Thank Goodness for Mercy

by Susan Dollyhigh –

It is of the LORD’s mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not.

They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness.

Lamentations 3:22-23 KJV

Moca’s sad, weak eyes looked up at me conveying her discomfort while her head, seemingly too heavy to lift, remained on the floor. My miniature dachshund’s brown tail that usually wagged upon seeing me lay limp. Moca, who had feasted on a delectable baby bird, was now paying the price with what I thought was just a bad tummy ache. After a couple of days with no improvement, I gathered Moca’s ten-pound body and carried her to the car. She lay still in my arms even as I walked into the vet’s office where she usually tried to escape the upcoming torture by running the other way. Upon examining Moca, Dr. Truban diagnosed pancreatitis and immediately hospitalized the sick puppy.

After a week of IV fluids and antibiotics, Moca was allowed to come home but had to return to the vet for weekly check-ups and blood work. Dr. Truban, who’d taken care of Moca, was usually available for these appointments but one day was out of the office and his partner, Dr. Brinegar, filled in for him.

“What’s going on with Moca?” Dr. Brinegar asked as he walked into the exam room.

“Well, Moca ate a baby bird a few weeks ago and…”

Dr. Brinegar’s eyes grew wide with dismay and he looked first at Moca and then back at me. “I love birds,” he said. “In fact, I love those feathered creatures so much I even specialized in birds in vet school.”

Looking at Moca I thought, You, Puppy, could be in big trouble. The man who holds your very life in his hands loves birds. And he knows you ate one.

Knowing that Moca brought this illness upon herself and that she did so by ending the life of an innocent baby bird could have impacted the amount of compassion Dr. Brinegar had on Moca. His mercy level could have plummeted upon hearing this dreadful news. But it didn’t. Dr. Brinegar gently picked up the guilty puppy. “Come here, Girl. Let’s see how you’re doing.” It was soon evident Dr. Brinegar didn’t care what sin had gotten Moca into her predicament; he only wanted to help her get well. Thank goodness for mercy.

Aren’t we glad that the One who holds our very life in His hands has the same kind of mercy on us? In the Old Testament book of Psalms, King David, whom God referred to as a man after His own heart, cried out to God for mercy after a time of great sin in his life. King David’s affair with Bathsheba led to the subsequent murder of her husband Uriah. Sadly, the child born of this affair died and as a result of all of this, King David ended up a broken man. But King David knew his healing could only come from God and he cried out in Psalm 51:1, “Have mercy on me, O God, according to your unfailing love; according to your great compassion blot out my transgressions.”

When we, like King David, go to the Lord and confess our sin, the details could affect the amount of compassion God has on us. His mercy level could plummet upon

hearing the dreadful news. But it doesn’t. He gently pulls us into his arms. “Come here, my child. Tell me all about it.” It’s soon evident Our Father only wants to heal us from our sin and restore us to a right relationship with Him. Thank goodness for mercy.

Blessings,

Susan D.

Our Father, thank you for Your mercy. Thank you that it is new every morning. Great is your faithfulness, Lord unto us.

Would Anyone Know You Are Related To Him?

By Susan Dollyhigh –

And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit (2 Corinthians 3:18).

As I made a drive-through deposit at the bank, I noticed that the teller kept looking up at me. As she returned the deposit slip to the metal bin, she said, “You sure remind me of a girl I went to school with.”

I asked her what the girl’s name was and the teller looked down as she tried to recall a name from long ago. Suddenly she looked up, smiled and said, “Geraldine Atkins.”

Time seemed to stop as I comprehended her words. Then I shared with her that my mother, Geraldine Atkins Shelton, had recently passed away.

With a smile the teller said, “She was such a sweet girl.”

The conversation left me feeling so many emotions. Sadness that my mother is gone. Happiness that I had talked to someone who knew her as a girl. Thankfulness that my mother had such a sweet and gentle spirit. And just a little pride that this stranger could tell that I was related to her.

As we go through life, others are looking to see who we might be related to. I hope that those I encounter might think, you know, she sure reminds me of Someone. I hope that there’s enough of Him and so little of me that His light shines through. I hope they can see His sweet and gentle spirit living in me. And if anyone ever asks if I’m related to a carpenter from Galilee, I’m sure going to feel just a little pride as I answer, “Yes.”

Purple Basil Nightmare

By Susan Dollyhigh –

“Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the body is weak” (Mark 14:38, NIV).

One day, I saw and purchased a beautiful, ornamental purple basil plant thinking it just the right addition for my little herb garden. This plant grew very fast. The dark purple, frilly leaves were beautiful and it smelled wonderful. I enjoyed its beauty all summer long. When winter came, the basil plant died and I soon forgot it.

Spring came and I looked at my garden and saw little, purple basil plants coming up all over the place. I felt so proud. Boy, do I have a green thumb. Those little plants just kept coming up, and coming up, and coming up. Before long, they were trying to take over my entire garden. Hold on there, I have some other things planted in this garden. I didn’t want to just pull up the basil but I had to give the giant hibiscus a little space. And my purple salvia and lilies were completely surrounded by basil. Then, I started noticing the purple plants in my other flower gardens.

Soon my neighbor told me she had purple basil coming up in her garden. “Just sharing,” I told her with a neighborly wave as I backed up to return home. It became a serious problem when my Aunt Millie, who lives in the house below me, told me that my Uncle David had taken a strange, purple plant to the city horticulturist because it was coming up all in their yard.  Soon my section of the neighborhood had become a purple basil nightmare. I was even pulling it from the cracks in the sidewalk.

That purple basil plant was beautiful. I hadn’t seen any harm in it. I just wanted to enjoy its beauty and fragrance. My experience with this plant sounds like what happens in our lives. The purple basil may be anything Satan puts in our path. It may be beautiful and fragrant. It may make us feel good. But before we know what has happened, it has taken over the garden of our lives and choked out the things we really wanted to keep. The hazard is it may even spread and affect people around us.

I should have found out more about that basil before I planted it. The horticulturist told my neighbor that it spreads and takes over everything.

We need to be aware of those appealing, beautiful traps that Satan puts in our lives because they too can spread and take over everything. God’s word and His Spirit living in us will help us to be alert before the purple basil nightmare occurs in our lives.

In Our Father’s Arms

By Susan Dollyhigh –

Blonde curls bounced as the blue-eyed little girl pranced down the aisle. The pastor had called for all the children to join him at the front of the church for the children’s message. The little blonde-haired girl joined the circle of small boys and girls seated on the carpeted floor. Read more

Twenty-five with 25 Years’ Experience

By Susan Dollyhigh –

Yet, O LORD, you are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand. Isaiah 64:8 (NIV)

Reaching the big Five-Oh! was like a heavy-weight boxing champion hitting me smack in the face. I didn’t stress over being 30. I didn’t sink into a deep depression when I turned 40. But 50—that’s a half-century! Read more

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