My Soul sings

March 4, 2022 / walkingthisjourneysite / Leave a comment

I plan on updating my blog soon so this will likely be my last piece on this format but I have a story to tell. A story of God’s faithfulness.

When I was a very young girl, my family had an old piano tucked away in a back room. It was terribly out of tune and many of the ivories were broken but it was my first introduction to an instrument that would one day become my greatest companion.

My older sister began taking piano lessons and my parents invested in a newer piano, which proudly sat in our newly finished living room. But in just a few more years, it was my turn to learn and that piano gradually became an extension of me. I’m sure I drove my poor mother almost crazy with my youthful playing but nothing brought me more joy and peace than coaxing music from those keys, no matter how jarring that music must have been.

I was still quite young when I was asked (or told) to play accompaniment to our church’s congregational singing at our Wednesday night services. I even remember the very first song I played … ‘I Gave My Life for Thee‘ (written by Frances Havergal).

I continued to play accompaniment for church all through my teen years and up until age 21 when I moved on. But it was at home, without eyes watching and on my own instrument, that my greatest joy was experienced. Playing the piano was what kept me sane during the tumultuous teen years when my family was walking through incredibly hard and dark things. I would come home from a difficult day at school, drop my books, and head right to those keys. I would play until my fingers could play no more, starting strong and slowly easing into the softest of notes as the stress of the day faded away.

Playing the piano had the same effect as writing does for me now. It was how I processed life and coped with life’s heartaches.

That piano moved with me into my first apartment and then it moved again a few years later when I got married. Eventually, we moved to our present home, and naturally, my piano moved with me. But around this time, the piano tuner noted that my piano was in bad shape and there was nothing more he could do with it. The entire inside needed to be rebuilt and honestly, the piano was not worth the cost and I certainly didn’t have the resources to rebuild it or buy a new one.

Eventually, I began to play less often. Life was stressful as my oldest son’s autism was often intense and life became increasingly difficult. Over time, the piano’s condition deteriorated until I could no longer bear the sound of its broken notes.

As I look back now I understand that I was just as broken as my piano. I was a jumbled mess of off-key notes and shattered ivories and just as the music ended for my beloved piano, the music began to die in me.

It has probably been 13 or so since I have played with any regularity. It has been 13 years of really hard things and 13 years of being broken down and slowly rebuilt.

I had to learn to process life differently and thankfully I had a Pastor who stepped into that role. What I once could only process through my piano, I had to learn to process in words as we walked through a long counseling process. In time, I found my words were most easily expressed in writing and I found a new creative outlet.

But music has always been the language of my soul …

a language that I thought had died.

My son with autism turned 21 this week. I have to be honest and admit that I have long been afraid of this season of life because soon, the school van will stop coming and the routine of his school days will end. The adult world for an individual with a profound disability is a scary place and it has only grown more uncertain over recent years. All the plans and dreams I had for both him and I have disintegrated and I honestly have no idea what lies ahead.

In addition, I am watching my parents’ age and know my time with them is limited and, at the same time, I have had to come to terms with my life inside a dysfunctional marriage. My time as a homeschool mom is coming to a close as my second child will also be graduating this year and my daughter will then finish next year. I recently had to put my dog, my most faithful companion for almost 14 years to sleep just the other week and a few days after that, I learn that my Pastor was resigning from our church. I don’t even know if I have a future with the church at all considering the needs of my son and my rapidly increasing limited freedom to attend and be involved.

The depth of loneliness in these last weeks had reached new depths and the milestone of my son’s 21st birthday was one I did not feel ready to face.

But I should have known God was up to something. Even in the loneliest places, I have known a sense of peace. Even as I cried tears of sorrow over the losses, my heart could only whisper praise and thankfulness to my God who has sustained me through every season of life and in whom I knew I needed to trust for the future … no matter how scary it may be.

The Saturday before my son’s birthday, I was cleaning my home and preparing a small party for him. At one point I stopped and picked up my phone and opened Facebook and to my surprise, the first thing that popped up on my screen was a posting from Marketplace … of a baby grand piano.

Lord have mercy. What pianist’s heart doesn’t beat a little faster when they see a baby grand? Even one like me who hasn’t touched the keys of any piano in years?

But my heart began to beat even faster when I saw the local location of this piano and the cost … only $500! I have never seen a baby grand for sale at that price. I showed the listing to my daughter and confided in her that I wanted this piano so badly … but I knew logistically, it was out of my power to attain. I did not have $500 and I knew moving such an instrument would be difficult and I knew I would face more resistance than I had the strength to deal with. Owning a piano such as this one was beyond me.

So I let it go.

But God did not.

The next day, the day before my son’s 21st birthday, was his party. I only had a few family members there because I needed to keep it small for his comfort. As a few of us were sitting around the table, my Mother randomly mentioned she had been talking with a man at her church about finding a piano for me. I told her that I had just seen a local baby grand for only $500 and when I was questioned if I had called about it, I had to honestly admit that I didn’t have that amount of money right now. My Mom looked at me and said that she and my Dad did … and they would love to loan the money to me for this piano … I could pay them back later. This announcement set off a series of events that I could never have imagined for immediately those closest to me grew excited and begged me to find the listing again and to reach out to the owner. My hands started to shake and I couldn’t find the post anywhere so my sweet daughter took my phone and searched until she found it. Surrounded on most sides with encouragement, with only one lone voice of doubt and gloom, I contacted the person who listed the piano and set up a time to see it the next day.

It was surreal. I was going to look at a baby grand piano with the intent and means of purchasing it … this was something my mind could barely fathom.

The next day I sent my now 21-year-old son off to school and with an envelope of borrowed money, we drove a short distance to look at the piano. We met the owner’s daughter at the door (the owner was in the hospital at the time), and as we walked inside the first thing I noticed was not the piano, but a painted mural on a wall with a Scripture verse … a significant one.

Yet those who wait for the Lord
Will gain new strength;
They will mount up with wings like eagles,
They will run and not get tired,
They will walk and not become weary.
Isaiah 40:31

Friends, I have been weary. I have been barely holding on for months and I have questioned how I could possibly keep going. This verse has often come to mind but I reached a point where I had begun to dismiss it but there it was, beautifully displayed right in front of me. Then I looked to my side and there stood the piano … and something came alive in me.

I listened to the story of this instrument and learned that it is close to one hundred years old and that it has been a cherished part of this family since 1981. The Mother/Grandmother of this family was the owner of the instrument and everyone was attached to it. But due to downsizing, she had decided to get a smaller piano and needed a new home for this piece, not an easy thing to do with such a large instrument at its advanced age.

I didn’t sit down to play but I touched a few keys tentatively and felt the smooth touch. The notes sounded especially sweet to me and I knew without a doubt this piano was meant for me. I glanced at the hymnal that sat on top and then I looked in the eyes of the owner’s daughter and told her that I would love to give their piano a new home where it would be cherished and well cared for as it has always been. I handed her the money and after more conversation, we left, at this point uncertain how I was going to get it moved.

I listened to all kinds of planning and worry about moving the piano ourselves the whole way home but I felt such a peace that somehow, it would be okay. As soon as we got home, I had a message from the woman I had just met with asking if she could call me, and of course, I said yes … honestly a little concerned that there was a problem and they had changed their minds. Her words, however, stunned me for she gave me the numbers of professional piano movers and offered to pay for the move herself, up to a certain amount.

My goodness, when God does a thing … He does a thing.

Two days later, that beloved baby grand stood in my home.

I contemplated what would be the first song I would play on this instrument and the answer was clear … ‘Great is Thy Faithfulness’ (Thomas O. Chisholm) …

Because God is faithful.

On my son’s 21st birthday, a milestone I have long feared, God provided and brought music back into my life. In a season of loss and change, He has brought comfort. In a season of loneliness, He has brought a companion. The baby grand now stands in my living room as a testimony of the faithfulness and love of my God.

He will provide in all the uncertain days ahead, just as He has provided in the past.

He has brought music back to me and because of Him …

My soul sings.

My soul sings
Now my soul sings

What blessed assurance
I’ve found in You
I’ve found in You
I won’t be shaken, I will not be moved
How steadfast Your strong hand
Is keeping me
Is keeping me
I won’t be shaken, I will not be moved
Oh, blessed assurance

*CityAlight ~ Blessed Assurance*

The Shadow of a Dream

October 8, 2021 / walkingthisjourneysite / Leave a comment

I listened as rage poured from my son. Verbally unable to adequately express whatever turmoil had built inside him, anger had built up and exploded like a volcano with lava erupting from its depths.

At 20 years old, he is a relatively big guy, certainly much bigger than me. It can be a little intimidating sometimes. This week, in particular, has been rough.

My son has autism and intense anxiety. Often sweet and usually gentle, he also is filled with landmines and ticking time bombs that can explode unexpectedly.

Life is often uncertain for me as his mom and caregiver. The weight of responsibility weighs on me constantly and fear for his future and mine nags at me night and day.

People have said that I should place him in a home for my own health and for the sake of my other children who are presently 18 and 16 years old. When I share this advice with them, wondering at their thoughts, their immediate responses are always frustration, touched with anger. The thought of forcing their brother out for their sakes is incomprehensible to them … and wrong. But more than that, they understand the reality and as my 18 year old wisely stated …

“Do people really think you have options? If you had different options, don’t they realize you would have already done them?”

Life is often hard but my teens understand hard realities.

These are not the dreams I had for life. This is not what I had planned.

When my son was first diagnosed, the entire direction and course of life was abruptly and forever altered. Doctor’s appointments, therapists, IEP’s, private schools, report and report after report, and meetings galore soon consumed my days. Worries, fears, and anger filled the nights as I was stayed awake to keep my son safe. Those years were undeniably heavy and I was horribly ill-equipped in the tasks before me.

I found myself desperate to find meaning, purpose, and even my identity in the autism journey and because of that, I often made my son’s diagnosis about me and my journey. I did some writing and was given opportunities to do public speaking and was often told my words were inspirational. “Ah, here,” I thought to myself, “this is my purpose. God, you heal my son and I’ll tell the story.”

But an interesting thing happened over the years. The opportunities to speak became fewer and fewer … the journey itself became increasingly harder … my responsibilities grew as I began homeschooling my younger children … my son’s behaviors grew more and more intense and exhausting … and I found myself often isolated.

It is hard to be ‘inspirational’ when you are falling apart bit by bit as your drag yourself through each day. It is hard to be ‘inspirational’ when you find yourself questioning the character and goodness of your God. The ‘fiery furnace’ was effective in revealing the true nature of me. It was not a pretty sight.

Sometimes I pause in my busy days and I remember. I reflect on those years and what has led to this place where I am now. I wish I had known then what I know now and I wish I could do things differently even though I have no desire to go back in time. Sometimes, especially lately, I find myself once more growing fearful and worried for the days that lay ahead.

My son will be transitioning out of school next year and into the adult world, which is presently in dire straits. There may not be funding for him and even if we can access it, it may not be much and there may not be staffing. I cannot really plan for our future because there is so much uncertainty and not much upon which to place my hope.

Except for God.

Can I tell you what I would tell the younger me if I could go back in time?

I wouldn’t tell her how hard the days coming were going to be. She wasn’t ready.

I wouldn’t tell her how lonely and isolated her world would be. She would have ran.

I wouldn’t tell her she was about to discover what the dark night of the soul means. She would have ended it then and there.

I would tell her that no matter what she thinks in the days ahead, God will never desert her. I would tell her that while it seems God is not hearing her cries or answering her prayers, He is working in a totally different way. I would tell her to love her son and not worry about family or friends who will desert her. I would tell her to love her son and not listen to the doctors. I would tell her not to pressure herself or her son to be anyone other than who God created them to be. I would tell her to trust God and rest in Him when nothing makes sense. I would tell her she has so much to learn in the days to come and all the hard things are part of the process. I would tell her to repent and turn from her selfishness and pride sooner rather than later. I would tell her stories of how God will provide in the smallest of ways and sometimes, in ways that will blow her mind. I would tell her that God doesn’t need her to be a certain way or to be perfect or like anyone else. I would tell her that His will and His plan for her son are not dependent on her doing all the right things.

I would tell her all the things I had to learn the hard way and I would whisper in her ear, “It’s going to be harder than you could ever imagine but God is going to prove Himself greater than it all. Trust Him.”

These are the things I am telling myself now … today.

All those years ago, I did not have any idea what lay ahead and I was afraid. I tried to find meaning in all sorts of ways and now as I look back, I only see that I made it about me.

It is no surprise that all those dreams turned to cinders in the fiery furnace of these years. It is no surprise that I find myself mostly surrounded by ashes as so much of my efforts and pursuits have burned away as dross.

But I also see what has been refined in the fire…

Me …

My children.

This is where I see God making beauty from the ashes.

I was thinking about dreams today.

I have one.

I have always wanted to own my own shop, ever since I was a little girl. I have dreamed on it over the years. I would sell the books I hoped to write. I would sell the candles that I poured. I wanted a shop in the middle of town where I could finally be in the middle of things and part of a community. I had all kinds of plans.

Most parts of that dream are in the pile of ashes.

But some of it remains and it too has been refined in the fire.

You see, my dreams these days consist of a little, white cottage-style shop right where our old, ugly cinder block barn now stands. I see a cobblestone or brick walkway drawing a visitor into the gentle warmth that lies behind the closed door. Inside I see crafts and goods created by the skilled hands of others from local and afar. I see a table or two tucked into a corner near the counter where teas and coffees are served. On one side I envision an open space surrounded by windows and filled with books, both new and old. A spot that beckons the reader to peruse, explore, and learn. Outside the shop, connected by another path, I see a small greenhouse with just enough greens to brighten someone’s day. Around that corner and connected to the back of the shop, I would build a room. A space that could serve as a retreat or a possible source of added income. And all of this is surrounded by the lovely four acres that God has given to me to love and someday to hopefully share with others. I dream of this land being a refuge for others as it has for me.

A refuge even as the storms of life rage.

My greatest dream is that I long to share this with my son and others like him that the world wants to cast away.

A place to work. A place to be part of a community. A place to be loved and welcomed. A place where God is at work and honored in all we do and I am not the focus, but only Him.

For He is our refuge.

This is my dream. It is but a shadow of a dream since I haven’t the means or abilities to make it happen. But even as I hold it loosely and hold the fruition of it up to Him, I know my lack has certainly never stopped God before.

I walked by a flower bed yesterday and I was startled by a burst of color I had not seen there just days before. Most of my flowers are slowly fading as October guides the way into autumn, so I had to investigate this unexpected delight. To my surprise, it was a plant I had planted earlier in the spring. It was supposed to bloom in the summer but never did it even bud. I thought it had died in the brutal summer heat we experienced this year and honestly, when I weeded that flower bed the last time, I pulled some of it out, thinking it was just another weed. Something stopped me that day, I remember, and I left the rest of those greens in place, thinking I would deal with them later.

But now that the burning heat of summer has passed, that plant has bloomed into a lovely display of late autumn beauty.

It was only a shadow of a plant. Planted in the spring, forgotten about over the summer months and scorched by the sun’s heat, and then ripped from the dirt and mistaken as a weed … only to arise from the ashes and gloriously bloom at just the right time.

God’s time.

That’s how He works.

How blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked,
Nor stand in the path of sinners,
Nor sit in the seat of scoffers!
But his delight is in the law of the Lord,
And in His law he meditates day and night.
He will be like a tree firmly planted by streams of water,
Which yields its fruit in its season
And its leaf does not wither;
And^]in whatever he does, he prospers.
Psalm 1:1-3

What Love is this?

September 19, 2021 / walkingthisjourneysite / Leave a comment

What Love is this that chose a frail, lost sinner –
Long before the earth would know to speak her name?

What Love is this that offered up His life blood –
To be the sacrifice for the wrath that was hers by right?

What Love? What Love?

What Love is this that picked among the least –
Now spotless and redeemed to be His beloved child?

What Love is this that guarded and protected –
When that child fought what the Father had deemed His best?

What Love? What Love?

What Love is this that set the gears in motion –
So that His chosen could only seek His face?

What Love is this that waited patiently –
Until it seemed all hope was lost?

What Love? What Love?

What Love is this that works oft’ times in the shadows –
In the darkness where no light can seem to shine?

What Love is this that brings into His Light –
The sorrows darkness likes to hide?

What Love? What Love?

What Love is this that enlightens darkened eyes –
And restores the wicked heart to God?

What Love is this that can abide no sin –
Yet in temptation, offers freedom and escape?

What Love? What Love?

What Love is this that will not let me go –
Yet will not allow me to remain the same?

What Love is this that fills the soul with such peace –
Even as the storms may threaten the weary soul?

What Love? What Love?

What Love enables the heart to trust –
Although the way ahead may seem unclear?

What Love is this that draws us closer to Him –
Until the day we’ll see Him face to face?

What Love is this?

A poet I am clearly not, but sometimes the thoughts that race around my brain beg to be hastily written in poorly constructed verse. Such was the case yesterday. I am overwhelmed by the depth of God’s love and how He often works in such mysterious and hidden ways to orchestrate and conduct His will and plan in the world around me. When I contemplate these matters, I am saddened by my own tendencies to mistrust Him and doubt His sovereign work in my life and in the lives of my children. To be loved by such a God requires the Christian to hand over control and to, instead, pick up our cross and follow Him. We often speak these words lightly, but if we can grasp the reality of Who God is and what He has called us out of and into, we might better understand the verse that instructs us to ‘Work out our salvation with fear and trembling.’ (Phil. 2:12)

As I woke this morning still ruminating on these thoughts, the timeless words from the hymn, ‘The Love of God’ (written by Fredrick Lehman ~ 1868-1953), came to mind and I will share them here in closing.

The love of God is greater far
than tongue or pen can ever tell;
it goes beyond the highest star,
and reaches to the lowest hell.
The wand’ring child is reconciled
by God’s beloved Son.
The aching soul again made whole,
and priceless pardon won.

Could we with ink the ocean fill,
and were the skies of parchment made;
were ev’ry stalk on earth a quill,
and ev’ryone a scribe by trade;
to write the love of God above
would drain the ocean dry;
nor could the scroll contain the whole,
though stretched from sky to sky.

Refrain:
O love of God, how rich and pure!
How measureless and strong!
It shall forevermore endure—
the saints’ and angels’ song.

What Love is this? It is the incomprehensible love of a holy and just God. A love that rescues from the pit of darkness, redeems from an eternity of suffering, restores fellowship with Himself, transforms the object of His affection into the image of His Son, and promises eternity in heaven with Him forever.

What Love, indeed!

Why Do I Read the Bible?

February 11, 2020February 11, 2020 / walkingthisjourneysite / Leave a comment

With a focus on approaching this post, I shared two parts previously – if you have not read them, you can find them here -> Come and Dine and The Redeemed Journey.

**I actually wrote this a few weeks ago but did not have it quite ready to share before a crisis rocked my world. I am now rewriting portions and finishing it to share, while standing more firmly on the necessity of spending time in and knowing God’s Word.**

Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart
Be acceptable in Your sight,
O Lord, my rock and my Redeemer.
Psalm 19:14

Why do I read God’s Word?

A number of years ago, I was often tossed about with the storms of life. My sense of identity was lacking in every way and as I dug deeper in my relationship with the Lord, I began to understand that I had a mostly distorted view of Him and this distorted view was impacting every facet of my life.

The obvious response to this awareness was to open the Bible at the very beginning and start reading. As I read, I asked the Lord to enlighten the eyes of my heart and help me to know Him better through His Word … and He was faithful to do so.

^“I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened, so that you will know what is the hope of His calling, what are the riches of the glory of His inheritance in the saints, and what is the surpassing greatness of His power toward us who believe. These are in accordance with the working of the strength of His might…”
Ephesians 1:18-19

I began to realize how often we try to define God by our own belief system. We think a certain way, so therefore, that is how we view God. We attempt to keep Him in a box based on our own limited understanding. We want Him to revolve around us and are often prone to elevating ourselves into a position that belongs to Him alone.

The deeper I dug into the Scriptures and the more I read with a heart seeking instruction and understanding, the more in awe I grew of this Holy God.

Wow.

I was that stunned with the glory and magnificence of the One who proclaimed, ‘I am Who I am’ to Moses. (Exodus 3:14)

The more I read, the more reverent my behavior and attitude grew towards Him. The more I read, the less I wanted to argue with Him. The more I read, the more I was okay with what I didn’t know or couldn’t understand. The more I read, the more I learned to trust Him in all things. The more I read, the more I wanted to know … Him.

Even now, as I try to write this words, my soul is thrilled beyond description at the focused reminder of Who God says He is, while I am disheartened by my own inability to translate that into words.

God is that glorious.

Listen, there are going to be an abundance of times when life is not going to make any sense and we may often find ourselves tossed to and fro’ by the storms of this life and/or our own sinful natures. If I am asked, my response is going to be, read God’s Word. Don’t read looking for easy answers … don’t read looking for something to make you feel better about yourself … don’t read looking for something to attack another person with … open the Bible with a heart seeking after God.

“Hear, O Lord, when I cry with my voice, and be gracious to me.
When You said, “Seek My face,” my heart said to You,
“Your face, O Lord, I shall seek.”
Psalm 27:7-8

I read the Bible because I want to know Him.

Why do I read the Word of God?

An interesting thing began to happen as I spent more and more time reading and meditating on the Word. I began to recognize the voice of my Shepherd.

“My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me…”
John 10:27

There are so many ‘voices’ in this world telling us what is right and wrong, telling us what to think, and surrounding us with their earthly ‘wisdom’. I admit I was a fairly naive and gullible person for most of my life. I believed the best of people and simply could not comprehend evil. I listened to all sorts of voices and by the time I became a more seasoned mother, I realized I was not very wise when it came to discerning the truth.

So for a time, I set aside every book on my bookshelf and I began to only read the Bible, simply because I did not want to hear the voice of man … I wanted to hear what God said Himself.

Oh God, how I long to know You!

During this season, which lasted several years, I was often in the church building but rarely receiving any teaching. I cared for my children, I cared for my son with autism, I had little to no fellowship, and conversation was limited to occasional times of counsel.

People virtually had no input into my life so I read God’s Word … I prayed constantly … and I listened.

I learned to recognize the voice of my Shepherd.

What a beautiful voice it is.

I read my Bible because I always want His voice to be preeminent above all.

Why do I read my Bible?

Our human nature and instinct are strong and often become our guiding force as we live our lives. We are geared towards self-preservation at all costs. We believe our hearts are good and we make decisions grounded in this belief system.

However, the Bible tells us otherwise.

“The heart is more deceitful than all else and is desperately sick;
Who can understand it?”
Jeremiah 17:9

I know from experience that left to myself, I will always make decisions based on my own desires, wants, and comforts … usually at the expense of those around me and even to my own detriment. Current culture tells us this is the way we should live; In fact, much of current ‘Christian’ culture proclaims this as truth. Do whatever makes you happy.

As I grew in understanding of who God says He is and as I grew to recognize the voice of my Shepherd, I became increasingly aware of my own deceitful, selfish heart. I realized that the way I was living and the choices I was making in response to life’s challenges, were rooted in pure selfishness. So with the Lord’s help, I drew a line in the sand and began making a series of decisions, against my instincts and earthly wisdom, and I chose to follow the example of Jesus Christ.

Then Jesus said to His disciples,
“If anyone wishes to come after Me, he must deny himself,
and take up his cross and follow Me.
Matthew 16:24

“Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me,
for I am gentle and humble in heart,
and you will find rest for your souls.
For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.”
Matthew 11:29-30

Each moment that I looked to Christ as my example on how to deny myself and live sacrificially for Him, I was reminded over and over of the words of our brother Paul …

“I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live,
but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh
I live by faith in the Son of God,
who loved me and gave Himself up for me.”
Galatians 2:20

I read the Bible so that I may learn how to live, no longer controlled by my nature and instincts, but rather by the example of the cross … a life lived sacrificially and purposefully for His glory.

Why do I read the Bible?

The way we live, the words we say, the example we set, do not go unnoticed by others.

I used to believe I was an island. Since my life was so isolated and my identity so broken, I believed no one saw me or cared. I did not consider the possibility that others might be watching me. But it turns out, they are.

My children watch me constantly. Others, I have been told, are watching me too. The same is true for you.

Consider this for a moment …

What we feed ourselves, what we allow to settle into our minds, what we think on and meditate on … this is what we will have to give to others.

“Watch over your heart with all diligence,
For from it flow the springs of life.”
Proverbs 4:23

Whether we feed on the wisdom of this world or the wisdom of God, it will be what we have to offer to our children, our families, our friends, and anyone with whom we interact.

It will also be what sustains us or cripples us during seasons of difficulty.

If I regularly feast on sugary sweets and then enter a season of famine, my body will have nothing to sustain it until my next real meal. I will not have strength even for myself, let alone to offer to others who may depend on me or look to me.

However, if I consistently nourish myself with life-building foods, I will have strength for myself and for those around me until I am able to partake once more.

So, in that light, if I regularly fill myself with earthly wisdom and even much of modern Christian thought, then I am essentially existing on fluff … the spiritual version of sugary sweets. In seasons of trial and famine, I will suffer even more so because of the lack of life-giving strength they afford. However, if I am regularly partaking in the nourishment the Word of God offers and walking with Him, I will have a storehouse of wisdom and strength from which to draw when seasons are hard.

I read the Word of God because the fluff of this world will never satisfy what only He can and I want my children and anyone who comes in contact with me to understand that truth and know Him.

“To You, O Lord, I lift up my soul. O my God, in You I trust …
Make me know Your ways, O Lord; Teach me Your paths.
Lead me in Your truth and teach me, for You are the God of my salvation;
For You I wait all the day.”
Psalm 25: 1,2a,4-5 (nasb)

Come and Dine

January 10, 2020January 10, 2020 / walkingthisjourneysite / 2 Comments

**This is Part one of a series on focusing on the value and beauty of reading God’s Word.**

You’re hungry.

As a pilgrim on a long, and often, arduous journey, you find yourself so weary that you might not even realize how famished you are until a door opens and the first wafting aroma of prepared food hits your senses.

Your stomach growls as your hands begin to tremble.

You step inside and discover a dining table completely hidden beneath the abundance of every wonderful kind of food you can imagine. Substantial food meant to nourish and strengthen the body. Nourishing soups, healthy vegetables, hearty meats — foods intended to fuel your body for the demands of the day.

Off to the side you notice another table filled with sugary desserts. The kind that are appealing and pretty, all sugar and fluff. Experience tells you they are sweet and easy to eat, but lack the nourishing qualities of the more sustaining, life-giving food at the first table.

Your body craves nourishment but from which table will you choose to eat?

Will you bypass the table of substantial foods to satiate your cravings with sugary fluff from the dessert table, simply because it provides an immediate, yet temporary relief from your hunger and tastes so sweet? Will you eat your fill of it until you no longer crave anything more?

Or will you sit at the first table and fill your plate and body with meat, vegetables, and fruits until your strength is renewed?

Which will you choose?

No, this isn’t a post about changing our lifestyles, ditching junk foods, or focusing on whole food diets, plant based diets, or anything of the sort.

Friends, what we feed our souls and minds is so much more important that what we feed our bellies.

*
*

I grew up in a church that valued the Word of God. Now, that doesn’t mean how the Bible was interpreted and taught was necessarily always correct, as the church functioned within a strong legalistic-minded belief system. But there was an emphasis made on the Scriptures and I always had a Bible readily available to me, memorizing significant portions of it throughout my childhood.

However, I did not read my Bible consistently on my own nor did I always understand what I read. Therefore, as I listened to a message or Bible lesson, I simply accepted what that person said to be truth; After all, they read a verse from the Bible supporting their thoughts, so it had to be true, right? I never learned how to study the Bible and certainly questioning anyone was never an option in that environment, but I would do my best to read simply so I could check that duty off of my ‘How to be a good Christian’ to-do list.

The truth of it? Reading my Bible was a chore … a constant source of guilt from not remembering to read it daily or from reading it through the lens of poor theology.

As a young adult, I began attending a new church and eventually married, which began to awaken a hunger for something more. I found myself in a life that was not being supported very well by the shaky spiritual foundation of my youth. A variety of books came my way and I began to devour these writings by Christian authors because they flowed so easily and made me feel somewhat better. I thought I would finally find some answers to the burning hunger inside me. In the mornings, I would sit at the table with my Bible and these books. I intended to spend time in the Scriptures but those books were so much more appealing so I was drawn to them first. I didn’t have to think … I just read the thoughts of another. They became my bible.

But then life began to grow more challenging and confusing, while the hunger inside of me deepened. I couldn’t find the answers nor the guidance I needed in those books I was reading. They weren’t enough. There was no real substance to them in the face of trial and heartache. There had to be more. I turned to my Bible again but often grew frustrated with the antiquated language, the poor theology/teaching of my past, and my overall lack of understanding.

I was starving — spiritually starving.

My spiritual foundation began to shake and crumble into dust beneath me.

One Christmas, I decided to buy my husband a new Bible. He still used a paperback student Bible from his youth and I thought if he had a different Bible, then maybe, well, maybe something would change. I asked for guidance from a man in our church and that Christmas, I wrapped up a new study Bible, in a version I knew nothing about, and gave it to my husband.

And you know what? Change did begin to happen … in me.

One morning, out of curiosity, I opened his Bible and began to read familiar passages. They were the same, yet different. The clear wording and the study notes at the bottom of each page opened an entirely new world to me and even though there was still so much I didn’t understand, I began to delve into the pages of God’s Word in a way I never had before. I began to feast at the table God had set before me. Eventually, I received my very own copy of the Scriptures like I had bought my husband – I was overjoyed and dug in deeper.

“You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies…”
Psalm 23:5a

But life only became more perplexing. I went from being in church services all the time to sitting in a nursery or backroom with my autistic son and my other babies. Fellowship with other believers became increasingly more rare as I spent day after day caring for my children and night after night staying awake with my son. My world grew very small until it became a journey of walking through a barren desert of isolation.

This is when God’s Word started to become more real to me.

At the recommendation of someone who expressed concern for me and my children, I visited a different church. I needed help. My children needed help. I was desperate. After one solo visit on a Wednesday evening, I was intrigued by the teaching and began taking my younger children to their kids Bible club program. Within a short period of time, I moved my whole family to this church. The clear teaching of Scriptures, whether from the pulpit or in counsel, presented without drama or harshness, drew me in and began the process of building a new foundation in my life and in the lives of my children. A foundation built on the Word of God.

Ironically enough, life did not become any easier. I tried to get involved, to be part of the church community and find my niche, but it didn’t work, largely due to the needs of my autistic son. I made sure my younger children were at every service and every event, but I rarely had the freedom nor the stamina to participate myself. My world grew smaller as I cared for my son with autism and began homeschooling my other children. I just could not understand God’s plan in all of this as the journey grew increasingly dark.

This is when the Word of God became my Light and that … changed everything.

“Your word is a lamp to my feet
And a light to my path.”
Psalm 119:105

Come and dine, won’t you?

Photo by Kaboompics .com on Pexels.com

Some Golden Daybreak – for me, for you

January 2, 2020January 2, 2020 / walkingthisjourneysite / 2 Comments

I didn’t have any intention of writing today and rather hoped to withdraw inside myself for awhile … but these words wouldn’t stop until they were written, although hastily written they certainly are. Perhaps someone else could use them too.

I woke and immediately a sense of sadness began to fill my slowly stirring mind.

My autistic son was heading back to school today and while I should have been relieved to finally get a break, I felt a heavy weight instead. This holiday break had been challenging … no, actually it was downright hard in many ways. The first few days weren’t too bad but by the second day after Christmas, everything fell apart.

He can’t tell me what is wrong so I learn by observation, but even at that, I can never assume I know what is happening inside of him. However, one thing was very evident … he gave every impression of being consumed with anxiety.

Yes, he is on medication. Yes, I also use supplements for him.

Sometimes, they aren’t enough.

This was one of those times.

By the last evening before his return to school, I was curled up on the couch, unable to fight one more battle. My heart raced, my chest ached from a heavy weight of grief, I was devoid of strength. Trying to grasp what I could not possibly understand, while working to support my son and stay ahead of whatever was gripping his mind, was suddenly too much.

I didn’t cry. I couldn’t speak. I just held a blanket against my chest and prayed for bedtime to come. Relief for us both.

That relief was nowhere to be found when I woke in the early morning hours even as the house rested quietly around me. I couldn’t escape the memories nor the heavy weight and overwhelming sense of responsibility.

The burden felt too great for my shoulders alone.

Often, while reading articles or perusing comments to articles or new stories, I find a mocking response towards the ones who seek the Lord in times of distress.

“Religion is a waste of time”, they say. “There is no God.”

Their tone condescending, their words belittling … they deny the very truth we stand on as believers and followers of Christ.

I understand.

Sometimes as believers, even we wonder if what we believe is really true.

Oh, most of us will never admit that but when the storms of life hit and knock you senseless to the ground, a quick instinctive response often rips from the depths of our soul …

“GOD! Where are you?!”

Where is He …

For the widow who weeps alone today, recently bereft of the love of her husband?

For the daughter, who longs for his embrace?

For the mother who prayed and longed for her prodigal child to return for so many years, only to see her go further away?

For the grandma beside the grave of the grandson she raised?

For the heartbroken widow, remarried and finding herself in a horrendous situation?

For the wife waiting for the cancer to win the last round?

For the mother broken with sorrow for a child she doesn’t know how to help?

These are my friends, my family, my sisters in the Lord … the ones in my prayers this morning.

Each has been forever touched by sorrow.

“God! Where are you?”

We are not alone in our brokenness and one does not need to search long before finding Scripture that seem to echo the very words coursing through us with each beat of a troubled heart …

“Be not far from me, for trouble is near; For there is none to help.”
Psalm 22:11

Give ear to my words, O Lord,
Consider my groaning.
Heed the sound of my cry for help, my King and my God,
For to You I pray.
In the morning, O Lord, You will hear my voice;
In the morning I will order my prayer to You and eagerly watch.
Psalm 5:1-3

As the deer pants for the water brooks,
So my soul pants for You, O God.
My soul thirsts for God, for the living God;
When shall I come and appear before God?
My tears have been my food day and night,
While they say to me all day long, “Where is your God?”
Psalm 42:1-3

Where is He?

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
Psalm 34:18

He is near to you.

As hard as it is to grasp sometimes when we feel alone in the journey, the Lord does know what we are walking through when seasons of grief and sorrow come our way. We can find a measure of comfort in that He knows what we are experiencing for He has walked the way of grief as well.

“He was despised and forsaken of men,
A man of sorrows and acquainted with grief;
And like one from whom men hide their face
He was despised, and we did not esteem Him.”
Isaiah 53:3

I walked into my kitchen just as the sun was breaking over the horizon. The barren trees stood starkly against the background of dark blues, gentle pinks, and subtle oranges. The bird feeder swayed quietly from the branches without a single bird to be seen. This view from my kitchen window drew me outside, despite the frosty chill, until I stood in wonder of a beautiful sunrise after the grief of a weary night. What a loving God to paint glorious sunrises with the promise of the most beautiful one yet to come.

Some glorious morning sorrow will cease
Some glorious morning all will be peace
Heartaches all ended, school days all done
Heaven will open – Jesus will come.

Some golden daybreak Jesus will come
Some golden daybreak, battles all won
He’ll shout the vict’ry, break thro’ the blue
Some golden daybreak, for me, for you.

Sad hearts will gladden, all shall be bright
Goodbye forever to earth’s dark night
Changed in a moment, like Him to be
Oh, glorious daybreak, Jesus I’ll see.

Some golden daybreak Jesus will come
Some golden daybreak, battles all won
He’ll shout the vict’ry, break thro’ the blue
Some golden daybreak, for me, for you.

Oh, what a meeting, there in the skies
No tears nor crying shall dim our eyes
Loved ones united eternally
Oh, what a daybreak that morn will be.

Some golden daybreak Jesus will come
Some golden daybreak, battles all won
He’ll shout the vict’ry, break thro’ the blue
Some golden daybreak, for me, for you.
(written by Carl A. Blackmore)

To the ones who would mock and consider me a fool for placing my trust in a Savior they believe doesn’t exist, I’m actually okay with that and I don’t blame you. I do believe the day will come that you will understand the truth upon which I live.

But to the ones who know the voice of their Shepherd and are walking through a pathway of sorrow, I hope you find encouragement and strength in His Word to face today. Tomorrow will take care of itself.

Before my son left this morning, I stood beside him as he sat on his char, waiting for his van to arrive. I felt powerless and helpless, until I did the only thing I could … I placed my hand on his shoulder and began to pray. I prayed until my hand moved to the top of his head and my voice broke from the tears as I pleaded with Jesus for more.
“Give him more, Jesus. Give him more.”

That is my prayer for you today as well.

“Give her more, Jesus. Give her more.”

Friends, a glorious daybreak is coming when all the sin and sorrow that plagues this earth will cease and Jesus will come to restore what was once broken. No more autism. No more cancer. No more death. No more grief. No more tears.

Some golden daybreak, for me, for you.

December 31, 2019 / walkingthisjourneysite / 2 Comments

We stand at the dawn of a new year.

The time when we diligently make new goals, bravely set (or reset last year’s) resolutions, and in general, feel a need to shake things up.

Make changes or possibly, insist we are fine, just as we are.

In any case, be the master of our own destiny.

But what does that look like for the believer? For the one who seeks to follow God?

Here are my thoughts … offered hesitantly and humbly.

*
*

As a child, I had hopes and dreams, albeit they were mostly simple and shallow. For example, driving home from church on a summer Sunday evening and hoping that my Dad would skip the turn to go home and instead go straight towards the local dairy parlor for ice cream.

Their chocolate ice cream was so good!

I never asked him but he knew we always wanted ice cream. Each drive home from church, I would sit in the backseat, silently wishing and repeating over and over, “Go straight, Dad … please go straight.”

If the car still turned towards home, I would be disappointed but never upset. I could wish for an ice cream cone all I wanted but, as my father, it was his decision whether or not it was a good time to provide it.

As a child, I was dependent on my father to provide and even when I didn’t understand, I usually trusted him.

Or what man is there among you who, when his son asks for a loaf, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, he will not give him a snake, will he? If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give what is good to those who ask Him!
Matthew 7:9-11

We human beings tend to be independent, rather self-focused creatures, wouldn’t you agree? We want what we want, when we want it. We want comfort, security, success, the admiration of others … and more independence.

As a teenager, I often frustrated my Dad because I never told him when I needed something. When I was driving one of his vehicles, I never mentioned if I needed gas money. I would simply take money from my birthday stash and put gas in the car. Some of it may have been family circumstances at the time, but a large part of it was a stubborn independent instinct that had been stirred awake. If I needed something, I instinctively searched for ways to provide it for myself. I didn’t want to be dependent on anyone. I didn’t want to be a bother. I probably hoped that my Dad would give me gas money, but I certainly didn’t ask.

Not asking became normal. Discouraging any hopeful expectation became a habit.

So I was surprised many years later, when my current Pastor mentioned that I don’t seem to ask God for very much. After being a witness and a voice of counsel on my journey for a number of years, he finally said, “Tanya, you really need to learn to ask God for more.”

I was taken aback.

What? Ask God for more?

Why did that seem so … scary?

Why did my instinct scream that I couldn’t possibly ask God for more?

Well, like many of us, I have very distinct memories of God not answering my prayers.

The desperate prayers of a young teenager who didn’t feel she could face another day as she soaked her pillow with tears each night.

The heartsick, confused young wife, still staining a pillow with tears as she struggled to understand.

The broken tears of a mother as she watched autism steal her son away.

I couldn’t ask God for more because deep inside, I had stopped trusting Him.

He didn’t answer my prayers the way I had pleaded with Him to do for so many years.

When I begged Him to move life straight forward towards that coveted chocolate ice cream cone, He turned onto a road that led a different direction. Definitely not where I wanted to go. He didn’t give me what I asked for and eventually, I stopped trusting Him. I stopped asking.

Sure, I paid lip service to Him but deep inside, I became more intent on being independent. I would find a way to survive this life He had given me. I would do something good with it. I would say I trusted Him … and yet, I never did as I held tightly onto the reins of my life.

“Tanya, ask God for more.”

*
*

The very nature of my life does not allow for much freedom so the concept of asking for ‘more’ seems counterintuitive and pointless. The details of why this is are not important to this post but my journey has often been one of a solitary pilgrim walking in a hidden, desert place. I fought this journey for years, desperate for a life that allowed the freedoms that I watched others enjoy. I resented the restrictions of my life and struggled with a deep bitterness. I pushed hard to find ways to gain more freedom and independence and, in the process, wore myself out and received no blessing from the Lord. Essentially, it was more His will to keep me hidden, than flying free. My life began to resemble a bird imprisoned inside a cage. I longed for freedom but the circumstances of my life were as bars surrounding me, preventing my escape.

I beat my wings against those bars, trying to break my way out until I was completely broken inside. Then I set about making that bird cage the nicest it could be. If I had to be stuck, it was at least going to be a noteworthy cage. But, the One who has allowed all the restricting portions of my life has never allowed me to have my own way. He purposed to teach me how to live the life I have from the only One who knew how.

Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.”
Matthew 11:28-30

Spending time in the Scriptures, learning of Him, seeking Him in all the hidden details of my life, is bringing about an understanding that far surpasses the God of my childhood.

I have studied His character and I am learning to find rest in His sovereignty and grace. I am continually learning that God is good. He is so good to me.

The Lord, the Lord God, merciful
and gracious, longsuffering, and
abounding in goodness and truth.
Exodus 34:6

You know, I may have been disappointed when I did not get that chocolate ice cream cone as a young child, but it never changed how I viewed my Dad. I spent enough time with him to understand his character and that I could trust him even when he didn’t give me what I wanted.

When we invest time in our relationship with the Lord, we learn the character and nature of our God and this is actually what sustains and carries us through the hard seasons of life. We might not understand the purpose of our suffering but we find all we need when we understand the character of the God who allows it. When we depend on Him as the source of our strength, He takes on the yoke of our burden and walks beside us on our journey. He teaches us how to live this life the way Jesus lived His earthly life … sacrificially and honoring to God the Father.

As we live in the knowledge of His character, our response to hardship will change from, “God, why are You doing this to me?” to “God, I trust that You have allowed this in my life so teach me how to walk through it Your way.”

In the last 14 years, God has pretty much taken away every crutch I have ever used to limp my way through this life. He has not answered many of my prayers in the way I wanted. But instead, He has been doing something else altogether.

During the hardest seasons when I think I can’t take one more step, He is there carrying me through. When I don’t know what to do next, He provides direction. When I want to give up, He never lets me. Sometimes He tarries and lets me wait in silence. Sometimes He allows me to back myself into a position where I am forced to take an unwanted step … and then I see Him move on my behalf in amazing ways. His grace sustains me, His strength carries me.

Through it all what remains true is that the character of God is unchanging. He is good and pure in all His ways. When we can’t see the way in front of us because of the fiercest storms, we can trust the Captain who guides our ship.

This is what I have learned of my God while waiting as a bird, in a bird cage.

O taste and see that the Lord is good;
How blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him!
Psalm 34:8

So more recently, when I heard our Pastor give a charge to our church body to ask God for ‘more’, it became a thing of beauty as I pondered the past and looked towards the future. ‘More’ became a word of hope … of promise.

Oh God, I want more of You. I want to be more of a gentle, quiet, burning candle shining fervently with the light of your mercy, love, and grace. I want more of You in the lives of my children. Please God, I want more. More of a life that is led by You and not by my own fear or selfish ambitions. I want to be more dependent on You and less dependent on myself. I want more. More dying of self and more love for others. Less of me and more of You. I want to trust You more when I don’t understand the journey and the loneliness of it threatens to steal my joy away. I want more of the work of the Holy Spirit in the depths of my being and outpouring in the fruits of my life … even if You are the only One who ever sees. Oh God, I ask You for more.

*
*

Set all the goals you wish for this upcoming year of 2020 … but my challenge for you, for my children, and for myself is to walk with God more. Learn more of Him from His Word. Spend more time in prayer. Seek more of Him in every detail of your life. Confess and repent more of sin. Let nothing stand between you and God. Die more to self. Put Him first above all. Please join me in asking God for more … more of Himself.

“Turn your eyes upon Jesus
Look full in His wonderful face
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim
In the light of His glory and grace.”

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

*Turn your eyes upon Jesus – hymn written by Helen Howorth Lemmel

My Christmas Testimony

December 28, 2019 / walkingthisjourneysite / Leave a comment

One of the elements that had long been missing from my Christmas decor was a Nativity scene … a physical representation of the birth of Christ.

It was never from a lack of effort or desire, but rather, it was mostly due to autism.

Let’s just say, I have a number of broken nativities tucked away in my attic.

But finally, the year came that I felt that a nativity set would be safe from the hands of my son and with a little income at my disposable, I decided it was time to get the nativity I had wanted for so, so long … a Willow Tree Nativity.

The aesthetic appearance of Willow Tree figures has appealed to me from the very first time I saw them. They are simple in form, yet so peaceful and serene.

I deposited the money I had earned from a house-cleaning job and then I ordered the basic Nativity set … Joseph, a young shepherd, a couple of animals … and a kneeling Mary, holding the baby Jesus. I was so excited as it seemed I was in a new season of life and being able to purchase this set was a representation of that.

I remember when the package was delivered and I gingerly unwrapped each figure. I couldn’t wait to set it up so I quickly cleared off the stone mantel above the fireplace and carefully placed each piece. It was simple, it was restful, it was peaceful … it was everything I longed for, in a nativity set, in Christmas — and in life.

True to the nature of life, that sense of serenity didn’t last very long. During one night, a kitten I had rescued walked across the mantel and sent my Mary crashing to the stone slab below … shattering her to pieces.

I was heartbroken.

The following Christmas, I unpacked the Nativity scene once again and looked over the broken pieces of Mary. It seemed an impossible task but eventually we glued her somewhat haphazardly back together and placed her carefully on a shelf inside a closed cabinet.

Fragile with missing pieces … forever broken.

A couple of days before Christmas this year, I woke early to wrap my children’s Christmas presents so I could get them hidden away again before my son with autism woke. I sipped my coffee and settled into the rhythm of methodical wrapping while my children slept and my thoughts wandered.

It didn’t take very long until memories began to stir in the midst of the rustling paper and whispering scissors. Memories of long ago that seem to rise to the surface whenever I am wrapping Christmas presents.

I remember the Christmas when I had just the two boys, before my daughter was born.
I don’t remember much from that time but I know I didn’t wrap any presents that year.
I couldn’t. I just couldn’t do it.
I’m pretty sure I bought gifts for my boys and I may have bought wrapping paper —
but somehow, wrapping those presents seemed far too monumental a task.
Autism, intense sleep deprivation, behaviors, a fussy baby, and difficult family dynamics.
It was a hard season.
While there are many gaps in my memory, I’ve never forgotten those unwrapped presents nor the lingering guilt.

Those memories wandered through me once more and, same as years past, I thanked the Lord for the beauty of being able to wrap Christmas presents for my children now. This was going to be a good Christmas … I was going to make sure of that.

*
*

Before I finished wrapping the presents however, my oldest son came down the stairs and before long was in the midst of a seemingly random meltdown. By the time I had worked through that relatively mild crisis with him, the restful joy I had been feeling as I wrapped presents was slowly vanishing like the morning mist.

Then I saw pictures on social media that sent the last of it flying away. There is such an overwhelming sense of sadness that hits when one of your children is left out of a circle of friends. This time, it triggered something deep inside.

I found myself in a war between deep sadness, old anger, and a desire for righteousness.

I prayed. Oh, how I prayed.

I didn’t understand the depth that was stirred in me nor where it had come from.

Suddenly, this Christmas, like so many before, had become overwhelming.

*
*

Then a different Christmas memory began to stir. A memory I have always wished I could erase from my mind completely. I was nine or ten years old when an adored family member chose to go a different way in life. There were a series of decisions and selfish behaviors that sparked significant grief in my family and inspired a rather traumatic scene that Christmas. As those memories replayed through my thoughts, I realized just how deeply that time period had affected my life … and how I viewed Christmas.

My family’s entire reality changed that year. The childhood I knew was gone. And Christmas, that year and every year thereafter, was forever altered.

As I pondered these memories, the word, ‘expectations’ to mind and I began to understand that, because of the gaping hole left behind from that crushing Christmas, I have walked through life looking for something, anything to fill the empty spaces that were left behind. I began to understand that my identity had been intrinsically tied to memories of that Christmas and that overall traumatic time in my family’s story.

However, because of the work Christ has done in my life in recent years, I could also see the emptiness of my own efforts trying to glue the pieces back together … the futility of my own works.

I looked at my broken Mary on the shelf and realized she was me. Broken, with pieces missing, held perilously together by glue, ready to fall apart with the slightest touch.

But I also knew this was not who God created me to be. God’s plan for me does not include walking through life with holes and broken pieces from the decisions and actions of others … or my own, for that matter. God’s plan for me does not include using a glue gun to gingerly hold pieces together so I can at least look like I have it together. The brokenness of the past no longer defined me.

On Christmas Eve, I confessed my sin to God and handed Him my broken memories and missing pieces. Then, as I looked at my broken Mary in the cabinet, I asked God for more. More of Him. More wholeness. More of His transforming work in my life and the lives of my children. My only expectation would be Him.

Come, Thou long expected Jesus
Born to set Thy people free;
From our fears and sins release us,
Let us find our rest in Thee.
Israel’s strength and consolation,
Hope of all the earth Thou art;
Dear desire of every nation,
Joy of every longing heart.

*
*

Christmas morning, after my children opened all their presents, my daughter brought her gift to me and knelt before me in anticipation, her eyes shining like stars in the night sky. After opening the box, I pulled out something wrapped in layer upon layer of bubble wrap and by the time I got to the last layer, I could see what lay inside …

A new Mary.

Unbroken. Whole. Complete.

My precious girl understood that the broken Mary was a source of sadness to me and apparently had been wanting to replace her for some time. When she earned some baby-sitting money, she reached out to her Grandmother and older cousin for help and between all their efforts, a new Mary was purchased.

After some tears and sweet hugs, I immediately went to the cabinet and carefully removed the broken Mary, who came out in pieces. As I did so, I noticed something I had not seen before. Mary was shattered into pieces, but the baby Jesus she was holding was not.

Mary was broken, but Jesus never was.

In my hands I held the truth that so long had evaded me. Life had caused sorrow and ripped holes inside of me. I had patched them together as well as I could but my efforts could not bring wholeness. Yet, Jesus has remained unbroken, solid, and completely true through all of the years. He was the center of what held the remainder of the broken Mary together.

I tenderly placed my broken Mary on the table and then picked up my new Mary, also holding sweet baby Jesus in her arms. As I placed her in the cabinet, a passage from Zechariah 3 came to mind … in these verses, the high priest Joshua was being accused by Satan as he stood in his own filthy clothes before an angel of the Lord. This is a picture of us in the filthy rags of our own righteousness standing before the Lord as we are also being accused by Satan. But, for Joshua the high priest, as well as, for the believer today, this is not the end of the story.

Now Joshua was clothed with filthy garments and standing before the angel. He spoke and said to those who were standing before him, saying, “Remove the filthy garments from him.” Again he said to him, “See, I have taken your iniquity away from you and will clothe you with festal robes.”
(Zechariah 3:3,4)

Christ has removed our iniquity as well by the sacrifice of the cross. When we accept His gift of salvation, our filthy garments are replaced with beautiful robes of His righteousness. No longer can Satan accuse us.

Christ’s gift, His sacrifice, makes us whole.

*
*

On Christmas day, I stood between my two Marys … one broken and one whole.

One purchased by her own works with broken pieces held together by worthless glue and the other, whole and complete … a gift.

One Mary representing who I was and the other … who I am now and will be in Christ.

A promise, if you will.

I will rejoice greatly in the Lord,
My soul will exult in my God;
For He has clothed me with garments of salvation,
He has wrapped me with a robe of righteousness,
As a bridegroom decks himself with a garland,
And as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.
Isaiah 61:10

You know, it was not in my power to make Christmas ‘good’ this year
— but Jesus made it beautiful.

**Come, Thou long expected Jesus written by Charles Wesley**

My Favorite Christmas

December 14, 2019December 14, 2019 / walkingthisjourneysite / 2 Comments

My favorite Christmas is the Christmas I am living now.
My favorite memories are the memories I am making now.

The yester-years have passed, like feathers in the wind.
Taking with them many loved ones, I’ll not see again.

What the future holds, is not known to me.
Those in my life today, may not always be.

So, I will live in this very moment, in all of my todays.
I will love and enjoy the time I have with everyone of you.

Time is much too fleeting for worries and fear to grow.
So only in this moment will I live, spreading my Savior’s love,

My favorite Christmas is the Christmas I am living now.
My favorite memories are the memories I am making now.

Jesus is Still in the Boat

December 9, 2019 / walkingthisjourneysite / Leave a comment

I took my son to the doctor for a physical this past week. I know, I know … probably not a news-worthy story to most people. I understand. But in my world, this was a matter of significance and great importance. My son is 18 years old now, of considerable size, has autism … and anything medical related is scary, But, due to a different need, this physical was required. You see, my son also has a life-long, intense anxiety regarding dentists, which inhibits even the most basic of exams. A couple of months ago, I finally learned of and reached out to a new dentist who offers sedation dentistry at a surgical center near their office, well over an hour away from our home. This dentist specializes in children, but also works with special needs adults … many of whom share my son’s fears. With the support of his teacher, we attempted a consultation visit with the dentist, which by the standards of most was not successful, but allowed him to be scheduled for sedation. The dentist assured me that they would take him on as a patient and, with those words, a significant burden began to lift from my shoulders.

The process to be seen for sedation is quite involved, both from the surgery center’s viewpoint as well as, from the needs of my son, so I have been working towards this appointment for the last couple of months. It has been a stressful but I was so thankful. For the first time ever, I didn’t feel as alone in this particular battle. I paid the upfront expenses and scheduled the sedation appointment. All the pieces were coming together fairly well so that the only major task left was the physical, which was required by the surgery center to clear him for sedation.

Now, my son is only slightly less fearful of doctors than he is of dentists so I was concerned about the success of this appointment; However, medical desensitization is a goal written into his IEP at his specialized autism school. Staff have been working with him, as I have been, for a number of years and he has made progress. I was nervous but hopeful the appointment would go well enough that the doctor would be able to supply the information the surgery center needed.

In a situation such as this, all I can do is prepare my son as much as possible, support him every step of the way, pray (pretty much without ceasing), and trust the Lord for the outcome.

My son was successful with this physical in the eyes of the Doctor, his teacher who was there to support him, and especially me. Even though he refused to allow certain things, we were able to do more than ever before and the doctor cleared him for sedation. We were so proud of him!

I was incredibly thankful as it appeared all was well and going according to plan. We just had one more week until his sedation appointment and then the worry of his teeth and the weight of this appointment would be behind me … just in time to focus exclusively on the Christmas season.

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I have been reading the book of Luke this advent season, trying to read a chapter a day so that I can finish the account on Christmas Eve. It is so easy to lose sight of why we observe this most treasured of holidays in the midst of all the bustle of festivities and concerns of this life, so I decided to focus my reading on the birth, ministry, death, and resurrection of Christ. I started out a day behind and, as a result, I ended up reading Luke 5 on December 6th, this past Friday. Now, I have read the story of Jesus telling Simon to take his boat out to the deep waters and cast his nets countless times before. It isn’t new to me. But on this particular morning, as I read Simon’s response, my breath caught and to my surprise, tears filled my eyes.

Now it happened that while the crowd was pressing around Him and listening to the word of God, He was standing by the lake of Gennesaret; and He saw two boats lying at the edge of the lake; but the fishermen had gotten out of them and were washing their nets. And He got into one of the boats, which was Simon’s, and asked him to put out a little way from the land. And He sat down and began teaching the people from the boat. When He had finished speaking, He said to Simon, “Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.”Simon answered and said, ‘Master, we worked hard all night and caught nothing, but I will do as you say and let down the nets.’ (verses 1-5)

Wow, Simon’s words reverberated through me with considerable force. I have worked for years trying to help my son. I would take him to the doctor by myself and those appointments were battles. Very real battles. I tried taking him to the dentist and those battles were even uglier. I would drive him once a week to a dentist office 45 minutes away just to work on desensitizing him by myself. My attempts to take him places backfired. Special diets were not helpful. Special therapies did little. I rarely, if ever, saw any fruit from the labor. I grew exhausted from the continual battles and lack of help. My nets were always empty.

This grew into a discouragement in its rawest form. Trying to help a child who is not typical in any way and who was unable to respond to my efforts. Carrying the weight of those nets myself without a single soul to help. Learning to hide those failures from others because I knew they simply couldn’t relate and often would condemn. Feeling guilty that my best efforts weren’t enough. Building walls to protect us both. Feeling frightened for the days ahead.

I know a thing or two about empty nets.

But let’s look at what happened when Simon obeyed the command of Jesus, even though his own experience and earthly knowledge must have counselled him otherwise?

“When they had done this, they enclosed a great quantity of fish, and their nets began to break; so they signaled to their partners in the other boat for them to come and help them. And they came and filled both of the boats, so that they began to sink.” (verses 6-7)

All night Simon and his companions had worked casting their nets into the waters, yet not catching a single fish. They must have been weary and discouraged with their circumstances and nothing to show for their labor. But once Jesus stepped into his boat and told him try again, their nets were soon filled to the point of breaking and sinking their boats because of all of the fish! What was the difference?

Jesus was in the boat.

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A few years ago, I sat in my boat and looked at my empty nets. I was at my end and uncertain how I could possibly face another day. Then Jesus stepped into my boat and told me to go out into the deep waters once more and cast my nets. I was undeniably weary from my own efforts so with broken faith, I obeyed the voice of my Savior. I cast those nets in waters that I had fished countless times before but this time, something odd began to happen. Over time, doors began to open that had been previously closed. Support arose from places that had been hidden before. My son slowly began to mature and make the kind of progress I had given up on ever seeing. While the journey was (and continues to be) still hard, it was clear that Jesus was in the boat.

As I read the interaction between Jesus and Simon in Luke 5 this time, I became overwhelmed with thankfulness. My best efforts in the past produced empty nets because even though I prayed, I usually worked in my own sufficiency, while rooted in fear. But with Jesus in the boat, I have seen full nets on many occasions. So that morning, as I read Luke 5 and contemplated the upcoming sedation dentist appointment for my son, I hoped for and anticipated the same kind of results. I was anxious to see a net full of fish.

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The surgery center called a few hours later. As soon as I heard the nurse’s voice, I sensed something was wrong. It took her a moment before she could say the words … the anesthesia team had reviewed all the information regarding my son and decided they could not accommodate him at their facility. So, after months of working towards this goal and just one week away from the appointment, they cancelled his sedation surgery.

Shock is really the only word I have for what I was feeling as I listened to the nurse and then the anesthesiologist who explained their reasoning. As their words echoed through my mind, I could only think of the amount of work, time, prayer, worry to the point of sickness, and lack of sleep that have occurred over these last two months as I have worked towards this long-awaited goal. I was stunned to have it so abruptly halted without any sense of resolution. The hope I had felt for the first time was ripped from my grasp.

Heartbroken silence surrounded me as I stood at the edge of my boat, staring blankly into the depths of the waters around me, with nothing but empty nets to show. I never felt more alone.

But …

Jesus was still in the boat.

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It is advent season, a time to observe and ponder the earthly arrival, ministry, and sacrifice of Jesus, the Son of the Most High. As a Christian, this is a most precious and joyous time.

In the book of Mathew, the first chapter begins with the genealogy of Jesus and then gives the account of the angel talking to Joseph in a dream as he considered what to do with Mary, his espoused wife.

“Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.”

All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet: “The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Emmanuel” (which means “God with us”). Mathew 1:20-23

Emmanuel … God with us.

We often enter this blessed season with great expectations of tidy, neat gifts under the tree, happy children, cooperative and loving families, Christmas plays and cantatas, good will and kindness, and well, perfection. But what do we do when we enter this season and our realities simply do not match those expectations? What do we do when we don’t get what we wish for … or even long for?

At this point, I am unsure what to do about meeting the dental needs of my son. I have learned that people around me simply do not grasp what this journey has been like, even those in my own household, so once more, it feels a lonely and heavy weight. I threw the nets where I believed the Lord was directing me and yet, here I sit with them empty once more. In the days since the phone call, I have been praying in the quiet, letting all of this sink in, and considering the next steps, as the name, Emmanuel has been echoing through the silence …

God with us.

Friends, this is our hope always but, most especially during a Christmas season when circumstances are difficult and we are unsure what to do next. We can remember the fact that Jesus, the very Son of God, humbled Himself and came to Earth in the form of a baby. We can ponder the works He did and the words He spoke as He walked this world. We can consider the depth of His sacrifice on the cross as He suffered and died on our behalf so that we could be free from sin and death. We can rest and rejoice in the fact that He rose from the dead and now sits at the right hand of God the Father, interceding on our behalf.

Because we believe this to be true, based on the Word of God, we are never alone, no matter the circumstances, challenges, or trials we face. He is our source of comfort and strength. He will fill our empty nets in His time and in His way.

Emmanuel … God with us.

Jesus is still in the boat.

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