The Final Letting Go

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I thought I had accepted this new life and was looking forward to a new future, but I dreaded the upcoming Valentine’s Day. I imagined the day would weigh heavy on my heart, yearning for the love I lost. But then God sent the dream...   

My late husband appeared to me in the hospital waiting room. He gestured for me to sit on a nearby bench and took a seat beside me.

He said, “I know we hoped the surgery would give us more time, and I agreed to it, but when I became bedridden, I was  a burden I didn’t want to be and one you didn’t need. As much as I hated leaving you, it was better that I did, for both of us. Now it’s time you let me go, really let me go, and move on with your life.”

I wanted to argue that I wasn’t ready, but recognized he was right. Refusing to let him go was selfish. If I loved him as much as I claimed, I’d let him go.

I woke up changed. Rather than looking back and focusing on what I lost, I now recognize what I accomplished and how far I’ve come. I still love him and always will, but instead of clinging and pining for a life that’s gone, I cherish my memories of our life together and set my face forward, not back.   

The clouds that had plagued our area for so long gave way to sunshine, inside my heart as well as outside my window. I feel lighter, less burdened.

Valentine's day. I woke without the sadness I had expected. Instead, peace filled my heart. No tears. No yearning.

God’s love is eternal and his promises are true. “I will turn their mourning into gladness; I will give them comfort and joy instead of sorrow.” Jeremiah 31:13.

You have, Lord. Thank you. Amen.  

Ferocious Love

Solomon’s Song of Songs 8:6-7:

Set me as a seal upon your heart,

    as a seal upon your arm,

for love is strong as death,

    passion fierce as the grave.

Its flashes are flashes of fire,

    a raging flame.

 Many waters cannot quench love,

    neither can floods drown it.

If one offered for love

    all the wealth of one’s house,

    it would be utterly scorned.

Ferocious. The dictionary has several definitions of the word, but this one resonates with God’s love for us: an extreme or very great in amount, level, or degree.

God’s love isn’t lukewarm. It’s fierce, loyal, jealous. But in all the right ways. Fierce enough to become human and die for us.

Christ, the Lion of Judah, fighting for us against evil, and yet gentle as a shepherd caring for his sheep.  

Thank you, Lord, for loving us enough to become one of us and then die in our place, giving us eternal life. No gift is greater. No love can be more fierce. Amen.  

 

Merry Christmas! 

Flawed But Perfect

Image by Clker-Free-Vector-Images from Pixabay      

Life got a little more complicated this week. When I first started my diet, my husband was fine with my cooking low sodium meals and then added his own seasoning, but after the first week came the hints.

“This would be better if it was cooked with salt.”

He came home from the market with salted butter, salted popcorn, and salted ingredients for every meal on our menu.

At first, I was angry. I didn’t yell or say much, but again my body language said enough. After anger came the tears. It’s hard enough to adjust to this new lifestyle and without my husband’s support, it will be even harder.

To comply with his request for salted foods, I’d have to fix two meals every night and wash double the dishes. (I’m the chief cook and dishwasher.)

Well, God let me know what He thought about my attitude.

I opened Our Daily Bread the next morning and found this: Love That Forgives.

Uh oh.

“Bear with each other and forgive each other.” Colossians 3:13.

If I had any doubt he meant my marriage, the next paragraph settled that. The author told the story of a couple who have been married for eighty years. When asked what the most important aspect was for staying together that long, they replied, “Choosing forgiveness.”

The reading listed the different ways we hurt each other through unkind words, a broken promise or forgotten task. 

St. Paul urges us to choose compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience when dealing with each other. I had failed every one. He pounded it into my stubborn brain again with the words, “But above all, these things have charity, which is the bond of perfection.” This is especially important for a healthy relationship.  

My husband is addicted to both salt and sugar. Is it fair of me to expect him to restrict his diet the same as mine? He’s not demanding I eat the same things, only cook two different meals. While I want to huff and sputter, God told me his opinion on the matter. So, with prayer, I’ll forgive what I perceive as a disregard for my health issue, and focus instead on all the things that are right with my relationship.

My husband is kind, affectionate, responsible, romantic, fun to be with, and supportive in many ways. He’s my best friend. Flawed, yes. But so am I. And yet, we are also perfect for one another.

After further reflection, my husband offered a compromise. Instead of cooking two different meals, he’d mix salt into his portion of the low sodium dish rather than sprinkling it on top. He believes this will give him the flavor he’s used to without compromising my diet.

Dear Lord, thank you, again, for showing me the errors of my thoughts and actions, giving me the chance to rectify them before they do more damage. Amen.  

  

Love and Faith

 

Image by stempow from Pixabay 

My husband has never attended church services. He’s had too many unpleasant experiences with organized faith during his long career in law enforcement, culminating when his late wife’s pastor came to his home asking for more money. The man drove a beautiful brand-new car, lived in a luxurious house on a hillside outside of town, and wore expensive suits. At the time, my husband struggled to pay for his family’s necessities.

When my husband and I were dating, I worried about pursuing a relationship with someone who might not support my faith. Through a strange encounter. (See:     ) I was told to read 1 Peter 3:1. It would answer my question.

 “In like manner also let wives be subject to their husbands: that if any believe not the word, they may be won without the word, by the conversation of the wives.”

A few months after we met, we had a long discussion regarding my faith. Although he refused to attend services, he vowed to support my faith, always. He’s never gone back on that promise, even going as far as driving me to and from services after my surgeries.

My husband admitted he believes in God and prays. Every Sunday he asks for a recap of the sermons, but still refused to attend.

To my surprise, he announced he wanted to go with me to church last Sunday. He gets lonely when I’m gone that long. (Forty-minute drive to and from church and then, of course, the service.)

I was just happy he wanted to go. Unfortunately, that Sunday’s sermon was on the Biblical principal of tithing. I don’t need to explain his reaction.

The next day, he brought up the subject of the sermon. He had gone with an open mind and left with a closed one. However, to my surprise, he wants to go again, but only as my escort. (His words). I’m touched, and I know God will use it for His purpose. So, I leave it in His hands.

In my devotions the next day was this blessing in Numbers 6:24–26. “The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace.”

Peace. Peace about our world, our country, my church, my family, and my husband’s reasons for attending Sunday services.

Thank you, Lord, again, for your patience and encouragement. I can’t do this thing called life without you. Amen.

 

 

 

Abiding in Love

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As I was making coffee this morning, two different roasts, I reflected on how much my husband’s tastes have changed over the course of our marriage. When we first met, we preferred almost everything the same. Now, we are almost opposites. While mine remained mostly unchanged, his narrowed.

I still prefer mild roast coffee. He now wants medium. We once liked the same half and half creamer. He wants sweet cream. I prefer, and for dietary reasons, more chicken and fish. He wants almost nothing but beef.

His doctor blames the natural course of aging and COVID on the change. Unless it has a strong flavor or seasoning, he can’t taste it.

Figuring out a menu we could both enjoy (and eat) was a challenge at first, but after some thought, I found a solution. For example, when I make our favorite recipe for minestrone soup, instead of adding the meat with the principal ingredients, I cook those separate. We each dish the soup and then add our meat preference. For other meals, we fix two different meats and serve them with the same side dishes.

Even though the compromises mean a little more work, he’s worth it. Our love for each other has only deepened over the years, despite the changes in preferences.

We pepper our day with hugs, kisses, and sweet words. We hold hands while watching movies. When a romantic song plays in a movie or on our playlist, he pulls me into his arms and dances with me around the living room. We cuddle on the porch swing and watch the sunset. I’ll make his coffee. He’ll make mine. He’ll cook his beef while I cook my chicken.

We abide in our love in a similar way to what Jesus told the Apostles, “If you keep my commandments, you shall abide in my love; as I also have kept my Father’s commandments and do abide in his love.”

God commanded, “Wherefore a man shall leave father and mother and shall cleave to his wife: and they shall be two in one flesh.” Genisis 2:24, and “Nevertheless let every one of you in particular love his wife as himself: and let the wife fear [respect] her husband.” Ephesians 5:33. 

Charity begins in the home, so does love.

Thank you, Lord, for giving me a wonderful man to be my companion. Help me to always adjust to changes with a mind toward solutions rather than bemoan the differences. Amen. 

Merry Christmas!

 

Limitless Kindness

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It seems some lessons need to be learned over and over. Since my husband’s battle with Covid last year, I’ve taken over more and more of the chores. His stamina is better, but still not back to the pre-virus level. Most days, I do fine. Others, when I am feeling tired and overwhelmed, I tend to be a little crabby. I don’t always voice my grumpiness, but I am sure my body language does.

I’ve been trying to change my attitude and ask my husband to help more, but that flaw most women carry often gets the better of me. You know the one. We think others should know what needs to be done and should offer to help without being asked. Not that my husband doesn’t volunteer now and then, it’s the now and then I get irritated with, especially when I’m cleaning off the counter for the hundredth time and find more dishes in the sink after I emptied the dishwasher.

Overall, they are small annoyances, but they build and fester.

Well, God told me what he thought of my attitude.

Good Morning, Lord by Joseph T. Sullivan: “God has done so much for me, how can I express my thanks? By living a good life, honoring God in all that I do. Let me be a part of your love, Lord, in limitless kindness to those around me. Let me seek better ways to be thoughtful and kind.”

Those words reminded me of a story I once read about oil, which I have shared here before. In Streams in the Desert, L.B. Coleman tells a story about an eccentric old man who carried an oil can with him wherever he went. He lubricated every squeaky gate and door he encountered. When asked why he did this, he replied, “To make the way easier for those who come after me.”

Isn’t that really what following our faith is about, aside from sharing the Good News?

Jesus called his disciples (and us) to be servants, not masters, to give with a joyful heart. My kindness should have no limits, this includes how many times I clean the counters or dishes from the sink. If I’m not so intent on grumbling over my chores, I am more open to seeing the kindnesses others do for me, including my husband. He may not do the dishes as often as I wish, but he carries out the garbage when it’s full without my saying a word. He takes Cooper out more than I do. He mows lawn, washes windows, does his own laundry, keeps the truck running, sprays for insects, wrangles the bee traps, and the list goes on, tons of things I don’t have to do.

He gives me hugs and kisses, tells me I am beautiful, thanks me for everything I do for him, and most of all, tells me he loves me. Every. Day.

Thank you, Lord, for pointing out the beam in my eye and showing me how to ignore the splinter in my husband’s. I am sure we will have this conversation many more times, and in anticipation, thank you for your forgiveness in advance. Amen.

 

 

 

The Privilege of Reclining

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay 

In Living Faith by Melanie Rigney, the author explained Jesus’ request for the multitudes to recline before he fed them the loaves and fish was significant. First, only free people reclined while they ate, not servants or slaves. Second, it was close to the Passover. Surely some individuals in the crowd noted the implication.

Also, Jesus performed his miracle after the men stopped milling about. An indication we too might find a closer relationship with God if we tried reclining/resting for a few moments in prayer and meditation each day. The practice would lessen our stress, renew our energy, and perhaps even revitalized our faith and hope.

This past week, a yellow jacket stung me while I was helping my husband remove several nests from our back patio. Nasty stings. It takes 48 hours for the poison to peak and 5 to 10 days for it to work out of your system. Because of the location of the sting, typing was not comfortable, forcing me to limit my time at the computer. Up till then, I had been pushing myself to finish the edits on my newest novel. Was this God’s way of reminding me to slow down? Maybe, especially after a friend noted the shape of my reaction to the sting. 

Now, I don’t believe it was God’s will that I was stung. He used that opportunity to remind me not to become so caught up in tasks, I forget it is a privilege to recline, to rest from constant activity.  Especially when I often suffer from amnesia.

 Thank you, Lord, for loving me enough to discipline me when needed, to guide me back to the right path, and to offer assurance I am still loved even though I’ve strayed. Amen.

 

 

The Divine Embrace

© Can Stock Photo / Bialasiewicz

Every year during Holy Week, I relive this experience.

Palm Sunday. I was the only one up, enjoying a rare moment of quiet, and rather than rouse everyone for church, I selfishly decided to stay home and read the scripture.  

The familiar words became intensely personal. Jesus willingly suffered that horrendous death for me, not just for my sins, but in my place. He died instead of me.

 Overwhelmed, I collapsed into my arms and sobbed.

I had to go to church, even if I had to crawl the entire way on my hands and knees.

My husband sat up when I opened the closet and snatched out pants and a blouse.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting ready for church.”

“Now?”

“I have twenty minutes to get there. You don’t have to come.”

“I want to. Just give me a moment.”

“No, you’ll take too long, especially the kids. They aren’t even up yet. There’s no time to fuss with them about getting dressed.”

Ignoring me, he jumped from bed and disappeared into the bathroom.

To my surprise, when I exited the bedroom, everyone was ready. Even the kids. All. Three. Of. Them. A miracle.   

As we raced across town, I recited my usual mantra, “Better late than never.”

We pulled into—an empty parking lot.

I didn’t understand. According to the clock, we were ten minutes late. Where was everyone?

My husband pointed to a sign beside the door. Services had been moved back a half hour this one Sunday only. Instead of being late, we were twenty minutes early. How had I missed the announcement? Stuffing that question into the back of my mind, we shuffled in and sat in our usual pew.

One moment I sat next to my family, the next I stood in a white void, but not alone. Jesus was there. He opened His arms and beckoned me. I ran into his embrace.

I felt muscle and bone beneath His white garment. While the cloth looked like soft linen, the coarse weave, similar to burlap, pressed into my skin. I ignored the roughness and snuggled closer. In His arms there was no sorrow, no pain, no fear, only joy the world could never offer. I wanted nothing, needed nothing.

Unbidden, my sins paraded behind my closed eyelids. Too many. I did not deserve to be in His presence, let alone touching Him. I drew back, hanging my head in shame.

He urged me to look at Him. His eyes held no accusation. He loved me just as I was—flawed and imperfect. It did not matter how many times I failed, only how hard I tried.

My heart filled with joy and I reached for him, but the deep sorrow in His eyes stopped my advance. He directed my gaze toward a huge pit of fire. Black smoke roiled over white-hot flames.

“You will walk through an inferno, not as a result of your sins, but as a natural part of your life. You will endure great pain.”

“I can’t! I won’t be able to bear it.”

His eyes told me I had no choice.

Bracing myself for a horrific blast of heat, I stepped into the pit. His hand reached through the flames and grasped mine. As long as I held onto Him, my faith, the fire would never burn me, and He would be waiting on the other side.

With my next breath, I was back in church sitting beside my family. I touched my cheek. The impression of his garment remained, so did the ecstasy of His embrace. I closed my eyes, unwilling to return to the world.

 Life went on, but not as before. Everything had changed, especially me. The comfort and assurance of that experience followed me through every moment of my day, through all the heartaches and challenges, blessing me with more divine interactions and miracles.

 Thank you, Lord, for loving me enough to die for me, and for the compassion and encouragement you continue to give despite my frequent falls from grace. Amen. 

The Inside Joke

Isn’t it amazing how God sends signs or messages that touch our hearts, little things others don’t notice, but are significant to us?

I have touched on lilies, rainbows, and lions in other posts. Now, it seems God has added a new theme to our communications, thanks to my pastor.

I met with him this last week and during our discussion, described the different ways God encouraged me to write.

He smiled when I equated the lions with Jonah and the whale. “I mentioned that scripture in Sunday’s sermon.”

I’d missed the service.  

Two days after my meeting with my pastor, TBN TV station sent me an email with this week’s lineup of programs. The biggest ad was [insert a drum roll], yes you already know, Jonah and the whale.

I laughed.

In my heart I knew He was ribbing me about missing Sunday’s service. I imagined Him smiling and His eyes twinkling. Who says He can’t have a sense of humor? He gave us one.

But He wasn’t done with the joke. 

I started a new book, not surprised (maybe a little) that one of the characters was named Jonah, and he mentioned dry bones. I didn't laugh this time. I read the scripture about dry bones from the book of Ezekiel 37:1-14 this morning. God told Ezekiel to prophesy to the dry bones and infuse them with spirit. During my talk with Pastor, mentioned I hadn’t written in a while. 

He said, “Perhaps you've entered a dry spell.”

I believe God is telling me He will infuse my writing with spirit, just like he did the field of dry bones.

I cherish having a close enough relationship with God to share inside jokes along with the more serious things.

A wise man once told a married couple, “Love each other with all your hearts. That love will spill outward toward your children and others.”

Our relationship with God will do the same.

Lord, I am delighted I can call you my friend.  Amen.