Remembering the Sunshine

... I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances. I know how to survive in tight situations, and I know how to enjoy having plenty. In fact, I have learned to face any circumstances: fed or hungry, with or without. I can be content in any and every situation through the Anointed One who is my power and strength. (Philippians 4: 11-13 The Voice)

A third day of gloom. The sun hidden by a thick coat of clouds. In many areas of the world, that wouldn’t be unusual but for the Sunshine State, it was almost unheard of.

My cold fingers gripped the pen as I wrote. The chill penetrated my long, fuzzy robe. I shivered.

A flock of crows bellowed and squawked. Their sudden appearance added to the gloom and disturbed my serenity. 

Turkey squalls echoed from one side of the lake to another. Nine females paraded across my yard. Two stopped. They turned and stared at me. We looked into each others’ eyes before they hurried to catch up with the others. A straggler rounded the corner of my house long after the group left. 

Once colorful cypress trees formed a ring of forlorn sentinels around the lake. Even green pines, without their sparkle, appeared downcast. Only blurry images reflected on the dark water. 

Nothing about the morning gave even a hint of brightness or hope. Dreariness and despair saturated everything. 

But when I took my thoughts from what was missing and examimed my surroundings, tiny white blooms wiggled in cold breezes. A few orange blossoms remained on brown spiral stems. Faint bird melodies drifted through the air. Patches of green grass remained.

A gorgeous sunrise, glittering lake, and cheerful plants were a memory etched in my mind. The morning scene before me was quite different. Not what I desired but what I had been given. However, as I remembered the beauty of my lakeside retreat, I knew the gloom would disappear and the sun again shine brightly.

Circumstances in my life often were quite different from what I hoped for. In my pain and grief, Jesus holds me tightly and provides others to support and love me. No matter what lies ahead, I am not alone. In all circumstances, I am learning to be content and see how each situation can be used for good.

Heavenly Father, thank you for all I have been given. Keep me focused on you in all my circumstances. Amen

Following God's Instructions

Being jostled by a donkey for days would have been difficult without being pregnant. Mary’s back ached. She longed to lie down and sleep. Tiny Bethlehem loomed ahead. A respite.

Joseph searched and searched for a room. He returned from each inn with bad news. Every room in the small village was taken because of the flood of travelers for the census. Other weary visitors lined the streets. All looking for a refuge. 

Desperate to get Mary settled for the night, Joseph reluctantly accepted the offer of a spot with animals in a smelly hillside cave. 

Joseph remembered clearly the visit by Gabriel telling him to be not afraid to take Mary as his wife even though she was pregnant. She carried a son conceived by the Holy Spirit. Joseph obeyed but didn’t fully understand the incredible proclamation. 

If God planned it, why wasn’t a proper room provided for them? Why would God allow such hardships for the frazzled couple? 

Knife life pains stabbed Mary as she climbed down from the donkey. With each deep breath, putrid odors from the animals assaulted her. This wasn’t what she imagined.

Months earlier, Mary’s own visit from Gabriel troubled her as he told her that she would give birth to the Son of the Most High. The words shocked her but he said to not be afraid. After asking questions, she joyfully accepted  the path set for her. Like Joseph, the full impact wasn’t understood.

But wouldn’t God want a clean, warm room for His son? Why did they have to endure the long journey and then have no place to stay? 

Intense pain swept the questions away. She concentrated on immediate concerns. Though stinky, the dark cave offered warmth and protection from the cool night. A refuge from the crowds. The young couple made the best of what they had been given. God provided but not in the way they imagined.

In the midst of a seemingly horrible situation, Jesus entered the world. Mary wrapped him in cloths and laid him in the manger. The young couple stared at the miracle before them. Their eyes met. Joy radiated from their faces. Each one remembered Gabriel’s words with the promises of God.

Within a few months, they moved from being teenagers in an obscure village to a world famous couple given the responsibility of raising the Son of God.  Their lofty responsibility wasn’t without unimaginable hardships. God didn’t take away trials but seemed to keep adding more and more.

However, the couple faithfully followed God’s guidance. They welcomed unusual visitors to see the blessed babe. They escaped to Egypt when Herod killed baby boys in Bethlehem. Years later, they returned to their home village of Nazareth where they faced question after question. But they remained obedient despite all of the pain and trials.

God knew the plan for Jesus’ birth and didn’t prevent the obstacles. If he didn’t make life easy for them, why would I think he would take away all of my difficulties? However, in the midst of it all, He remains near giving peace, strength and comfort. 

Read Matthew 1 and 2.  Luke 1 and 2

Lord, help me be obedient even when I don’t understand. Like Mary and Joseph, give me peace, strength, and assurances to follow your guidance. Amen

A Short But Eventful Night

Too much time on the computer for gifts made me push aside my evening reading. Then to get in a few chapters of an enticing book, I read later than normal. The time surprised me. Much later than I normally dropped into bed.

Red numbers clicked away. Instead of quickly falling asleep, I tossed and turned. Even when I get to bed late, my weary body wakes up early. I had to get to sleep.

At 1:30 am Westminster chimes echoed into the serenity of my sleep. like an organ in an empty cathedral. Startled awake, I tried to figure out what was going on. The chimes started, stopped, repeated part of it and started again. 

The sounds seemed to be coming outside my bedroom door where the smoke alarm was located. One night it blared at me “Get out! Fire!” At least the chimes didn’t jar me quite as much.

After chiming loudly for five minutes, silence returned. I breathed a sign of relief. Then the commotion returned. My fuzzy mind realized it was the addition I had gotten for my doorbell so I could hear when someone rang it. The tiny ding was too soft for my aging ears.

For months, the chimes refused to work even though I changed the batteries. However, I kept it plugged in hoping it would magically work again. Not in the middle of the night though.

While the repeating chimes continued, I shuffled to the living room to unplug the offender. Quiet returned.

My heart continued to race because of the episode. My nose clogged so breathing was a little difficult. Suddenly, my nose began to run. My tired body just couldn’t get up in time to get a tissue. No one would know that I wiped my nose on my long sleeve. Our Founding Fathers had lace on their cuffs to disguise that they did the same thing. 

Sometime while it was still dark, I fell asleep. By 5:30, I was fully awake but not ready to get up. After trying and trying to get back to sleep, I gave up. Perhaps I would take a nap if I needed to.

Only after a cup of tea and somewhat clear mind, did I wonder if someone rang my doorbell in the middle of the night. Maybe that started the bizarre chiming. While I tried to absorb that uneasy thought, my eyes caught sight of a strange color on my pajamas. 

Stripes of dried blood swept across my gray sleeve. Instead of a runny nose, blood had been flowing. Why would I have had a bloody nose in the middle of the night?

Did someone ring my bell which started the chimes? Then they hurried inside, hit me in the nose and ran away when the chimes continued and woke me up. The chimes tried to alarm me that something was wrong. As I lay in bed trying to decide what to do, they made their escape. 

Of course, that didn’t happen but I hope it gave you a little humor in the midst of a busy holiday season. I still don’t understand why the chimes started or my nose bled. I did take a short nap and the chimes didn’t start today until about 5:45 am. The device is permanently unplugged. Time for a new doorbell.

 

Grief in the Celebrating

Christmas trees glowed. Sugar cookies enticed guests to eat. Festive decorations glittered.

At the annual Christmas gathering, residents of my community arrived to sing traditional holiday songs. Friends at one table moved chairs so I could join them along with another lady who came alone. 

As I talked with my new friend, we discovered both of our husbands died of the same disease-ideopathic pulmonary fibrosis. Alan almost four years ago and her husband last April. 

“You are still going through firsts,” I said.

She nodded. I knew the fresh pain. My good friend, Bill, died of the same disease that day. I dealt with the grief of losing another friend but  knowing he no longer suffered. Grief from Alan’s death intensified after dealing with Bill’s death and hearing of her month’s old widowhood. 

When the piano began playing, I pushed aside thoughts of death and concentrated on singing. Most friends at our table belonged to our neighborhood singing group. We sang, harmonized and enjoyed each song both serious and lighthearted.

But as I looked ahead to the next song, my chest tightened. Would I be able to sing it? That song brought tears every year at the candlelight Christmas Eve service. Memories came of so many years when Christmas wasn’t happy.

I sang the first couple of lines easily. Then I struggled to hold in the grief. My throat closed. No words would come. Tears trickled. Maybe no one would notice. Like an ostrich, I averted my eyes. 

From the corner of my eye, I noticed someone get up. A friend moved around the table and embraced me in a hug. Tears flowed. I tried to speak but could hardly get out my words. 

“My friend died today.”

She held me again. Then she returned to her seat.

Tears continued during the rest of the song. But my heart rejoiced at her spontaneous compassion at just the right moment, She didn’t eliminate my festering grief but added a bit of healing salve. 

The recent widow handed me a napkin for my tears. I noticed her tears too and patted her arm. 

“Why did they let us be together?” she asked.

We laughed. With the brief spell of grief partially broken, we both enjoyed the rest of the singing. However, I couldn’t focus on words of many songs which were too painful.

“The Happiest Time of the Year” isn’t for many people. “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” doesn’t happen in lots of families. There is no one to kiss under the mistletoe.

I want to focus on Jesus and the real meaning of Christmas. To help others who are also lonely and sad. Grief doesn’t take a holiday. Whether years ago or only weeks, it ambushes and tries to steal happiness. However, the true joy and peace of the season won’t be extinguished.

Exercise Mat Prayer

How great is the goodness You have stored up for those who fear You. You lavish it on those who come to You for protection, blessing them before the watching world. (Psalm 31: 19 NLT”

            Exercise mats filled the room. As a newcomer, I searched for familiar faces and found a friend from my former neighborhood. We chatted before the class began.

            For a few weeks, I hadn’t exercised much. Water aerobics ended. Blood pressure problems took me to doctors. A trip to Arizona changed my routine.

            Pilates seemed like a gentle way to start getting back in shape.

            Would I be able to keep up? Would my dizziness overtake me? Would my blood pressure go back up?   

            As the instructor explained how to breathe and move, I struggled to focus and block out negative thoughts. Unused muscles balked at some positions. When I thought everyone must be looking at me, I cast a glance around the room. They seemed only to concentrate on what they were doing.

            After class, my friend and I discussed my recent complications with hypertension. Since she had dealt with it too, she asked what I had done to reduce it. I already limited salt. Exercised but needed to do more. Wasn’t overweight. Rarely drank alcohol.

            Like my doctor, she asked about my stress. For over four years, stress was my constant companion. But as time went on, I thought I was dealing with the grief of losing my parents and Alan. However, recently grief ambushed me again and again.

            When my friend turned around to pick up her mat, my eyes glistened. She noticed the tears.

            “Let’s pray,” she said.

            Everything disappeared around us as we sat in the middle of the floor, held hands and prayed. We met with God in an exercise room at our clubhouse.

            Her prayer covered me in peace. Her hug enveloped a grieving widow. Her awareness of my pain and willingness to pray immediately showed God’s love exactly when I needed it.

            Perhaps others in the class noticed. Like Alan used to say, “We never know who is watching us.” Maybe someone else needed her prayer too.

Dear Lord, thank you for dear friends who listen to the Holy Spirit and pray wherever they are. Help me to do the same for others. Amen

A Refugee from the Storm

I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will guide you with My eye. (Psalm 32:8 NKJ)

          Before getting out of bed, I prayed, “Show me someone I can help today.”

          Few people entered the library bookstore as I straightened shelves and added books to the children’s section.

          Another volunteer, who arrived late, told of her hour long wait in bumper to bumper traffic. She saw no accidents but several police cars.

          Then I remembered a news story about locations in Central Florida where hurricane victims could apply for food. One was located near the library which explained the traffic jam.

          As we worked, a dark haired man entered the store. “Is FEMA here?”

          “No, they left last week.”

          “At the airport, they said we could get help from FEMA. I just arrived last night from Puerto Rico,” he continued.

          His words broke my heart. My friend and I exchanged looks and moved closer to him.

          “Do you know where I can go to find out about housing and a job?”

          My mind tried to grasp his reality. New country. No job. No home. I couldn’t imagine what he had gone through.

          I felt God’s nudge to do something I had never done. “May I give you a hug?”

          We hugged briefly. His eyes glistened as he composed himself.

          “We are so sorry for what you have gone through,” Pat and I said.

          Neither of us had any real answers, but we directed him to the location where food vouchers were being given out and explained about the long lines.

          “Of course, that’s nothing compared to what you’ve been through,” Pat said.

          After he left, we tried to process how difficult life had become for thousands affected by the hurricanes. Watching videos on the news brought sadness. However, experiencing the pain of someone fleeing the devastation, clutched our hearts.

          Even though the hurricanes shattered his island, he wasn’t in despair.  He requested information but wanted to help himself. I prayed that he got what he needed.

          That morning a silver cross, that Alan gave me, hung from my neck. Hopefully, the man felt love and encouragement as God’s hug used my arms.

Heavenly Father, provide for your children who have experienced tremendous losses. Help us to know how we can serve them. Amen

Lessons from Wee Teachers

Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed. (Mark 1:35 NIV)

            Before getting out of bed, plans for the day jumbled within my mind. My sluggish body refused to move. Finally, I shuffled to the kitchen for a cup of tea to wake up.

            As I reached down to pick up my newspaper from the driveway, a thin black worm wiggled across the pavers. His movements fascinated me. His head stretched out to lengthen his body like a taunt rubber band. Little by little, his body caught up. Slow. Steady. He moved toward the grass but never did his body stretch beyond what he could endure.

            From my patio, I watched and learned more lessons. The bumblebee followed his daily routine. He zoomed to the orange flowers and stuck his head into one after the other. He didn’t hurry. He focused on only one bush and wasn’t distracted by other blooms in my garden.

            As I enjoyed the tranquility of my retreat, chirping drifted across the lake. The sound came closer and a brilliant cardinal flew into an oak tree. His melodies entertained me for a few minutes as he rested before flying away.

            Near the water’s edge, an orange butterfly flitted among white blooms near the shoreline. A swaying stem enticed the butterfly to stop and relax. A few seconds later, he resumed his flight.

            Each creature taught me a lesson. The slithering worm showed me to not stretch myself too thin. The bumblebee taught me to focus and not be distracted. The cardinal showed me to stop and listen. The butterfly demonstrated to take a break and then go on. Nonstop activities, even good ones, eventually wear me out and make me less effective.

            After being with people, Jesus took time to get away and be alone.

            After my lessons, I spent a leisurely day relaxing and enjoying time by myself.

Heavenly Father, thank you for each creature and the lessons I learned. Amen