle was in the hill country, but the Arameans decided that the second battle would be in the valley.  They reasoned that the gods of Israel were the gods of the mountains but not gods of the valleys, so they decided to give themselves the strategic advantage of fighting in the valley for this second go around. 

 
God had other plans, as we well know.  The Arameans obviously didn’t know that there is one God, and that He is God of both mountains and valleys.  In I Kings 20:28 we find God speaking through His servant as He said, “Because the Arameans have said, ‘The Lord is a god of the mountains, but He is not a god of the valleys’, therefore I will give all this great multitude into your hand, and you shall know that I am the Lord.”

Sure enough, God once again gave Israel a sound victory over the Arameans….valley or not.  It totally didn’t matter whether the battle was in the mountains or in the valleys, because God is God of both.  It doesn’t matter what we or others think about God.  He IS the God of the mountains and He IS the god of the valleys.  Period. 

This is an old analogy but well worth repeating.  I have mountains in my life and I have valleys.  I have the good times and I have the bad times.  We all do.  It’s easy to see God on those mountain experiences when things are going well, and to talk of all His blessings.  We see our prayers answered the way we want them answered, and so we praise God for “answering our prayers.”  We feel like God is near and evident because……well, because we feel Him.  We see all the good things and we feel Him near, and we’re just so high up on that mountain.
 

But what about the valley?  We will end up there, you know.  Things in life do have a way of changing, for some more than others.  The valley is a harder place to see God and to feel His presence.  Prayers aren’t always answered in the way that we want…….in the way that we pray.  Healing may not come.  Ongoing heartache may not go away.  Doors may not open.  Relationships may not be restored. 

Sometimes the valley is one quick battle and we’re done.  We can be back up on that mountain in no time.  But often we find that our valley experience is prolonged and painful, so hard to understand and so hard to maintain.  What we need to remember…….what I need to remember……is the lesson that God taught to the Arameans so long ago. 

God IS God, no matter where we find ourselves.  He knows the battle plan and the best location for that plan to take place in our lives.  Through the good and the bad, God’s desire is for us and for all around us to see………through our battle………that He is the Lord. 

Now it’s easy for me, as I sit in my comfortable chair at my special quiet time desk with my pretty candle flickering, to have all these thoughts about mountains and valleys.  It’s quite another matter to live this out when I get up from that desk, leave my comfy chair, and blow out the candle.  Life hits me square in the face many times, and I find myself with thoughts and worries and frustrations that are not honoring to God at all.  I’m thankful that God understands my weaknesses, but I’m even more thankful that He tells me over and over that He IS God.  He wants me to know by experience, both on the mountain and in the valley, that He is fighting for me.

 
It’s not the length or the location of the battle, but it’s the strength of my God that I need to remember.  And His presence, in both the mountains and the valleys of my life. 

“I will give all this great multitude into your hand, and you shall know that I am the Lord.”