Visits to Bethlehem

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks by night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them. “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in strips of cloth and lying in a manager.”

Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests.”

When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.” 

So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in a manger. When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told. Luke 2: 8-20 NIV

Pilgrims stared at the hills near Bethlehem. From a restaurant’s patio, our group imagined shepherds on the barren hills. In the cool, silent night, they tended their flocks.

Modern homes and businesses disappeared from my view. I saw shepherds trudge between rocks searching for lost sheep. Caring for injured ones. Wrapping themselves in warm cloaks. Waiting for the sun to rise.

Stars twinkled in the clear sky. Distant lights of Bethlehem glowed. A long, boring night awaited them. 

Reluctantly, my mind switched to the present as our leader led us to the Church of the Nativity. We wound through clogged sidewalks filled with vendors trying to entice visitors to buy trinkets, post cards, and other souvenirs from the holy city. 

Christian and Muslim sellers, trying to make a living, capitalized on the mass of pilgrims. Crumbling buildings revealed poverty and the evidence of skirmishes. Cut off from the rest of the country by a gigantic wall, citizens endured long lines to enter and leave their city. Palestinians, both Christian and Muslim, struggled to live there. 

Prejudices and distrust abounded. In the town of Jesus‘ birth, the Christian population dwindles. 

I tried to ignore the current problems and imagine the scene in Jesus‘ time. But long lines in the Church of the Nativity, made it difficult. Tradition says that it was built over the cave of His birth. 

With incense burners, all sorts of religious adornments and a marble star imbedded in the floor, it hardly seemed appropriate to me. Nothing like the humble stables of my nativity sets even though I know they aren’t accurate either. 

Away from the mass of people, our leader led us to the Catholic Church of St. Ann next door. The beautiful, quiet sanctuary contrasted with the dark, busy one we left. 

Down a narrow, stone stairway, we entered a series of small caves. Asian worshipers filled the first one. We continued to a small one at the back. 

That tiny room soothed me. A long wooden table and with a beautiful painting furnished the room. Folding wooden chairs held us. Calmness settled over our group.

Scriptures took us to the stable. Larry, our leader, led us in a time of reflection. 

A grieving mother sat next to me. I took her hand. With eyes closed and tears streaming, we joined the group and sang of Jesus’ birth. 

In that  simple cave, the Holy Spirit comforted my new friend and me. He knew our losses and pain. 

I imagined a young couple far from home. Scared and nervous but trusting God. Holding her tiny baby, Mary felt Immanuel--God with us. They marveled at the birth and knew they weren’t alone. 

Gone was the pain and uncertainty of childbirth. Praise filled the young couple. A new life of promise.

Footsteps on the stone steps. Heads peeked into the dark room. Mary motioned for them to enter. 

Outcasts of society came inside. In awe they stared at the sleeping infant. Their rough manners, smelly clothes, and lack of education didn’t matter. They heeded their special angelic invitation.

They went immediately. They didn’t stop to take a bath, buy special clothes, or comb their matted hair. Each was accepted as he was. 

Afterward, the shepherds ran through the streets of Bethlehem proclaiming the Good News. Lives were changed. 

None who experienced that marvelous night remained trouble-free. All faced obstacles and trials. But God was with them.

In that quiet cave, some of my grief lifted. The Holy Spirit reminded me that I wasn’t alone either. He intentionally seated my new friend and me together and wrapped us in His loving arms. 

I longed to remain in that safe, serene place. But a sense of peace filled my heart as we left. I knew I would be able to continue my grief journey. 

Sadness filled me for Bethlehem and its chaos. Harsh conditions. Isolation. Despair. If only they could all experience the love of Jesus.

Heavenly Father, be with those who live in your holy land. Help them experience the love, promise, and hope of Jesus. May each Christian shine Your light to the world. Amen

The Cardboard Box

Remember this: Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows generously will also reap generously. 2 Corinthians 9: 6 NIV

Tucked in the corner by my front door, a cardboard box leaned against the wall. The shape didn’t fit the size for the recent order I placed online. 

As I sliced through the tape on the mysterious box, I wondered what was inside. The outside gave no clues. 

Two flaps of the box opened to reveal a white paper from Costco. There was no

name of the sender.

I picked up the object nestled in the box. When I turned it over, I caught my breath. The picture I had taken of my gorgeous vista stretched across the canvas. 

How special it was to receive the gift. It was like gentle arms enfolded me as I stared at the picture. 

Every time I look at my lake, I am thankful for what God has given me. I marvel at the changing scenes and peacefulness it brings. Its beauty provides comfort and encouragement.

My photo blessed me every time I saw it on my phone or computer. A third blessing came when I held the gift in my hands knowing that someone cared for me. 

Often blessings keep giving and giving. When I am open to God’s leading, I can be part of a blessing chain. 

I finally solved the mystery of the present. I knew it had to be someone who was a Costco member and who was computer savvy. I asked my brother Joe if he knew anything about a canvas from Costco. He had seen my picture online and had it made into a lovely canvas picture. 

Creator, thank you for the blessings you give and keep giving. Help me to share my blessings. Amen

Anticipating the Launch

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.” Jeremiah 29: 11-13 NIV

Excitement built. After years with no manned launches from Florida, the test for the Mars exploration revived space fever. 

Newscasters expressed heightened anticipation. A revival of the space program would bring jobs, visitors, and a sense of patriotism. 

In past years, I watched rockets etch the clear sky. Across from the launch pad, engines roared and vibrations from the powerful boosters formed waves on the river. Plumes of smoke rose with the spacecraft. Rockets could be seen rising into space all across Central Florida. The recent mission brought back memories of when space travel excited the world. 

Newscasters gave accounts of the countdown, crowds, and excitement. The clock stopped. A boater strayed into restricted waters. Then a booster problem needed attention. 

The boater moved and the booster was fixed. The clock moved forward. 

It stopped again. Wind gusts prevented a lift off. Another mechanical problem surfaced. With the window of opportunity closing, thousands waited expectantly. 

Viewers from around the world and local residents assembled along roads, beaches, and camp sites. Some spent the night in the area. Others arrived before dawn. All wanted to witness the historical event as the gigantic rocket rose and circled the earth.

Space center officials worked to solve mechanical glitches. Security personnel contacted the errant boater. But only God controlled the wind.

Everyone else waited. A moan arose as the announcement was relayed to visitors. Plans changed. Some complained. Others resigned themselves to the disruption. All hoped for a renewed countdown. 

At the end of the launch window, another announcement came. Officials decided to try again the following day. Disappointment replaced expectation. 

My life is often like the aborted launch. I make plans. Unexpected circumstances alter them. Anxiety and stress arise when I try to take control because I seem to think my way is best.

When I release my hold and accept God’s plan and timing, peace and contentment return. 

Heavenly Father, help me to accept Your plans and remember Your ways are best. Amen

Thankfulness Around the Lake

1 Timothy 1:2 ...May the grace, mercy, and peace that come only from God the Father and our Lord Jesus the Anointed mark your life. The Voice

Cool air hit me when I opened the door but not enough to keep me inside again.

Too many cold days kept me from my favorite morning spot. With a cup to tea and long robe, I braved the chill and snuggled into a wicker chair.

During my absence, my lake view changed dramatically. Green cypress trees turned golden. Their fall hues brightened the shoreline and contrasted with dark, green pines.

A flurry of wildlife greeted me. Nine squeaky turkeys waddled around my yard. A bellowing blue heron swooped across the lake and landed on the opposite side. 

Bright white fowl congregated at my shore. A pair of black and white wood storks fished beside two great white egrets. Stork heads plunged into the cool water to search for food. The egrets speared unlucky fish. 

A series of splashes broke the silence. Four anhingas landed and quickly submerged. Snakelike heads maneuvered around the mirrored lake. Songs drifted from tall trees. Not since last spring had I seen such an influx of birds.

Thankfulness filled me and extended my Thanksgiving celebration. 

Grief squeezed me for a couple of weeks before Thanksgiving. Crying returned. Memories of good times wrestled with anticipation of the future. Possible scenarios brought more pain and loneliness.

Sadness on Thursday morning, brought more and more tears. However, the wonderful celebration with family closed the chapter of grief for the day. Hours eating, talking, and laughing brought new memories and comfort. 

My grief, though strong and personal, wasn’t the only grief in the house that day. Others faced losses too. Together we supported each other and thanked God for His blessings. 

Letting go of my tight grip on grief allowed me to open my hands to receive the joy of the holiday.

Loving Father, thank you for your continued presence and comfort in pain and suffering. Amen

A Norman Rockwell Thanksgiving

Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus. 1 Thessalonians 5: 16-18 NIV

Cranberry sauce and celery were placed on a long table surrounded with smiling diners of all ages. Grandma lifted the browned turkey onto the table. Grandpa stood behind her and prepared to carve the huge bird. Gleaming china waited to be filled. Everything about the Rockwell picture seemed perfect. 

That kind of jubilant celebration didn’t exist long.The nostalgic picture dimmed with time. Life happened.

The artist’s brush covered over individuals absent because of death, divorce and distance.  Tears trickled down faces. Forced smiles replaced real ones. Tiny lines etched elderly faces. Lonely eyes stared. 

But the artist continued. Chubby, smiling children and new in-laws filled empty spots.  Laughter returned. Hands reached out. The ever changing canvas conveyed a true sense of thankfulness.

Instead of the iconic painting, real life Thanksgivings became a series of yearly pictures. Emotions flowed with happiness, sadness, and uncertainties. No matter the number of people at the table or their conditions, there was always a reason to be thankful.

A luscious turkey. A restored relationship. A sailor on leave. Pumpkin pie. A cozy home. Chemo working. Freedom to gather. A hug. Seeing a sunrise clearly. Restored health. End to suffering. Holding a child. Grasping a frail hand. Memories of past holidays.

During every Thanksgiving season, we can take time to appreciate the many blessings that have come to us. Big ones are noticed easily. Others are often overlooked. Each one is significant.

Enjoy your Norman Rockwell Thanksgiving celebration--whichever kind you may experience this year. The artist is constantly reworking his masterpiece. 

Heavenly Father, help us to be thankful even in our pain.  Amen

Pumpkin Pie

This is my command, be strong and courageous. Never be afraid or discouraged because I am your God, the Eternal One, and I will remain with you wherever you go. Joshua 1: 9 The Voice

“I made pumpkin cheesecake for the Thanksgiving potluck dinner,” I said to my granddaughters. 

“I like pumpkin pie,” Ashlyn announced.

“I love pumpkin pie. It’s my favorite,” four year old Molly proclaimed with a grin.

“Its my favorite too,” I said.

She added, “I’ve never tried it.”

We all laughed at her remark, but it made me think. Because people she loved enjoyed pumpkin pie, she was confident she would too. There was no hesitation or reluctance to try something new. She was ready to experiment and grab the opportunity. 

Instead of Molly’s positive view, prejudging often takes a negative outlook. Fears prevent engagement. Loneliness stifles. Pain cripples. Depression isolates. 

Molly’s attitude fosters hope, confidence, and encouragement. I can write the book and get it published. I will go to the concert alone and enjoy it. New holiday routines will make the season bearable. Helping others will soothe the pain. Exciting opportunities await me.

As I remember my old life, I will be guided into my new one. God’s care, love, and presence won’t stop but I have hope for the future. 

Each time I face something new and difficult, I will remember Molly’s words with a smile.  “I love pumpkin pie. I’ve never tried it.” 

Father, show me your way as I venture into a new life. Help me to be hopeful as I face each situation--whether easy or hard. Amen

A New Kind of Birthday

“in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.” Philippians 4: 6 NIV

Last year, Alan and I celebrated my birthday together. This year he was gone.

Because of his declining health last year, he had to rest all day so he could take me to a special restaurant. I told him we didn’t have to go, but he was determined to do it. We both knew it would probably be the last one.

Since driving had become too exhausting for him, I had been the driver for a while. With no handicapped spaces available near the restaurant, I dropped him off. 

Tears threatened as I circled the area searching for a parking spot. I walked in the dark alone after getting out of the car. For years my protector took care of me and then the roles reversed. Neither of us liked the changes. 

The nagging question kept coming back. “Will this be the last birthday with Alan?”

He carried his O2 tank into the darkened room. At our table for two, glittery birthday confetti brightened the black tablecloth. A small card proclaimed our name. The special touches made me smile. I pushed the intruding question away.

Our attentive waiter explained the menu and answered questions. We talked and waited for the meal. Only a few diners sat nearby in the small, elegant dining room. No one else knew this would be our only visit to the award winning restaurant. 

The chef decorated each dish with precision. We savored every delectable bite. Normally, we didn’t order dessert, but Alan urged me to choose one. He declined but took a bite of my luscious creme brulee. Every bite of our meals was perfect. A blessing  we both enjoyed them.

Throughout the evening, his O2 remained on the floor unused. That was another blessing. 

For that evening, we pushed aside the thoughts of his upcoming death. We enjoyed the time we had together. How thankful I am that I can review my memories of the fifteen birthdays with him. 

I can live on memories of the past or embrace new ones. What blessings I received this year from family and friends to begin my new kind of birthday. 

Dear Lord, thank you for the times with Alan and the new opportunities ahead. Amen

Braving the Cold

God of our Lord Jesus the Anointed, Father of Glory: I call out to You on behalf of Your people. Give them minds ready to receive wisdom and revelation so they will truly know You. Open the eyes of their hearts, and let the light of Your truth flood in. Shine Your light on the hope You are calling them to embrace. Reveal to them the glorious riches you are preparing for their inheritance. Let them see the full extent of Your power that is at work in those of us who believe, and may it be done according to Your might and power. Ephesians 1: 17-19 The Voice

While I was wrapped in a fuzzy robe, crocheted afghan, and furry slippers, an extravaganza played before me. Whispy clouds swirled, leaped, and danced above the lake. Miniature cyclones rose in a choreographed routine. Shimmering ripples reflected off bright cypress leaves.

White sunlight stretched across the crystal, blue sky. A blue heron huddled like an elderly man. An unseen creature croaked. Dew covered grass glittered. 

On the opposite shore a great white egret glowed in the shadows. With a lift of his wings, he sailed across the water and landed a few feet from my patio. He dipped his orange beak in the frigid lake and spewed droplets into the air. 

Wind rustled through the leaves. A quartet of sand hill cranes foraged beneath the cypress. A trio of turkeys waddled across my lawn. All endured the cold with no apparent discomfort. 

Though I shivered, each breath of crisp air revived me. The gorgeous scene around the lake enthralled me. 

Did my neighbors miss the show? Perhaps the cold prevented them from stepping outside. 

I came close to staying inside but am thankful I braved the cold. How many opportunities have I missed because I didn’t want to venture out or be uncomfortable? 

Enduring a cold nose, freezing hands, and shivering body allowed me to be blessed by the magnificent display. 

Dear Lord, sometimes I need a nudge to step out into areas that are new or uncomfortable. Help me to face the challenges so that I can receive your blessings. Amen

Time in the Chapel

May you all continue the journey with your spirits strengthened by the grace of the Lord Jesus the Anointed One. Philippians 4: 23 The Voice

Captivating art lined walls, ceilings, floors and stood around the rooms and halls of the Vatican Museum. Intricate mosaics and arresting paintings made me want to stop and meditate on each one. Towering statues dwarfed me. I felt small in the grandeur and magnitude of the rooms and halls of the opulent museum.

Our guide’s voice related endless facts and prodded our group to move on. We walked through room after room and down immense halls. The passageway for the Pope seemed like one in a castle. After a too short tour, we arrived at the Sistine Chapel.

Because of long lines on our previous visit to the Vatican, Alan and I were disappointed that we could not get into the Sistine Chapel. I looked forward to seeing the famous ceiling where Michelangelo finished his work on November 1, 1512. 

Before we entered, instructions came. No talking. No pictures. Meet the group outside at the specified time. 

Down the steps, I went into the dim room. Crowds huddled in the center. Heads pointed upward. Though mostly quiet, the mass of people distracted me. Simple wooden benches lined the sides. 

Silently, I slipped into an empty spot. From there I could gaze at the magnificent ceiling paintings which overwhelmed me. What genius from a young sculptor who said he wasn’t a painter. He never wanted to do it but was finally persuaded. What a gift he gave to the world, in spite of, his reluctance. 

As I tried to meditate among the throngs, memories of Alan filled me. Tears flowed. I cried for him not seeing the Sistine Chapel and for my visit without him. I longed for him to be with me on the trip. Alan never saw the chapel from my perspective but perhaps his view is even more glorious. 

Though surrounded by people, no one seemed to notice my tears. Would my entire trip be filled with tears? Would I feel so alone at every stop? 

Sunlight dried my tears when I stepped outside. Our group entered St. Peter’s Basilica. Roped off areas ushered the masses like cattle into specific sections. Because of pickpockets, we had been warned to protect our belongings. I held tightly to my small backpack which seemed strange to do in a church. 

When Alan and I visited a few years ago, we moved freely in the magnificent cathedral. We had time to fully experience its beauty and reverence and spend time in front of Michelangelo,s Pieta. This time I couldn’t even get close to the famous sculpture. Nor were we allowed close to the beautiful altar.  

No tears came in the noisy, congested building. I was ready to leave the confusion. 

Outside the humongous doors, sunshine blazed. Colorfully dressed Swiss guards posed for endless photos. Hundreds of chairs waited to be filled for weekly sessions with the Pope. 

My momentary sadness disappeared. Happy memories of Alan, mom, and dad joined me. Each one had been to many places on my trip. I knew there would be difficult times but was confident there would be no lingering despair. My trip would be one of learning, growing, remembering, and healing. Like Michelangelo, I will probably be asked to do things that I really don’t want to do but will try to follow God’s guidance. 

Almighty Father, thank you for the amazing creativity you have given your people. Help us to use our gifts. Thank you for the memories of loved ones. Amen

Returning Home

                                        What stories the 2,000 year old steps could tell of travelers on many journeys.

...Your ways and Your voice now guide my journey. I will press on-moving steadfastly forward along Your path. I will not look back. I will not stumble. Psalm 17: 4-5 The Voice

Since returning home  from my trip following the journeys of Paul, I have thought of the impact it had on me. Jet lag tiredness and fogginess finally drifted away so I could  process and write about the effects. 

It is difficult knowing where to start. Do I write in sequence or the parts that affected me deeply? Do I state the facts about the sites or emotions that overwhelmed me? 

Along with the fantastic experiences, there were times of anxiety because of health issues and periods of grief. Members of our group loved, supported, and lifted me up. Though difficult at times, the trip helped me travel further on my grief journey.

Each time a problem occurred, I missed Alan terribly. He had been the one who took charge and protected me. Often with tears, I trudged on and thought of what he would have done. 

My roommate Susie and I faced our recent widowhood together and remembered our trip to Israel in 2009 with our husbands. We spent hours remembering, grieving, laughing and healing. 

Some places and situations brought instant tears. Others brought giggles. Along with fellow travelers, we benefited from hundreds of prayers. Thank you for every prayer for our group. We felt them.

Heavenly Father, thank you for the marvelous trip and how it touched me. As I journeyed to the Holy Land, I learned more about you and your people. Thank you for the old friends and the new ones. You are an awesome God. Amen

Allowing Myself to Trust

He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not be weary. They will walk and not be faint. Isaiah 41: 29-31 NIV

Anxious thoughts consumed me the last few days. Elevated blood pressure. Precautionary treatment for Lyme disease. Fatigue, nausea, and listlessness plagued me. I could only think of how terrible I felt. Wondering if I could even go on my upcoming trip.

Traveling without Alan heightened the stress. Loneliness increased my tension. Sleep was elusive. I felt like crawling into a cocoon and waiting for the metamorphosis.

Friends responded to my plea for prayers. Days became a little brighter. 

Another doctor’s visit relieved concerns. Blood pressure eased downward. Offending medications were stopped. 

Gradually, I felt better and began looking forward to my trip again. 

Sleep improved. In the darkness before dawn, I prayed. “Take away my anxiety. You’ve taken care of me during all sorts of situations--divorce, moves, death, living alone, being a single parent. Thank you. I trust that you will continue as I take this trip. Amen.”

An answer came. “Finally. You’re trusting Me again.”

Weight from the past week lifted. With a lightened heart, I looked forward to a magnificent journey discovering more of the lands of the Bible. 

Instead of concentrating on my own health issues, I’ll travel with an improved attitude. I plan to embrace others and comfort those who need comfort. I pray that I will become closer to God. 

Dear Lord, thank you for being my rock and support during hard times. Help me to trust you and not try to do everything on my own. Open my heart to your Spirit. Amen

Thank you for all of the prayers. Please pray for safety, protection, and an openness to the Holy Spirit for our group. Also pray for all of our families at home.  

Message from a Spider Web

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight. Proverbs 3: 4-5 NIV

I have told you these things so that you will be whole and at peace. In this world, you will be plagued with times of trouble, but you need not fear; I have triumphed over this corrupt world order. John 16: 33 The Voice

Sunlight glistened on long, thin strands stretched from the roof to small bushes. A spider moved about her two foot web. Carefully crafted designs circled an intricate center. 

Gentle breezes swung the web, but she continued adding to her silky maze. Then, like a magician, she removed a large wedge with no evidence of the threads.

With her work done, she crawled to the center. All day I checked on her. She didn’t move.

The following morning she was in the same position. More holes distorted her creation. With the web disintegrating around her, she stayed immobilized in the middle.

On the fourth day, she was gone. So was most of her beautiful web. Tattered remnants waved dejectedly. I stared at the distorted mess. 

Some days my life felt like the forlorn web. Parts ripped out. Too many losses. A sticky jumble of a once happy, fulfilling life. 

Surprisingly, attached to the jumbled remains, sturdy strands gleamed. Even though most of the web had been destroyed, the anchors held firmly. The web couldn’t fall because of the long strings.

Through all of the pain and grief, God holds onto me. He has never let go even when I was battered with my life falling apart. 

With painstaking care, God will heal me. He will repair and create a different design from the shreds of my former life.

Heavenly Father, take the hurt and make something new. Help me to use the pain to comfort others. Amen

Autumn Times

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. 1 Corinthians 1: 2-4 The Voice

Brown stalks of corn replaced bright, green foliage of summer. Vibrant bean fields turned golden. Dazzling yellow and red leaves glowed in the fall sunshine. What dramatic changes occurred between my July and September trips to Indiana. 

Likewise, autumn appeared at my class reunion. Brown and blonde became gray. Agile bodies creaked and slowed. Eyes dimmed and trim figures expanded. 

Memories flowed of simpler, happy times. Laughter came with recognition of aging faces. 

Many knew of my year of losses. Tight embraces held me. Words of comfort and compassion blessed me. We shared heartache. Tears trickled.

Years of pain and struggles united us. No one bragged of important jobs or achievements. We shared life--good and bad. High school worries lost significance as real life happened. Carefree teenagers turned into caring adults. 

For two days we reunited. Close friendships continued. Life broke down high school barriers and allowed acquaintances to become friends. Unlike in high school, God entered conversations. 

The reunion, though difficult at times, took me further along on my grief journey. The support I received from classmates soothed the pain. Reconnecting brought happiness. 

Dear Lord, thank you for reunions as we share and comfort each other. Thank you for the comfort and blessings you give. Amen

Sharing Comfort through the Pain

“We asked you to email us your favorite verses,” Pastor Vernon said.

Oh, no. I meant to send one in but forgot. 

He continued, “We’ll have time later for some of you to share your verses. Even though we know there are stories behind every verse, do not share the stories.”

I grabbed my Bible. I knew the one I had to share. Many Scriptures had sustained me as I faced the illnesses of my parents and husband. The Bible continues comfort me as I walk the journey of grief from their deaths.

Two microphones were placed in the sanctuary. One stood at the end of my row. I restrained myself but wanted to jump up and speak right away. I had to give my verse. 

Though the verse was etched in my heart, with hundreds looking on, I was afraid I might stumble. I prayed I could read it and not cry. A peace settled over me.

Pastor Vernon asked for people to step to the microphones. I crawled over knees to the aisle. As I stood, hundreds of eyes focused on me. 

I faced the congregation. “My verse is Joshua 1:9. My name is Rebecca.” The words of my Bible blurred. But knowing the verse in my heart allowed me to go on.

“This is my command: be strong and courageous. Never be afraid or discouraged because I am your God. I will remain with you wherever you go.” I looked up. I had to share a teeny part of my story.

“Those were the last words my husband said to me before he went to be with Jesus.” 

Hands clasped mine as I returned to my seat. A lady near me wiped tears away. My chest thumped wildly. Tears squeezed out. A terrible pain clenched my lower back. I  made it but returned to my seat in agony. Did Satan attack me because I shared God’s word? Within minutes and silent prayers, the pain was gone, and I began singing.

The verse reminded me of the last night with my husband. After giving Alan his medication, I held his hand and told him his low oxygen level scared me. 

With bright, but weary eyes, Alan told me that he loved me. He recited Joshua 1:9. Then he turned over and went to sleep.

Four hours later when I returned to give him medication, he was gone. He had taken off his oxygen and left to be with Jesus. 

His final words have formed a constant reminder of God’s gift to me through Alan. 

When Pastor Joel stepped on stage, he said, “This is going to be a solemn sermon.”

He was right. He shared his own grief over the death of his son. More tears slipped down my face. 

Three other widows sat by me. All of us still struggle with our losses. Pastor Joel looked at us several times. I felt he was speaking directly to me. 

“God doesn’t always solve our problems. Sometimes something greater is coming,” he continued. “We influence others by the way we turn to God in our pain.”

I don’t know why Alan and my parents weren’t healed. But I have to look ahead to what God has in store for me.

My fear of crying in front of the congregation was overcome by my determination to share a tiny bit of my story. I wanted others to be encouraged. To know that God would be with them too. Even in intense pain and grief. We are comforted so that we can comfort others.

Heavenly Father, thank you for your gift of the Word. In pain and suffering you comfort and encourage with special blessings. Help me as I go forward. Amen