God is good!   I have survived another long, hard winter, and am still here to see another spring!  My neighborhood is glorious right now.  All the flowering trees are out, the deciduous trees have almost finished leafing, and their color is still a fresh, vibrant green.  My next door neighbor is an avid gardener, and his front yard is ablaze with lavish beds of yellow and orange tulips and daffodils, studded here and there with deep purple or magenta pansies.  It is a joyous riot of color.  My own yard, a little more subdued, is still happily in bloom with daffodils, snowdrops and grape hyacinth.  My little back garden is green with the perennials coming up.  I am in a mild state of euphoria to see that my lily-of-the-valley bed, so hard to get established, has finally begun to spread, and fill in the shady spot beneath the Korean dogwood.  When the last of the endless dirty mounds of snow finally disappeared, it was such a thrill to see the green shoots of the early bulbs which were already coming up under the snow.  Even the terrible winter we have just finished was not enough to put a halt to the subtle movement and growth of roots beneath the protecting soil.

God’s mercy and grace are like this.  We may be experiencing terrible things on the outside –a winter of illness or financial woes or errant children – but if we live with the power of God’s love in us as we endure, He is still doing wonderful things underneath, in the places where we are not frozen out with fear or stress.  The warmth of His love keeps things moving inside, and changes are happening which we can’t see, but which will be evident at some time in the future as we finally get to the end of our winter of despair.

Sometimes I find I am overwhelmed by the grace and mercy of our God.  I start out praying, and find I can’t keep from weeping…not because I am sad, or because things are hard in my life, but because as I begin to go over in my mind all that God is, and what He has done, and His majesty and holiness – I am overcome by His limitless glory, and the contrast between Who He is, and who I am.  I am stunned by the fact that in spite of it all, He loves me.  Am I worthy? No, but Christ is worthy – and when the Father looks at me, He sees His Son.  His grace and mercy overcome me.

I look at my surroundings.  Although I don’t have many resources, I have never gone hungry.  I have a roof over my head, and my 11 year old car still runs reliably.  I have clothes enough to cover my body decently, if not fashionably.  I have good children, good friends, and a wonderful church.   I was able to retire, and so I am able to go with the demands of my body and work when I can and rest when I must, and I have the freedom to decide which is which. Grace and mercy, once again.

There are times when things are not so good; when loved ones are suffering; when trials come and there is pain and stress and fear.   In all these things, God is underneath, letting me rest on His strong and everlasting arms; and although the winter of my trial may be long and hard, I can be at peace within it because He is in it with me.  He gives me hope for better times, a new spring to come.  He is the One Who provides both the will and the strength to get through these times, and come out the other side stronger.  Grace and mercy.

When I am being weak, and resistant to the demands of trials, and non-responsive to His molding of me, which is designed to make me better, and I fight back and say I don’t want this – He is patient.   He will let me rebel, and then, after I have had my little temper tantrum, begin once again to take me to where He wants me.  He tells me He will not allow more pressure on me than I am able to bear; and that in every trial, He will provide a way out.  Grace and mercy.

When I was younger, I was not so willing to accept things as they are.  I could not see beyond the stresses of life which marked the “winter of my discontent”.  My glass was always half empty, instead of being half full.  I had been brought up to feel worthless, and I dealt with everything from a position of having to prove that I was NOT worthless; of being defensive and determined to prove that I was as good as….name your thing.  Over the years God has, through pushing and prodding and opening my eyes gradually as I was able to take it in, taught me that none of this was necessary.  He has warmed me with the realization that I have worth because He has made me, and I was made for His glory.  He imputes the righteousness of Christ to me, in His love, and I am being slowly transformed into the image of Christ.  He works beneath the snow and ice of my outward façade, my human understanding, and brings warmth and growth and change to my eternal soul.  None of this is because I have any merit, but because He is a loving God and for His own reasons, He has allowed me to become His child.  He always wants my best.  I am not asking any questions: I am forever grateful and humbled to be the recipient of His grace and mercy.

I love spring.  I love the evidence of God’s love in His sharing of all this beauty with His creatures.   love the references to new growth, new beginnings, the possibility of beauty and happiness and joy in our lives.  I love the symbols, for all to see, of God’s grace and mercy.

Praise God from Whom all blessings flow! Praise Him, ye creatures here below; praise Him above, ye heavenly hosts. Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost! (Doxology)

I am one of those people who look far too long at what was on the road behind me, at what I could have done, at what I should have done and worst of all, what could have been.  It’s only after meticulously examining each step that I’ve taken that I am able to dust myself off to move forward on this path of life.  The smallest reminder of the life left behind will turn my gaze to the rear-view mirror where the images of mistakes I’ve made, and the life I’ve lived, are looming in the shadows behind me.

But my Jesus knows what I see in my past and gently reminds me that the things in the mirror are not as they seem.  In His eyes, each of these moments gone by is simply a brush stroke being added to the canvas, as the beautiful picture of my life is being painted by the One who knows how to use all those shadows to accentuate His Light.  Each stroke has a purpose.  Every experience I have had has led me to this very moment.  The many bright and cheerful colors stand out against the dark and painful ones, and as I look through Jesus’ eyes, I am able to see  all that has already been painted on my canvas, even each stroke of the things I wish I could forget, are all coming together.  This lifetime of memories behind me is forming the base for what is yet to come.

As spring comes and I face the new seasons ahead, I stand before my God with my life laid out before Him; not looking for what is behind longing to go back, but looking forward to seeing how He is going to use each of the scattered strokes of my life to paint a masterpiece.   It is not the individual strokes that make the painting, but the picture that evolves from them.  And it is not individual moments of our lives that bring greatness, but the beauty comes from how the sum of the moments come together to reflect the greatness of our God



My river is weeping gaudy tears upon the worn sand banks, rutted with the heartbreak from a thousand days of rivulets, formed by the ruthless backwash of a spring ill spent.

Tomorrow promises floods renewed and torrents of mindless splashing in the matte surface of mud-filled holes.  No rainbows here, no golden beam, few rays of hope.

I run with my river, I shower in the rain, I say “Pour it on me” as one day flows into the next, and pelting is what I know, though what I long for are sprinkles and a slow current.

I take my stand as the rushing foam plays at my ankles; I feel with my sole the sinking beach as it searches for its bed of rock.  Well splashed from above and below, I become the meeting place.

Do I rejoice?  Is this a washing of the soul, or a baptism of the flesh?  Shall I hide in the deep or awaken from the snags of my dreams?  Will shedding the moisture of grief be the most I forever know?

I linger on this damp-filled strand, screaming thoughts, but God has plans.  Repentance is reflected in a colorful bow and I turn as Truth appears through the droplets, and drying takes place, then I can see the path Grace laid for me.

Petulant clouds are lifted back into the heavens ready to roll over another unrequited searching heart.  Light was born anew, as quick as a spear thrust into a willing rib, sacrifice was made and all is changed.

To the Master’s hand I release my river, now calm and burnished with gold, where once the rain fell heavily and was swallowed whole, my river is now well fed and strengthened by trust, it rushes on through today streaming toward tomorrow.

God is the current and the crest of each wave; I must remain liquid and willing to follow His flow!

Once back-lit by the sharp noon-day sun the instrument, of both death and salvation, riding the slope of Calvary no longer casting a harsh shadow mark at its foot.  Now, and for the last three hours, day is darker than the deepest midnight, darker than death itself.  The taunts and jeers are long gone.  Jesus, hanging there enveloped by an acrid odor, coughs a splintered cry that rends the blackness, reaching heaven itself.  And then…

My savior died.

The ground has finally stopped its pitching and rolling. The screams and groans of people have quieted, and have turned into smothered gasps of shock, and dazed confusion. Strange and frightening sights were revealed to all who had fallen to their knees, or were standing frozen there in that place of public ending, of common execution.

The ones running into the city saw the phenomenon of graves opening and men walking in their grave-clothes along the way. Hearts quaked, beating with almost audible thuds against the ribs cages of countless onlookers. The world literally turned inside-out.

What just happened here? The news quickly spread that in the near-by place of worship, the ancient curtain was torn from top to bottom. What sacrilege; were the gods of the universe angry this day, the day freedom was born and bondage died?

My savior died?

Many people cower and hunker down at the foot of the small rise, for the stony path has erupted. Soldiers stumble and fall with eyes wide and lips rambling incoherently as they make their way to safety. “Surely He was… surely He was…”!

In those moments of chaos, the women, His friends, huddled on their knees at a distance; the sustenance and light of their lives was suddenly gone, without a last hug or the lament of parting. Their purpose was over; it seeped away, as surely as the blood and water that ran down His side to puddle at His feet on the ground. It was over; despair was in the air, and they drank it in with each painful breath.

Ah, if only they, the ones remaining, could see with eyes of faith just three days ahead. Relief, praise, and joy will be so sweet, and remembered words will take on flesh and impart new understanding. Now, God was holding heaven’s breath.

This was the night of the soul, but joy was coming with the new morn. The human mind can not, in its limited imagination, see with the eyes of God; nor can we comprehend what “true love” in His reality demands. The ransom was fully and finally paid.

How could the air stir so sweetly? How dare the day smell so pungently of fresh broken earth, now exposed to the arid air? The anemones are blushing wildly with their faint, lush fragrances and the birds are singing melodies, no more clattering with startled croaks of panic. It is a beautiful, calm aftermath ~ how cruel.

On this day, because of my sin and your sin, our Savior willingly faced degradation, grief, and pain so indescribable, that our finite minds are protected from the knowledge of it. The thing that we can begin to comprehend, but that just partly, is the incredible, amazing, love He has for us. We can only appreciate, with human wisdom, His honor, respect, and holy devotion for the Father, who sent Him to the depths to spare us eternal death.

My Savior died!

The gods of the universe were overcome that day, it was pure victory. The Only God, the Triune God of eternity, wrapped his arms around the world and held us near. “Because He so loved….” The One who has the power of resurrection in His touch, who loves so tenderly, gave His son in a personal way for you and me.

Death died…

Hearts are breaking. Time is slowly dragging, one day, two, thr…, an excitement, a silent but intense joy beyond all understanding fills the air, and morning is almost here.

The sun is rising, it is glorious.
The Son has risen and He is Glory.

…Forever He lives Forever…

Hallelujah! He lives! He reigns! He saves!
Amen.

Events as recorded in Holy Scripture
By~ Matthew in chapter 27

by Barbara Greenhow

One of the curious things about getting old is that while I may not be able to tell you chronologically the things I did last week, I can remember tiny details of incidents that happened more than seventy years ago. One good thing I remember is Sunday School: all the children sitting in neat rows in the basement of the church as we gathered together before we divided off into individual classes. We would recite Bible verses, get attendance rewards, sing choruses and hear the announcements. New people would be given a colorful pencil with a Bible verse on it to welcome them. We had many favorite choruses, and I can still hear the strong baritone of Mr. Patterson, the Sunday School superintendent, trilling every “rrrr” as he led the singing in his rich Scots burr: “Every day with Jesus is sweeter than the day before – Every day with Jesus, I love Him more and more”…

Over all, the little song speaks truth, but as I look back over my life I wonder at the simplicity, the naïveté of our belief that what we were singing was easy. I only wish it were so. My problems are never with the Lord; they are always rooted in my own inability to be like Him.

Every day with Jesus is sweeter than the day before?  There have been many days when I was pushed hard to remember why I had begun this journey; when everything that could go wrong, did go wrong; when no matter how hard I tried to put a positive spin on things, it was still awful. There have been relationships that soured, in spite of telling myself that I was to love everyone, no matter what, and forgive as I have been forgiven. I have sometimes been treated unjustly, and it hurt when it happened, even though I told myself that I was to turn the other cheek, and go the extra mile. There have been those many terrible moments of self-revelation when I saw my own lack of compassion, my indifference, and my self-centeredness. Sometimes, no matter how fervent my prayer, I could not hear God speaking to me, and had to go on a rather shaky faith that He was still there, in spite of my not sensing Him.  To live a life of 100% total trust, of 100% complete peace in Him, has not been my real experience, no matter how much I might wish it were so.  Instead, it has been more two steps forward, one step back. I look at those people in my life who tell me, with faces glowing idealistically, that they have never had doubts, and I smile encouragingly…but behind my eyes, I am struggling with questions.   How have they managed to maneuver through the Christian life with no questions, with no struggle? They must be much better Christians than I.

Do I love Him more and more each day? If I am truthful, I must say that I still have many days when I find myself static and unmoving.  I have struggled with accepting spiritual growth and wellness as He deals with me, and have seen my stubborn refusal to let go of the bits and pieces of me which He is telling me He wants.  It has often been a rocky climb. When I see my own inclination toward selfishness, defensiveness, and occasional indifference toward the needs of others because I am so wrapped up in myself, I am amazed at the purity of His motives, the clarity of His focus.  No mixed motivation there; no wavering, or subtle attempts to walk with one foot in heaven and one in the world, and hoping no one will notice.

As I get older, I believe one of the best things about heaven will be I will finally, once and for all, be rid of this old nature which I carry with me like a millstone around my neck, keeping me from that same purity and clarity which I find in Christ. Overall, though, I see that I have come to love Him more.  I was astonished when I first came to know the Lord; astonished that I could be loved unconditionally, that my sin could be forgiven, and that He cared enough to provide all this grace.  Since then, my love for Him has changed and is of a different quality now.  I love Him not just for what He has done for me, but for Who and what He is, in Himself.  There is a depth of relationship which has come through trust in Him that has never been betrayed.  Even so, I still sometimes find it hard to trust completely.  It is discouraging to realize that I am so thick!

I am not alone.  Why do we try so hard to project this public image? I am sick of wearing masks; tired of trying to project a façade of complete peace in Christ when I am going through trials and the truth is, sometimes I have peace and sometimes I don’t. Although I have learned that no matter what the trial, God will stay with me; that the Comforter is always in my heart, to guide and strengthen me – I still want to avoid pain if possible.  I know that the Lord will get me through it, but there are moments when I wish I didn’t have to go through it at all.  That is not perfect peace.

I believe that others are having the same kind of struggles, but we are all so caught up in projecting our masks, of trying to convince everyone else, ourselves, and maybe even God that we have it all under control, that we have lost the directness and authenticity that God wants from us.   I think about David and his relationship with God. When David prayed, he laid it all out there.  He told God of his love for Him, his absolute belief in God, but also his fear, his anger, his self-pity and desperation, his desire to have God bring down fire on the heads of his enemies.  He usually ended with telling God again of His trust that God’s will would be best.   God loved the genuineness of David’s love and faith in Him.  There was no pretense; no posturing.  David believed God, and spoke to Him on the basis of openness and ingenuousness. Do I have that same kind of authenticity?  Can I trust God with enough of me to be able to hang out all the fear and anger and pride and envy and all the rest of my uglies on a kind of clothesline before Him, and say, “Please look at this, Father.  This is who I am, and I am sorry.  I want and need your help in dealing with it.”

Over the course of my life I have come to trust that I can burden God with all of this, but I often seem unable or unwilling to let my fellow believers see that I am not perfect, that I struggle; and so I hide behind my mask of perfect control, perfect peace. Why? I think it is because I am still trying to make faith into some kind of competition, and I want to win. It is being back under the Law, not grace.

The secret to living a life under grace is in being genuine.  The reality of grace is that we can’t earn it. We talk about how we are free from the Law, and live under grace, and yet we still unconsciously keep trying to earn Brownie points with our good deeds, living in fear of looking as if we don’t have it all under control, striving for perfection in our own strength, being unforgiving toward ourselves.

I need to look deep inside my own soul, and try to see myself as God sees me, and then I will have a much better chance of keeping things in perspective. He knows my limitations far better than I.   I am not a sinner because I do sinful things.  I do sinful things because I am a sinner.  It isn’t by keeping the rules, and striving to be obedient that I overcome.  It is by recognizing that I am a sinner in process; that I can be forgiven when I mess up; that I learn by leaning harder and harder on the grace of God to instruct and guide me. It is through this process that I learn gradually what it means to live practicing the presence of God.  Living a life under grace is the key to take me to the reality of “every day with Jesus is sweeter than the day before”.  Every time I see His patience, His forbearance of my occasional doubts, His way of leading me one small step at a time toward Him – I am finally able to sing with sincerity: “Every day with Jesus I love Him more and more”.

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About Barbara
I am a 77 year old who has been a believer for over 60 years. I have been writing fairly intensely for the past six years.  I wanted to discover, with God, the answers to many questions: solitude vs. loneliness; how to be old in a world driven by activism; how to be content in whatever circumstances the Lord allows, and so on.  I have found the bottom line of all my inquiries is the same: trust God, and obey what you understand of His will. Through submission to His Word and His will, growth and understanding and peace will happen. It is my hope that sharing what I have found will encourage others in their own personal searches.

Recently I went with three old friends to the Jersey Shore.  We are all of different ages and church backgrounds, but years ago we had worked together in the same office and our mutual faith in Christ had helped us become close friends. Over the years, we have gone through quite a lot together, one way and another. One of them has access to a cottage a block from the beach, and we try to get to the shore each year for a couple of days; catching up and renewing old connections.  We each have different burdens in our lives, and have found that a little time at the shore always renews and refreshes us.

One of the women and her sister care for their invalid mother. My friend must maintain tremendous energy to do all she does. She comes home from work each noon time to attend to her mother’s needs and make sure she is comfortable. Their mother is paralyzed from the waist down, and their home is small and not wheelchair friendly. It is a physical struggle as well as an emotional one. My friend provides basic nursing care with tubes, catheters and whatever else is necessary.  She helps maneuver her mother into the bathroom, and helps her get bathed and dressed.  She must physically get her into and out of their wheelchair accessible van for trips to the doctor or church, when her mother is able. It requires great strength to push the chair up the van’s ramp and into a secure position, watching carefully so that her mother is not jostled.  Like many single working women, the two sisters must also prepare the meals, clean the house, and mow the grass on top of full time jobs. Even while we are away, she calls frequently to reassure her sister, who is nervous about unfamiliar nursing tasks, and make sure all is well. I have never once heard my friend sound tired or cross, and her mother knows that she is loved and treasured, and not a burden.

The second woman has been separated from her bi-polar husband for many years, but because he now needs to be in a nursing home situation and has no one else to help him, continues to care for him. She goes to the facility several nights a week after work, making sure he takes his meds, seeing that he is doing his exercises, and so on. In the past, he was difficult and demanding, and although he has mellowed somewhat as he has aged, he has now become very dependent on her. She continues to go in a cheerful, caring mood, ignoring his negativism and paranoia. Along with her sisters, she also is involved, in the care of their very aged father and stepmother. It is very draining, but she does it all in the name of the Lord, with sweetness and grace.

The third woman’s husband had a deeply painful cancer for the past four years, and he had just recently gone home to be with the Lord.  They had a beautiful and deep love affair, and she is totally bereft without him.  During his illness, they both faced things with peace and trust, but she didn’t realize how much she would miss him. She is trying to deal with his absence in faith, but can’t help asking ‘why’ in her darkest moments. This trip to the shore she was still raw with pain, and she needed to talk about it.  Although we occasionally tried gently to divert her thoughts to other channels, somehow the conversation always came back to her husband and the last few days of his life, and her concerns for her children and grandchildren, and their grief.  The only thing we could do was let her talk, and try to be supportive and loving. It wasn’t a burden; it is just what friends do for each other, but it made many of our conversations serious and thought-provoking.  Not a bad thing.

My burden is simply the fact of old age and the physical changes and various insecurities which that has brought to my life.  I am not in a care-giver situation, but my life has changed in various negative ways, and I am finding it a challenge to have gone from fully functioning to being less secure in almost every aspect of my life.  My burden, it seemed to me, was the lightest and the least significant, and I looked in awe and respect at these three younger friends who are living such difficult lives.  Although the love of Christ shines out of them in spite of the constant drain on their emotional and physical resources, my heart was troubled when I saw the fatigue on their faces, and knew that their burdens stretched out in front of them for a long time.  I was discouraged for them, and knew there was essentially no way I could help except to pray.  Somehow, it didn’t seem enough.

The trip to the shore was to be a little oasis of peace in the midst of all this. I love the ocean, and when I lived on Cape Cod for a few years it was frequently one of my joys to go to the beach in the very early morning, and walk the sand and watch the sunrise.  I hadn’t been able to do that for a very long time, and so, when I found myself awake very early one morning, I decided to take advantage of my circumstances and renew my love affair with the dawn.

As soon as I could get up and dressed, I slipped carefully down the stairs in the dark, and walked the block to the beach. I climbed the path and stood on the crest of a hill and looked due east. In that moment I seemed to be alone, and let myself enjoy the sense of connection with the sky and the sea. Most of the sky was still dark, but straight ahead was a faint ribbon of pale pink and gold, just above the horizon. It was chilly, and I pulled my cuffs down over my hands and shrank into my hoodie to feel the warmth. There was a strong, cold wind, and the towering waves soared high over the top of the jetty to my left. They rolled in, inexorably, rising and falling in thunderous cadence. As the light slowly increased, I was able to see that I wasn’t completely alone on the beach.  On the jetty I could make out three people just standing and watching, as I was, motionless in the spray and fall-out from the waves.

Very gradually the light grew, the pink and gold expanding to cover more and more of the sky, but the sun had not yet broken the horizon. Finally a very thin arc of deep rose began to emerge from the line of the horizon, and the sun, with elegant deliberation, moved steadily upward until finally the darkness had all disappeared.  I stood there transfixed, unwilling to let go of the enchantment of the moment.  As I stood watching the sky, and listening to the constant roar of the waves, I felt all tension and anxiety drain from my mind. The waves were hypnotic, and calmness and healing washed over me as I let myself respond to their rhythm.  I felt like primitive man: the light had returned to the sky, and all was well.  All I could think of was part of Psalm 139:  “Oh LORD, my Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth…You have set your glory above the heavens…when I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him?”

I let myself rest in Him in that moment, and knew with total certainty that all our struggles, all our disciplines and trials, are just temporary.  I let myself remember that the Creator of all this beauty and power knows my name; that He loves me, and is available to hear me when I cry out to Him in need. I don’t need to be afraid. I thought of the burdens my friends are carrying, and prayed for them and for myself, and committed us all into His care.  I knew, without question, that He was sufficient to get all of us through whatever problems we have in this life. I remembered Paul’s letter to the Philippians: “Rejoice! …The Lord is near, do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.  And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”  Suddenly I was overwhelmed by the magnificence of His creation and His mercy, and I silently wept in worship, completely humbled by the reality of His love and grace.

I am so grateful that He allowed me that moment.  It renewed my sense of perspective, and started me out on the next week refreshed and serene.  How can I be afraid, when the God of all creation has me secure under His wing, and covered with His feathers? (Psalm 17:8)  Thank you, Father, for Your encouragement, Your comfort, and Your knowing just how to remind me of Who You are and how much You love us.

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About Barbara
I am a 77 year old who has been a believer for over 60 years. I have been writing fairly intensely for the past six years.  I wanted to discover, with God, the answers to many questions: solitude vs. loneliness; how to be old in a world driven by activism; how to be content in whatever circumstances the Lord allows, and so on.  I have found the bottom line of all my inquiries is the same: trust God, and obey what you understand of His will. Through submission to His Word and His will, growth and understanding and peace will happen. It is my hope that sharing what I have found will encourage others in their own personal searches.

“But thanks be to God, who made us his captives and leads us along in Christ’s triumphal procession. Now wherever we go he uses us to tell others about the Lord and to spread the Good News like a sweet perfume.”

—2 Corinthians 2:14 (New Living Translation)

As we approach this season of Thanksgiving, I can’t help but review the events and people who have left their mark on my life. At the time, I probably didn’t appreciate them as much as I do now, but hindsight is always 20/20, isn’t it?

I’d never thought much about heading off to the mission field. In fact, after an extremely boring slide show during fourth-grade church camp, I prayed that God would find something—anything—for me to accomplish closer to home. Our special Saturday night guest arrived at an after-dinner meeting towing a slide projector, a gargantuan case of slides, and a stack of handouts. His wide-eyed expression reminded me of Aunt Bea on Mayberry, RFD, right after she realized that she’d ruined her whole batch of dill pickles.

I’d never met a real-life missionary until that night. Maybe they should have sent a guy who laughed once in a while. Maybe he should have dressed down a bit and wore jeans instead of slacks and a white dress shirt. Or maybe it would have helped if he’d warmed up his audience with a funny story or two. He didn’t seem like any of the dads or pastors I knew. His description of missions work sounded very much like torture.

After switching off the lights, this nervous-twitchy little man cleared his throat, then quoted a few key verses that dripped with “thee’s,” “thou’s,” and “thy’s”. The show began with a grass hut deep in some faraway jungle, and moved on to slides of huge snakes with exotic names I couldn’t pronounce.

“We found this mammoth python coiled around a bucket in our washing area!” he said breathlessly.

Oh great. Pleee-ase, God, do NOT ask me to be a missionary!

The slide show moved on to a series of hairy spiders and a pile of huge mosquitoes that might have drilled the jugular of unwary victims while they slept, had he not done some fancy baiting to lure them into the Mason-jar trap.

When the lights flicked back on, nobody said a word. (Imagine two hundred kids stuffed into a steamy dining hall, and nobody speaking.) It was quite the night to remember. Afterwards, on my trek back up the hill to our cabin, I aimed my brand-new red flashlight back and forth across the path. A girl couldn’t be too careful. You never knew where snakes would hide, the missionary had warned us.

With maturity came a better understanding of God’s “call”. I realized that as a believer, wherever I live, whatever I spend my life doing, He asks me to view my little corner of the world with new eyes. To reflect Jesus by watching for opportunities to show simple kindnesses. To be a friend to the friendless. Encourage a stranger. Cheer a child on. Lift someone’s chin. Leave a good word.

This season, when our hearts turn towards the blessings we enjoy, and the concerns we share as a nation, I’m thankful I had the opportunity to attend church camp as a child. That experience helped me think beyond my own small community, to a world filled with needs I couldn’t begin to imagine. I never thought I’d count that “boring” camp speaker as one of the most influential people God ever brought across my path, but it’s true.

God’s timetable always casts a shadow of the bigger picture.

©2008, Bonnie Bruno

For more slice-of-life stories, visit Bonnie’s Macromoments blog: http://macromoments.blogspot.com

“Behold, I will do a new thing, now it shall spring forth; shall you not know it? I will even make a road in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.” -Isaiah 43:19 (NKJV)

It has been said that life is unpredictable, but change is inevitable. Live long enough, and each of us will experience births, deaths, celebrations and setbacks. Change is a part of daily life, the ebb and flow of our existence.

Two Octobers ago, my husband and I witnessed a surprising change that took place at my favorite wildlife refuge. Situated back off the highway in an area reachable only by a dirt road, Baskett Slough is a wintering home for Canada geese and a host of other wildlife. It’s a rare visit when we don’t spot beaver and nutria paddling their way across the water, or a Great Blue Heron tiptoeing through neck-high grass on a fishing expedition.

This visit proved to be different, though.

We pulled up to the viewing area and I steadied my telescopic camera lens. It was then I realized that a drastic change had taken place within a few weeks’ absence. Instead of clear blue water, we found a whole lot of nothingness. No water, no geese, no songbirds. No furry animals paddling to the other side. Baskett Slough was uncharacteristically desolate and dry. A single fish flip-flopped in a small puddle of muddy water near the shore.

We whined about the awfulness of it all, but quickly recognized a rare opportunity: we could walk out across land that was usually submerged! A trail led down a grassy hill, where we made our way onto rock-hard, parched ground. Its deep crevices reminded me of a photo of a leathery, lined nomad’s face I’d seen in a recent issue of National Geographic magazine.

I wandered off with my camera, not knowing what to expect. To my surprise, I discovered life springing up between those crevices like miniature gifts of autumn. Splashes of gold and red dotted the parched landscape, where delicate, blooming vines curled over and between rocks. Tiny blossoms sprouted in tangles along a sandy edge where water once lapped. It was a fascinating dichotomy of nature, this mix of desolation and new life.

Drought has an astonishing way of forcing change. We witnessed it that day at the wildlife refuge, and again after a forest fire, where wildflowers eventually transformed charred ground into an artist’s palette of colors. Change sweeps through, and a once-predictable plot of land becomes something else seemingly overnight.

It’s not unlike what happens to you and I, when suddenly we realize that our journey through a season of drought has worked something deeper and richer and better into our lives-something we could not have learned any other way.

©2008, Bonnie Bruno

For more slice-of-life stories, visit Bonnie’s Macromoments blog: http://macromoments.blogspot.com

“I see the moon,
The moon sees me…
The moon sees the one that I want to see
God bless the moon
And God bless me…
And God bless the one that I want to see.”

I remember my mother singing that song to me when I was very young. My grandparents lived in another state, and I’d wonder what they were doing at their house at that very moment.

I’d stand on my bed, pull the curtain aside, and peek out my window at the moon. I clearly remember holding my breath at the beautiful sight, and asking how God could make a light so big and bright. How did it stay up in the sky without falling? Could people everywhere see it, or was it just hanging over my town?

I was not quite three years old, filled with a curiosity so huge and intense, I thought I’d burst if I didn’t get my questions answered. Thankfully, my parents had patience. Lots of it.

Does the moon feel cold?
Where does it go when the sun comes up?
How come it sometimes looks round, but shrinks later on?
Will it ever fall to the ground and hit my roof?

I don’t remember ever questioning the fact that God made that big flashlight in the sky. I sometimes pictured kids in faraway lands, asking the same questions. Did their moms sing them the same song?

“God bless the moon
And God bless me…”

My mother’s matter-of-fact answers planted a simple seed of faith in my young heart, which helped me move from curious questioning to a point where I could relax in my heavenly Father’s care. In time, my barrage of questions gave way to a tender awe. I had the answers I needed. All was well.

God made the moon, and He had everything under control. The moon was a permanent part of the sky. It was not going to hit my roof. When I understood God’s role in the universe, I also settled into the fact that He made me, too. He saw me long before I was born. He knew that my eyes would be brown and my hair curly.

A young child’s faith is so very fragile. Each question is an opportunity for us adults to listen with our hearts as well as our ears. Parents who pay close attention to a child’s curious questions are in store for a precious moment: the birth of awe.

When that day arrives, seize the moment! Scatter seeds and see that they’re watered often. Then step aside and allow the Lord to work.

“Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.”–Matthew 19:14 (NIV)

©2008, Bonnie Bruno

For more slice-of-life stories, visit Bonnie’s Macromoments blog: http://macromoments.blogspot.com

“Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The earnest prayer of a righteous person has great power and produces wonderful results.”
- James 5:16 (New Living Translation)

I remember the day Mary’s note arrived, because I had spent most of the night before tossing and turning about a medical test I’d be taking the following day. I never considered myself much of a worrier, but this was different. I was in my thirties, busy with family and a blossoming writing career. I didn’t have time for breast cancer.

After needling it for fluid, my doctor turned to me and said it definitely wasn’t a cyst. “It’s good you found it,” he said, “and if it’s anything serious, don’t worry. We’ve caught it early.”

I suppose that was his way of saying everything would be fine, but it set my worry wheel in motion.

I tore into Mary’s letter (yes, this was in the days of real paper letters, folks), glad for such timely contact from an old friend. “I don’t know what’s going on with you,” she wrote, “but God has been pestering me to pray for you. What’s up?”

God is a nudger. When we’re willing to listen, He’ll often whisper the name of someone in our ear and urge us to pray. Sometimes the nudge comes in the middle of the night. That’s what Mary claimed she received numerous times over the course of that week. Sometimes the nudge to pray comes when we’re in the middle of doing something routine.

I love those nudges because I know that I can trust God’s timing. It’s not that He needs you or me specifically. If we’re too sidetracked, too sleepy, or too lazy to respond, He’ll quickly find someone else, but He doesn’t give up.

Sometimes the Lord nudges me to pray for a passersby, like the old woman I saw walking along the highway one afternoon, or the young mom screaming at her kids in a parking lot. Usually, though, He nudges me to pray for people I know, without a clue as to the urgency of their need. (I remember one night waking up at 3 a.m., with a friend’s name on my mind. Little did I know that she was awake in her house, too, struggling with the thought of her upcoming kidney transplant.)

Many years ago, I read an article about a woman who was awakened with a sudden need to pray for a missionary couple from her church. She’d never experienced such a panicky urge to pray, and couldn’t go back to sleep until the feeling had lifted. A few months later, that same missionary couple visited this woman’s home church while on furlough, and were speaking to a gathering of friends one Sunday evening. They described a day when they were traveling across the African plains in a Jeep.

“Suddenly the ground shook and we automatically thought, EARTHQUAKE!” he said. Seconds later, a quick glance in the rearview mirror told him everything he needed to know. “A gigantic cloud of dust rose from the earth as a herd of elephants bore down on us. I didn’t know what to do. It was obvious we couldn’t outrun them, so I just stopped the Jeep right then and there. It all happened so fast!”

Miraculously, the stampeding elephants tore past on either side of their vehicle, like the Red Sea parting to let the Israelites through. After the church meeting, they discovered that God had awakened their friend in the middle of the night in the U.S. At the very hour they were in danger of being overrun by stampeding elephants, this dear friend was answering a nudge to pray–without knowing why.

God’s nudges are never wrong. My friend Mary’s prayers strengthened and comforted me when I was facing the unknown. Thankfully, a biopsy found the lump was benign, but if it had been cancer, I know that God would have provided plenty of prayer support.

I have a feeling that someday in heaven, we’ll discover how the prayers of both friends and strangers played a vital role in our lives. In fact, answering the call of those gentle nudges from God might be the single most important thing any of us will ever do.

©2008, Bonnie Bruno

For more slice-of-life stories, visit Bonnie’s Macromoments blog: http://macromoments.blogspot.com