Peace in the Midst of Brokenness

Every once in a while I run into something that not only catches my attention, but I find myself going back to - to reread, to think about, to try to remember. Last week, a wonderful friend emailed me a post I've returned to multiple times (below). She and her husband have faced some serious health challenges lately. It has not been easy for them. Yet I sense a peaceful spirit in her correspondence. It blesses me.

Peace. Isn't this something we long for?

The following post by Scotty Smith is a prayer about peace based on Isaiah 26:3, 4. "You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you. Trust in the Lord forever, for the Lord God is an everlasting rock." 

A Prayer for Peace in the Midst of Broken Stuff

"Most kind and trustworthy Father, you haven’t promised us a storm-less, hassle-free, disappointment-empty life. You offer us no formulas for decreasing the probability of sad things happening around us, or disruptive things happening to us. But you have promised something that transcends the predictable uncertainty of life—your peace." READ MORE.

When It's Okay to be Different

How do you feel about being different?

We can get by with being a little different, but anything too extreme is . . . well, different. Different infers a minority. And the majority usually wins. Or so it seems. In Beth Moore's words, we derive "a strange sense of security from sameness."*

This past week I read about a man who had "a different spirit in him." Why? Because he rose above the fears of the majority.

The man's name? Caleb. His assignment? To spy out enemy territory. He and eleven others spent forty days on a secret mission. Hiding. Watching. Listening. When they crept back to their base camp, people gathered around, curious to hear what they had to say about this "land flowing with milk and honey."

The majority of the spies, ten of them, focused on the large fortified cities they saw. They told of "a land that devours its inhabitants" and how they felt "like grasshoppers" because of the "men of great stature." Their report stirred up an uprising. Fear gripped the people. They cried and complained. They schemed to find a leader to take them back to the land of slavery.

Caleb and his friend, Joshua, brought a different point of view. They spoke of this "exceedingly good land" with confidence that the Lord would be with them and bring them into it. "Do not fear," they begged the people. But the voice of the minority remained unheeded. 

This story, found in Numbers 13 and 14, brings to light a lot about attitude, don't you think? All twelve of the spies witnessed the same thing. But their perspectives couldn't have been more opposite.

One of our daughters teases me about being "sunny," one who sees the positive side of things. Actually, I wish it was true more of the time. Sometimes we all feel overwhelmed by giant circumstances and walled cities of insurmountable odds. Putting our fears in perspective and placing our confidence in  the Lord's presence may seem a little different, a minority viewpoint perhaps, or even "sunny." Yet He promises to help in time of need and give us peace. 



*Whispers of Hope: 10 Weeks of Devotional Prayer, page 5.

Alive in Christ Forever

They all came.

Children, siblings, grandchildren, nieces and nephews came to Northeastern Pennsylvania from as far away as Illinois, Indiana, Missouri, and Michigan. They came to say goodbye. I’ll always remember the day we gathered under a blue August sky to say our final farewells to my mom. With the pastor’s closing prayer, we filed by, one by one, carefully placing a flower on her casket. In the still and almost reverent moments that followed, someone began to sing. Soon, we all joined in.     

   Amazing grace! how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me!
   I once was lost, but now am found, was blind, but now I see.

   When we’ve been there ten thousand years, bright shining as the sun,
   We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise than when we’d first begun.

                           (John Newton, 1725-1807)

Tears slipped down my cheeks as the familiar melody drifted up to heaven. Here on a quiet hillside stood a family. A family bound by grief. A family united in hope. That day’s memory of the family I love and to whom I belong has a hallowed place in my heart. I have drawn on this remembrance for strength many times over the last months.

Then they all returned home. But they didn’t forget. 

One day my sister called. In the course of our conversation, she said, “I’ve been thinking. Mom is in heaven because of the resurrection of Jesus.” What a wonderful truth! I found myself thinking about another funeral, one Jesus attended when He proclaimed Himself the resurrection and the life. Not long after, He proved it. With the empty tomb, Christ conquered death forever (I Corinthians 15).

The Easter season holds a special significance for me this year. The resurrection of Jesus means eternal life for my mom, and someday for me. And for all those who have placed their complete trust in Christ who died so they could live. I think of my sister’s words each time my dad and I visit the quiet hillside cemetery, where I picture my family singing “Amazing Grace.” And where Mom’s tombstone reads, “Alive in Christ Forever.” 

May this Easter season breathe hope into our hearts. He is risen! And that makes all the difference for us – both now and for eternity.

I am the resurrection and the life.

 He who believes in Me, though he may die, he shall live.

And whoever lives and believes in Me shall never die.

John 11:25, 26

All the Way Home

When's the last time you wondered if you would make it home safely? Not long ago, after visiting my dad at the hospital, the distance between me and my family at home stretched out much longer than usual. Here's the story:

As I stepped outside the hospital entrance, unexpected sleet rained down, making the sidewalks slushy and slick. All I could think was, "I have to get home." I gingerly inched my way to my car, managed to open the door, and plopped into the seat. Still shivering, I turned the key, eyed the creeping traffic, and pulled onto the road. How many miles home? Maybe ten? "Oh, Lord, please help me," I prayed.

I'm the kind of person who tends to break up an overwhelming job or project into manageable pieces. I have memories of helping our daughters with school projects and piano pieces this way. We would divide the task up and do one part or measure at a time. Pretty soon, they'd be finished.

All the way home that Sunday night, as sleet pelted the windshield, I found myself setting small goals. Just get to the next traffic light, then to the next. On the highway, I joined the slow-moving traffic moving from one exit to the next, to the next, I thanked God for every safe milestone. At last, I pulled into the driveway, hit the garage door opener, glided to a stop, and breathed a sigh of relief. Finally home!

Sometimes, life's a little like my white-knuckled drive home. We feel afraid and uncertain, wishing for better circumstances and safer conditions. We didn't ask for this unexpected situation. But God promises His presence one "light," one "exit," one day, one hour at a time. We don't need to focus on the whole journey, just the bit that's before us . . . all the way to our heavenly home.

Remembered With Grace . . .

Saturday, April 5, 2003 . . .

Sudden fog,

like a white curtain dropped without mercy,

     mingles with smoke,

     screaming sirens,

     and angels lifting vacationers

     from cars, now charred and twisted.

The future hangs shrouded

     in the thick, woolly air . . .

I lay under a blanket dazed and damaged.

God's gaze penetrates the dense whiteness.

He remembers me with grace.

Five hours from home, we helplessly stared into the eerie whiteness on the Pennsylvania Turnpike. I felt a sudden rush of adrenaline as we barely tapped what must have been a car ahead of us. If this is all we hit, we'll  be okay, I thought. I turned around to check on five-year-old Elisabeth. At that moment, a crushing impact from behind convulsed us back and forth like rag dolls. Elisabeth's legs flew up. My husband clutched his sides in agony.

Oblivious to the fire, explosions, screams, and scraping metal piercing the murky mist around us, I heard only one message beat like a drum in my mind: "We have to get out of the car, out of the car, out . . ."

Somehow, in the ensuing chaos of the twenty-plus vehicle pile-up, helicopters life-flighted the four of us to three different hospitals. Thankfully, the girls were discharged with minimal injuries. With a broken neck and shattered vertebra, I faced two major surgeries. Barry's life became a flickering candle in the dark of a coma.

Eleven years have passed since that fateful day. Eleven years since those daunting days of whispered what-ifs, victories and set-backs, prayers and tears. Today, we remember eleven years of God's daily faithfulness along with the wonderful love and care of family, friends, and even people we didn't know.
 
God remembered us with grace . . . a grace that is sufficient on the darkest of days.


(Taken from Chapter Two of my book, Penned Without Ink: Trusting God to Write Your Story.)

A Spring in Your Step?

Spring! March 20 dawned cold with a few flurries by evening. But somehow I felt we collectively turned a corner. We can now leave the blast of winter behind for the hoped-for warmth of the sun and for green grass, flowers, and . . . gardening.

Today, our family visited a local farmer who participates in Community Supported Agriculture (CSA). Outside we stepped over tired snow piles and mud. But inside Tim's greenhouse, we witnessed rows of green, luscious lettuce - several varieties. He told us about his soil, how he cares for his gardens, and what he hopes to harvest and have available for his customers. We purchased some greens and had a scrumptious salad for supper. A taste of more to come!


My friend, Susan Vinskofski, is a Master Gardener and has written a wonderful e-Book about gardening titled The Art of Gardening: Building Your Soil. Complete with illustrations by artist Deb Hamby, this resource offers step by step instructions on how to take a garden from good to great. Susan's website has been a most helpful resource for all things healthy: learningandyearning.com

Springtime reminds us of new birth and youth. It's the time for planting, for the resurrection of grass and perennials, for bursting leaves and buds, for sap and growth. It's the time for animals to bring their young into the world. It marks the time of new beginnings.

We usually don't  associate spring with "old age," but tucked in an ancient psalm I found these words:

The righteous flourish like a palm tree and grow like a cedar in Lebanon. They are planted in the house of the Lord; they flourish in the courts of our God. They still bear fruit in old age; they are ever full of sap and green, to declare that the Lord is upright; he is my rock, and there is no unrighteousness in him.

(Psalm 92:12-15, emphases added)

Now that's enough to put a spring in your step!

When Friends Become "the Face of God"

"Women friends become the face of God to one another-

the face of grace, of delight, of mercy." *

This past week, someone asked me to serve on a committee. I asked the typical questions and requested a day to think it over, then asked for a couple more days. I jotted down the pros and cons, tried to determine if my responsibilities would fit with my gifts, and prayed.

You see, to me this represented more than a position on a work committee. I'm at a crossroads. A seam. A place where the present emerges from the past. Where should my focus lie now?

I reached for perspective from friends, friends I have come to appreciate and trust.

Every other Monday, a group of writers meets around my dining room table. We critique manuscripts, trouble-shoot blogs, and offer ideas and encouragement. After years of meetings, we've become close friends. 

This past week when a few lingered at the table, I asked their advice about my decision. They listened. They heard my heart. And they shared insights I had not considered before. They brought clarity and objectivity to my decision.

Friends feed my soul. They help me grow. They keep me accountable. 

Another long-time friend lives in a neighboring state. We email and chat every so often. Pick up where we left off. Last week she shared a few thoughts on accountability from Jennifer Rothschild - questions to ask a friend:

1. What do you see in my life that encourages you?

2. What do you see in my life that you would like to caution me about?

3. What else would you like to tell me?

Proverbs 27:17 sums it up well: "As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another."

So, what role do friends play in your life? Are they "the face of grace, of delight, of mercy"? I want to be that kind of friend, don't you?


*From Captivating, by John and Stasi Eldredge, page 180.