I love to ski. I’m not a great skier, but I’ve taken lessons to improve my skill, and I enjoy nothing more than a blue-sky winter day on the slopes. I’m always exhilarated by the breathtaking view of the mountains as I glide down a gentle, tree-lined path on fresh, powdery snow. Crisp mountain air smells better than regular air; it’s cleaner somehow. And the vistas are breathtaking. Sometimes a ray of sun touches the snow-covered tips of distant mountains and seems to set them on fire with its glow.
As I sat in the comfy chair I call my “prayer chair,” my attention was drawn to the winter-bare tree in my front yard. The sky had just begun to lighten with the first hints of the soon-rising sun, and I noticed a bird perched on a branch. At first I didn’t pay much attention, because I was involved in going through my prayer list. But then the little bird shivered. Something inside me went, “Aaawwwww, the poor thing!”
I’ve been over some pretty rugged terrain on life’s road recently. At times it seemed like there were more potholes than pavement on my road. Some of those potholes felt like gigantic craters and I found myself stuck in them, unable to move forward. It’s a good thing I have friends who show up when I need them; tow ropes at the ready.
Not long ago I was working on my laptop, and I had the strangest thought. It’s been a long time since I did a full backup of my data. I’d better do that. I know I should do regular backups, but it’s something I often don’t think about until after the computer is shut down for the night. So it had been several months since my last one. I responded to the nudge and backed up all my critical data.
By Virginia Smith
I am not fond of housework. I know some people love it, but to me, washing dishes is torture, laundry is capital punishment and the vacuum cleaner is something to be avoided at all costs. So I was shocked when an unwelcome idea came to mind one day as I prayed for my friend Judy, who was recovering from a prolonged illness. You should volunteer to clean her house. I tried to dismiss it, to laugh it off as a rogue thought from an overactive imagination. But no matter how much I disliked the idea, I knew that spiritual nudge of rightness had to be from the Lord. Reluctantly but obediently, I called Judy and made the offer.
The next day, armed with rubber gloves and Lemon Pledge, I arrived for my dreaded act of service. “Lord,” I prayed as I got out of the car, “I’m doing this because I love Judy and I love You. Please help me do it cheerfully.” Then I plastered a smile on my face and went inside.