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