Blooming Where We're Planted

What's growing in your garden this summer? Are you enjoying perennials like daisies, back-eyed susans, and day-lilies? Did you plant annuals? Impatiens, geraniums, or begonias? Any pots or raised beds sprouting tomatoes, basil, or lettuce?

I love this time of year even if it is hot and humid! Seems we've waited a long time for the warmth of July. As I write, it's raining . . . a blessing to cheer up our brown lawns and thirsty plants.

I'm not a landscaper by any means, yet so far this seems to be a good season. At least I'm enjoying the process. I haven't done anything out of the ordinary . . . just the usual weed-pulling and a little watering here and there. The blooms are opening up right on time, including my late husband's fragrant pink roses. The edibles have given me a special pleasure: rhubarb, raspberries, blueberries, tomatoes, peppers, and cabbage . . . all in different stages, all offering their own textures and flavors. After a brisk walk, I putter around my yard every morning. breathing in the freshness (and batting away the gnats).

My gardener friend, Susan, says good soil produces healthy plants and nutrient-dense fruit. That's what I'm after. I weed and water, tend and prune, watch and wait. This week, as I worked, I thought about how God places us in the good soil of His grace. The heat, the storms, the pruning, and the waiting may lead us to doubt His divine green thumb, but the Master Gardener has a plan and a purpose for each one of us. Have you noticed how He pulls the weeds of self-reliance and pride? How He trims the suckers that take away our fruitfulness, all the while whispering words of hope?

The Seeking Heart by Francois Fenelon has touched my heart over the past few weeks. I found it in my husband's books and have been reading one short selection each morning when I come in from the garden. The other day, I underlined these words, "[God] trains you to fulfill His noble plans amidst the petty annoyances and aggravations of life. . . . [He] uses the disappointments, disillusionments, and failures of your life to take your trust away from yourself and help you put your trust in Him. . . . Nothing happens without His consent."

These words encourage me to see things from a higher perspective. Just as I often peer over the fence to check on my garden, so God has His eye on us, no matter where we find ourselves growing. Let's not shrivel up in doubt, discontentment, and self-pity. With confidence in His careful tending, let's bloom where He plants us.

A Season of Remembering

Could we ever have imagined the realities of the past couple of months? Like it or not, we've learned a whole new vocabulary. We've limited our travels, our work, and our shopping. We've also reached out to others in new ways, using our compassionate and creative energy to cross the barriers to lend support and help.  

For me, it's been a season of recovery . . . and remembering. Last time (April 5th), I wrote about the 17th anniversary of our family's car crash. In addition, as I sat in my recliner with ice on my new hip, I read through some of my late husband's journals. Some pages brought tears to my eyes. Others made me laugh, but every paragraph reminded me of the grace of God in spite of our humanness.

This is also the month to remember my mom (May 1936-August 2013), my parents'  wedding anniversary (63 years today), and the five-year anniversary of Barry's passing (5-15-2015). Made me wonder what I've been doing the past five years! Writing a couple of books, seeing Elisabeth through college, keeping up with my grandsons and their five-star moms (and dads), simplifying, maintaining my home, nurturing relationships . . . and learning, learning, learning all the way. I'm so grateful for God's tried-and-true promises.

I completed a project this past week that brought back multiple memories. I made Elisabeth a quilt (i.e. picnic blanket) from a stack of her saved T-shirts. I cut the shirts apart and squared up each block, then ironed fusible interfacing onto the backs and squared them up once more. The stack of squares and rectangles boasted logos and slogans from elementary school, high school, college, places of employment, our church, a 5K run, and her favorite vacation spot. What stories they told!  

As I stitched, I remembered praying her through many of those chapters, usually coupled with motherly concern and a sense of pride as I cheered her on. The process reminded me of the promise in Philippians 1:6 . . . the promise that we can be confident that He who began a good work will continue . . . developing and perfecting and bringing it to full completion (AMPC). 

I'm learning that when we remember God's intimate involvement in our lives, we can better place our faith in Him when we peer into the fog of an uncertain future . . .  humanly speaking, a future with no guarantees. We can make decisions based on what is and Who is rather than on the fear of the what-ifs. 

I invite you to brew a cup a tea, and take some time to remember. How has God blessed you? In what ways has He given you grace in the past? What promises from His Word will you claim? Let's make this season of remembering a time to also ask God to give us the courage to move forward into the "new normal" of tomorrow.

"Bless the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits."

Psalm 102:2

Remembering the Miracles

Do you remember what you were doing seventeen years ago today?

April 5, 2003 will forever be embedded into my heart - and the hearts of my family. It started out so normal, yet in a matter of minutes our lives changed forever.

Dense fog engulfed us as we strained to see past the front end of our car on the Pennsylvania Turnpike. The unexpected, eerie haze on a fair day spiked my pulse and revved up my every nerve. … I turned to check on five-year-old Elisabeth in the back seat. In that instant, a crushing blow from behind convulsed us back and forth like rag dolls. … Sickening terror seized me as the life-shattering impact snuffed out hope . . .

Fire. Explosions. Screams. Scraping metal. These were the terrifying sounds that pierced the murky mist around us. Only one thought beat like a drum in my mind: We have to get out of the cr. Out of the car. Out . . . *

This past week I found the box of cards so many caring friends sent our way in the weeks and months following the twenty-three care pile-up. Hundreds of cards. I opened every one, compelled to savor each loving, encouraging message once again. 

Here's one that captured my attention:

April 11, 2003

How can words express what only the heart can speak? Know that you are constantly on our hearts and in our prayers during these difficult days.

"I cried out to God for help; I cried out to God to hear me. When I was in distress, I sought the Lord; …  Will the Lord reject forever? Will He never show his favor again? Has God forgotten to be merciful?

"Then I thought, 'I will remember the deeds of the Lord, yes I will remember your miracles of long ago. I will meditate on all your works and consider all your mighty deeds . . .'" (Psalm 77).

Today is a day for remembering the miracles! Humanly speaking, we should never have survived. Only God could've protected my spinal cord, preventing paralysis. Only God could've brought Barry back from a coma that lasted for weeks. Only God sustained us through our long and arduous recovery and the new normal we often found overwhelming.

We're all facing many unknowns. In a matter of weeks, life as we knew it has changed in ways we could never have imagined. The future looks foggy and obscure. Economic and physical recovery seem unlikely. Fear lurks around every corner.

The author of Psalm 77 faced similar feelings so many centuries ago. In his despair, he chose to remember the miracles, to meditate on all God's mighty deeds. It made all the difference.

I invite you to read or reread our story told in Penned Without Ink: Trusting God to Write Your Story. Within its pages, you'll find story after story of God's goodness, and you'll share my journey of learning to trust God in the midst of uncertainty. I've also written a Bible study that will draw you into the Scriptures to dig deeper into the themes of trust. I pray it will be a blessing to you and bring you hope in these trying times.

And on this Palm Sunday, how about taking some time with your family to remember the miracles in your own story!? 





*Page 7, Penned Without Ink.
**Resources available on Amazon.com. Click HERE and HERE for more information.

Finding Faithfulness

I settled myself into a chair at the end of the second row, among about fifty other seniors who gathered on a dreary Wednesday afternoon. I didn't expect to begin the new year here. Life has a way of taking unexpected twists and turns.

It all began the day I took my Christmas decorations down and marched them up to the attic. I don't know how many times I climbed the stairs. Apparently, too many. I've learned to manage one bad hip joint, but when the "good" side began to buckle over the next week, I found myself in a pickle, clinging to the furniture to get around..  

A few days of taking it easy helped, yet at times I still found myself grabbing whatever chair or counter happened to be nearby. After eight years of avoiding the orthopedic office, I made an appointment, hoping a little PT would do the trick. "Bone on bone, severe arthritis, cysts," they said. I couldn't argue with the x-ray.

After much prayer, consulting with "my people," and gathering up courage, I signed on the dotted line. Wednesday's required joint replacement class taught us what to expect, physical therapy tips, and risks. I limped to my car praying,"Oh, Lord, how can I be faithful in this circumstance, this challenge?" 

How can you be faithful in your situation? 

Ironically, last month (before I had any inkling of surgery) I blogged: "Over and over, God has given me every reason to trust Him. These evidences of His power and involvement in my life help me remember and practice the truth the next time my stomach knots up and I find myself dreading instead of trusting."

I just finished reading Kings and Chronicles and have been so impressed with God's supernatural power demonstrated in overthrowing armies, changing the minds of kings, and protecting those devoted to Him. His sovereignty down to the smallest detail throughout these chapters and His faithful hand in my own circumstances have brought me comfort. No matter what lies before us, He's got the whole world in His hand! 

And really, it's not about you or me anyway. Paul, a prisoner in Rome, wrote these words: "I want you to know, brothers, that what has happened to me has really served to advance the gospel . . ." (Philippians 1:12-14). Not only did all the guards hear about Christ, but the believers gained confidence to speak God's Word without fear. 

Wherever God directs our days, we have the opportunity to reflect His light to those around us (Matthew 5:16). Because of what happened to our family in a 2003 car crash, many have read Penned Without Ink, the story of God's trustworthiness and grace in the face of trauma. Because of what happened in Barry's passing, others have gleaned strength from his legacy. 

In 2017, Joni Eareckson Tada celebrated the 50th anniversary of the diving accident that left her a quadraplegic. Because of what happened on that fateful day, Joni & Friends was born, an organization that not only gives support to those with disabilities all over the world but shares the hope of Christ. Because of what happened through years of pain and suffering, Joni's many books offer a unique depth and thoughtful encouragement. 

Battles, prison, trauma, and pain aren't experiences we would choose. Yet, like Joni, I want to walk my journey well to the glory of God. Reading the Old Testament stories along with Paul's prison experience put my surgery in perspective. Can you and I link arms with these heroes of faith and say, "What has happened to me has really served to advance the gospel."? 

An Old Bulletin Board with a New Purpose

I knew we still had it somewhere . . . a chalk board on one side and a flannel/bulletin board on the other, surrounded by a wooden frame. My husband made it as a college student, a project for a class called "Audio-Visual Aids" sometime during the years of overhead projectors, cassette recorders, and record players. Sure enough. I found it behind the attic door, along with a pocket chart, a flip chart, and some letter patterns of various styles and sizes.

Back in the day, Barry and I used it to teach flannel graph lessons to Sunday school children. Later, when our daughters were home sick on a Sunday, I'd pull it out. We'd have our own flannel graph story of David and his sheep or Queen Esther or Jesus blessing the children. First, I would tell the story and move the figures, and then it would be their turn. They loved it.

Every Wenesday evening, I host a ladies' Bible study. This past summer, when our leader and I met to brainstorm some new ideas for the fall, she wondered aloud about using a bulletin board to display our prayer requests. Bingo! I had just what we needed! Once more, I dragged it down from the attic and dusted it off. On the left side, I pinned up the title: ASKING GOD FOR . . . On the right side, THANKING GOD FOR . . .

When the ladies arrive, the first thing we do is post our prayer requests and praises. Often, we move a request over to the right. We've seen answers like God supplying a wonderful housing option for a daughter in another state. The safe delivery of twins - a neice and a nephew. Grace to manage relationships and time and unexpected trials. Already we have seen God working in our circumstances and, more importantly, in our hearts. One evening, we gathered around in a "huddle," arm in arm, (Our leader is a coach!) and thanked God for His blessings. A simple exercise, but it touched me deeply. 

This week, we lifted our hands as we prayed. I'm not usually so demonstrative publically, but again, tears wet my cheeks. Coupled with our study of 1 Peter ("Real Grace for Real Life"), our times of prayer have been meaningful. The community we share offers encouragement and just the right amount of accountability. 

So, if you have an old bulletin board in your attic, consider dusting it off and re-purposing it. God graciously hears our voices and our hearts. He's always working!

Forty Years . . .

Forty years ago today, 

I married my college sweetheart. 

After dating for over a year and a half and then waiting another two years after our engagement until I finished school, we finally tied the knot on July 14, 1979. We were young and in love, ready to face the world together. Barry taught Social Studies at a growing Christian school, and I practiced my homemaking skills and helped at the school and church. I fondly remember our first little apartment . . . 

When Barry graduated from college, he was debt-free with $40 in his pocket from mowing lawns, just enough to drive home and find work to save a little before the wedding. I still have our first budget, all laid out on a sheet of notebook paper.

We had no idea that God would bless us with three beautiful daughters and three little grandsons, that Barry would serve at Clarks Summit University for 20 years, and that we would be part of the same community for 32 years. 

Every summer around the time of our anniversary, we tried to get away for a couple of days, just the two of us. He always had a plan in place. I wonder what he would have had up his sleeve for our 40th.

Time provides perspective. Looking back, I see the faithfulness of God. 

Unmistakable grace!

July 14, 2012, Sharon's Wedding

Time to Move On?

"Whatever God has called you to go through in His providence, there is always hope."

"It's okay to be marked by the past but not okay to be controlled by it."

"If the past has a grip on you, is it time to move on?"

The pastor had my attention. Seemed to me I'd overcome many fears from the past. Or at least, with God's help, found the courage to do what needed to be done in spite of my demons. Like drive over 600 miles to Indiana to take my daughter to college and then drive home alone.

Our car after the crash in 2003

I'm not sure a person ever quite gets over the panic, the stress, and the trepidation that follows trauma. Nearly sixteen years after breaking my neck in a turnpike pile-up,* I'm relatively calm about driving in good conditions (well, most days), but the fear of fog, slippery roads, heavy rain, and snow still ties me up in knots. I have friends who choose not to drive (or ride) on the freeway at all. I understand. I know firsthand what can happen.

I can manage the necessary visits to see my family (trips to see my daughters and the grandboys and even to visit my late husband's family), but to plan an outing (i.e. road trip) that isn't really necessary still makes me a little nervous--even in good weather. It almost seems irresponsible to me. And that's where the speaker's comments challenged my thinking.

Just a few weeks ago, I booked a bus trip to see the Philadelphia Flower Show with my dad. A big step for me. The next day though, I again found myself wringing my hands with regret. What if something happens? My daughters need me, especially the youngest. I don't have to do this. The risk suddenly loomed large in my mind. Too large.

Perhaps my what ifs reveal fear and lack of trust. And, I might add, a desire for a little control. Yet God has been gentle and patient with me and, little by little, has been teaching me to walk according to His truth in an area that has been challenging. I'm meditating more on God's sovereign, yet gracious, control in all things . . . and the truth of Jesus' words in Matthew 6:27: "And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?" God will lovingly complete the good work He began in my children's lives when I'm here and when I'm not (Philippians 1:6). I want to make responsible decisions, yes . . . yet step by tiny step, I'm gradually experiencing more freedom in "moving on" and letting go of stubborn, even unreasonable, fear.

What about you? No matter what your past looks like, I trust these three thoughts will bring you closer to a God whose promises never expire and whose presence always brings hope.

"If the past has a grip on you, is it time to move on?"

"It's okay to be marked by the past but not okay to be controlled by it."

"Whatever God has called you to go through in His providence, there is always hope."

To read the story. Click HERE.

Last two photos: bing.com/images/free to use

Empty Yet Full

Empty . . .

An apt description of the house when the last one leaves after a holiday. Can you relate? No bags stashed here and there. No toys to trip over. No sippy cups in the kitchen sink. No crowded bathroom counters and towel racks. No half-open suitcases. No scattered shoes and boots in the breezeway. No extra cars in the driveway.

And more obvious, no adult children and grandchildren gathered around, playing games, laughing, or eating around the table. All may be calm and bright, but as the emptiness echoes its stillness, I feel the loss.

At the same time, my heart is full . . . full of memories. Talking until 2 a.m. the night my college-age daughter flew in. More hours of talking, talking, talking. Shopping at Kohl's because her internship is right around the corner. Listening to her play the piano and sing. Welcoming the older girls and their families. Catching up. Cuddling a two-month-old and seeing his wide smiles for the first time. Reading stories. Singing carols by a crackling fire. Taking my oldest grandson to see The Nutcracker the day after Christmas. Enjoying a roast beef Christmas dinner, along with my dad and a friend. Playing Jenga. Sharing gifts and stories. Missing those no longer with us.

One family came on Sunday the 23rd and left the very next day due to our three-year-old's bout with vomiting and diarrhea. After a hurried gift opening, we all had tears in our eyes when they pulled away to try to get home, mommy and bucket in the back seat just in case.

Today, I said my last good-bye of the season. Our youngest drove off in her daddy's 2005 Corolla, new wiper blades in place, EZ Pass transponder and GPS attached to the windshield and, just to make me feel better, a few maps tucked in the passenger door pocket. Since 2015, I've babied this car . . . inspections, tires, maintenance . . . because I knew this day was coming, the day when she would drive it back to school in the mid-west. Barry would be proud of her (and all of them) if he were here. 

After a good cry, I got busy. Putting things in order has always been my way of coping. Does it ever get easier? 

As I mopped the bathroom floor and folded towels, I thought about what happened after Mary's encounter with Gabriel. Luke 1:39 tells us, "In those days Mary arose and went with haste into the hill country, to a town in Judah" to visit Zachariah and Elizabeth. Although the Bible doesn't mention Mary's mother, I couldn't help but wonder how she felt when Mary said a hasty good-bye to take a 70-mile trip. Did concern for her daughter's well-being and safety occupy her thoughts? Did she wake up to pray in the dark of the night? 

Somehow this ancient un-named mother gave me courage as I said my own good-byes today. She invested years sharing biblical truth and practical knowledge, then moved out of the way to allow her daughter to follow God's leading. In the same way, I want to be supportive of all three of my daughters. I hope we've given them roots. Now it's time to give them wings (and wheels!). 

Empty? Yes, but with a heart full of thanksgiving and anticipation in a brand new year. 

Some have tried to post comments and have been unable to do so. 

I think the problem has been resolved, so feel free to try again. Thanks for your patience!

Asking the Right Questions . . .

How are you at asking questions?

I grew up in the "telling" generation. We were told what to think more than how to think. Not all bad. What child or teen doesn't need instruction and guidance? I'm grateful for the many "tellings" I received during my growing-up years. They have shaped me in positive ways.

Over time, however, I have also come to appreciate the wisdom of asking questions. 

My late husband, Barry, was a master at question-asking. In going through his papers after his passing, I discovered his secret.

He worked at it. 

I found lists of questions in his office, questions such as:

• What do you mean by ___________?
• How does __________ relate to ___________?
• Why do you say that?
• Can you give an example?
• Let me see if I understand. Do you mean __________ or ___________?
  

He often quoted Stephen Covey: "Seek first to understand then to be understood."

At the Montrose Christian Writers Conference this past July, I picked up Paul Angone's book, 101 Questions You Need to Ask in Your Twenties (and let's be honest, your thirties too) [Moody Press]. It's a book for Millennials, and since my youngest turns 21 in a few weeks, I thought it might be a good read for her.

Before sending it off, I took a look inside. Long story short, I read the whole thing and took nearly eight pages of notes. The premise of the book is this: to be successful, learn to ask good questions. Every question in the book is thought-provoking and helpful. Here are a few that gave me pause:

• Do your friendships help you fly or pull you down?
• When is enough, enough?
• Do your actions back up your ambitions?
• Do I create more or complain more?
• Am I going through my day mindful or mindless?
• What am I going to regret not doing?
• Who inspires me most?
• Everyone leaves behind a legacy. What will mine be?

Today would have been Barry's 62nd birthday. Somehow, on this day, it seems fitting to write about the value of asking good, even great questions. I have a hunch, if he were still with us, he'd take a few notes on Angone's book himself before writing Elisabeth a fatherly note on the title page and sending it to her with love and his best wishes.

Three Years

Armed with a pocket full of Kleenex, I walked up the hill to the Clarks Green Cemetery for the first time this spring. A delightful walk despite the traffic in the late afternoon. The stimulating fragrances of flowering trees, bushes, and lilacs surrounded me as I made my way up and down the hills between the markers, and as always, found myself stooping to read a few of the names and dates of those who have passed on.

I always save Barry's section until last. As the stone came into view, tears stung my eyes. There's something about that first look in the spring that floods my heart with the reality and finality of his death. I settled myself on the ground and cleaned the pine needles and grass clippings off the base. So much has happened in three years. As I wiped my eyes, I realized that I miss him in a different way than when crushing grief nearly swallowed me up and I wondered how I would go on without him. 

Back then I wished he could've helped Elisabeth with her college decisions. I wished he could've dialogued with all the girls and answered their questions. I wished he could've played his role as "Grandpa" to our grandsons, one of whom he never met. I wished he could've weighed in on so many decisions I had to make without him, decisions about the house, a car, our finances. He always seemed to know what to do.

Looking back, I see God's grace standing out bold on the calendar pages of the past 36 months. We made it . . . all this time. But that doesn't mean we didn't feel the ache in our hearts. And now I grieve for him in additional ways. I long for his comfortable companionship and the balance he brought to my life. I miss making his favorite dinner, hearing about his many ventures, and planning this year's garden together.  How often have I wanted to ask his thoughts about my writing and speaking? "Does this make sense? Is this topic relevant? Do these ideas sound okay? What's missing?" 

I feel for our girls . . . as each of them is in a different place now. They would benefit from his knowledge and wisdom - on education, relationships, gardening, parenting, and on and on. We often find ourselves saying, "What would Dad say?" It helps . . . a little.

Before I rose to walk home, I traced my finger over the words under his name: "Life-long Learner; Loved God and Others." Always for the other guy, that's just the kind of man he was! And somehow I gather up the courage to move ahead and "run with perseverance the race marked out for me," grateful for God's new measure of grace every single day.

I love you, Barry. We miss you.

Remembering Grace

Fifteen years. One hundred eighty months. Seven hundred eighty weeks. A long time, and yet in some ways, it seems like our family's car crash on the Pennsylvania Turnpike happened yesterday.

Today, fifteen years from April 5, 2003, I want to take time to remember.

Our Toyota Camry

"Remembering the crash site reminds me of an old Sunday school lesson. An angry king sent a great army by night to surround a prophet's residence. At dawn's light, overwhelming panic seized the prophet's servant when he saw the innumerable number of enemy troops, horses, and chariots surrounding them. But the prophet stayed calm and unafraid. When God opened the servant's eyes, he saw the hills full of horses and chariots of fire all around--the army of the Lord. They had been surrounded by God's protection the whole time [2 Kings 6].

"Words cannot fully describe the frenzied scene of the pile-up on the turnpike. Like Elisha's servant, we found ourselves surrounded. Surrounded by an army of charred and twisted vehicles, shattered glass, and broken bodies. Overwhelming distress and fear seized both victims and responders alike. 

"Looking back, I have to believe we were also surrounded by God's army--an army of grace.* The fading fog. A young woman named Bethan who called us back to the scene. The lady who sat with us. The offer of a cell phone. The rugby team. The medical personnel. Grace-givers every step of the way. And the promise of God's presence in the midst of it all" (Penned Without Ink,** pages 10-11).

Sarah and Elisabeth, age 5

God's grace continued with us . . . through uncertain hospital stays, through months of grueling recovery and rehab, through the uncomfortable adjustments once we again lived under the same roof, through the job and financial challenges, and through the lingering limitations that followed us. God's ever-present guidance, even when we couldn't see Him, has brought us to a wider place, a place where we can look back with gratefulness to Him for taking care of us every step of the way.

Today is also a day to express our thanks to all who stood by with loving hearts and helping hands. Thank you for praying, for supplying meals, for giving us rides to therapy, for offering the proceeds of your garage sales, for helping with yard work and minor repairs, for sending cards and notes, and for your smiles and hugs of support. 

Through all these years, our family has been blessed beyond measure. Every day is a gift. Every challenge, still an opportunity to trust in a God who will never leave or forsake us (Hebrews 13:5). Life isn't perfect for any of us. But today, we can choose to remember grace. God's grace.

It's always enough (2 Corinthians 12:9-10).

*Grace: the divine influence upon the heart and its reflection in the life; benefit, favor, gift (from Strong's Concordance)

**Read our story HERE.

Barry and Sarah, finally home

Hearing the Music . . . Behind the Scenes # 10

Google.com

I reached for yet another cough drop while a cup of ginger-lemon tea seeped on the counter. I had tried every home remedy I knew. Would I ever feel better? My mounting frustration escaped with a sigh that produced a fit of coughing. This wasn't the way I wanted to spend the days my daughter was home on college break. I don't get sick often, but when I do . . . 

God has a way of gently teaching us at times like this, times when we feel weak and far from adequate. Remember the story of the piano lesson from my last post? A child had practiced so hard to plunk out a simple tune with his little stubby fingers. And then the teacher sat down and played along with him. As the keys yielded to his touch, beautiful music echoed in the studio. As the last notes died away, the teacher smiled. "You did what you could, and I did the rest."

bing.com

I think that sometimes God takes us by the hand and leads us to the window, parts the curtain, and gives us a glimpse of what He is doing. While confined to the rocking chair, sipping tea, I began to connect the dots of God working in ways I never could have imagined.

I could almost hear the music.

In early December, my publisher mentioned in a weekly newsletter that if authors were interested in doing an audio book to let him know. I never thought of this option so with cautious curiosity emailed him. Within a week, I had four people audition as readers for Penned Without Ink. How would I know who to choose? Although I occasionally enjoy listening to books in the car, I had no experience whatsoever. With the help of a few writer friends and family members, we narrowed it down to two, then I sent in my # 1 and # 2 choices, praying all the while that I had made the best decision.

Shortly thereafter, my # 1 choice emailed me, asking about the correct pronunciation of a few names. She also shared with me that she had done her nurse's training at the same hospital I was in for the three weeks immediately after our car crash. Although the times didn't line up, she had walked those same hallways and cared for patients in that same location. What a connection! In spite of my hand-wringing over which reader to choose, God placed us together. 

During the holidays, I also received a letter from my aunt written on behalf of a distant relative who, because of macular degeneration, could not see to read. My aunt told her about my book, which her son ordered and reads to her on his occasional visits. She wanted me to know what an encouragement it has provided, and please, would I make my book available to the Association for the Blind in Albany, New York?

Google.com

I know a little about the Association for the Blind because of Barry's eye challenges. He received many large-print and audio books on loan. This was another avenue I had not yet considered. And the request came at the precisely the same time the audio book "happened" to be in process! As soon as the audio is up and running, I'll be on the phone, pursuing opportunities to encourage many with deteriorating vision.

The holidays have slipped into the past, and I'm feeling much better. Yet I hope I will always remember the blessing of sipping ginger tea in the rocking chair, reflecting on God's faithfulness. 

We do what we can and God does the rest.

Lord, you are my God; I will exalt you and praise your name,

for in perfect faithfulness you have done wonderful things, things planned long ago.

Isaiah 25:1 (NIV)