Stuffing a sock in it

A few mornings ago, I felt cold air pouring into the entryway. I couldn’t figure out where it originated. I had pushed a towel in front of front door to cover gaps between door sweep and threshold, but my feet still felt a horrendous cold spot. I searched for the source and found that the door frame had slightly warped next to the north sidelight. The warping had left about an 1/8-inch gap between bottom of door frame and sidelight frame. Gap narrowed as it went up before closing about a foot above the floor.

I cut up some of my old socks and shoved them into this gap with a metal ruler. I could feel the cold retreat as I plugged the hole. I was determined to stuff enough socks into the hole to completely plug it. This process took about half an hour. Oh, the perils of owning an old house!

As I shoved the socks into this hole, I thought of Ezekiel 22:30: “I [God] looked for a man among them who would build up the wall and stand before me in the gap on behalf of the land so I would not have to destroy it, but I found none.”

What a sad verse! “… but I found none.” What an indictment!

As I considered this verse, I thought about my gap-plugging tools. Is anything less glamorous than old socks from the rag bin? They appeared to be at the end of their useful life, only to be used in a very critical role, keeping subzero temperatures outside instead of inside. Their role is no longer as public as covering my feet, but still very useful to keep us warm.

Do we ever think that we are too worn out for God’s service, languishing in the rag bin, one step from the landfill? Maybe we’re on the shelf and maybe feel that we’ve been forgotten. Then our new role opens and we are used again. God plugs us into the gap and uses us again for His glory. What a privilege!

Whose gap do you stand in?

Rescued cucumber

This cucumber had been hiding under our summer savory when I found it Tuesday night. Cuke weighs 1½ lbs., three times what a normal slicer cucumber weighs, and is blemished and yellowing.

I brought it into the house with the other cukes I’d picked, but told Hubby I intended to throw it out.

“It’s too big to eat,” I said.

“No, don’t throw it away,” he said. “I’ll cut out the seeds and will use it for a sauce.”

Just like this cucumber, many of us were headed for the Dumpster. Our lives were seen as bitter and blemished, worthless for anything but the landfill.

But then the Master said, “No, don’t throw her away. I have a purpose for this life. I must deal with the seeds of sin. I must cut away the blemishes, but I am patient. I will do what is necessary to complete my plan for her redemption. After all, I have already paid for it on the cross.”

He leads me like a shepherd, Part II

Marilyn and Bruce after their wedding May 5, 1995.

Marilyn resumes her story from yesterday.

I can explain what happened during the wee hours of the next morning only by believing that it was the Holy Spirit’s move in my heart and in my life.

In the darkness of 4:30 a.m. the following day, I was awakened with a sense that I should call the hospital to check on Bruce’s status. But instead of listening immediately to that prick in my spirit, I began to pray for him, and lay awake going over the events of the past several weeks. The phone rang at 5 a.m. A nurse told me to come immediately to the hospital because “your husband is having a hard time breathing and we need you to come.”

As I arrived at the entrance of the hospital, Bruce’s doctor walked in with me. He said not a word, but walked hastily into the building. A nurse friend of mine met us at the door, grabbing my hand urgently. I could tell by the look on her face that something was terribly wrong. At that moment, Doctor told me that I must not go to Bruce’s room until he had seen what was going on there.

My friend led me to a waiting room, where she held my hand and stayed with me. Her face was filled with fear. We began to fervently pray aloud for God’s favor upon Bruce’s life, that he might be restored to complete healing. As tears streamed down our faces, I felt as if I’d been taken from my body. Nothing made sense. It was as if I was watching a movie screen and sobbing through the sad scenes.

Finally, Doctor came to the waiting room. He sat down, looked at the floor, shaking his head. My heart fell to my feet as he shared with me that he was not able to save my husband’s life. He shared with me that at 4:30 a.m. Bruce had begun to have chest pains and had called for assistance. Nursing staff immediately called Doctor and me. By the time Doctor arrived to his room, Bruce’s heart had quit beating. Nothing Doctor did revived it, though Doctor tried repeatedly to do so.

I believe it was at 4:30 a.m. that God sent the Holy Spirit to me to be my Comforter, my Peace, my Protector and my Guide, as He prepared the way for Bruce to go home. Not long after that, Bruce left this world and entered the Kingdom of Heaven, where he now lives forever in a totally new body!

At the moment Doc told me that my husband was not alive, I felt the arms of God surround my own body and soul. Even though I cried desperately and for what seemed an eternity, my heavenly Father held me throughout the entire process. I never lost my sense of direction, of knowing what I needed to do next. I was never in a state of confusion or doubt. Even though I felt like my heart had a huge hole in it that would never be repaired, I knew in an instant that I was not alone. Even though I shed hundreds of buckets of tears, I found an inner strength in me that I never knew existed.

I was heartbroken as I walked out of the hospital toting my husband’s personal belongings with me. It was almost unbearable to bring his shoes, his clothes, his glasses, his wedding ring, home in my hands, leaving his body behind.

As my brother and family drove me home, I watched the cars that we passed on the streets. People were going to work, taking their kids to school, just going about their everyday lives, while my life had just been turned upside down and inside out! It seemed so odd to me that the world was still turning all around me! A gorgeous fall day surrounded me with a crispness in the air mixed with that comforting warmth mixed in.

Entering my home that morning was truly like being in another scene of that same movie. All of a sudden, the house was ominously quiet and still. Nothing moved, nothing made a sound. The house was empty with the knowledge in my heart that my husband would never set foot in our home again. I was here alone from now on.

I would never walk out of our bedroom to see him watching TV or reading on the couch. I would never hear the sound of the shower running while making breakfast. I would never walk into the back yard to find him tinkering on something. I would never see him mowing the lawn again or painting the house eaves or changing oil in the driveway.

As I put Bruce’s belongings on our bed, I walked through my home sobbing. All my family was sobbing: Mom, Dad, Brother. We had lost our husband, our son, our brother, our friend. All our shared memories came flooding back in droves as we each handled our own grief.

Soon my home was brimming with friends, family and food. Our beloved pastor was with me from the moment the doctor had given me the unbearable news until some time late into the evening hours. He held our hands, hugged us, loved us and talked with each visitor who graced my door that day. I remember feeling so much love from so many people during that time, that it amazed me. The phone must have rang for days with wonderful people who wanted to know they loved me and my family.

Bruce’s family arrived and plans began to arrange the funeral service. This was to be no ordinary funeral service. This was a celebration of Bruce’s life and his move from this old earth to his new home in his mansion in heaven!

Many stories were told about Bruce at the celebration of his life. Tears and laughter were mixed together into one praise and worship service! Bruce’s life on earth was a testimony of his love for his Heavenly Father, and we celebrated that fact during that service.

Then there were the butterflies. Yes, the day of Bruce’s funeral, no matter where I walked, where I stood, there were butterflies. It seemed as if they followed me wherever I went throughout that entire day. I smiled as I noticed that. My heart ached for my beloved husband, but it also rejoiced in knowing where he was at that moment. As I watched the butterflies fluttering around me, I knew Bruce was in peace and in a place where I’ll again see him one day.

At the cemetery all of our friends and family members joined me in letting go of balloons. I stood and watched as they sailed through the sky until I could no longer see them. As my heart was broken into tiny shreds, I knew then that my life would never be the same. I also knew then that my faith would be grounded, once and for all, in Jesus Christ my Lord and Savior.

As I look back on those last days with Bruce, I feel so blessed that they were made so special for me. I believe God planned it to be that way. I believe that God was preparing me for the heartache which was only days away. He was blessing me with great memories of a deep love that I shared with this man whom He would remove from my life soon. God granted me a short 6½ years with this man. A short time, really. But in those short years, Bruce and I lived life to the full! We were almost inseparable and were truly best friends. We shared our deepest dreams, hopes and fears. We were truly content with one another. Our friends said we were like peanut butter and jelly. You can’t have one without the other!

My life has changed drastically and dramatically since Oct. 3, 2001. I am not the same person I was then. God has done some miraculous things in my life these past seven years and I’m sure he’s not done yet! I thank God for those six short years He loaned Bruce to me. I learned so much from Bruce about how to live my daily life and how to be a strong, knowledgeable woman of God. I have no regrets. God has shown me that He is in control of our every breath: we just think we are. We are not. It’s His decision when we stop breathing. He made us, He will remove us from this earth when His time is right. Nothing we can do will keep that from happening. Being the controlling type person that I am, I’ve become very aware that I’m not as in control of things as I think I am.

As I reflect on the precious days I spent with Bruce before he was taken to his new home, my heart still aches for him. In my mind’s eye, I can still see him so precisely, so exactly the way he was during those last few days of his life. I can walk through my house and yard and see where he has left his touch. The old saying, “You truly don’t know what you have until it’s gone” rings true for me. I knew our marriage, love and friendship were very special, but did not know the depth of that fact until I no longer had that relationship.

This time of the year is now so bittersweet for me. I have come to love fall more than any other season of the year. The fall colors are brighter now, the sky bluer and clearer, the air full of scents that seep into my nostrils so deeply I’ll never forget them. And my heart is filled to overflowing with life and thanksgiving to my Lord and Savior. Life is no longer the same. I don’t take myself nearly as seriously as I once did, yet I take love and life’s special moments much more seriously. I know first-hand that life can be right-side up one minute and upside down the next. I know that I have very little control over things I think I should have, that Someone much larger and stronger than me has those details taken care of. I have learned how to let go of things that just don’t matter and to focus on things and relationships that are much more important.

If I were to share one life lesson I’ve learned while walking through the past seven years without my companion by my side, it would be this: Don’t take life for granted. Don’t think of yourself as invincible. Don’t think you have it all under control.

And the hugest prayer I could ever pray is this: That everyone who reads this would acknowledge the One who is larger than you. The One who has all the answers, holds the universe in the span of His hand, and He wants YOU to come home to HIM when it’s your time to leave this old world behind.

He leads me like a shepherd

Marilyn and Bruce after their wedding May 5, 1995.

As the summer fades and fall draws ever closer, I [Marilyn] am reminded of how quickly my life is passing right before my very eyes. This very year itself has passed by at a speed that proves to me I am not in control of much here on this ol’ earth. It seems that just yesterday I was scooping an early spring snow off my deck, anxiously awaiting the arrival of spring!

This October marks the seventh anniversary of the death of my best friend, my companion, my teacher, my protector, my provider, my comforter: my husband. The man God gave me for just a very short time to enjoy life with.

Every fall as the seasons change, as the butterflies hover over late-flowering plants, as children return to school and football games resume, as early morning walks are blessed with crisp cool air and the nights lengthen and turn cool, at times my heart aches heavily with memories from that day that changed my life forever. As I stroll through my fall-colored yard, I can look up at the roof and see Bruce repairing that shingle. I hear his voice as we share our hopes, dreams and lives during those last few days of his life here on earth with me. I remember a picnic in the back yard on that clear fall day with some special friends, the last time they saw Bruce alive. I remember the mid-afternoon break in the back yard, when we lay on the grass and smiled in great contentment at our lives. I had no way of knowing that in just a few short days, Bruce would no longer be by my side.

Bruce and I were rejoicing that he was feeling better after recovering from minor surgery that had turned into a major recovery process for both of us. I was starting to breathe a sigh of relief that he was healing well and his strength was returning. He was so relieved to be able to work on our house again, that he finished up one project after another, with me right by his side.

That Sunday was special because he was well enough to attend both services with me! Oh what a day of rejoicing that was, not only for us, but for our wonderful church family! Everyone was so glad to see him up and around and involved with us again. Our feelings of joy and contentment were like a cup, filled to overflowing with blessings abundant.

Being able to breathe again did not last long however. Into the deep hours of that Sunday night, a deadly infection had begun to show its ugly head in Bruce’s body. Bruce woke me up with news that things were not as they should be. We immediately followed the same procedures we’d been trained to do after his surgery, with no good results.

The following afternoon, Bruce was admitted to the hospital. He was immediately hooked up to IVs with powerful antibiotics surging through his body. Tests were taken to determine the source of this downhill slide. News of what this infection could be made us shiver with fear. Steadily, Bruce became sicker and sicker, losing all the strength he had regained, and more, til he was no longer able to sit up alone. Food did not stay down, and dry heaves were hitting him hard.

On the evening of Bruce’s second night in the hospital, he called me at work. He sounded excited yet weak. He said that he was hungry for the first time in days, and wanted me to have supper with him. Our last meal together was Cream of Tomato Soup and a Grilled Cheese Sandwich at the hospital. Too weak to feed himself, I gave him small sips and bites of food. I was overjoyed to feed my husband and to see him eat!

As Bruce rallied that evening, my family and many of our friends came to visit us in the hospital. The room was packed with loved ones showing us how much they loved us!

The room quickly cleared though, as Bruce’s body once again turned for the worst. I watched in shock and total fear as I saw my husband’s condition worsen. The knot in my stomach grew ever larger and my heart grew tight. The doctor was called and administered some sleeping medication so that Bruce’s body would calm down and he could get some much-needed rest. As Bruce drifted off to sleep, I quietly left the room and returned to my empty house.

What happened during the wee hours of the next morning, I can explain only by believing that it was the Holy Spirit’s move on my heart. To read what took place next in my life, come see us again tomorrow at this same location, where I’ll pick up the story right here!

Through a glass darkly

For now we are looking in a mirror that gives only a dim (blurred) reflection [of reality as in a riddle or enigma], but then [when perfection comes] we shall see in reality and face to face! Now I know in part (imperfectly), but then I shall know and understand fully and clearly, even in the same manner as I have been fully and clearly known and understood [by God]. – I Cor. 13:12 (Amplified)

I caught my dim reflection in window laying on the floor in an abandoned house.

According to I Corinthians, this dim reflection is what we understand about ourselves, each other and our lives. We see only a miniscule bit of the big picture. Our lives are like a giant tapestry of which we only see a infinitesimal slice. And we only see the underside of that slice.

Only God sees “the big picture”. Only He knows “the end from the beginning”.

Tony Snow, George Bush’s late Press Secretary, wrote “…God relishes surprise. We want lives of simple, predictable ease — smooth, even trails as far as the eye can see — but God likes to go off-road. He provokes us with twists and turns. He places us in predicaments that seem to defy our endurance and comprehension — and yet don’t. By his love and grace, we persevere. The challenges that make our hearts leap and stomachs churn invariably strengthen our faith and grant measures of wisdom and joy we would not experience otherwise.…”

Just like Tony Snow, I’d greatly prefer a straight, level, predictable road through life. A road where we can see every step far into the distance. No dark valleys. No tortuous inclines. Plenty of money, perfect health for me and those I love, no grief, no pain, no frustration.

And then I’d think I could live life on my own terms, that I didn’t need God or anyone else.

Adversity could be called “growing pains”. Faith does not grow on level roads. It grows in dark, tight, mountainous places. Places where the glass is indeed dim and God’s purposes are beyond opaque. Places that I can only navigate by the grace of God.

What need would we have to trust if we could see everything? What need would we have for grace if we could walk alone?

Someday I will stand in the blazing light of Heaven. I will “know as I am known”. Until then, God intends to build my faith muscles through struggle and adversity.

It'll Do

We thought this was a great name for a motel. Yes, it’s no five-star Ritz Carlton, but it’s shelter and a bed. Sometimes, shelter and a bed is all we’re going to get.

“But godliness with contentment is great gain.” – I Tim. 6:6

Stay on the track

We have a wayward sprinkler. That tractor often jumps the guiding hose and goes wherever it pleases.

The last time I watered, I caught it heading straight for the street, not once, but twice. Blessedly for everyone, it had gotten the tip of an arm caught on an obstacle both times. I would hate to think of the liability we could incur if our sprinkler ran into the street.

Didn’t it listen to its mother? “How many times have I told you not to play in the street?”

I just want the sprinkler to follow the very clear path I’ve set for it and do its job on this planet. Just spread water on the grass and gardens — not the sidewalks, not the street. That’s all I’m asking it to do. It has all the direction, all the power and all the equipment necessary to do its job, but it tends to be wayward and disobedient.

I get so aggravated when I have to rescue it and set it back on the proper path. I want to tell it, “Can’t you just follow the path I’ve lain out for you?”

The last time I picked up that sprinkler and replaced it where it belonged, I realized that I am often just like my annoying sprinkler.

My Savior tells me, “This is the way; walk in it.”

And I do – for awhile. Then I get alarming tendencies to jump the guidance hose and wander willy-nilly. How many times have I been saved by an obstacle he has placed in my path to stop me from going headlong into catastrophe? How many times has He had to pick me up and put me back on the right track? How many times have I missed an opportunity to spread Living Water in the right place because I was wandering instead of working?

Does He get as aggravated as I do when my sprinkler does what it shouldn’t be doing? Does He sigh in exasperation as I do when I find that my sprinkler has taken a useless path instead of being of service?

He must have a lot more patience with me than I do with my sprinkler. I’m so grateful for that. I’m so thankful that His mercies are new every morning and that His faithfulness is unbounded.

So next time I see that my sprinkler has jumped the track, I’ll try to examine myself to see where I’ve jumped off track.

Friends are like butterflies

My friend Marilyn will be contributing guest posts from time to time. This is her first contribution.

Forrest Gump says, “Life is like a box of chocolates.” I like to think of my friendships as a "garden of butterflies.”

Butterflies thrive on a nice, warm stone. They warm their wings before flying off to hover over some waiting flower petal for refreshment and sustenance. They also need little sips of clean, fresh water in order to refresh their little bodies after they have flown hither and yon all day long.

And each butterfly is its own unique creation. Each one has a spot that is different from the others. Butterflies come in 28,000 different species and each butterfly has slightly different markings, the mark of our loving Creator’s hands.

Friends are like butterflies. As a friend, you flutter from this friend to that one, doing fun activities with this one, then sitting and drinking from your friends’ refreshing, encouraging words at the end of a long day. Or maybe you just sit on the deck and watch the sun set together, basking in the last glows of the warm sunshine and in the joy of each other’s presence.

When the weather has beaten you down, the chill in the air has spread to your heart, what better place to get warmed up than in front of a friend’s fireplace with a warm cup of hot cocoa?

Or how about those times when life has hit you behind the knees and knocked you down? Maybe one of your butterfly friends drops by and takes you out for a yummy piece of homemade apple pie a la mode! When you get home after spending time with a good friend, you feel refreshed and much safer.

So, Forrest, I love your chocolate saying, but I also like my butterfly saying! When I look at each of my four closest friends in the entire world, I see a lovely butterfly in each one of them. I see them each ministering to others who are in need of love and comfort at just the right moment. I see them spreading beauty in the world. I see each of them in need of such things in their own lives at times, and I watch as each butterfly in the group stops and ministers to one another.

Dear Lord, I love the way You made butterflies for our enjoyment and for us to learn from. We can learn a lot from the life of the beautiful butterfly. Thank You!

Solomon and the lilies

As I looked at my blooming lilies, this passage came to mind: "Consider how the lilies grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today, and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, how much more will he clothe you, O you of little faith!" (Luke 12:26-28)

I confess to being a worrier. Faith and trust come hard.

Looking at my lilies reminds me that my Father cares for me just as I tend my flowers. I weed and water them, mulch and fertilize them. Their welfare is my responsibility. Flowering is their responsibility.

So it is with my Father. He tends me so that I may flower and produce fruit.

Why am I borrowing trouble and carrying responsibilities that are not mine to bear?

My Heavenly Father beckons me to give my worries to Him.

I wish I only had to do that once, that all concerns would vanish the first time I confessed my worrying. Such is not the case. I must repeatedly hand over my worries. Just as I build physical muscle through exercise, I build spiritual muscle through exercising discipline over my mind.

Worrying makes my flowers diseased and wilted. I want to produce beautiful flowers, so I must turn over my worries to the One who cares for me.

Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you. (I Peter 5:7)

'Pesky ants' yield character

Peony: Could you please get rid of these ants that are crawling on me? Spray them with insecticide and kill them! I hate the way their feet feel on my buds. The feel of their mandibles crunching away on my pretty shiny bud coating is just grotesque. It makes my leaves crawl. Please do something before I die of the heebie jeebies!

Master Gardener: Silence.

Peony: Are you listening to me? I hate these ants. They are bothering me. Why won’t you do something?

Master Gardener: Silence.

Peony: Hello! Where are you? I’d like you to lose the ants for me. It’s not like I can brush them off or spray them myself!

Master Gardener: Silence.

Peony: I have so many buds this year. I’m going to bear beautiful blossoms – if I could only get rid of these pesky ants! How is a girl to make flowers when she’s being crawled upon?

Master Gardener: Silence.

Peony: My buds are popping open. Aren’t they beautiful? I just love the color and fragrance. I’m so pleased to make these beautiful flowers!

Master Gardener: You see, Peony, the nice shiny coating you had over your buds often keeps them from blooming. Those “pesky ants” ate that coating just as I intended them to do when I created you and when I created them. Your shiny coating is part of My provision for those “pesky ants”. And the “pesky ants” are part of My provision for you.
While you thought I was ignoring you, I was enabling you to be the plant I intended you to be. You were made to produce beautiful blossoms, but you couldn’t do it alone. You needed the trial of those “pesky ants” to open your blossoms.
Remember how I pruned you? How you complained! “That hurts! Stop that!” you cried. But I had to prune off the dead stalks for you to thrive this spring. I had to sprinkle you with that Bordeaux mix that made you sneeze.
But your life hasn’t all been ants, pruning and Bordeaux mix. Who watered you? Who put up a wire hoop to support those beautiful blossoms?
I did.
When you thought I was ignoring you, I was right there tending you.
And now you are fulfilling your purpose with your beautiful, fragrant blooms. Weren’t the pain and annoyance worth the price?

Peony: Yes, Lord, it was worth the price.

The servant's ear

My friend the nurse practitioner treated a badly infected ear a few days ago. The physician with whom she works examined it and said that the infection needed to be lanced.

Looking at the ear reminded the doctor of Luke 22:49-51 (New International Version). Roman soldiers and others came to the Garden of Gethsemane to arrest Jesus. "When Jesus' followers saw what was going to happen, they said, 'Lord, should we strike with our swords?' And one of them struck the servant of the high priest, cutting off his right ear.

"But Jesus answered, 'No more of this! And he touched the man's ear and healed him."

Doctor said that not only did Jesus heal the man’s ear, he preserved the servant’s job. Lev. 21:17 and 22-23 say, "Say to Aaron: 'For the generations to come none of your descendants who has a defect may come near to offer the food of his God. … He may eat the most holy food of his God, as well as the holy food; yet because of his defect, he must not go near the curtain or approach the altar, and so desecrate my sanctuary. I am the LORD, who makes them holy. ' "

Because of this command, a man with a missing ear could not have come near the altar of God.

Jesus restored the servant’s ear to preserve his position, but he has done so much more for us. We serve the High Priest, Jesus Christ (Heb. 21-22): [H]e became a priest with an oath when God said to him: "The Lord has sworn and will not change his mind: 'You are a priest forever.' "Because of this oath, Jesus has become the guarantee of a better covenant.”

But not only do we serve him, we are also priests under him. I Peter 2:9-10: “But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light. Once you were not a people, but now you are the people of God; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.”

How can we, the imperfect humans that we are, become faultless priests?

Because our acceptance of Christ’s sacrifice has made us perfect.

Have you accepted that sacrifice?

If not, please do so today.

Windows and doors part II

The few strands of wood hanging down from this frame make me think of strands of hair falling into the window's eyes. The sky dominates the landscape here on the High Plains. Many of the early settlers felt oppressed by the sky's vast expanse. The shed and window frame humanize the sky's scale, but only slightly.

Beneath our vast dome, we can find it easy to feel like ants on the cosmic scale. And I suppose we are. But our Heavenly Father finds us unbelievably precious.

Precious in His sight.

Precious enough to send His Son to die for us.

For those who have a relationship with His Son, Jesus Christ, the universe is a friendly place, no matter its vastness.