The Wooden Turtle

I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you and watch over you. Psalm 32: 8

Alan’s turtle rested on my coffee table. He purchased the beautifully carved piece on a trip through the Panama Canal. 

Because of his own woodworking skills, Alan recognized the artistry and amount of labor in the turtle. However, his delight in bargaining skills made him attempt to negotiate  a lower price.

The artist wouldn’t budge. We walked away to explore items from other vendors at the market. 

“I really like that turtle,” he said.

“If you like it, go back and get it,” I replied.

We returned, and he tried one more time to obtain a lower price. The man shook his head and showed the underside of the turtle. Even the bottom was carefully carved. 

Alan agreed to the original price. Money passed between them along with smiles. Two men from vastly different cultures shared a love of woodworking. Alan asked if the man and his daughter would allow him to take a picture of them with me. The readily agreed.

The brown turtle became one of Alan’s favorite souvenirs from our world travels. Each time I look at the wooden turtle, I remember the fun we had on that trip.

The turtle decorates my room.  But only when I pick him up to wipe off the dust does he move. Even if he was alive, his travels would be slow. One steady step at a time.

Our special souvenir made me think. I would love to run through my grief like the cheetah which is another souvenir that sets on a shelf. But I must be content with slow plodding like a turtle.

Most difficult situations require careful, methodical steps. Often progress is only recognized by looking back. A quick glance backwards can give encouragement for the path ahead. However, lingering in the past can bring discouragement and despair.

Dear Lord, guide and strengthen me as I continue my journey forward. Amen

Ravages of Grief

Grief grabs like a vise.

Shuts out peace and joy.

Repels laughter

Sneers at happiness.

Then its grip loosens little by little.

Strength gradually returns.

Laughter replaces tears.

A shuffle turns into a skip.

A ray of sunshine appears.

The broken heart begins healing.

Like a bolt of lightning, it returns

And rips off the tender scab of healing. 

Exposes loneliness, tears, and sadness.

But each unwelcome visit gets a tiny bit shorter.

Less intense and not quite as devastating.

Only by looking back

Can progress be appreciated.

A sense of wonder at the advancement

With every agonizing step. 

Encouragement for the journey ahead.

Hope in the Storms

Psalm 27: 1 The Eternal is my light against darkness and my rescue in times of trouble. So whom shall I fear? The Voice

Blustery gales whistled. Waves rose and rushed across the lake. Trees wobbled and teetered. Dark clouds hovered and masked the sun.

I pulled my plush blanket tighter to block out the cold and watched the scene unfold. A trio of dark birds twisted in the currents high above the lake. A great white egret pondered the dark water. Then he snatched breakfast with his long, slender beak.

A cardinal clicked repeatedly from a naked, swaying cypress. His color muted in the morning’s dreariness. 

Only the egret’s brilliant whiteness offered an escape from the gloom. He marched over mounds of dead leaves to reach the water. In spite of the turbulence, he stayed on task. Pencil thin legs supported his graceful body. Wind battered his feathers. He remained firm. 

A songbird’s music pierced the howling wind. Brown leaves, whipped by the wind, remained  secure as they clung to battered stems. In the midst of the storm, God revealed His lessons. 

Life batters, shakes, and destroys. There are choices. I can withdraw in agony and cry in despair. Or I can cling tightly to God, learn from the trials, and sing again. 

Some days I held on by a teeny thread, but God held tightly. When grief thrashed and bruised me, I received strength to go on. Music lifted my spirit and touched my heart. 

As I wrote my thoughts, a brief shaft of sunlight grazed the lake. The beams reminded me that God is in control during the good times and also the hard ones. Even in the storms, there are rays of hope.

Loving Father, thank you for supporting me when I felt despair. Your love guides and enfolds me through the storms. Amen

Learning from a Child

At that time Jesus, full of joy through the Holy Spirit said, “I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children. Yes, Father, for this was your good pleasure.” 

Luke 10: 21 NIV 

“Grandma, I couldn’t find baby last night,” Molly stated.

I’d slept in the trundle next to her bed but didn’t hear her in the night.

Even though stuffed animals covered her bed, she needed her baby. The heavily loved soft doll’s wrinkled, worn body gave Molly comfort.

“I was going to wake you up,” she said, “but I thought you needed rest. I found her on the floor.” 

With a tug on my heart, I answered, “I’m glad you found her.”

Molly’s nonchalant announcement about my need for rest touched me. Despite her urgent need to find baby, she willingly put her feelings aside for me. 

Most four year olds aren’t so selfless. In fact, most adults struggle to put others first too.

When I’m inclined to put my needs ahead of someone else’s, Molly’s example will remind me of Jesus’ teachings to love others as we love ourselves. 

Heavenly Father, thank you for the lessons I can learn from children. Help me to follow the instructions. Amen

Amazing Visit

Weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning. Psalm 30:5 NIV

“Grandma, look!” Emily exclaimed.

Ashlyn, Emily, Molly, and I stopped eating breakfast. We peered at the girls’ waning butterfly garden just outside the window.

A dazzling male cardinal perched on a slender milkweed stem hardly strong enough to support him. He swayed. We marveled at the first ever visit there by a cardinal. 

As we stared at the scarlet bird, his golden mate joined him in the garden. 

Excited comments came from three thrilled granddaughters. They jumped up and hurried to the window. 

“Look at the cardinal.”

“We’ve never had them in the garden.”

“The female came too.”

While we stared, the couple flew to the wooden fence nearby. With a flap of their wings, they disappeared.

The timing of the unusual visit warmed my heart and comforted me. That day marked the first anniversary of Alan’s death. A day I anticipated to be difficult and sad.  

For me, the sudden, brief visit brought a message and reminded me that Alan loved me and knew I would be taken care of. 

Throughout the year since Alan’s death, God has provided for me in unexpected and comforting ways. The cardinal couriers delivered a message I needed that morning. 

With a grateful heart, I made it through the day because of the love and support of family and friends. Including my feathered ones. 

Yahweh Yireh, who provides for my needs, thank you for continually surprising me with your blessings. Amen

God Showed Up

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” Joshua 1:9 NIV

The same room. Tears gathered with memories. Alan sat in that room a couple of years ago.  I watched. The doctor removed multiple skin cancers from Alan’s face and body. 

I waited and wondered. Was it my turn? Would my bumps be cancer again? 

When the doctor came in, I pointed out the spots.

“No, that is ok. That one is fine too. If it bothers you, I can remove that one, but it isn’t cancer.”

My relief quickly turned to concern as he said, “This one is different. I need to do a biopsy.”  

He jabbed. I remembered. 

“Who is here with you?” he asked.

“No one. My husband passed away.”

“I’m sorry. Call next week for the results of your biopsy.”

Cancer. The hated word brought fear and loneliness. I couldn’t share the news with Alan or receive his assurances. 

As I left the office, loneliness clutched me. In my car, I hugged the steering wheel and cried. No one even tapped the window to see if I was alive. Cars filled the parking lot, but not one person was around.

Years ago I learned of my cancers when I was alone too. However, the last one seemed worse. Combined with so many losses, the news ignited my imagination.

Finally, the tears stopped. Reason returned. I knew numerous family members and friends who had dealt with skin cancers. They all survived.

When I reached for my phone to turn it on, a message blinked. My cousin sent a quote from CS Lewis: “We read to know that we are not alone.”

How timely. I sent her a message about my situation and how her text comforted me. I recalled time after time when God had shown up through trials. My spirits lifted a bit. 

With extra time before meeting a friend for lunch, I passed by the first house my parents bought in Florida. Just as I drove down the street, my brother called. I gave him a description of the house and yard. 

Then I told him about my doctor’s visit. He listened and understood.

He reminded me of the house where a friend’s mother still lived around the corner from our house. I turned onto her street and saw my friend outside. Another surprise.

The timing stunned both of us. When I explained about my procedure and tears, she hugged me. 

“God brought us together,” she said.

For a few minutes, I talked with her and her mom. A special visit that revived me.

At the restaurant, an old friend and I shared our lives. My fourth miracle.

When I felt so scared and alone, God supplied four people to offer comfort, love, and support. A text, a phone call, a surprise encounter, hugs, and visits. He knew what I needed and brought it all together.

Alan’s final words, only hours before he died, continue to lift me up and remind me of God’s provision. “Do not be afraid or discouraged. The Lord is with you always.”

I know that God will supply what I need. I am reminded that He often uses His people to do that. I want to be open to His promptings so I can be part of His plan for others.

Heavenly Father, thank you for giving me what I need. Help me to be aware each day of what you want me to do. Amen

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