If He Could See Me Now

By Cynthia Ruchti –

I have the distinction of sharing a birth date with four key events in history—the birth of George Washington, the funeral of my beloved maternal grandfather, the funeral of my amazing father, and the funeral weekend of my cherished mother.

I don’t know why the Lord thought I should be the one with those honors.

My father died seventeen years ago. I still catch myself wanting to tell him something I know he’d find fascinating. He found most things fascinating. He read encyclopedias (the book kind) for fun.

He would have found the accessibility of the Internet more thrilling than an amusement park. His thirst for information would have made him a cyber-soaker-upper.

He loved learning. Thanks for passing that on to me, Dad.

He loved words. Double thanks. (He was a ringer in the game of Balderdash. He knew all the real definitions!)

He was passionate about communicating the wonders tucked into God’s Word. Infinite thanks.

I wish he could have met my grandchildren, and they him. They would have adored him. He’d read them stories, never failing to include all the words on the title and copyright pages. He’d build Lego towers to rival Babel. He’d play Catapult-the-Kid in the pool and draw cartoon characters with a skill that would make us wonder how he decided between art and music for a career.

If he could see me now, I think he’d be pleased on at least three levels.

1. I love words as much as he did. I love the taste of them. Their texture. Their pulsating power.
2. My appetite to share God’s truths is never satiated.
3. Music still moves me.

One of my fondest latter years’ memories with my dad is sitting in the back of the movie theater, watching the credits roll following the viewing of “Amadeus.” We stayed, entranced, until the last frame—not for the names, but for the music.

Would my dad have been a blogger if he’d lived that long? Maybe. He had plenty to say. In some ways, he’s still speaking.

PRAYER: Father God, thank You for giving me the heritage of a godly dad and a godly mom. Thank You for birthing things in me that speak of them. May I represent them—and You—with honor and grace all the days of my life.

“Honor thy father and mother; which is the first commandment with promise” (Ephesians 6:2 KJV).

Today’s devotional is by Cynthia Ruchti, writer/producer of THE HEARTBEAT OF THE HOME radio ministry and president of American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW). Cynthia’s debut novel—They Almost Always Come Home—released with Abingdon Press May 1 and a Christmas novella—A Door County Christmas—released in September. Cynthia writes stories of Hope-that-glows-in-the-dark (www.cynthiaruchti.com).

Harbored

By Cynthia Ruchti –

I snapped a picture while on a mother-daughter getaway in Wisconsin’s Door County two springs ago—a lone boat tethered in a quiet harbor. I’ve turned to the photo many times, wondering why I’m drawn to it. What is it about it that speaks something deep to my heart? If I can’t define it, is it worth pondering?

I took it out again one day in the throes of an early snowstorm, the kind that spreads a layer of ice first in order to give the snow something to slide on. Was I drawn to the serene photograph because it’s just natural that I would find blue skies and non-frozen water appealing? It was more than that. Green leaves on the trees? Lush, but more than that. The reminder that spring in Wisconsin offers air that won’t freeze your lung lining when inhaled?

No. It was the sailboat. The lone sailboat at rest.

Tethered in its slip, the boat wasn’t currently performing the task for which it was designed. The boat in the photograph is at rest. Harbored. Waiting.

I wonder if it is restless. Does it strain against the moorings because it is eager to get on with it, to serve, to move, to go places, to offer its owner the benefit of its gifts?

Looking at it, I’d have to say it looks content, satisfied to wait for the day the owner walks down the length of the concrete pier, hops aboard, releases her from her moorings, unfurls her sails, and with a gentle push away from the immovable pier says, “Okay, girl. Let’s see where the wind takes us today.”

When the Lord comes down the pier to release me from the ropes that keep me in the harbor, will He find me resting but ready? Or restless?

PRAYER: Lord, Your Word tells me that I find my rest in You. It reminds me that Your ways are not my ways, nor Your thoughts my thoughts. It even tells me that Your timing is perfect when mine is so often rushed. Create in me a new heart, Lord, one that’s willing to rest and wait for You to set me sailing.

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord” (Isaiah 55:8, KJV).

Today’s devotional is by Cynthia Ruchti, writer/producer of THE HEARTBEAT OF THE HOME radio ministry and president of American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW). Cynthia’s debut novel—They Almost Always Come Home—released with Abingdon Press May 1 and a Christmas novella—A Door County Christmas—released in September. Cynthia writes stories of Hope-that-glows-in-the-dark (www.cynthiaruchti.com).

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