Sunday, June 28, 2015

Faith grows faith

I don’t know when this dawns on others; I know that at this stage of my life, demonstrations of God’s blessings, protection, and providence are all around me. I don’t have to work hard to see.

Right now via Facebook, I have evidence of miraculous answered prayers as well as the pleas of His people for their needs.  I love how God uses social media to connect His people to His other people.
From my limited viewpoint, I often see just MY world which, this morning, is from a very nice porch that looks out on our tranquil lake. All is peaceful and right with the world. I laze in a white, over-sized rocking chair and move it ever so slightly as to not generate any sweat. The occasional truck rumbles through as it is construction season and my neighbors continue on their titanic project. Really breath-taking.

Having lived some life, I can rock back and view God’s trajectory in the concerns and lives of so many.

As a former problem fixer, how many times have I been on the inside of someone’s problem, noodling how this thing could work out/not work out? And then, how many times have I
1) kept my opinion to myself and
2) experienced ANOTHER breath-taker as the Creator of the Universe has stepped in and made His presence known? 

Not always does His solution make sense; not always does He answer the prayer for healing, health, marital peace, or familial unity. But if I am attentive, I can see His hand, sense His working, and then rest in what He has taught me.  He’s got it.

I can’t offer specifics here as so many of the needs that my friends share are not public. I am honored when they trust me in their prayer chain. Mike and I lived and experienced the power of the prayers of God’s people. I love that they want me in on whatever challenge they face. Praying for others always blesses the pray-er.

The hardest for me involves sick children. When I drive by a children’s hospital, I am so glad we have such specialty places and I’m so sad that we need such specialty places. A sick child does not make sense to me. I don’t think it will ever make sense to me.

Right now, I am joined in prayer for 3 children who are fighting more than anyone should. Healing here? Maybe. Maybe not.  The adults ask for prayers for healing and I am no longer in the advice booth so yes, Dear God, heal this child, this baby.  Let me not read about the disease to the extent that I cannot pray for healing. 

I know that God gifts us with knowledge and that God exists beyond that knowledge. I know that nothing cuts to a parent’s heart deeper than a sick child. So I must include prayers for those parents and family, and for the medical caregivers. God can do. I pray that He will. I also know that sometimes, healing will not come in this plain and I need to stand at the ready to ask God to wrap His arms around those who love that child.

For those outside of faith, this does not make sense I guess. But then, that’s the nature of faith. Faith grows faith. 

In this day when we have short attention spans and are comfortable with bullet points, I cling to God’s bullet points:

God knows
God will
God will not

and my own personal favorite

Fear Not.


Sunday, June 14, 2015


 Two years ago, June 14, 2013, my dear gave up the fight, took a last restful breath, and died. We had invited hospice into our lives 3 weeks before this. 

The first week was heavenly: medicines that relieved pain and gifted us with blessed, deep, restful sleep. The second week, those drugs began to affect thinking and mood. By week 3, Mike lay sedated, no longer moving, no longer communicating. It was the end. They thought he would linger a day or two.

But that turned into a long week. Dear friends came to call and I had to turn them away: I had made a sacred promise to my love that I would protect his last few days and although at that point, he had no vote, a promise is a promise. Those few intimates that sat with me prayed for release. Prayed again. And again.

I found myself ministering to his needs, calling on some sort of inner brain that functioned without thinking too much. And then it was over.

With what seemed like lightning speed, we executed our funeral plans. Several close friends mentioned our speed…viewing in two days, funeral in three. However, we had planned this out almost 5 years ago and most of those arrangements worked.

That day was full of memories: shortly after Mike’s shell took the ride to the mortuary, I ran a few errands. On our local radio, was this tune:

You are good, You are good
When there's nothing good in me
You are love, You are love
On display for all to see
You are light, You are light
When the darkness closes in
You are hope, You are hope
You have covered all my sin

You are peace, You are peace
When my fear is crippling
You are true, You are true
Even in my wandering
You are joy, You are joy
You're the reason that I sing
You are life, You are life,
In You death has lost its sting

Oh, I’m running to Your arms,
I’m running to Your arms
The riches of Your love
Will always be enough
Nothing compares to Your embrace
Light of the world forever reign

You are more, You are more
Than my words will ever say
You are Lord, You are Lord
All creation will proclaim
You are here, You are here
In Your presence I'm made whole
You are God, You are God
Of all else I'm letting go

Oh, I’m running to Your arms
I’m running to Your arms
The riches of Your love
Will always be enough
Nothing compares to Your embrace
Light of the world forever reign

My heart will sing
no other Name
Jesus, Jesus

Oh, I’m running to Your arms
I’m running to Your arms
The riches of Your love
Will always be enough
Nothing compares to Your embrace
Light of the world forever reign

And because we know that Heaven exists and because we know that Mike was now in residence, I could so easily see him, running, RUNNING, into his Saviors arms.

So today as I prepared for church and then the church picnic in Winona Lake Park, I drove across town and this song came on again.

At the end, he ran into the waiting arms of Jesus!
Yes, my love.

Monday, June 1, 2015

Settling in for the Summer

Lovely things happen at the lake.

I have a neighbor connected genetically, I’m sure, to the first lady who strolled in Eden. Where Connie walks, flowers spring up around her feet. Many here are gifted in the floral arts but Connie tops them all. How fortunate I am that (1) she loved Mike and (2) she loves me and (3) she LOVE LOVES our little spot on the end of the island. She hired herself out to mow my grass so when I arrived, it was nice and neat.  And then she took it upon herself to spread a little Connie magic to my otherwise sad flower boxes so they are now smiling and I can enjoy her handiwork up close.

Connie also grows an eating garden so I know I will enjoy tomatoes and green beans later in the summer. But what is THIS? A knock on the door and there she is, smiling with a bowl of the first strawberries of the season. They are (were) perfectly red and plump. My mouth got juiced.

Next to that bowl is a jar of homemade jelly. Just down the street, brother-in-law Jim’s bushes are blooming. This jelly is from last season, with promises for more to come.

Jim’s beehives did not just survive the coldest winter. They thrived. He told me that when he removed the hive lid  (it has a real name), the bees poured out like a waterfall. He’s getting ready to transfer some to a new home, but first, what is THIS? Real honeycomb?  Full, FULL of honey?  Yes. Yum. For the uninformed, honey comb can be (1) drained for its honey or (2) cut up and eaten full of honey or (3) cut and placed in hot drinks or (4) did I mention, EATEN???

So, eating is good right now.

How quickly it goes from this to finished
And outside my window, nephew Caleb is putting the finishing touches on my new pergola. I had told him what I wanted. He wisely knew I wanted more so he just built what I needed.  Soon --- tonight --- I will sit outside with my white wine and watch the sun go down from my deck.

So life is lazy and fine right now. 

My favorite sight, however, does not involve edibles OR me --- down the street, I walked past a front porch swing. On that swing perched a little girl, so little that she had to slump down for her toes to touch the porch. Just enough to get her swing on. She had placed a small packing box over her head. She had cut out a square for her eyes and then places for her shoulders so the box fits down over her chest. She was swinging and singing. And dreaming of great things.