After the funeral, we all converged at my uncle’s house. Casseroles lined the counter. Dishes filled the sink. He’d become accustomed to cleaning up the kitchen since my aunt had gotten sick. As he started covering bowls with aluminum foil, he recounted the last few hours of her life.
I knew something was wrong before I started bleeding. I hadn’t felt as “pregnant” as I did the previous two times, but I had no choice but to wait and see. When the spotting started, I knew it was the beginning of the end.
How often have you seen a pastor stand in the pulpit and praise God that the parking lot fund didn’t make its goal? Instead, the church (through its well-meaning representatives) will too often wheedle, cajole and extend deadlines until the money is in. No wonder outsiders draw the conclusion that God is out for “our” money.
How long has it been since you really thought much about honor or purity or excellence? And how do such words as these translate into actions that can be lived out in our cool, careless culture?
In these strange and unsettling times, who has not experienced an anxious moment or a fearful thought? When we turned over our calendar to 2020, could we have imagined what the New Year had in store?
The truth is, I am a “regretter” We regretters have nets that we can cast wide and deep to dredge up something we said or did a week or a lifetime ago, then we fret and regret , chew and stew. Trust me, such a mindset is not the product of a sensitive conscience or a tender heart. Such foolishness comes from a particularly insidious form of legalism that believes that the kingdom of God is dependent on our flawless performance rather than God’s power through us.
26 phone calls. Calls from my sister-in-law, Glenda, during the week leading up to my older brother’s death in May 2020.
Ernie suffered through Congestive Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD) for seven years. He fought valiantly while isolated in his basement in Colorado.
Two names. Three times bitter. One heart.
Naomi means sweet. Mara means bitter.
Eleven blankets. One perfect covering.
Numerous throws at home for snuggling beneath. They’re trendy and sometimes I want to be comforted and hide from the cruel world.
Two generations. One message.
I remember observing my mom sitting in her rocking chair by the living room window. That was her daily spot for reading her Bible and devotional books. We didn’t talk about it, but I sensed a kindred connection with her.
Eighty-Nine days.
Days that my 94-year old father was isolated in his assisted living apartment due to COVID-19 restrictions.
We planned to drive 900 miles in late June to see Dad, but he called me and explained, “You should cancel your trip. You won’t be allowed to visit me, except by phone through my window.”
God loves you! Such a simple statement is hard to grasp. How could the all-knowing, all-powerful God of the universe care about you and me? It is a great mystery. He not only cares about us, He loves us more than anyone else could. I’m pretty sure you won’t believe that just because I said it, so let me show you in God’s love letter--the Bible.
My husband’s new hobby is gun collecting. He is fascinated by old guns as well as the new ones. He watches shows to learn more. One show highlights the history of weaponry. It is interesting to see how weapons evolved over time. What was a cutting edge sword or gun one day is soon eclipsed by a more advanced weapon. Generally, those with superior weapons have an advantage in warfare.
2020--what a year! Who could have predicted Americans would be wearing masks to enter stores or that toilet paper would be a valuable commodity? I didn’t think I would see in my lifetime churches not meeting together physically. Many companies require payment electronically rather than cash, due to a coin shortage. We’ve been introduced to terms such as COVID, pandemic, Zoom, and social distancing.
Lord, I don’t want to go back there, but I’ll do it if you will help me, I prayed in my car. Our Sunday morning class had been invited to join a burgeoning ministry at the local emergency shelter. Once a week, several ladies from the class brought activities and small gifts for the girls at the shelter. Some of the staff and girls were engaging while others looked at us with suspicion.
I am the queen of unfinished projects. I started painting the rooms in my house a couple of months ago. Then life happened, and I haven’t gotten back to it. A chair sits in the corner I’ve been hoping to recover. I removed the old fabric and bought new fabric. I ran into a couple of problems. I am trying to decide how best to rectify the issues. So the chair sits unfinished, not far from the paint cans and brushes.
I rented a cabin on Lake Catherine in Arkansas for a week to spend time with the Lord and work through a challenging time in life. I searched for a study to guide my time with Him. So, one evening, I stood in between the shelves of LifeWay, praying for the Lord to show me which book to pick.
Once, I was sharing something with a friend. She stopped what she was doing, turned toward me, and gave me her full attention. It was a very busy time for her, but she still stopped everything. It struck me how this made me feel; valued, loved, and my words were important to her. It was a slight gesture that weighed tons in my soul.
We are to have compassion in our relationships, but what about that person who continually causes strife? The one that drives us to the feet of Jesus and to seek counseling?
