Someone to Hold

By Heather Allen –

This summer I met a stocky toddler with honey brown eyes. She and her baby sister are wards of the state.  Over the past year I have spent some time with foster children. In the sadness of their situation there is also joy.  Many believers open their lives and homes to help care for these children. The duration is uncertain; it can be weeks or years. A housemother from a children’s home said girls in her care are constantly moved, often with only ten minutes to gather their belongings and adjust emotionally. I think about my belongings filling shelves and closets and counters while theirs fit in a solitary bag. What would it be like to not know the people you live with or how long you will be with them?

My friend Stephanie is fostering two little girls, and knowing their time together may be short, she longs to give them hope. Zephaniah 3:17 is painted on their temporary bedroom wall.

“The Lord your God is with you, He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing.” (NIV)

Hurting over the toddler, who insists on keeping every possession by her side, Stephanie asked, “If that were you or I, stripped to one small bag that held all our belongings, would we still believe we were loved?  Would we believe our life had purpose? And how tightly would we cling to that bag?” She went further. “Imagine everything you hold is lifted from your grasp. Who would you be?”

In Egypt, the Israelites cried for a deliverer. They prayed God would rescue them. He did. Plagues that struck the Egyptians did not touch them. They were set apart but it was not because they had done anything right, they simply belonged to Yahweh. There was a distinction made. Sadly, knowing they were set apart was not enough to keep them content in the wilderness. Instead a generation fell.

I wonder if the longing to be free ever went beyond idealism.  Instead of having a micromanaged life, they could choose. And in choosing they longed for the certainty that captivity had provided. I feel conviction as I write this, compelled to admit that I sacrifice freedom for certainty too.

I think about that small bag of belongings and my hope that Stephanie’s tot will know there is more. I wish she knew that her little bag held no assurance, that Jesus is enough. And I wish that took the ache and loneliness from her small heart. If it would make a difference, I’d put my hands on her cheeks and kneel and say “let it go sweetie, let it go.”

As I contemplate what might help, a holy hushed whisper asks me the same question, “What would it take for you to lay down your bags and just hold on to me?”

I am bereft and filled with an intense longing for that to be our reality, hers and mine.

Heather Allen spends most of her time caring for her hubby and 3 kids.  Check out her blog: http://www.theknottedapron.blogspot.com/

I Will Find A Way!

By Nina Medrano –

Do you ever find yourself repeatedly hum a familiar song, absentmindedly, singing only parts of the lyrics that come to mind?  Often, when this happens to me, I am preoccupied and therefore miss the message of the song stirring in my spirit.

It has been three days now that my spirit has been stirring this song in my gut.  Like a scratch on a CD, the same lyric is stuck, repeating itself over and over—unable to skip to the next stanza.

“Blessed be your name
On the road marked with suffering
Though there’s pain in the offering
Blessed be your name”

I’m sitting traffic, singing the same lyrics over and over when suddenly the Holy Spirit descends upon me a heaviness of heart for those whose road is marked with suffering and cannot bless His name because of the pain in the offering.

It’s hard to lift your arms in praise when they have grown weary year after year waiting for breakthrough.  It’s hard to praise God when you are losing your home; when your husband did not come home last night; when you can’t pay the electric in the winter; when you cannot afford to get septic; when your teen-age daughter gets diagnosed with pre-cancer cells; when your wife leaves you with three small children to care for; when your First Time Home buyers credit check is delayed—going on a year.

“…When the darkness closes in, Lord
I WILL FIND A WAY… to say…
Blessed be the name of the Lord”

Often, life’s challenges leave a mark in our lives that render us stuck and unable to skip to the next stanza of God’s “streams of abundance flow.”

The power of praise is the weapon that releases God’s power to move on our behalf.  No matter what the circumstance, whether He gives or takes away, whether there is more pain than joy in the offering, we must resolve in our heart to FIND A WAY to bless His name.  With teeth gritting, FIND A WAY!  As if your life depends on it, FIND A WAY to say “Blessed by Your Name” and watch God move like a mighty warrior on your behalf.

^“You are a hiding place for me; You, Lord, preserve me from trouble, You surround me with songs and shouts of deliverance. Selah” (Psalm 32:7 AMP).

Nina Medrano lives in Lubbock TX with Pepper Jack, her rescued Jack Russell Terrier.

Song lyrics from “Blessed Be Your Name,” by Matt Redman.

Get the Brush Out of Your Life

By Teresa G. Lusk –

My middle child has hair just liker her mom’s, thick and long. Brushing her hair is an ordeal daily. To make the hair brushing process smoother, I asked her not to bring me the little blue brush she likes so much and instead use only a large squared brush that hurts less and gets tangles out quicker.

The explanation to why she should use the large brush had been something she heard several times and there was no doubt to why she should use it, to keep her from pain.  Still, she often chose to bring the little hurtful brush and all I heard was crying and complaining as was the ritual.

In our home, we try to use simple opportunities to teach life lessons as we did that day when I had had it. Again, she brought the little blue brush shortly after the tears rolled in. I began to explain that the brush was like sin in our life. That we have a choice to do the right thing or the wrong thing according to the expectation God has for us. If we continue to choose the wrong thing, then we will have pain in our life. That brush was like sin in her  life and when something is causing her pain, she needed to do something about that.

Then, the big question proceeded. I said, “If your brush is causing you to hurt, what should you do with it”? She said, “Get rid of it”! That is right! Get rid of the brush that causes pain in your life. To the trash the brush went and we added on more life lesson to her little heart and mind.

Teresa G. Lusk is the author of Good Enough to be a Homemaker and CEO and a Motivational Speaker. Visit www.teresalusk.com for more information.

Better Part of Valor

By Jane Thornton –

Prom night, thirty years later, still resonates with emotions. Mostly self-mockery at this stage, but I remember the heightened feelings of anticipation and giddiness. Hours spent applying my first set of fake fingernails, a mad dash to the florist for the forgotten boutonniere. For years I planned to wear the floating dress of a southern belle, but, as an oh-so-adult senior, I switched to the sleek, sophisticated look of polyester.

That night, adorned in chic maroon (not pastel), I traipsed into the ladies’ room with a friend to freshen my makeup. Among the throng in front of the mirror, I spotted a dress with vaguely familiar lines.

I elbowed my friend. “Look at her dress. It’s an awful lot like mine except hers vees in the front and mine in the back.”

Eyeing the unaware target of our interest, my friend nodded. “It even has the little cape top.” (I told you this was thirty years ago).

A disdainful sniff scrunched my nose. “The vee in back is much more original.” But my eye was continually drawn to the similarities. “Lisa, I think it’s exactly the same, but she’s wearing it backward . . .”

Slowly an inkling of the mind-boggling reality seeped into my consciousness and horror dawned. “Oh no! I’m wearing my dress backward!”

My awkward words spilled into a sudden silence.

So many lessons can be drawn from that day and night. Vanity. Priorities. Friendship. The list continues. But the moral that resounds over the years is that I should have kept my big mouth shut.

As James 3:2 says, “For if we could control our tongues, we would be perfect and could also control ourselves in every other way” (NLT). The price on prom night was just a few moments of excruciating embarrassment followed by a hands-on tutorial in learning to laugh at oneself. At other times in my life, the damage has been much worse.

I have lost count (and hope my children have also) of the number of bedtimes where I had to apologize for my harsh words during the day. I fear my example for handling stress has put the penalty for my loss of control onto my kids.

Although I know I’m forgiven, I still wince at certain memories. More than once my attempts at humor have resulted in a lack of discretion. My unruly tongue has victimized my husband, my friends, my siblings, and my children. Not malice, but a quick and thoughtless mouth, is the culprit.

Let’s not turn this into the tirade I deserve, but thank God for His incomprehensible grace in forgiving each stumble and listen to His guidance for the future:

“Do not be quick with your mouth,
do not be hasty in your heart
to utter anything before God.
God is in heaven
and you are on earth,
so let your words be few.
A dream comes when there are many cares,
and many words mark the speech of a fool” (Ecclesiastes 5:2-3 NIV).

Manna

By Heather Allen –

It is cold tonight.  I am curled up under a blanket with a book and cup of coffee in hand.  I wanted to read about Moses and Israel and have it stay on the page. I wanted to forget my cares, but that is not to be. Instead, I am entrenched in the desert with the Israelites. As their story weaves through mine, I cannot help wonder if staying in the desert longer than necessary is just something humans do?  Wasn’t it just this afternoon I was concocting a scheme that might help me feel more in control?  I would have been tempted to gather extra Manna with the Israelites. I might have even drawn up maps and offered help planning the route.  Whenever I am afraid, my natural response is to come up with a plan.  Moses’ response was to fall before God.  I think I need a new response.

It seems there are new beliefs built on the journey to the promised land.  God uses my situations to press me towards a decision. Do I count on Him or do I build my own safety net?  I cannot do both.  I either set my own course or I believe God.

Not so many years ago I encountered a situation that snuck up on me, sabotaging me.  I felt like someone had tossed me into a sea of garbage and left me there to try to swim alone if I had the will or strength.  I did not see it coming and as wave after wave crashed on my head I just stood watching, bewildered, mouth gaping. God – are you seeing this?  I am drowning in accusations.  I do not have the reserves to handle this.  After the torrent I only heard one thing.  So I obeyed. Somehow I did not throw-up as I quietly said, “I love you” in response.  I was met with a glare that shriveled my socks.  But I kept myself still, like a child determined to win a staring contest.  I came away with something that I could not forget, that was not washed away as I cried myself to sleep.  Protection does not always look like I think it should, but the wounds were not left gaping.  I was tended through the night.

I love the idea of being hidden in Christ. Of drawing near, and finding a place in His shelter.  I think about Him welcoming me into an inner sanctuary, a private dwelling where I am safe. The thought of Him wanting me to be there is what brings tears to my eyes. The Israelite’s day camp was overshadowed by a cloud, which provided shade from the blazing sun. At night a pillar of fire burned with heat and light. At any point the people could find physical proof that God was with them. He was covering them. There may not be a cloud or pillar of fire noticeably moving as I roam, but the same protection covers anyone who is numbered as His. Light dwells with Him.Yet He still wants me close. Nothing is hidden from Him.Yet He is the only secure place to hide. When all that can be shaken, is shaken, He remains.

“But the eyes of the Lord are on those who fear Him, on those whose hope is in His unfailing love, to deliver them from death and keep them alive in famine” (Psalm 33:18 NIV).

Heather Allen spends most of her time carrying for her hubby and 3 kids.  Check out her blog: http://www.thebloodknot.blogspot.com/

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