Patience

 “Have patience in all things, but chiefly with yourself.

                                                                                                St. Francis DeSales

Image by Hans from Pixabay

Patience. Oh, how many times have I tested God’s patience? Thank goodness his patience and grace are endless, because if it all relied on my goodness, I’d be in real trouble. I can’t count how many times I fall from grace in just one day.

My most recent failure is patience while looking for a more affordable rental that ticks all my boxes. I want to run ahead and grab something, even if it requires me to pay double rent for a couple of months.  

My common sense says, maybe one month’s rent would not be unreasonable, but not two. After all, I’m not in L.A. or San Francisco, where rental properties are hard to find. I need to give it time. God has promised me He is preparing me a place. (And every day I’ve seen rainbows in my newsfeed, my devotions, and outside my window. Reminders that God never reneges on His promises.)

But I hate the not knowing, the second-guessing, and I admit, some anxiety over finding a place to call home for a few years. I want to urge God to work faster. Scripture reminds me I can’t hurry God. His timing is always perfect, even if His answers seem to be taking too long.

Swinging back to patience for myself, when I fall from grace, it’s easy to be overly remorseful, dwelling on the fall rather than God’s forgiveness and continued grace. However, each failure humbles me, reminds me I am imperfect and in dire need of God’s hand in my life.

“Thank you, Lord, for your grace, strength, and patience. I pray I learn how to have more patience with my circumstances, with others, and myself.” Amen. 

Life Lessons from a Doggie Door

AI image created by author

Interesting coincidence this post popped up in my memories at the start of a new year. My first reaction was to worry about what might be on the horizon. However, if I truly trust God, I’ll leave my concerns in his hands while taking this lesson to heart.

Our previous Brittany, Scout, underwent extensive surgery to remove an embedded cheatgrass, requiring him to be under constant supervision until the sutures and the drain were removed. This meant no doggie door. Used to going in and out whenever he wished, Scout didn’t understand why the door was closed, and he had to wait for us to take him in and out. He sat for hours beside the door, pleading with us to open it.

Ten long tedious days later, the vet removed the drain, and the much anticipated moment had finally come. We opened the doggie door. Scout poked his head out - and froze.

As fate would have it, our beautiful weather had turned ugly. Wind howled around the house like a wolf on the hunt. Snow whipped in snarling swirls, laced with pelting rain. I half expected Scout to go out anyway, but he didn’t. He retreated to his warm bed and took a nap.  

Several hours later, I heard the familiar whap whap of the doggie door. While Scout took his nap, the wind died down. The rain and snow stopped, and the sun peered out from heavy clouds. While resting, circumstances changed. Scout’s joy was only postponed, not taken away.

Thus, I learned the value of patient waiting. In fact, I’ve written this in the front cover of my Bible: A patient wait often leads to a happy ending. It did for one patient puppy. It will be for me too.

Thank you, Lord, for all the life lessons you’ve taught me, leading me to trust you more than my circumstances. Amen. 

What If It Snows?

By Evgeni Dinev "FreeDigitalPhotos.net"

I have managed not to worry about global warming, being murdered in my bed, tornados or hurricanes. (I know, we don't have the last two in Idaho, but I worried about them anyway.) In other words, I have managed to stop worrying about things I have no control over ―  mostly. However, other worries have replaced them. Why do I do that?

Every weekday morning, I utilize every possible second to write, read my devotions, and keep up on some social sites. Mixed in of course is time to shower, dress, fix my lunch, have breakfast, exercise and get on the road in time to be at work twenty miles away by eight in the morning.

That’s a lot to accomplish. If I was smart, I wouldn’t try to cram so much in, but I can't let go of any of it and thus starts the worry chain. What if it snows and I have to leave earlier? Well, guess what? It did snow.

Insurance

My Aunt once said, "Money can't buy you happiness, but I'd sure like to try it." I laughed, but secretly concurred. This world is a struggle without money to buy the necessities, and who doesn't want some of the extras? And, not only a few extras, but insurance against all kinds of calamities as well.

We are a nation of insurance. By law we must carry vehicle insurance, and right now our country is in a huge emotional and political turmoil over health insurance. We seek all kinds of means to insure ourselves against disasters, often going to great lengths to protect ourselves, when in truth, we cannot insure our lives against trials and struggles. They will come regardless of how protected we think we are.

Don't get me wrong. There is prudence in planing for future events, however, as Jesus said, "Children, how difficult is it for a man who trusts in riches to gain heaven?" It is our trust in these plans - insurances- rather than our trust in God that gets us into trouble. If we spend our entire lives focusing on acquiring enough money, enough insurance, enough things to be what we perceive as fully protected, we will end up like the rich man in Jesus' parable, never enjoying or recognizing the blessings we have right here, right now, waiting for that perfect moment in the future when we will have enough, and by that time it may be too late.

I had a huge lesson in this truth last week.

It started the moment I arrived at work.  I fought the sun shield for several minutes before finally getting it to stay in place, and then my lipstick fell out of my purse and rolled under the front seat as I stepped out of the car. I couldn't retrieve it without crawling through the back seat, standing on my head and reaching under the front seat almost to my shoulder. My once perfectly coiffed hair was disheveled, my clothes needed rearranging, and my extra few minutes I usually have before requiring to start work were gone. My attitude was in a downhill slide, and continued sliding as Murphy's Law went into full effect with everything I touched or did.

I left work feeling drained, exhausted and defeated, wondering how much longer my temp position would last, what would my husband and I do financially if it ended, and would I ever be able to find a permanent job in this economy. Topping it all off was a rejection response from one of my job applications. I wanted to sit down and sob, but for a change I didn't.

Instead I remembered all the times God rescued me from similar situations, the times He fed and clothed me, healed me, found jobs for me and even paid my car insurance: ( See: Lilies). I felt better, more confident, and went to bed with the belief the next day would be better.

My devotions the next morning included Streams in the Desert.  "Why are you still afraid? Do you still have no faith?" Mark 4:40. And, "Faith can change any situation, no matter how dark or difficult" Included also was 2 Timothy 11: "...what persecutions I have endured, and out of them all the Lord has delivered me." Along with: "The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid. What can man do to me?" Hebrews 13: 5-6.

There is no insurance against suffering, except God's grace and our faith in Him. We must believe He will give us the grace and strength to endure our trials at the moment it is needed, not before, not after, but during. We cannot dwell on our past sorrows, or borrow from future ones. As Samuel Clemens once said, "I have lived a hard life, some of which actually happened."

 In truth, God has not always provided for all my needs - at least not all that I believed were needs. Some very important things - and people - have been taken away. Why? If I am to believe He will provide everything I need, why does He sometimes take them away?

My personal theory? God wants to be the only thing we cannot live without, and He sometimes takes away the things the world, and I, deem necessary: money, family, husbands, health, and sometimes even a church community in order to prove to me I can live without them, but not without God. That is true faith.

Abraham always comes to mind when I think of faith being tested. As scripture says, even the angels were awed with Abraham's faith, and God rewarded Abraham's faithfulness with the restoration of his son, the fulfillment of God's promise to him. Will He not do the same for me?

Plan B

As a former florist, I assisted with thousands of wedding plans. Three brides still I hold a special place in my heart.  

The first called the shop on a quiet mid-week afternoon.  The young woman asked if was possible to have a wedding bouquet in an hour.

"If you choose a simple style and flowers I currently have in stock, we can have one ready." I replied.

"Great. My friend will be down to pick it up and pay for it."

My staff and I quickly put a hand tied bouquet of red roses together, boxed it, and had it waiting at the counter.

The friend gushed over the bouquet. "It is perfect, exactly what she wanted. But, I see she didn't order a boutonniere for her groom. "

"That will only take a moment, if you don't mind waiting."

The woman agreed, and while we designed the arrangement, she told us the story behind the rushed wedding. The couple planned a large ceremony later in the summer, but her mother was diagnosed with terminal cancer a few months ago and the disease spread rapidly. At the moment the doctors did not expect her to live more than a few more hours. The couple decided it was more important for her mother to witness their vows rather than to have an elaborate ceremony. The bride chose Plan B and arranged to have a quiet ceremony in the hospital room.

After hearing the story, I told the friend there would be no charge that day. The bouquets were my gift to the bride and groom. The next day the grateful bride called to thank me and inform me her mother had passed a way a few hours after the ceremony. Rather than leaving on a honeymoon, she and the family would be in to plan flowers for the funeral. I offered my condolences and prayers.

"It's okay," she said, "I got to share that special moment with my mother and I have no regrets. She is at peace and out of pain, and I am starting a new life as a wife. And, that's life."




The second story is similar. The couple I finished deciding all the details of the wedding except for the number of boutonnieres.

"We need five boutonnieres for groomsmen and one lady's boutonnier."

"Oh, I'll add that to the list of ladies corsages."

"No, I want it placed in with the men's."

I raised my eyebrows, but did as she asked.

"You see," she continued, "my husband's best friend was killed in a car wreck last week and his wife is standing in his place. She will wear a black dress matching the men's tuxes and she will hold the rings."

This bride also chose Plan B.

And then, the third, my daughter's wedding. Two big questions loomed in her plans. Her dad passed away several years earlier and would not be there to walk her down the aisle, or dance with her for the traditional Father and Daughter dance. She too chose Plan B. Her grandfather walked her down the aisle, and her older brother held the honor of dancing with her. The day was touched with a tinge of melancholy, especially when the memorial candles were lit and the sololist sang, I'll always be with you. The moment passed, and the minister announced the newly married couple to the congregation and the music shifted the light hearted recessional and my daughter and her husband exited the church, and began their new life. 

Even though these brides did not have the exact wedding they had dreamed of, and hoped for, they chose to be courageous move forward, rather than throwing up their arms and wallowing in sorrow and self pity. The pain was still there, but it did not hold them back.

As L.B. Cowman wrote in Streams in the Desert:

Weeping inconsolably beside a grave will never bring back the treasure of a lost love, nor can any blessing come from such sadness. Sorrow causes deep scars, and indelibly writes its story on the suffering heart. We never completely recover from our greatest griefs and are never exactly the same after having passed through them. Yet  sorrow that is endured in the right spirit impacts our growth favorably and brings us a greater sense of compassion for others.

I also witnessed a few young brides fly into a rage when the roses weren't the exact, perfect shade of ivory, or some other plan for their big day fell through. I worried about them. If they had such a difficult time letting go of Plan A and moving with grace to Plan B, how would they face true tragedy and sorrow? After all, life really is all about Plan B.

Life Lessons from a Doggie Door

Scout's troubles began with a roll in the soft green grass of our backyard. What should have been  safe was actually extremely dangerous. Hidden in somewhere that lush green carpet was a life threatening menace.

The issue first became apparent with a large swelling on the right side of Scout's neck. This mass grew at a an alarming pace. The Vet concluded it was some kind of bacterial infection from an unknown source. Antibiotics were administered and the swelling decreased, but never went away.  Another visit to the vet, another round of anti-biotics with the same result.

Minor surgery followed to remove the abscess and as much scar tissue as possible. A cloth drain was inserted and more antibiotics administered. The wound continued to drain for several more weeks.

It was obvious something more invasive needed to be done. The vet referred Scout to a specialty clinic with a large staff of surgeons and state of the art equipment. A CAT Scan revealed a long trail of scar tissue ending at a large mass of infected tissue. The culprit, a foreign object of some kind,  was working its way deep into neck tissue. If it wasn't found and removed it would eventually rupture a major artery or enter a vital organ. It was either surgery or euthanasia.

We didn't have the money for the surgery, but the thought of putting down an otherwise healthy young dog broke our hearts. After an hour of hopeless grieving, I began to pray, not so much for Scout or my self, but for my husband. He and Scout were best buddies, inseparable from morning to night. Loosing our little Brittany would be devestating.  I placed the matter in God's hands.


Less than an hour later we had the money for the surgery. I have been amazed many times over the course of my lfe, yet this one dropped me to my knees in humbled awe. Not that it happened, and from a very unlikely, no impossbile source, but how quickly it was done. 


Even so, the surgery was not a guarantee. There was a 10% chance the foreign matter couldn't be found and surgery in the neck area was risky in itself. I chose to cling to the 90% chance the foreign matter would be found and removed without any life threatening damage. Surely God wouldn't have provided a miracle only to allow it a tragic end. 

The surgery lasted over two hours. The surgeons were ready to give up. Then, with one last desperate incision, the object popped through the muscle. It was a large piece of wild grass, approximately a half inch long and and a quarter inch wide. The doctors were amazed such a large piece could work its way through the skin and burrow so deeply without leaving any outward wound.

After a night at the Veterinary hospital, Scout came home, one a sad looking little puppy. Half his body was shaved. A huge incision, covered with too many sutures to count, reached from the center of his neck almost to his shoulder, and the most troublesome of it all was the drain tube sutured into the upper shoulder. As long as it was in place he couldn't be without supervision. This meant, no doggie door.  Scout sat for hours beside the door, yearning very obvious in his eyes. We felt like jail wardens.

 After ten days of pining and yearning, the drain was finally removed, and the much anticipated moment had finally come. We opened the doggie door. Scout immediately poked his head out - and froze.


The weather had been picture perfect for the entire recuperation period, until that morning.  The wind howled around the house like a wolf on the hunt. Snow whipped in snarling swirls, laced with pelting rain. I half expected Scout to go out anyway, but he didn't. He retreated to his warm bed and took a nap.  

That simple choice took me by surprise and taught me a lesson about disappointments. I could take them in stride, as Scout did, and patiently wait for things to change, or I could whine and pace, making myself and everyone around me miserable.

I was still mulling this idea over several hours later when I heard the familiar whap, whap of the doggie door.  I looked up. The wind had died down. The rain and snow had stopped and even the sun had peered out from heavy clouds. While Scout was comfortably and peacefully sleeping, patiently waiting for circumstances to change, they had. His joy had only been postponed, not completely taken away.

Now every time I hear that doggie door flap back and forth, I think of patience, of graceful acceptance of what we cannot control or change, and a simple lesson on life from a gentle hearted Brittany pup and a doggie door.