Go for the Gold

Winter Olympics.  Hockey.  Figure skating.  Skiing.  Ice dancing.  Speed skating.  Short track speed skating.  Luge.  Bobsled.  Curling.  Cross country skiing.  Ski jump.  Snowboarding.  Just some of the sports we’ll watch.  There will be gold medals handed out.  New idols will be crowned.  New heroes in the making.

The athletes. They each train in their sport. Working to master the art of athleticism. They each have chosen one sport to excel in. To best the best. To be crowned.  To be awarded the gold medal.

They work hard. Practice religiously. They sacrifice. More than most would even dare.  They stretch themselves.  Going beyond comfort.  Just to be the best.  They may only get one shot at the gold.  They need to make the most of it.

Mistakes will be made.  Mishaps.  Nerves will get the best of some athletes.  Some expected to win will not.  New champions will be crowned.  They will stand tall, right hand over the heart.  Listening.  Listening to their national anthem.  The flag is lowered.  In honor of their win.  In honor of their hard work.  In honor of their sacrifice.  In honor of their gold medal.  All nations will applaud.

They get nervous. They make mistakes. Their muscles stiffen. They suffer injuries. All for the sport.  All for the dream of wearing the gold around their neck.

Some will be cocky.  They just know they’ll earn a spot on the team.  They just know they’ll win the gold.  They may not work as hard as they should, because their self confidence has already crowned them winner.  They could be brought down quickly.  They may miss the goal.  They may fall down the mountain.  There could be someone better.  A new champion in the mix.  Waiting for their moment to shine.

Some are humble.  They do the work.  They’ve put in the hours.  They’ve listened to their coach.  They own the sport.  But they don’t announce it to the world.  They let their work speak for itself.  If it’s their time to shine, they will.  If their skills need more sharpening, they will do the work.  The struggle to grow stronger and perform better is real.  They think they could do more.

I press on to reach the end of the race and receive the heavenly prize for which God, through Christ Jesus, is calling us.  Philippians 3:14

We’re all in training. We’re training for a spiritual prize. The top prize.  Heaven.  Heaven is the gold medal we’re training for.  Everyone should want it.  Second place is disastrous.

There is a workout plan that’s available for everyone.  Those who choose to accept it and follow it will receive that top prize.  There won’t be only one gold medal given.  Anyone who is anyone can receive it.

No.  It’s not a participation medal.  The medal must be won.  Fair and square.  Hard work.  Conditioning.  Sacrifice.  Suffering.  Hardships.  Setbacks.  Successes.  Growth.  Rewards.  All are part of the plan.  Given in different measures to each athlete working for the prize.

We’re racing toward eternity.  People.  Whether we know it or not.  Whether we like it or not.  Everyone will come face to face with eternity when they cross the finish line.  At our last breath, we will come face to face with God Himself.  He will judge each and every one of us.

I want that top prize.  I want the gold medal.  I want to spend eternity in heaven.  I hope you do, too.

If you haven’t made the decision to join the race for eternity, this link will tell you how you can join.


I used to think that I should be close to perfect.  At this age.  I should have learned everything I need to know.  I should have made all the mistakes I’m going to make.  I should have made all the friends I would ever need.  I should have saved all the money I need for retirement.  I should have lost all the weight I need to lose.  I should be in the best shape of my life.  I should know when to speak and when to be silent.

But I have found that isn’t always the case.

There are still so many things I just don’t know.  I don’t know how to make a good pie crust.  I don’t know how to knit.  I don’t know how to build a fire.  I don’t know the Bible well enough.  I still make mistakes.  So many mistakes.   I don’t know enough people.  I made a new friend this year.  An old friend may be coming back into the picture.  There is no such thing as too many friends.  There is also no such thing as saving too much for retirement.  I keep saving with the hopes that I don’t outlive my money.  I’ve known for years there are two types of people.  Those who eat to live and those who live to eat.  I confess.  I live to eat.  Food is my friend.  One of my best friends.  I’m always thinking about my next meal.  My doctor asks about my exercise program.  Oh.  That’s a thing?  I stretch every morning.  She doesn’t laugh.  I find I use my words as weapons too often.  I’m not always silent when I should be.  I have said some words that I never should have said.  I have not said some words I should have said.

Yes.  Even at this age, I have much to learn.  I have much to do.  I still have a lot to say.  I’m always on the lookout for friends.  I still need to save more money.  I eat healthy.  I should move more.  And not sit all day.

I’ve found, though, that others have begun to see me as old.  But I don’t see that.  I’m older.  But I’m not old.  Age is all in the mind.  I’ve heard.  I’m told I’m forgetful.  I’m told I’m set in my ways.  I’m told I turn up the tv volume too loud.  I’m told I look too young to have so much gray hair.

I renewed my driver’s license this month.  I changed some information on it.  I updated my address.  I changed my weight.  Yes.  I did.  And I changed my hair color.  All on my driver’s license.  The old has gone.  The new is here.  I might as well be honest about what I know others see in me.

Anyone who belongs to Christ has become a new person. The old life is gone; a new life has begun!    2 Corinthians 5:17

One thing that has remained the same this year is God’s love for me.  He never gives up on me.  He challenges me to do better.  To be better.  To see others the way he sees them.  To treat others the way he would treat them.  He reminds me to be kind to others.  And to myself.  He reminds me to listen to the words I’m saying as if someone were saying them to me.  How would I feel?  He is the bread of life.  With him, I will never go hungry.  He tells me I need to spend more time in His Word.   Reading.  Studying.  Memorizing.  Getting to know Him even better.  He is the one true friend who is always faithful.  Always there when I need him.   Always loves me.  No matter what.  He knows everything about me.  My past.  My present.  My future.  And he still loves me.

Observations of the year past.  Overall, it’s been a great year.  Gone by far too fast.  I’m looking forward to what the new year holds.

Happy Birthday

Her third pregnancy.  She was bigger than she should have been a month before her due date.  An x-ray was suggested.  There were no ultrasounds in her day.   Two weeks before Christmas, the news was shared.  Twins.  They were having twins.

Early Christmas morning.  A month to go when her water breaks.  Twin girls.  Womb mates.  Born too soon.

There were already two children at home.  A 4-year old and a 2-year old.  Oh. They were wanted.  They were loved.  They were welcome.  Perhaps not by their older brother.  After all.  His Christmas had been ruined.  It was the worst Christmas ever.  That’s what he said.

I can understand.  What kid wants to be dragged out of bed in the middle of the night and go to Grandma’s house.  Especially when he knew the next morning was Christmas.  No time to open the presents under the tree.  No 4-year old would be happy about that.

Identical twins born on Christmas Day was unusual.  The births were announced on the radio.  Celebrations were in order.

So the family celebrated.  Gifts were given.  Double gifts.  Matching clothes.  Two of everything.

They were small babies.  Premature.  They were kept at home for 4 months while they grew.  Oh.  They had visitors.  Curious onlookers.  Friends and family anxious to see twins.  Twin births in the family weren’t unusual.  Twin births seem to be hereditary on both sides of the family.  It was meant to be.

The parents took them home to a small house.  Four kids.  An outdoor bathroom.  It was winter.  Some nights the babies would sleep between their parents, so they could be kept warm.

Two years later, the family had moved.  Farm country.  Again, it was winter.  All day, they smelled smoke but saw nothing.  Until it was too late.   The home engulfed in flames was burned to the ground. Everything they owned was gone.  Fire in the attic, they were told.  The oldest, now six, arrived home from school to find his family homeless.

The father built the family home.  Three more sons were added.  The twins grew.  They left home.  Married men of God.  They faithfully serve where God has planted them.

For a child is born to us, a son is given to us.  The government will rest on his shoulders.  And he will be called: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.  His government and its peace will never end.  He will rule with fairness and justice from the throne of his ancestor David for all eternity.  Isaiah 9:6-7

His birth had been predicted. The teenage mother was caught unaware. Oh.  She had heard the prophecies.  Never did she imagine she would be chosen to carry this child.  Virgin birth.   She was engaged.  This pregnancy could end her life.  If she was found guilty of adultery.  How did the man know she was telling the truth?  He thought to divorce her.  Privately.  But God spoke to him.  In a dream.  Marry her.  He said.  She has been faithful to you.  She is mine.  The baby is mine.  Name him Jesus.

It was tax season.  Time to be counted.  Joseph and Mary, heavy with child, arrived in Bethlehem.  Alone and lonely.  Tired and tried.  The stable was empty, save for the animals. Nowhere else to stay.  They sat to rest.  And sleep.  Just the two of them.  The baby arrived.  What had been a quiet night, a night to catch their breath, suddenly became eventful.

If they had dared to question the child’s sovereignty before his birth, they now knew who he was.  He truly was God’s son.  What other explanation could there be for all the strange happenings?

Angels announced his birth.  Shepherds came to worship.  Wise men later brought gifts.  Another dream.  Move the child.  It isn’t safe.  Oh.  They knew he was the savior of the world.  They had heard prophesies about their son.  What he would accomplish.  What he would suffer.  But who knew where they were?  Who was hunting for them?  They must protect their child.  God’s child.  At all costs.

Those in authority felt threatened.  How could a newborn baby be a ruler?  How could a 2-year old overthrow their government?  He must be found and removed.  Along with many boys age 2 and under.  None were exempt.

He became wiser every year.  He grew into a man.  He grew closer to God.  He was well respected.  Until he wasn’t.

He was born to die.  He died for all.




Eye on the Prize

He wears the ring with pride.  He wears the ring with humility.  He earned it.  The ring.  The championship ring.  The ring is big.  It looks heavy.  Pure gold.  Solid.  It’s a prize for having a winning season.  For winning the most important game of the season.  For winning the game of his life.  He played hard.  And he won.

He worked hard for that ring.  Daily workouts.  Weekly games.  Road trips.  Sacrificing time away from family and friends.  He worked for years honing his craft.  Just for a chance to win that ring.  For him.  The hard work paid off.

Oh.  It wasn’t a perfect season.  There were missteps.  There was a loss.  One loss.  That single loss dashed the hopes for a national championship.  They had to settle.  Settle for being less than number one.  There were days when the goal seemed impossible to reach.  There were naysayers.  Those who didn’t believe it was possible.  But he kept going.  Teamwork.  Training.  Determination.  Sacrifice.  Hard work.  Practice.  He still won a ring. He knows the work he put into getting the ring.   He knows the glory the ring stands for.

It’s a prize worthy of pride, for few win it.  It’s a prize worthy of humility, for few have it.  You see.  It wasn’t the top prize.  There was a loss during the season.  One game that didn’t end well.  Mistakes were made.  The price of this one loss was high.  There would be no championship game.  But that ring speaks volumes.  It defines a season of his life.  But it doesn’t define who he is.  It will always be a part of him.  After all.  He earned it fair and square.  He’ll talk about it when asked.

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, and I have remained faithful.  And now the prize awaits me—the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give me on the day of his return. And the prize is not just for me but for all who eagerly look forward to his appearing.  2 Timothy 4:7-8

We’re all athletes.  Of a sort.  Life is a sport.  Of a sort.   It has many different seasons.  Winning seasons.  Losing seasons.  Good years.  Bad years.  Exciting times.  Humbling times.  We run many races.  Face multiple trials.  Endure hardships.  Suffer staggering losses.  Experience joyful times.  Earn bonuses and awards.  It’s called life.

We’re working for a prize.  A prize that we’ll never see or touch while we’re still on this earth.  The prize we’re working for is eternal.  We’ll receive that prize when we’re face to face with God.  He is our judge and the giver of all good things.

Our Christian race is run much the same as an athlete’s season.  Wins.  Losses.  Mistakes.  Championship seasons.  Awards.  Injuries.  Doesn’t mean we don’t need redemption.  We do.  All we have to do is ask.  We don’t earn it.  It’s freely given.

Oh.  Our heavenly reward will be based on our life record.  If our sins, our mistakes, our failures have been forgiven, they won’t even be on our record.  The slate will be wiped clean.  When we don’t deserve it.  Let’s keep our eye on the prize.  It’s just around the corner.

Opportunity Knocks

She asks me to walk with her to fill her water bottle.  To join her as she heats her lunch.  She says we should walk for 10 minutes each day.  Together.  I want to find excuses not to join her.  I value my time alone.  I enjoy my independence.  She’s an extrovert.  I’m not.

Her personality is strong.  Overly confident.  Pushy.  She’s accustomed to getting her way.  We are polar opposites.

We have huge differences that separate us.  Cultural differences.  She wears a hijab.  She dresses modestly.  She eats halal foods.  She prays five times a day.  She doesn’t believe in Christ.  She lives in darkness.  She needs the light.

She’s new here.  She’s trying to fit in.  Trying to find a friend.  She’s chosen me.  I’m finding it difficult to choose her.  She called me her new bff.  I cringed a little inside.

But when I look at her from the eyes of the one who died on the cross for me, I see her differently.  He died on the cross for her, too.  She needs an opportunity to know Him.  Someone said that she’s drawn to the light.  Coming from darkness, it’s perhaps different and interesting for her to come face to face with the light.  She doesn’t even realize it’s the light that she’s attracted to.  But she’s being drawn to it.  So why am I resisting being the light that she needs?  Why do I want her to look for the light somewhere else?  Perhaps I’m the only Jesus she’ll ever meet.  Why do I resist so?

But how can they call on him to save them unless they believe in him? And how can they believe in him if they have never heard about him? And how can they hear about him unless someone tells them?  And how will anyone go and tell them without being sent? Romans 10:14-15

I know I need to spend time with her.  How do the lost become saved if the saved don’t spend time with them?  How does one who doesn’t believe in Christ start believing if no one shares the truth?

I read a prayer recently that said, “Lord, give me opportunities to share all that You have taught me with someone who needs You.”  I must confess.  I’m not one who openly shares my faith with strangers.  To me, it would be utter boldness to share my faith uninvited.  The thought of doing so makes me shudder.  I  tend to stand back and listen.  And wait.  Oh.  I know those who confidently share their faith.  For them, it isn’t boldness.  It’s as natural to them as breathing.  I’m a little envious, because they don’t have to work at it.  They just do it.  They know everyone they meet needs their Jesus.  I know it, too, but I can’t get the words out.

I know we all have our own unique strengths and weaknesses.  I’m not saying I shouldn’t share my faith.  I should.  My approach has to be my approach.  Not someone else’s.  But I do need to share when given the opportunity.

I see this opportunity in front of me.  I want to be faithful and obedient.  Even bold.  I don’t think God wants me to be someone I’m not.  But I believe he provides opportunities for all who call on Him to share His love with anyone who crosses our path.  No matter what our differences may be.  We all have one common need.  We all need God.  Heaven have mercy if I fail to do my part when called to do so.

Maybe it’s time for a 10 minute walk.


Lesson Learned

It’s been in the news again this week.  Another high profile person going down for treating others disrespectfully.  He got fired.  Others haven’t.  But investigations may or may not prove the truth of what’s being said.

I’m sure there are many others living in fear that their disgusting acts and words will be shared with the world.  Their worst moments will be publicized.  Are they preparing for a fight?  Will they defend themselves even if the proof is undeniable?  Are they really innocent and suffering needlessly?  Only time will tell.

I’ve never understood how people who’ve treated others badly seem to be sorry only when they’ve been caught.  When they’ve been outed to the world.  When the bad acts have perhaps been happening for years?  Why act sorry now?  Are they sorry they hurt someone else?  Did they try to stop themselves?  Did they just move on and find another victim?  Or are they just sorry they got caught?  I always wonder.

Watch your tongue and keep your mouth shut, and you will stay out of trouble. Proverbs 21:23

I never understood that type of behavior.  Until I realized I’m one of them.  Oh.  Not for the same reason.  But I am guilty of doing wrong to another.

I talked about her behind her back.  I was sorry only when I thought she had heard me.

Now I know how those public figures feel when they’ve been outed for their sins.  When their private acts become public knowledge.  They’re sorry now that they’ve been caught.  That’s how I felt.  Sorry that I’d been caught.  Why wasn’t I sorry for speaking ill of someone while I was doing it?  Why didn’t I just stop my words when they became thoughts?  Because I thought she wasn’t sitting near me.  Because I thought she wouldn’t hear.  Because I thought I wouldn’t get caught.

I’m no better than those who have been caught.  I wronged an innocent person.  She did nothing wrong.  She didn’t ask for it.  I was wrong.

It’s a different emotion you feel when you’ve been caught.  Where once you felt in control of the situation, now the situation controls you.  You live in fear.  You’ve been exposed for who you really are.  No longer invincible.  No longer living with integrity.  No longer the trusted friend.

Shame.  Remorse.  Fear.  Dare we hope for forgiveness.  I can see how someone living in the depths of hopelessness might choose to end their life.  When they think they are unforgivable.  When they know the world will learn of their failings.  When they think they’ve lost everything.  I’m not hopeless. I didn’t consider ending my life.  But I wanted to run.  I wanted to run away from the situation and never go back.  I don’t ever again want to have that awful feeling in my gut that I’ve wronged someone else.

No.  There was no inappropriate touching or gestures.  No sleazy suggestions or threats.  But there were words spoken about someone who trusted me.  Someone who days before had called me friend.  Why did I do it?  I was uncomfortable with her friendliness.  Wanting more from me than I could give.  So I spoke about her.  Not against her.  But not for her.

I get it now.  How others must feel when they’ve been exposed.  It feels ugly.  Really ugly.  How do I face her ever again?  How can I look her in the eye?

I’ve graciously been spared from embarrassment this time.  My rude words were left unheard by the victim.  Heartache that could have happened didn’t.  My honor is still intact.  At least, outwardly.  Inwardly, it’s taken a beating.  As it should.  I’ve learned my lesson.


She has her eye on him.  She’s interested.  When she first met him, she thought he was arrogant.  Now she says it’s just his personality.  She’s willing to accept the arrogance, because it may serve her purpose.  Oh.  How our standards change when we see we can use the person who at first glance was unappealing.  When we see that we might benefit from their flaws, we’re willing to accept them.

She’s doing her best to catch his attention.  And keep it.  She wants his eyes on her.  She wants him to find her invaluable.  She makes sure he is aware of everything she is doing.  And she’s doing her best.  She’s putting her best foot forward.  Everything she does is with him in mind.  Hoping to win his favor.  Hoping to earn his trust.  Hoping to show that she’s better than what others say she is.

She’s playing nice.  Right now.  She’s proving herself.  She knows her stuff.  She’s good at what she does.  Perhaps she’s done this before.  She thinks this move will put her in the good graces of those who are most powerful.  She thinks this move will set her up for success.

Oh.  This is not a romantic relationship she’s seeking.  This is business.  Strictly business.

Is she being foolish?  Is she doing the right thing?  Will this act really work? Only time will tell.

I, the Lord your God, am a jealous God who will not tolerate your affection for any other gods.  Exodus 20:5

If only she would work this hard to please another man.  The one who knows her by name.  The one who created her.  The one who sees all she does.  Hears every word she says.  Reads every thought she thinks.  If only she would do her best to win His favor.

The man who will judge her on that most important day.  Judgment day.  He’s the only one she needs to please.  Doesn’t she know this?  I’m not saying she doesn’t try to please Him.  But she sure is spending a lot of time and effort trying to please someone who may never notice her.  And then where will she be?  Will she look for someone new?  When there’s someone who’s always been there for her?  Waiting for her to notice him.  To seek his approval.  He already loves her.  He’s waiting in the wings for her to reach out to him.  He wants her affection and love.  He wants her full attention.

No.  He’s not waiting in the wings.  He’s standing in full view.  For her to see.  She just needs to focus on Him.  But He’s waiting.  And He’ll continue to wait.  Patiently.  Oh so patiently.  I hope she notices Him before it’s too late.

She says she knows Him.  But I wonder.  I wonder if she works as hard to please Him as she is working to please this new man.

I’m not her judge.  I’m not her jury.  I want the best for her.  God’s best.  Heaven knows, I’m just like her.  I see myself in her.  I try to get others to notice me.  I try to please others when I want them to do something for me.  I try to outshine others if I think it will advance my cause.   I try to be everything and do everything to please others.  Why don’t I do that for Him?

Why don’t I think of Him first when I put on my pleasing routine?  Why don’t I go to him first when I’m hurting or afraid?  Why don’t I allow His patience to soothe and comfort me when I’m waiting impatiently?  Why don’t I put Him first?  Why don’t I?


She doesn’t respect authority.  That’s all it comes down to.  She gets really mad if she doesn’t get her way.

She told me this.  She said I need to do as she does.  Here’s what you do.  She says.  She learned this lesson from someone years ago.  You just tell the one in authority what you’re going to do.  Don’t ask for their permission.  Just tell them and then just do it.  Sounds a little like a commercial, huh?  It’s the way she lives her life.  It’s the way she handles situations.  The thing is.  I call it disrespect.  How do you tell someone in authority over you what you’re going to do without asking permission?  How can someone get away with that?

I mean sure.  That’s what I’d like to do.  Just tell the authority figure what I’m going to do.  And then do it.  But I can’t.  Call me weak.  Call me a wimp.  But I have a thing about showing respect.  Even if I don’t want to.   It’s the right thing to do.

A friend reminded me of something very important.  This person doesn’t love Jesus.  So she doesn’t stop to think that her outlook on getting her own way is selfish.  It’s rude.  That’s how I described it.  Rude.  It made me madder the longer I thought about it.

She’s a grown woman.  A grandmother.  Why does she think she can always get her way?

The problem is.  She doesn’t realize that others say she’s difficult to work with.  She doesn’t have a good reputation.  She doesn’t know this.  She thinks she does a great job.  She wants a promotion.  Her boss doesn’t know how to deal with her.  He’s frustrated.  Doesn’t confront the issues that she causes.  Just pacifies her.  Just lets her do things her way.  She’s never been told that there are issues with her work ethic.

I really want to tell her what I think.  But then do I become just like her?  I don’t want that.  You see.  I like her.  I just don’t like what she stands for.  I still need to respect her.  I need to respect our differences.  Perhaps I should go boldly and gently there with her.  Talk to her.  Is it my place?  I’m not sure.

People who despise advice are asking for trouble; those who respect a command will succeed. Proverbs 13:13

I have to stop and consider the times I’m disrespectful.  How do I know I’m not just like her?  How can I make sure I’m not just like her?  I like to get my way.  I say unkind words.

I think of a time.  Not too long ago.  Words were said that offended me.  Words that sounded like a command when a command wasn’t necessary.  I said words back.  I couldn’t help myself.  That what I told myself.  But I knew I needed to stop my words.  I knew I needed to show respect to the authority figure.  Even though they weren’t being respectful to me.

I was offended recently.  Twice.  By the same person.  I was confused.  They had described me in words that I would never use to talk about myself.  That’s not how I see myself.  I don’t believe it, and I couldn’t understand why they were saying those words to me.  But it doesn’t matter why.  I wanted to say words back.  I wanted to tell that person what their weaknesses were.  But I couldn’t.  It wouldn’t be the right words to say.  I needed to respect them.  Not speak in anger.  It wasn’t my place to say those words.  It was really difficult to keep those words inside.  Because once words come out, they can never go away.  As much as we want them to.  They just can’t.

I know I need to pray for these people.  The ones who don’t show respect.  The ones who think they should get their way.  The ones who say unkind words to others.

I need to pray for myself.  I need to ask God to forgive me when I don’t show respect.  When I fight to get my way.  When I say unkind words.

The golden rule really is golden.  Treat others the way you want to be treated.

One More Day

One more day is all I ask.

They died over three years ago.  Eleven days apart.  My parents.  They are in my dreams many nights.  I look forward to seeing them there.  They’re well and happy.  In my dreams.

Since their loss, I think about them often.  I’ve finally realized what I would like to have from them.  One day.  Just one more day with them.  And I get to choose the day.

I can see the day.  In my mind.  It’s a day from my childhood.  Not one specific day.  But a day that was like any other.  It would be a summer day.  My dad, the farmer, and my brothers would be working in the fields.  On their tractors with the hot sun beating down on them.  They would take a fresh jug of ice water with them to parch the thirst that was sure to come as they worked in the heat.

My mom, my sisters and I would pack a lunch for the family.  We would fry hamburgers or make bologna salad sandwiches.  Wrap them in wax paper.  Grab a couple bags of chips, doritos or fritos.  Pull out a box of twinkies, ding dongs or chocodiles.  Nothing fancy.  Fill a refresher jug of water.  And we would hit the road.  The country roads.

We would drive to the field one of the guys would be working in and park under a shade tree.  As the tractors pulled up, we would pop down the back door of the station wagon.

We would thank God and then eat that simple meal.  Together.  Just our family.  Not a special day.   Just a typical summer day.  I didn’t know it then.  But it was the life.  A simple, quiet unassuming life.  Not an easy life.  Not for my parents.  But it was the life.

Oh, the questions I would ask them.  If I had only known that I would lose them.  Oh.  I knew I would lose them.  But I wasn’t prepared.  I wasn’t prepared for all the questions that would fill my mind.  Questions  I never got around to asking.  I wasn’t prepared for all the stories I wanted to hear.  The lessons they had learned.  The do-overs they wanted.  Maybe even the regrets. The stories of their childhoods.  I’ll never hear all those stories now.  I’ll never have all my questions answered.

And He walks with me
And He talks with me
And He tells me I am His own
And the joy we share as we tarry there
None other has ever known

~~Ed Bruce

I realize now that there’s someone else I need to spend more time with.  There’s someone who calls for me to get to know him.  To ask those questions.  To hear his thoughts.  To read his Word.  While there’s still time.  Because there still is time.  Right now.

He calls me to spend each day with him.  He calls my name.  Sometimes I’m too busy.  I just don’t take time for him.  Sometimes I ignore him.  Oh.  He’ll still be here when I’m ready.  That’s what I tell myself.

He’s calling me to get to know him more.  To spend valuable time with him.  Each day.  Not just when I feel like it.  Not just when I need something.  But to spend time building a closer relationship with Him.

I’d like to imagine a day with him.  First, I would read his love letter.  He wrote a book telling me of his never ending love.  His perfect plans.  His gift of sacrifice.  I would thank him for those things.  His love.  His plans.  His sacrifice.  I would ask for wisdom.  I would listen for him to speak to me.  I would be silent and just listen.

I would walk among nature.  I would see the trees and flowers, fruits and vegetables.  The beauty that he created.  I would feel the warmth of the sun and the cool breeze.  I would see the stars and moon later in the evening.  Knowing he created this for me.

It’s not too late to spend more time with my Maker. The lover of my soul. The forgiver of my sins.  The God of the universe.

One more day.  One more day is all I ask.

She is His

She was belittled by her boss.  She was discussed by groups of people.  She was mentioned to the CEO.  She was on the list of those whose jobs would be eliminated.

The thing about her.  God speaks to her and through her.  He gives her words of encouragement and truth to share with those who need it.  Specific people.  Specific words.

She’s lost five precious, wanted babies.  She doesn’t know her father.  Her mother rejects her.  Says she looks like him.  Her mother overlooks her and her children’s birthdays.  Year after year.  No time for those with her DNA.

Through God’s great love and watchful eye, he provided a loving stepfather who adopted her and called her his own.  He gave her his name.  His godly mother loved her as her own daughter.  She taught her of God’s love.

She’s known disappointment.  Loss.  Rejection.  Heartache.  Through it all, she has also known God’s faithfulness, love and goodness.

The road to wholeness hasn’t been easy.  She’s a work in progress.  But when she gets alone with God, he meets her there.  In her closet.  Words in her journal.  He speaks truth to her.  And what he speaks happens.  Exactly as he has told her.  You see.  He’s God.  He doesn’t lie.  She knows this.  And she believes and waits for his will to happen.  Just as he says.

My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand.       John 10:27-28



I’ve seen her journals.  I’ve read the words.  Highlighted in pink and yellow.  Earmarked pages with special instructions and promises straight from God.   Those journals are her lifeline to God.  He meets her on those pages.  He seeks her out and gives her words of truth.  Sometimes instructions that must be followed through.  Other times, faithful promises to soothe a weary soul.  Always words of truth and love.  Words of prophecy.

She wrote words of hope and mercy to the boss who belittled her.  She wrote words of comfort and peace to the one whose sister was dying.  She wrote words of promise and protection when her job was in jeopardy.  These words were all from God.  To her.  God was faithful.  His words were fulfilled.  In time.  All of them.

She keeps listening.  She keeps writing.  She keeps trusting.

The funny thing is.  God’s love language to her is in Thee and Thou.  Whenst and Whilst.  He speaks in King James English.

She is appointed.  She is anointed.  She is His.