“For He satisfies the longing soul, and the hungry soul he fills with good things.” -Psalm 107:9
Am I satisfied with You only Lord? You alone?
Am I willing to close my longing eyes to go deeper with You?
You feed my spirit as no other. You quench my thirst; You fill me up to overflowing; if I will but drop my eyes and fall to my knees in Your Presence…
I am a busy active-minded wanderer, looking to be filled up with whatever grabs my attention in the moment. Is it my schedule, my socializing, my body, my appetite, my garden, a book, a chore, a person, a worry, a fear?
What is it O Lord, that seems so attractive and so important, that I turn aside on the way to look longingly at the things I think will satisfy me?
The truth stares me directly in the eye. I know from past experience, that those things never do meet the supposed needs of my heart. It is always more and more, then more that I want. It’s never enough. The craving never stops.
So, here I stop, where you have gotten my attention, and truly pick apart, dissect, if you will, my own heart, my motivation, even the lies I tell myself; all of which You know so well.
I confront them all! Disappointments, deceptions, sorrows, regrets, shame. These things have shaped me. Why have I let such things be my mold? Surely, the One true God who has my best in mind, Who loves me unconditionally, Who sees me clothed in righteousness, Who reminds me that I am incomplete without Him, is more worthy of my attentions than all the these unsatisfying pursuits and the world combined.
In Him alone, I find my answers. I am filled and I am content. The craving is gone. The constant errant directives are silenced.
To sit at the table of the King, to dwell in His Presence, to eat and drink of the Living Word and the Waters of Life I am filled.
At His feet, face buried in the folds of His robes, His Arms tightly wrapped around my needy soul, I find that I am finally satisfied.
“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.” -Matthew 5:6
I had always hoped that I would be that one who, in the midst of suffering, would suffer well. But…sadly, I am not as I thought; and now I am looking at my face in the mirror and realizing that I must learn this lesson once again…Perhaps this time around, Lord?
I walked through the valley with my mama while she labored and suffered. She always counted it a blessing and a jewel in her ‘crown’ to endure suffering, which she did, but with a lip pushed out and eyes downcast, hidden away in a darkened room, saying little that I could hear…
Have I become THAT one?
I perceived myself like some of the godly mentors in by life.They bore their sickness and death with such profound grace and dignity.
One sweet friend wears the sweetest smile every single day. She speaks life wherever she can. It seems that her words are always salted with praise and thanksgiving as she cares tirelessly for her family. She doesn’t leave the house much, responsible for those in her care. She bows in prayer for others, thinking little of her own needs, and is always ready with an uplifting encouragement.
Another precious woman, daily in pain, barely able to walk toward the end, continued to involve herself in every ministry she could get to and rarely missed an opportunity for a prayer meeting. She was spicy to the end, always with a wit and a word of humor. She left this world surrounded by her children and their children rising up and calling her blessed.
I vividly recall a patient I cared for in nursing school. She was not old, had a family of young children, and was hospitalized with a flare-up of Multiple Sclerosis. Essentially it was a death sentence that threatened her abilities every few months. Normally ambulatory and very functional, she was completely unable to move her arms and legs voluntarily. Yet…In her inability and sorrowful life, there was a light coming out of her. I asked her how that could be. She told me her trust was completely in God, the outcome, her times, in His Hands. That made an imprint on my young mind and heart.
These examples are gold! I too, want to labor well through every season. To continue in intercession for my lovies and for the nations as long as I live regardless of my health; to be able to sing and dance despite debilitation; to declare life to everyone I meet. Can I truly do that?
Each time I am sick, or ache, or forget, or see only negatively, I am reminded of the frailty of my soul. The only way that I can possibly bypass my humanity in these hours of illness is to lean into the Holy Spirit who will empower me, revive me, give me eyes to see in the darkness.
This whining time is one of those seasons of illness that threaten my ability, my faithfulness, my integrity, my contentment.
I have never really liked being bridled, or told what to do. I balk at bossy people and rules. Although I honor them on the outside, hidden away in the dark recesses of my soul is a rebellious heart that desperately needs containment. There is a Dennis the Mennis comic picture I recall. Dennis is being scolded. The caption was him talking internally saying, “I may be sitting down, but I am standing up on the inside.” That is me in a nutshell. I am challenged in these seasons where my body is trying to ‘boss’ me around. I refuse to ‘sit down’.
For many years I have successfully avoided that boss, going to work though I wasn’t well, continuing to live my life just the way I thought I should be doing, never listening to the warning signs of burnout and need for rest.
Ultimately it catches up to me.
So…whining has simply come from my wayward heart thinking it knows everything and pridefully insisting on its own way.
Awww, Lord God, I thank You for allowing this prolonged illness to drag me out of my selfish insistence that I run my life. Surely You have a magnificent plan in this. Will You help me to lay at Your Feet and listen. I really do know that You ‘know the plans You have for me and that they are for good and not evil all the days of my life’. Jeremiah 29:11 Will You, and only You, continue Your prolonged patience with me and help me to internalize it for the rest of my life?
The refusal to do as You have instructed, has led to this moment.
Help my unbelief.
Help me to TRUST.
I confess that fear trips me up. Will You help me to be brave?
How precious and dear is our Lord God Almighty, our Abba! He tenderly tucks me into bed and says to me, “Be still and know.”
Thanks, God. I’m glad You are always here with me…even if I am whining.
Maybe this time around I will learn this lesson.
“Behold, God is my salvation; I will trust, and not be afraid; for the Lord God is my strength and my song, and He has become my salvation.”-Isaiah 12:2
“Brothers, I do not count myself to have apprehended; but one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forward to those things which are ahead, I press toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God, in Christ Jesus.” -Phil 3:13,14
The last day of 2024.
A new year is unfolding like a great and beautiful new blanket with soft, colorful threads, patterns and light, a freshness, a fullness.
A beckoning, welcoming Hand calls us forward to skip into the ‘Land’.
Many of us dwell so much on past events, gazing backward over our shoulders. We look, longingly at each hurtle, every rock we climbed, at every turn we navigated, thinking back to the optional routes we could have, should have, would have taken.
On this day, we look only forward.
We are instructed pointedly, in the Bible, if called to go out, ‘not to look back’. Just ‘go’.
In the story of Lot’s wife, ( Genesis 19:26) , looking back reflected a longing for what had been left behind.
Jesus emphasized the commitment and focus on the Kingdom of God. Looking back with nostalgia or reluctance can hinder progress and distract from the ultimate goal of following Christ. (Luke 9:62)
I clearly remember the day I became aware of the way many tackled the New Year’s Eve Nostalgia, disappointments, wishes for do-overs.
I was seventeen.
I was hanging out with a friend, her older boyfriend and their friends. In a small Missouri town there was not much to do except drive around, ‘cruise’. We cranked the music up and drove all over creation and back around. The older boyfriend had secured a bottle of ‘Blue Nun’ white wine. I looked skeptically at the odd shaped bottle. Not wanting to appear uncool. I soon learned after the first sip, driving around, that this made you dizzy and sick. A few more sips and I didn’t care.
At the completion of the bottle, we managed to make it back to the house and sat around talking. New Year’s resolutions soon became lofty thoughts and philosophical conversations about who knows what. Six teenagers, drowning their boredom, self loathing and fears of the future in booze.
I realized shortly into this fun that I was incredibly disappointed, bored, and the whole thing was empty and pointless. I felt so alone in a crowd. Eye-opener. THIS is New Year’s Eve? What is all the hype about?!
This was the starting place my life, as young adult, in sorting out value, worth and depth of life experiences. What is worth my time?
As I look back ‘over my shoulder’, FIFTY years ago (gasp!), I think I see that I actually grew up. LOL. The memory does not sting with shame, it doesn’t raise any longing. It is a part of my history and my life experience but more importantly it simply points to an old way of life that I no longer embrace. These are just pieces of building blocks that made me who I am today.
I am looking forward tonight and SEE so much BIGGER. I am no longer in that sad, dark, depressing house.
I live in a mansion of hope and joy and celebration. I welcome the day, I open my arms to 2025, with anticipation, for what God will do in and through me and in the loved ones that surround my little corner of the earth.
I am a perfect package of unlimited power and glory, created in Christ Jesus for good works!
This year I will relish that.
” I find the strength of Christ’s explosive power infuses me to conquer every difficulty.” -Philippians 4:13
Let it be said that I knew how to worship You in a land of desolation and darkness; of thick trees and tangled vines.
Purify me O God, that I would turn my eyes to You and fall on my face in awe of WHO You are! That I would cry GLORY! at Your Feet.
That through my tears there would be seen a sparkling diamond-covered throne and a rainbow of color that is beyond my wildest imaginings!
That even exhausted and working beyond my strength, seeing no progress, obtaining no reward, disappointment raging in my body, it would leave no shadow upon my countenance. Only Your marvelous Light would shine from my eyes. My shoulders, heavy with the burdens of a day, would be lifted up, my step would be light.
Let it be said!
Even in the deep silence that surrounds me, there is a sweet song with gentle notes rising to a tremendous wave of celebration and glorious triumph. All of it, wrapping me up in a bountiful brimming over of my soul.
Though isolation and despair creep around in this quiet waiting, they have no foothold in me because my heart is steadfastly clinging to the hem of Your garment in humble adoration.
Oh! Let it be said…
that I worshipped You in the wilderness!
“This is what the Lord, the God of Israel says: Let my people go, so that they may hold a festival for me in the wilderness.” -Exodus 5:1
“The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty One who will save; He will rejoice over you with gladness; He will quiet you with His love; He will exult over you with loud singing!” – Zephaniah 3:17
December can be cold.
Not the icy, snowy, windy kind of cold; but the bone chilling, heartbroken, bleak drifts, lost in the depths, soul gripping darkness kind of cold.
Many get buried in its festive, lights twinkling, gift giving celebration in a kind of numbing one foot in front of the other frenzy. Truth is, they would much rather bow out and NOT do all the things.
This month, though a very real cause for joy, is often felt as long and heavy because of the loss of loved ones or events that are naturally shared with family who are no longer there. It may also be the expectation of happiness that is never experienced, despite that ‘everyone’ says one should be excited and eager to feel that way.
December seventh is my husband’s mama’s birthday which she celebrates in heaven today. December fourteenth, twelve years ago, my daddy left abruptly to continue his life in heaven. December seventeenth my husband’s brother went off with Jesus. December twenty second, last year, my dear father-in-law quickly went to join his beautiful wife on heaven’s shores. So many of our other friends and family have finished their race course here on earth.
All of this gives me pause. Every loss is a reminder that this earth is not my home. I am jealous of those who have finished and gone before me. I was especially angry at my father for going off on a walk WITHOUT ME! to his true home.
But…
With every cruel cold loss is the promise of the celebration of life with Jesus, whether here on earth or in heaven.
I see myself being swept up into His arms when I feel low, when I am in the dark, when I feel the frigid cold air of December gripping my heart.
It is the outpouring of His love that sweeps me up. Though I imagine the strong arms of my daddy doing the sweeping up, it is really the powerful embrace of a Loving God with the promise of the better, the best and the really, really amazing, as I run toward Him, and am lifted up above it all, and swung around in joyous exhilaration!
The sweeping leads to dancing and then on to laughter and singing.
Then, December doesn’t feel quite so cold any more.
There is a fire burning in my heart! I pray that it is one that spreads to every other human that I touch; that it is a torch that sets off a mighty blaze throughout the earth!
“Grandchildren are the crown of the aged…” – Proverbs 17:6
The silence after the grandchildren leave is so loud.
It’s true…you really do forget the mothering years until you are reminded again with the constant chatter of THEIR children in your house.
When comes the burst of sunshine through your doors in the form of three healthy, happy humans, one immediately jumps up and ‘becomes’, once again, a nurturer, a teacher, a co-conspirator in all things fun.
The sudden adrenalin and unexpected energy of grandmothering is such a pleasant gift mid-winter!
Days of being tired and counting aches and pains and long quiet hours fade quickly away as one walks and skips with children. Picking flowers and looking at bugs takes precedence over that book or journal or sewing project.
You are gathering intel and stocking up on imagination as you hang with inquisitive and worthy young scientists in-the-making. Trails through the woods become anything but overgrown messes. Now they are jungles and forbidden hide aways or secret paths to new horizons.
Long conversations about religious doctrine with a nine-year old are food for thought. Discussions about blue LED inventions become catalogued information for later study. Braiding hair and considering names for dolls or the qualities of a good Bestie leave warm sensations all wrapped around your heart.
Nothing with these rare visitors is ordinary.
Then…just as quickly as this reverie has become a part of your normal, it is done. They pile in the car with all their exuberance and giant hugs goodbye and drive off down the road.
Mimi and Papa look at each other and smile. It is rich gratefulness for the years sown into their father, who so lovingly, shares them with us for these sweet moments.
Yes…we have gathered intel… for the next time. Our lives are enriched. We are blessed.
I was walking through the gardens yesterday, meandering really, when thoughts of those who have gone before us came to mind. The holidays are before us, and with them come memories of years past, of faces gathered around a table, of traditions upheld for generations.
No one really remembers why things were even done ‘that’ way, but they keep doing the ‘things’, because that’s how mama did it; passed from hand to hand.
Every year, Grandma Barbara sent a card inviting us to Thanksgiving dinner. It was a given that the celebration was held at her house. She put together a dinner, seemingly without effort, and there were usually two or three added souls in need of a ‘family’. Everyone was welcomed with open arms. Often, I sent my family without me as I held down the fort at the hospital. When I wasn’t working, I would arrive a bit early to help, only to be told to get something to drink and go sit down. Everything was always ready, grandpa already carving the bird and hors doerves on the table in front of ‘the game’. I could take a breath of rest at Grandma’s table.
My heart aches to miss those blessed faces.
My mom and dad celebrated with such elegance at every holiday. Beautifully set table with the polished silver at every place. The turkey was always before my father’s place and was carved piece by piece for each plate after we had said a blessing. I miss this genteel, and timeless style. The table was occupied for hours, it seemed, as we shared life and food and drink. It nourished my soul as a young girl, and later too, as an adult.
There’s a catch in my heart at the missing faces from our celebrations. Our parents and brothers and cousins and aunts and uncles.
Even as I step slowly through these sweet memories, I am instantly reminded that this is how life unfurls.
Just a surely as those faces are gone, the new little faces with eager eyes and willing hearts are gathered at our tables. Where once were age lines and silver tresses, now are pink cheeks and fresh bouncy curls. Tiny nursing babes and robust young teens delight our hearts now, even as we yearn for those dear old loves.
Just as surely as I linger over those gone before, these young ones will linger over me in the years ahead. It is a beautiful legacy that we pass on this gathering together of ourselves to the next generation, who will then carry it forward to theirs.
I believe we have been instructed to do just this.
Bless all of you as you celebrate together with friends and family. Delight in the little moments together. Share in the rolling of dough and the tasting of flavor. Encourage one another. Be restored and lifted up. Let love dwell richly in your homes. Then, let it flow out into the streets all around you.
Much Love, Betsy
” Encourage one another and build up one another, just as you are also doing.” -1 Thessalonians 5:11
Faced with difficult circumstances, provoked by fear, up against a wall, desperately looking to get out of the line of fire…you make a choice.
Put up your fists and fight like the devil? High tail it out of their heading for greener pastures? Or…dig in your heels, set your chin in determination, straighten your back, look up out of the pit, and make a stand?
I can think of several times in my life where the going got tough and this tough girl got going…I literally pulled up stakes and ran. I left behind a wake of broken hearts as well as a path strewn with belongings that someone else had to pick up and deal with. I am not proud of those times. I remember the pain involved. Those decisions, however, brought me to where I am today.
Today, I am reading a study on Acts and particularly chapter twenty seven, in which the apostle Paul is being taken as a prisoner to stand before Caesar to appeal false accusations against himself. He is aboard a ship that is caught in a hurricane. The sailors, were ready to abandon ship for fear of capsizing. Paul, spoke out, firmly, that they needed to stay with the ship, having been told by an angel of God, to take courage, that their lives would be saved.
Pointedly, he also said, “I believe God, that it will turn out exactly as I have been told.”
The faith in that statement carries a powerful weight! You can feel it in its finality. Who can argue with it?
I have to ask myself the very question. Do I believe God?! Do I believe what He has told me, in His Word? Repeatedly I have seen the miraculous. I have seen the answers to prayers. I have read the miracles in the Bible. I have been led step by step. How can I not believe Him?
When I am challenged by darkness, or when I trip over my own feet, do I still believe it will turn out the way God said it would?
When things don’t look like they are going the way I want or the way God said they would go, do I become fearful, or disappointed or mad? Do I throw in the towel and run? Do I hide when I fail? Do I pretend it wasn’t me with Jesus, when I am being accused of hanging out with Him? When it’s unpopular to be a Christian or to stand for conservative values, or to defend the unborn, will I duck and run for cover or will I admit that yes, it was I who spent time with the Savior and I will continue to declare the truth and defend LIFE.??
The questions are real and they are hard. We live in times where our faith must be real and we must stand firm and trust what God has said.
If we do fold under pressure, and I speak from experience… then we get up, brush off our knees, turn our eyes on Jesus and make a stand, walking in the covering of grace.
Thank You sweet Lord, for your tender mercies that are new every morning!
“Therefore take up the full armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm!”
“Thus says the Lord, “Stand by the ways and see and ask for the ancient paths, where the good way is, walk in it…” -Jeremiah 6:16
I could probably count on one hand the number of dolls I had as a little girl. The above was my first. Her name was Ruthie and she lived some years.
At the hand of a tom-boy, she suffered many death defying feats and haircuts. Much of it was my misplaced mothering, but I loved her. She comforted me, even made of hard and unforgiving plastic. I think I even sucked on her fingers until I bit them off. (that may or may not have been my trying to quit thumb-sucking phase) The best thing about her ugly old self was, that she was MINE.
Recently, I bought some dolls on Marketplace to have at my house for my grandkids’ visits. The lady that I bought them from has advertised a plethora of toys and dolls on Marketplace and I figured her kids must have outgrown them and she was cleaning. When I met up with her for the buy, I asked, out of curiosity, about how she came to have so many toys. She told me that most of her kids had their own grandkids and didn’t visit as much, then said something that grabbed my attention. “I really had all this stuff for myself. I enjoy playing with them, dressing them and making them clothes.”
I smiled. I get it lady. I could be the same. I may never play with the stuff, but I could if I wanted to.
The thought freed something chained up in me; something old and maybe festering and forgotten.
When I was little, I longed to have dolls and ‘house’ things. Whenever I went to a friend’s house to play the desire only increased and I would beg my mama for whatever grand thing they had. A playhouse, a barbie, play dishes, a new dolly. All of it held an attraction for my soul that wasn’t fulfilled by my bald Nurse Barbie, my buzzcut Ruthie, or my tattered Raggedy Ann. The pestering became so great that my mom finally consented to let me buy a Barbie if I saved my money.
It seemed like a year before I had enough pennies saved to get the coveted doll. My dad took me to Fed-Mart and I found the doll I wanted. She was ninety-nine cents. I pulled out my coins and lay them on the counter. I did not have enough to cover the cost plus tax and I was devastated. I think my dad had mercy on me and payed the additional three cents, because despite growing despair, I walked from the store, wiping tears, but victorious, with that brand new doll in my fat little hands.
There was another incident in my doll-loving life that occurred when I was around ten or eleven. I saw a doll on TV that was almost as tall as I was, she walked beside you when you held her hand. I wanted that doll SO bad. Again, I was discouraged in my desire and told I had to save my money. And then came the crowning blow, “Aren’t you too old to be playing with dolls?”
Doubt creeped in. WAS I too old? Why then did I love dolls so much? What was wrong with me?
Addendum to the story of the walking doll was that I indeed saved up the ten dollars and bought that doll. The sad thing was, I was embarrassed by my desire for the doll, didn’t play with her that much, and very soon abandoned her to the back of my closet.
The fact that I remember these events so clearly is a testament of how they had affected me.
As I have mused over the random Marketplace stranger’s honest declaration of her enjoyment of dolls and toys, my absolute appreciation for that, AND my desire to acquire the dolls for my home, I have seen some more layers of old woundedness that are slowly being peeled away to reveal true treasure underneath.
My well meaning mama, perhaps dealing with her own personal pain about a past doll that was taken from her, unknowingly taught me to deny something in myself. The freedom released in me by realizing that I was NOT too old to play with dolls (is there an age limit?), and, that I can own the pure and sweet inclinations built into my very fiber. Pretty sure mama hadn’t meant for this to happen, but in my young and impressionable brain, I wondered if I was broken.
There is time to let go of the old beliefs and losses, and embrace the new. It is a process, slow and methodical, in the caring Hands of our Creator.
In Him, we are new. The old has passed away.
“…He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ.” -Philippians 1:6
“Out of the mouths of children and infants You have ordained praise…” Psalm 8:2
This, the twenty-first day of a writing challenge to write every day for thirty days, draws me from my usual path to a ‘smile on my face’ path.
Recently, in the missing of grand babies and grown children, I have had many memories pop into my head at the most random time.
While I was walking through the woods the other day, completely absorbed in the trees and the mud, and the fragrance, listening to the sounds of the branches and birds, I had this funny remembrance.
I was staying at my son’s house in San Diego, awaiting an addition to their family, and of course I love to bring a bit of gardening to these city dwellers any time I visit, particularly to my grandson Caleb, who has a special love of nature and living things. All the kids enjoy the garden but he especially loves the time spent working the dirt.
We had gone and picked out plants and seeds and dirt to spruce up their little home veggie bed, and were beginning to do the job.
As we walked down to the little garden, he said to me, “How do you know how to do this?” I asked, “Know how to do what?” He said, sweeping his hand toward the yard,”You know, this.”
I looked over at him and smiled thinking how to answer him.
Before I could formulate a response, He said, “Oh! I forgot! It’s because you live in the wild.”
I laughed out loud at such a thought. He thought about what he had said, and then added more information, maybe thinking my laugh meant I didn’t understand? He said, “You know, because you know how to do stuff with plants and live in the wild.”
It warmed my heart that he thought this about me. I love nothing more than to be outside every minute of every day. I would surely live in the woods (the wild) if I thought I might survive. But I envisioned that he pictured my home on a remote farm in Louisiana, a bit jungle-like, or out back, or desolate and dangerous.
That thought made me smile, and it has never failed to make me chuckle whenever it comes to mind.
That little boy, is a kindred spirit. He gets people. That is his gifting.
He looks at you long and hard, reserving his words, and only says things that get right to the heart of, the core of, a matter.
What blessing to have such people in our lives. Even better if they are a child. The filter, the bias, the fear, the barriers, the expectations and the ‘what will people think?’ thoughts have not grown yet. You will hear much greater truths out of their mouths.
So whenever I feel even the slightest bit glum about where and how I live, I remember that sweet face with awestruck eyes saying…”Oh! Mimi! It’s because you live in the wild.”
