Seeing Through the Fog

 

Just recently I was invited to spend some time in Weaverville, NC at the home of some dear friends. The beauty of the mountains snatched my breath away as we approached their gorgeous 5000 sq. ft. log house. My life had been in utter turmoil for more than a year with my husband being in need of 24/7 care, and I was emotionally and physically spent. He had recently been in the hospital, and then moved to a rehab facility, so my friends, concerned about my welfare, decide a short mountain stay would be refreshing while my husband was away from home. I was so grateful all the detailss had worked out so that I was able to go.

I was offered my choice of upstairs bedrooms, so I picked the one that that had a window at the head of the bed, where from my pillow I could see the peaks of the Blue Ridge Mountains billowing up to the sky. The evening was an array of stars above and lights way down in a valley area. It was breathtaking, and that evening I lay there just watching the fluttering lights until I drifted off to sleep.

When I awoke the next morning, to my dismay, all I could see was a dense fog, and the tops of the trees that were very near the house. Even though I knew the majestic  mountains were still there, I was blinded to their existence. This made me think about my present life….so dark, so painful, so much uncertainty, and even though I knew God was there in all His splendor , it was so hard to see Him. Life’s circumstances were so grim that all I could see was the “fog”. But then, I realized, maybe that was all God wanted me to see at the moment.  Maybe He wanted me to trust Him blindly moment by moment and walk ahead dependent totally on Him, even if I couldn’t see two feet in front of me.

 Little by little the fog cleared as the sun forced its way through the gray denseness. Finally, hours later, I could see the beautiful view once more. There it was! The renewed faith to believe that I could trust him in the dark time I was experiencing, because inevitably His Son would break through the darkness and all would be clear again.

I picked up my Bible and opened to Matthew 6:25-34 where Jesus assures us that we need not worry. “Therefore, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about its own things. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.”

I then turned to another passage in Mathew 10:29-31 where Jesus tells us that “not a sparrow falls to the ground without the Father’s will, and we should not be afraid, because we are of more value than many sparrows.”  I lay in bed, contemplating this verse and God’s love for me.

Just at that moment, I heard a loud “thump” on the window. I didn’t think too much of it at the moment, still deep in thought over that scripture, but I finally got out of bed and looked out the side window. There below on the lower floor deck was a lifeless little bird. The fog must have confused him and he had flown into the window. I couldn’t believe it! I had just read that not one sparrow falls to the ground without the Father’s will. At first I thought, “maybe this is God telling me  that my husband will die. Or maybe my emotional stress will do me in.” I went back to bed and started really contemplating that scripture. What was Jesus really trying to say? Wasn’t it that our lives were so very valuable to him, that our hairs were all numbered? That he cares for each sparrow that falls?

I lay meditating for a while. Then I decided to check on the little bird again, and inform my friend of its death so his dog wouldn’t see it on the deck and eat the little bird. But when I looked down to the deck below, to my utter surprise the little guy was standing upright! He wasn’t moving, but he wasn’t lying flat either! I watched him and photographed him for more than an hour. He stood perfectly still, as if understanding that trying to take a step forward would be his demise. About four hours later, he finally flew away.

I could not escape the clarity of these spiritual lessons. I may feel like I can’t see, surrounded by dire circumstances. It may feel like I am banging my head against an unmovable wall until I feel lifeless. But the same way the little bird stood, there is resurrection power for me to stand!I don’t have to remain “dazed by the impact of the pain of life”. Sooner or later I will rise up and fly again. And so will you!

Puzzled

 

Puzzled

I have always loved the challenge of a good jigsaw puzzle. Even in kindergarten at playtime I would run to be the first to get a wooden puzzle. But lately the old fashion type of jigsaw puzzle has been difficult for me to do… just those age-related aches and pains from bending over a table! So when a jigsaw puzzle advertisement showed up on my tablet a couple of weeks ago, I decided to download the free app and check it out.

The first puzzle I chose was a picture of horses. (If you have met me even once, you know that I absolutely love these four-legged creatures!) The puzzle was fun to do, and I realized I was going to enjoy this app. But then I found a “special” where they offered a free puzzle for every day of the month of January. I clicked on January 1st, and to my surprise, these were “mystery” puzzles. No preview. I chose the hardest level of difficulty of the three levels offered and clicked on the start button.

The frame was the first thing I tackled, looking for all the white-edged straight pieces. This didn’t seem too challenging. But just from the frame, it was impossible to tell with accuracy what picture would unfold. Scrolling down one by one, I tried to find a piece, any piece that would fit into the frame. This was not any easy task, especially not having a clue as to what the final picture would be. But I kept at it, and little by little I placed some pieces, all the while gaining more perception as to what the end result might possibly look like. Sometimes I would get a run on the pieces and fit one right after the other in the same area. That was exhilarating! And I would study shapes and color, trying to get the right piece on the first try. As the picture began to unfold, so did my excitement and feeling of accomplishment. I could now guess with accuracy what the final puzzle might look like. It was actually a great feeling when I was down to the last few pieces and they filled in rapidly, sounding a little “bing” noise to assure they were in the right place. And then, to my surprise, when the last piece was in place, the puzzle no longer showed the division between the individual pieces, but was transformed with a “twinkling” sound into a beautiful photo!

I was hooked. Anytime I had a free moment, I would pick up my tablet and work on the next January mystery puzzle. Even though it was relaxing as well as mentally challenging, I started feeling somewhat guilty about spending my time doing puzzles. I needed to prepare for a speaking engagement that was only a few weeks away, not sit doing jigsaw puzzles. Yet I felt compelled to start a new puzzle as soon as I finished one.

 I was on puzzle number twenty-eight when I finally realized what was happening. God was trying to speak to me through the puzzles. It was a message for my own life, as well as for the conference I would soon attend, which I had titled “Never Alone.”  It now all made sense. Can God speak this way? Of course He can! The better question would be, are we listening when He chooses to use means that we consider unconventional?

God was showing me that I have viewed my life in the last few years as if it were a gigantic, difficult puzzle with no idea whatsoever what the final picture may be. My able-bodied husband had rapidly become disabled, until presently spending his days in a wheelchair and unable to do the simplest task by himself. I have had to sell our farm, my beloved horses, move twice and face countless Dr. appointments with still an unclear diagnosis. My home has become a revolving door for physical and occupational therapists, aides, and certified nursing assistants. Many days I have felt like that lone puzzle piece that didn’t seem to fit anywhere. No answers, just more problems to solve, another crisis. Other days, it seemed like I would gain insight as to our future and my husband’s illness, like putting a string of puzzle pieces together and feeling good about it. I would think I had a glimpse of what may be happening in our lives. Yet then another setback would come, and I would wonder if I had gotten a true picture at all. But with the same steadfastness that I attacked the jigsaw puzzles, I realized that God was reminding me of the strength He has put within me to persevere, day by day, issue by issue. He has given me insight as to which step to take next, as I pray and seek Him, just as I recognize where to place a puzzle piece by shape and color.

In His great love, He was using the puzzles to show me that every piece of my life has a purpose, even when I cannot easily find it. I thought I was wasting time, but He was showing me through these puzzles that the last piece will come; I may hope in Him.  Even though my life situations may be a perplexing puzzle, He knows the final picture, and it will all fit together perfectly according to His plan.

The puzzles I did ended with a “twinkling,” forming a breathtaking photo that erased any semblance of the individual pieces and their complexity. I truly believe that the pieces of my life will also bind together, and the brokenness and uncertainty I may be experiencing will lose intensity as they mesh to form a beautiful picture. For our circumstances, joys and hardships, and the people we meet along the way,  are not random pieces of our lives. They all form part of His beautiful pictures, which I believe we will see completed over and over again in our lives as we learn to trust Him and believe that He loves us. For we are truly never alone. 

Every Day is a Gift

 

“Every day is a gift” is a phrase we often hear yet seldom comprehend. We don’t wake up each morning and think about the fact that we are breathing, or that our heart is beating, sending blood full of vital nutrients throughout our veins. We rarely contemplate the mystic way we can be immersed in the foreign world of dreams one moment and then seconds later open our eyes and be vividly aware of the tangible world of pressing demands and responsibilities. No, we don’t normally view our first breath of the morning as a gift, nor the sequence of breaths that faithfully follow even as we once again close our eyes and drift off to sleep at the end of the day.

At least I don’t.

My first awakening thought may be a prayer, or on rare occasions a song may resound through my mind, but more often than not my day is greeted with thoughts of what I plan to do or what I think needs to be done.  And the beauty of the gift of life itself slips right through my fingers as I get up out of bed and start on the day’s agenda.

Yet every once in a while, life itself reminds us of the gift she truly is. It happens when we are abruptly, and seemingly cruelly, thrust from our routine and faced with the reality that this breath we breathe, this heart that beats faithfully pushing life’s blood through our bodies to keep us alive, could be snuffed out. It happens when circumstances beyond our control alter our very lifestyle or claim our last breath or that of someone we love.

I don’t want to imply that we should morbidly proceed throughout each day with a fear of tragedy or death. On the contrary, Jesus himself told us that He came so we could have a full and abundant life. But it is almost impossible to perceive our lives as “full and abundant” without, at least periodically, recognizing the value of each breath.  It is this awareness that helps put each day in its proper perspective. It’s what turns stressful frenzy into a more peaceful approach to our challenging circumstances. And more importantly, it’s what gives us deep insight into the miraculous creatures that we are and the incredible God who so meticulously formed us in His image.

So just maybe, each morning, I should awaken and breathe my first breaths of the day consciously reminding myself to be grateful for a heart that beats and the gift of life given to me by a loving Creator.

If only we could see

One of my very closest friends is battling cancer. It came as a shock to us both, and is very serious. It is so hard to understand with our human minds why things like this happen, especially to wonderful believers like my precious friend.

 I was reading this morning in John chapter 11 where Lazarus was very sick and Martha went to tell Jesus. I believe she knew He could heal her brother and that’s why she went to inform Him. But as the story goes, he purposely did not go to Bethany until Lazarus had already died. He loved this family, and when he saw Mary weeping and others weeping, the scripture says Jesus “groaned in His spirit and was troubled.” Shortly after, the shortest verse in the Bible “Jesus wept” is recorded. I have often wondered why Jesus would cry and be so troubled when He knew that in just moments these same weeping people would be rejoicing at the miracle of resurrection that He would perform. It made no sense. But as I meditated on this, I think I now understand why Jesus was so troubled. He deeply loved these people. He felt their pain and He knew it was truly the result, not of their brother’s death, but rather of the great limitations of their vision. He knew at the present moment they could not understand the greater purposes of God, they could only see the immediate circumstances. I believe the Lord’s heart was troubled and He wept, not because Lazarus had died, but because the people he loved so dearly could not understand nor see the future glory of the resurrection that was moments away from changing their lives and their faith.

It made me realize that much of our suffering comes from our human “short-sightedness.” We see the circumstances only, as we run to Him and inform Him of our troubles. We wonder why He delays in answering our prayers. But He sees the total picture, and it hurts and grieves His heart to the point of tears that we, being so human, cannot yet fathom the glory of the power of His resurrection and how that, and that alone, will ultimately bring deep, unfathomable rejoicing to our lives.

So I am determined to try to look beyond the present circumstances of my friend’s situation and see as Jesus would see. That in Him is life, the only true life, because He is our hope and resurrection.

The Gift

The King's Daughters is a support group for women who have suffered some form of sexual abuse, whether childhood, or later on in life. We have been meeting now for nearly two years, and tonight was a  very special night for the group. It was our second annual Christmas dinner. There were women present for the first time, others who have been a part since the onset of the group. But all have one common goal: to become whole and regain our true, God-given identity.

Tonight one of the ladies blessed us with a poem she wrote, which I felt needed to be shared. It is called "The Gift."

Everything good
And everything perfect
 Comes from God above.

He gives us gifts
For us to enjoy
He gives us people to love.

As a King's Daughter
You are a gift
Just look around and see.

This journey we've walked
And are continuously on
Consists of you and me.

God gave me a gift
The day this group started
And I'm looking at it now.

The people here
Are meant to be.
All I can say is "wow."

Thank you, God,
For these wonderful gifts
Whom you meant for me.

Thank you, my gifts
For the friendship you give.
Sisters we'll always be.

We certainly are gifts for each other as we travel this road of healing together!

If you have a longing for inner healing, are struggling with these issues alone, and would like to be part of this support group, please e-mail me (Sally) at:thekingsdaughters7@gmail.com. Don't let life slip by without experiencing the joy of freedom from shame. There is a better way.
Blessings to you all.

Gotta Get it Right...Wrong!

Perfectionism has been part of me for as long as I can remember. I wanted to... no, let me be truthful, I needed to look perfect, get the perfect grades in school, complete the tasks in front of me  with perfect accuracy. There was no room at all for the slightest mistake. I had no mercy for my own soul. And if I did mess up by making a wrong decision, or by falling short of my goal, etc., etc., it took me forever to recover from the devastation of facing my imperfection and perceived failure. Thankfully, I am much better now after I have recognized and dealt with many of the effects that childhood sexual abuse has on personality development;  I am grateful that I no longer need to keep a perfect house, make perfect decisions, or be perfect at everything I do. I have learned to give myself some breathing room.

But, on another level,  the way I view what God expects from me has not been  with the same mercy that I have now achieved  in the way I view my self-expectations. I can be more relaxed now with my daily "mistakes," but is God not still demanding perfection from me? After all, Matthew 5:48 tells me: "Be perfect, just as your Father in heaven is perfect."

I have always struggled with this verse, which seems to contradict  the internal healing that has allowed me the freedom not to be perfect. Even though I have experienced to some extent the truth that God loves me, how can I possibly obey these words of Jesus found in the Gospel of Matthew?
So I honestly wrestle with the idea that God may be asking something of me and I am not hearing and obeying, for whatever reasons, and therefore falling short of His expectations. Maybe you also have faced this dilemma: knowing God loves and forgives, but also seemingly demands perfection just as He is perfect.

I don't know if you would say this was a "divine intervention" to bring truth and light to this issue, but I believe it was. This morning in church my pastor spoke of Matthew 5:28 with new understanding. He explained how Jesus, prior to this verse, was talking about loving our enemies and those who persecute us. And then comes verse 48 about being perfect as God is perfect. What Jesus is truly saying is that  loving all people no matter what they do is exactly what God does, and this love and grace is what makes Him perfect. "Gratuitous Grace" my pastor labeled it. So the commandment is not about getting every little detail of my life correct until I reach some humanly impossible level of perfection. It is about allowing myself to love all people the way God loves them. I can't explain it, but somehow grasping this revelatory knowledge was as if  someone had removed a heavy burden from my back that has bent me over for years under its weight. Perfectionism as I once knew it was disintegrating as I sat there! What makes God perfect is His love. What will make me perfect is my love. Simply that and no more. So the more  I perceive and receive God's love for me, the more I will be able to be love my enemies and obey Jesus' command to be perfect.

I almost jumped out of my seat as my pastor was explaining all this! I wanted to raise my hand as if I were in school  so I could share what I was seeing! All of a sudden verses in Ephesians 3:17-19 had new depth of meaning. Paul was so adamant about about wanting the church to be able to "comprehend with all the saints what is the width and length and depth and height -to know the love of Christ which passes knowledge" because such understanding would allow us to be "filled with all the fullness of God". I had spoken many times in many places about these verses, but it was this morning that I realized for the first time that being "filled with all the fullness of God" was parallel to being "perfect as the Father in heaven is perfect." It meant being filled with all the love and grace  for others that God bestows upon me. That ability to love is what fills God.  God is love in the truest form. So if I  understand the completeness of Christ's love for me, Paul admonishes, then I will be filled with the same love that fills God.

One of the things we always pray for when I meet with the King's Daughter's support group is that we would understand God's love for us in a tangible, palpable way. It can be very hard for  abuse victims to believe that God loves us. But we must believe that He does, and that He is good. He wants not only to reveal His love to us, but also to live His love through us. That is ultimate perfection. That is being filled with God's very own fullness.  

And that revelation, for me, has changed my life today. I don't think I will ever be the same as I was when I got out of bed this morning.  I no longer see God  demanding of me an impossible perfection. I see a sacrificial Lamb, pleading with me to simply sacrifice enough of me to allow His  love and grace to  touch the world around me.

Rescued

I went down to the barn this evening to feed and care for my horse, Rayo, as I do every evening. After completing the normal "horse chores," I lingered for a while, my arms crossed over his stall door, just watching him. His beauty always amazes me, and his coat is so shiny that it looks like I dowsed him with oil. He came over to me and blew hot air from his nostrils, as if wanting to communicate. I breathed back, not speaking. He perked his ears forward, then began munching his hay.  I don't normally stay very long in the barn in the evenings, especially when I haven't had supper yet, but I felt compelled to just spend some extra time there in front of Rayo's stall. It had been a rough day, and I welcomed the few moments of solitude.

It was then that I heard the squeal. I wasn't sure what it was, but it was coming from the far side of the barn. I quickly picked up a manure fork and walked towards the sound. It was a desperate cry. Something was in trouble. I searched in the growing darkness of evening, but saw nothing. There it was again...a shrill squeal. I went outside and searched, following the noise. Was it a cat? A bird? Then I saw it in the grass. A baby rabbit with a huge black snake wrapped around it's small furry body, squeezing it tighter and tighter. The squealing stopped. I thought the life had been squeezed out of the tiny baby bunny. But no, it cried again. I took the fork and poked at the snake. It looked at me and started to strike, waving his tongue as if to threaten me. I did not want to kill it, since these snakes are not venomous  and control the mice population. So I kept poking and jabbing at his black scaly body until he finally let go and slithered into the thicket. The bunny ran into the pasture and flattened his body out onto the grass. I slowly approached, talking soothingly to him. He watched me, but didn't move. I knelt down next to him and quietly reassured him. "I saved you just in time from that old snake, poor little bunny. I hope you are OK." I was so close, and wanted so badly to pet  and calm him, but knew I shouldn't. I needed to make sure he was not badly injured, so I moved even closer, hoping he would get up and hop. And that he did! He hopped full speed back behind some bushes.
I was confident that he would be fine.

I started to walk back towards the house, but stopped. It was as if my feet wouldn't move me forward. I immediately saw a parallel of what had just happened and my own life. It was as God was talking  to me through what had just occurred.

I was  the little brown bunny, feeling hopelessly squeezed by  pressures of recent  circumstances. The enemy of my soul was trying to discourage me in so many ways, that I felt at times like I had no strength left in me. I had been desperately crying out to God in prayer. And tonight He let me know in such a tangible way that He is my deliverer. I felt Him "poke at the snake" until it released me. He then lovingly reassured me that He is always there in the nick of time, that He hears  my "squeals" of desperation.  I felt His awesome power free me.  I sensed His love.

I smiled as I walked back to the house, grateful that I had been there for the little bunny, and once again, reassured that God would always be there for me.