“For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.” Jeremiah 29:11 (NLT)
This morning I was reminded of this past year. It’s been a year, let’s leave it at that. A year of cancer diagnosis, surgeries, radiation, a broken toe (yes, that hurt more than my surgeries), possible diagnosis that don’t sound wonderful, a bout of bronchitis.
I could choose to dwell on these things. It would be easy to do that. To think on the negative. To relive each thing. But, I will not do that. I serve a God who was in every day this past year. He is in today. He is already in tomorrow.
In between all that happened in 2023, there was laughter. Hanging out with our grandson and his family was a highlight for Dale and I. That laughter, the smiles, the hugs, the playing all healed many areas that ached. Spending time with friends, traveling to new places, taking time for just the two of us, these all were bright spots for us.
Each year holds a balance. The balance may tip one way or another any given year. Each year we approach a new year not knowing what that year will hold. The older I get the realization of uncertainty becomes greater. That uncertainty used to make me almost panicky. I now have an assurance that I will have experienced most of what the new year holds in some way or another.
Above all, I can say with a heart full of gratitude and peace, Merry Christmas! May your holiday be wonderful, filled with surprise and laughter and playfulness. May your heartaches be healed and joy be overflowing deep within you.
God is a great God, and He has 2024 in the palm of His hands. Nothing is going to escape His attention and care.
“I could never love anyone as I love my sisters.” —Little Women film adaptation (1994)
I am a middle child of three. My sisters and I raised one another. It was our life and it was our normal. We have wonderful memories of the years we grew up together.
Yes we fought as sisters do. We laughed and were silly at times. We had inside jokes that we can still recall. We would sneak each other’s clothes, make-up and sometimes shoes.
My younger sister and I would play with the ‘grown up ‘ things of our older sister, her long gloves, her eye shadows. We looked at her prom dresses.
I married in 1975 and moved away. I missed decades with my sisters. Life with them was long distanced. I couldn’t do much at all. Snail mail was our only connection, except on weekends when rates were cheaper for long distance calls.
Email, text messages, cell phones have changed that. It’s wonderful. We all live apart from one another. Different states in different parts of the country is not how we dreamed it would be. We thought we would marry and live on the southside of our town, within walking distance. I often wonder how that would have been.
There are conversations we have where you feel a part of what they are doing. When my younger sister is walking her dog, I have done that with her, both physically and while we are talking on the phone. Those times as she says she is in the car heading home, I almost want to say, well, what should we do for dinner? It seems so natural to continue.
Last night I had such a conversation. The kind where you go beyond relaying news and weather. The kind of conversation where you want to keep talking into the still hours of the night. Talking about everything under the sun and nothing at all.
As I climbed into bed last night I thanked God for the blessing of my sisters. I know they are always there and would do anything for each of us at the drop of a pin. But there are times when although the knowledge is there, a hunger for a hug and a squeeze is what is needed.
Psalm 139:13 says,”For You formed my inward parts; You covered me in my mother’s womb.” (NKJV) This is one of my favorite scriptures. It reminds me that our Lord knows me intimately. As He formed me in my mother’s womb, He formed my sisters. He knows them intimately and He created us and put us together as family. His plan for us as sisters is still going on. Time, distance, life separates us, but the bond of being sisters is so much greater than all of that.
I am a middle child. I am blessed to be between two precious women. Thank you Jesus.
“For God’s gifts and his call can never be withdrawn.” Romans 11:29 (NLT)
I am old enough to remember spending my afternoons and weekends listening to 45’s and albums. In middle school, I loved the Monkees. This group helped me in many ways cope with the death of my Mom. I had all of their albums and played them over and over. On their first album was the song, “The Last Train to Clarksville”, which had a scratch in it. There was one point in the song that made it sound like the singer had a case of the burps, where it just kept replaying a note. The needle was stuck in the groove from the scratch. It was at this point where you either put a penny on the top of the needle to give it more weight to keep tracking or you gently put a finger on top of the needle to keep it tracking. To this day, whenever I hear this song my mind automatically puts the scratch part of the song in my mind. I smile whenever this happens.
We all have records that we play in our mind. Not the actual vinyl albums, but records of how we feel about ourselves or what has been told or yelled at us through the years. These records replay negative things in our mind and follow us through life, unfortunately.
How often do you listen to ‘those’ records? Recently I have listened to mine and it has been stuck on the same note. For me, that note is feeling inadequate. These notes stick in my brain, and they clog my heart and soul. In these times, I cannot clearly see or hear God’s voice telling me that I am enough. I fail to hear God’s voice that Yes, I can write, yes I can minister. Mainly that I CAN.
What I have once more learned that when I focus on the skip in the recording instead of allowing the Lord to rest His finger on the needle of my heart so that the skip is barely noticeable, I can continue with the song that is my life.
God’s finger He places on us is a gentle touch. He doesn’t want us to listen to bad recordings. He has more for us. He has the beautiful harmony that He has created for us. His recordings bring us life and fullness of joy. When I was in middle school we had a stack of 45’s. We would go through that stack and discover songs we had forgotten we had. We’d play them and remember why they were at the bottom of the stack, they were just bad. The same is true in our life, (especially mine), when we reach down and play the recordings that do not give us life, do not draw us closer to God and to what He has planned for us.
I, once more, have to take the record I have been listening to and toss it or better still, break it so it cannot be taken out again.
“Just as you cannot understand the path of the wind or the mystery of a tiny baby growing in its mother’s womb, so you cannot understand the activity of God, who does all things.” Ecclesiastes 11:5 (NLT)
I have long been fascinated by pathways. I find when I travel I take several pictures of a path that I see. As I am a nature coward, I rarely go onto the path. I fear snakes, bees, ticks, and anything else that may be lurking in the area. Because of this, I know I miss out on seeing things that the Lord created.
When we drive I look out the passenger’s window and think of how the area looked long ago. I wonder if the boys and men in the Civil War were surprised by the swamps and alligators. I imagine the fear and wonder that must have grasped the British during the Revolutionary War. My mind never really stops.
This past week I have thought of paths from long ago. I have questioned if I was headed in the right direction. I pondered pathways.
Often I will revert into my mind and overthink things. This is not a good thing to do for any length of time. I can get lost in my reverie.
Yesterday I watched a video that talked about Lot’s wife. Genesis 19:17,”When they were safely out of the city, one of the angels ordered, “Run for your lives! And don’t look back or stop anywhere in the valley! Escape to the mountains, or you will be swept away!” (NLT)
One would think an angel telling you this would be enough to cause total obedience. But, no, Genesis 19:26, “But Lot’s wife looked back as she was following behind him, and she turned into a pillar of salt.” (NLT)
I realize I can be like Lot’s wife. I can look back to earlier times, easier times (although time has eased memories to make it appear easier) and yearn to be back there.
There was a point in our life where we made a decision. We have followed through with that decision. The past couple of weeks I have questioned that decision. Last evening, the Lord, ever faithful and true shook me out of myself.
Pathways are great to look at, dream, ponder and wonder. But, God wants us to keep moving forward. So, forward I go. I will place our vacation and time in Maine into the scrapbook in my heart. I will pull it out to remember and smile. I will then close it and return to the path I am on.
“You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.” Psalm 56:8 (NLT)
Forty two years ago we left Winter Harbor.
We left this home. A home of a young family, Mom, Dad, Daughter. In this home we had much laughter and tears. This home is where we were overjoyed to find out we were having a second child. Months later, we lost that child.
This home was filled with teens from our youth group, The Harbor Lights. It was comprised of Navy kids and town kids. They would pile into our living room, most of them on the floor, and always crowded with very little room to walk between them. Each Sunday night it was the same thing, put our daughter to bed, and wait for the kids, our kids. They would be boisterous, loud, talking all at once. They would also wait for hearing a bottle thrown from a crib onto the floor and then the sound of a two year old attempting to climb out of the crib, mostly landing with a thud and a cry. They would all jump up to get the baby and be told to sit down. They wanted to play with her, and I wanted her to sleep. They thought us grown and mature, we were only a few years apart actually.
When we drove away from this home, it was with the promise that we would return shortly. We drove off to California, thinking we would return for good in six years. That was where our heart was. This was the direction we thought we would go.
Life changes.
Going to Winter Harbor for our summer vacation I thought would just be an easy trip. Enjoy the scenery, the food, the people. Have some memories and relax.
I did all of the above, but something I wasn’t expecting happened. The easy trip was a beautiful one but the Lord had other plans for me.
Sitting in our little home we rented I looked across the street to a former home of a friend. Both are with the Lord now. Beside them the home of another couple. We talk often, but not as often as we should. We share what age is doing. How it is affecting us. Looking at their home I thought of the easy laughter we shared. The time her husband walked up the path between our homes (now overgrown and non existent) mooing at the cows grazing. I watched from my back door as he realized that there was also a bull present and a chase began. The bull sounding out and defending territory and this man running faster than I had seen a man run uphill.
Each turn in the road brought back memories. They danced with the thoughts, hopes and prayers of my younger self.
My heart stirred with echoes of prayers said so long ago while I questioned if my current life reflected the perfect will of God or if I was living the permissive will of God while He’s waited for me to catch up with what His plans truly are for me.
The questions still remain. The awesome thing about Winter Harbor is the presence of God. His majesty reflected in the coast, in the water, the rocks, the fog, the beauty. It all calls out to me. In the voice of the fog horns I hear the voice of my God. Calling out to me, guiding me in the clouds of my life.
Pensive reflection joined me on this trip. I thought of the trajectory of lives. Some remain steady, slowly gaining momentum. Some see a destination and fly to it, sharing the Lord as they go.
I have seen mine like the tides. It ebbs and flows. Always pounding the same heart, the same mind. I have wondered if my life is like the rocks on Schoodic Point, strong, present, barely showing signs of erosion, or if my life is like the bay where pluff mud is visible and noticed by the smelly scent.
I have often said that I left part of my heart in Maine. What I didn’t realize the part I left was so much of my heart.
I know we will never live there permanently, but I am so very blessed to have been able to live there for a season. A season when I grew to know my Lord in a stronger way. A time when I was taught the majesty and splendor of the Living God. A place where waves crash loudly on rock, the fog moves quickly and hovers it’s dense blanket on the homes and shores. A place that yells the glory and might of God and yet, He comes into my heart quietly there and whispers to me. He urges me and nudges me to draw closer to Him. He welcomes me back home there, and then continues on this journey with me.
“I am leaving you with a gift—peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don’t be troubled or afraid.” John 1:27 (NLT)
At the end of July, Dale and I traveled to VA Beach to our oldest daughter’s home. A few days later all of us piled into a vehicle and headed north.
A day later, we arrived at our destination, Winter Harbor, Maine. For the next week we resided in an old Navy housing area. Looking up beyond the housing area, we could see the back of the home we lived in during the early 80’s. Across the street were the former homes of friends from our time there.
Winter Harbor did not disappoint. It was as welcoming as it was decades ago. Many changes have happened, but all of them good changes.
Memories walked beside me, holding onto my hands and heart. They sang songs to me of past joy. The rugged coastline, solid and firm, spoke to me of the long lasting experiences that helped shape me into who I am today.
The cries of the gulls echoed the voice of our granddaughter as she searched for shells and climbed the rocks. The coastal roses, sweet in fragrance always caught her attention as she would stop, smell and pick one, just to keep.
Visiting with a woman, who, as a teen babysat our oldest daughter made the time there complete for me. I have often told the Lord that if I could touch at least one life in a lasting way, I would feel like I have accomplished something. Her hugs and our conversation confirmed that although her life has touched mine deeply, mine had touched hers also. We wanted to see many more people, but time, and their lives didn’t work out to see them. I carried them in my heart and remembered them at each turn.
We were stationed in Winter Harbor two years after being saved. Our relationship with our Lord was new, young. We were excited and anxious to do something, anything for him. Walking the streets again renewed that desire for me. It was coming home to me.
Winter Harbor anchored itself in me. We have lived many places in our life. Each has their own kind of special, but none compare to the hold this coastal city has on me. As we drove into town my heart leapt in me. The vistas called my name and welcomed me home.
We have been back several times, but only for a day, maybe two. A week there and I felt the roots of my life there start to take hold of me, urging me to stay. But, as my favorite poem by Robert Frost says, “The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep,” The coast is rugged and draws me to it, but, as the poem states, I have promises to keep.
So, with fresh memories made, and a tummy full of lobster and mussels and scallops, we packed up richer in spirit, and came home.
“Then Jesus said, “Let’s go off by ourselves to a quiet place and rest awhile.” Mark 6:1 (NLT)
We all need time to go off and leave normal behind. We have that opportunity soon and I am so looking forward to it. Next week we will be in Maine.
We lived in Maine for three years in the early 80’s. Those three years were some of the best years of my life. I am anxious to once more walk and see the rock bound coast, hearing the gulls cry and seeing the waves of the mighty Atlantic Gulf of Maine come rushing up over the rocks.
I long to smell the sea air, different from other sea air with a slight briskness of the north hiding underneath the fragrance of pluff mud and seaweed. To listen to the fog horns in the distance and to look for the lights of the lighthouses.
We had planned to retire there. To live out the bulk of life there, enjoying the creative majesty of God. I think this area must be close to what Heaven is, as I am enveloped in the peace I find in the coast.
I left pieces of my heart there when we left in 1982. I am hoping to rediscover those pieces when we visit, although I know those pieces will not want to rejoin me.
We plan to visit a few people. A couple of the girls from our youth group held in our home. They babysat our oldest and stopped almost daily at our house before heading home from school. Precious women who are a testament of the ministry we had there. I long to hug them and get caught up.
We will stop in to see friends who were our mentors in our young Christian walk. They poured much into our lives and hearts. They often appeared at our door with just what we were in need of, be it hand me downs that were beautiful for our daughter or advice and teaching. We need to see them, just one more time.
It’s been 32 years since we last were there. Our oldest was 12 and now, she wants her daughter and husband to see a part of her past.
My soul recently has been downcast. My mind has raced from one thought to battle another and I am weary. I know soon I will be refreshed. I will be refreshed because I will be home this side of glory for just a few days.
“Those who live in the shelter of the Most High will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty. 2 This I declare about the Lord: He alone is my refuge, my place of safety; He is my God, and I trust Him.” Psalm 91:1-2 (NLT)
“We can make our plans, but the Lord determines our steps.” Proverbs 16:9 (NLT)
At the end of May we took a few days to go to the mountains of North Carolina. After the year we have had, we figured a trip to step away was what we needed.
Indeed, it was a welcome respite. Sitting on the porch swings and watching the sun dance through the trees and leaves. Seeing the sun on the ripples of the pond and listening to the birds and the frogs. We were removed from all the things pressing down on us. We relaxed. We reconnected with each other. We ate our way through the mountain towns during the day and came back to the cabin at night to sit some more.
It was such a wonderful time. We didn’t want it to end and as we drove toward home, we both said we wished we could have stayed longer. It was that kind of time away.
But, to home we came. Laundry, cleaning and groceries are needing to be done. But, we were relaxed and rested. It was okay.
Upon arriving home, Dale checked his messages to find out that a friend had passed away. A friend we met when we were first married. A little family who lived in an apartment above ours. They too were recently married and had a baby. They were a Coast Guard family, we, a Navy family. Our relationship was an instant one. We were together often. I never wanted children until I held their precious baby girl. She became our god-daughter. We became family.
As happens before computers and smart phones, we lost touch, until a few years ago when we rediscovered each other. Phone calls, messages, texts and we were back in touch. We had meant to go visit, but, life kept intervening. This time, life stopped and we traveled to Mobile to pay our final respects.
We didn’t know what to expect. We hadn’t seen this family in over 40 years. The day after driving to Mobile, we found ourselves at the door of our friend. As the door opened, the years were erased. Tears, laughter, memories, more laughter, more tears, holding hands and hugging. Time was erased.
We visited for a while and left so she could rest. We drove around that afternoon. Mostly lost in our own thoughts and memories. When we stopped to eat, we were once more in a place of quiet.
We sat and ate our fresh seafood, and listened to the seagulls, the sea birds, the fishing vessels. It was what we needed. A respite. A place to gather our thoughts. A time to remember.
We attended the funeral and the gathering afterwards. We returned home. A bit weary, but refreshed also.
Last week I had another surgery for my face. I can’t say I remember much of that, as I slept through it. I know that it was a process to get to the final step, that being not having a hole in the side of my nose.
The past few weeks have been a whirl wind of sorts. It was not what we had planned. But, God. He knew exactly what was going to happen. Would we have planned it all this way? No. But, in our planning we would have missed the little moments we experienced. Moments that made lasting memories for us to cherish.
The lesson I learned the most was when we saw our god-daughter for the first time. I saw her walk into the funeral home. I went over to her and found myself hugging her with my hand on the back of her head, the way I used to hold her as an infant. Tears flowed freely as I hugged her. I told her I had longed to hug her for a very long time, that my heart never forgot her. She hugged me just as tightly back.
As I came home the Lord spoke to me. He reminded me that He created me and held me as I once held our god-daughter. And like the intervening years of not being able to hug her, was like us when we walk away from the Lord. His heart longs to hold us, and keep us near to Him. The joy I felt when I saw and hugged our god-daughter is how our Lord feels when we return to Him and stay close to Him. There is a joy, a peace and a love that surpasses our understanding.
And He said, “My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.” – Exodus 33:14 (NKJV)
Dale and I got away this week from our normal routine. It’s not like we live in a metropolis, no we live a quiet life on our 5 acre piece of heaven.
After the start of this year, with our daughter’s cancer and my basal cell surgeries, we needed to unwind. So we came to the mountains to a beautiful log cabin in Whittier in the Great Smoky mountains of North Carolina.
It’s a quiet place, and restful. Each night we have been serenaded by the frogs in the pond and trees. At dusk birds call to one another while the scent of honeysuckle fills the air.
Dale has fished nightly, catching and releasing a variety of fish. Fishing is his relaxing time, I know he does his talking with God during those times.
This afternoon, after going into town for lunch and ice cream, and browsing the shops we returned and sat on the porch swing. This is my favorite thing.
I sat curled up next to Dale, his arms wrapped around me. We talked about everything and nothing. We laughed together. It felt comfortable. It was peaceful. It was familiar.
I thought of vacations past. Expectations were there, as well as disappointments. This time was different. We were grateful to just be. We put away thoughts of ‘to-do’ lists. We didn’t focus on the heavy things we have just come through.
No, this part of the Lord’s glorious creation was for us to just be. The house allowed us to do so. The porch gave us space to be quiet or to laugh over silly things.
Too often we go day to day, mentally checking off things, berating ourselves for unaccomplished things. This week the Lord called us to rest and reflect. The journey for us has had it’s ups and downs, but I couldn’t have asked for a better partner to accompany me.
“Father to the fatherless, defender of widows— this is God, whose dwelling is holy.” Psalm 68:5 (NLT)
My time of walking is a time for prayer, a time to reflect and often it is a time when random things pop into my head. Today was no different.
What happened today was a memory of my Dad. I don’t often write about my Dad, I don’t know why. I have always looked like my Dad’s side of the family. I have the same unibrow he had, and I now yell at the television like he did. I like to walk like he did. There are many similarities. He was a quiet man. Conversations weren’t always easy with him. He died suddenly which was a shock to everyone. The above scripture is one the Lord gave me on the flight home from his funeral.
The random memory was about a time I spent with my Dad on an early Sunday morning, years ago. I have always been a horrible sleeper. One night must have been one of those nights that I kept my parents up also. This is how I remember the events of that early Sunday morning.
My Dad walked into the bedroom I shared with my younger sister. He said that since I was awake, I might as well get up and dressed to go to early mass. The early mass was at 5:30 a.m.
I got dressed in my new Easter jacket (a short white one, and a red rose covered headband) and off we went in the dark. After mass, the sun was just rising. We drove past our house and continued on to the cemetery. He parked at the far edge of the cemetery and we got out to walk. I had never been there before and honestly, I don’t know if I have ever gone back to that point since.
Spring flowers were just blooming. I remember holding onto my Dad’s hand and listening to him talk. I can’t remember what he said, I just have the memory of his voice talking to me. I felt so special in that moment.
We got to the edge of a hill and watched as the sun continued to rise. Below us ran the Allegheny River, hard to see at first, but glistened as the sun hit it . The sun woke the birds and they chirped as daylight began.
There were few moments like this with my Dad. It was a different time and generation. Dad’s were the quiet head of the houses. They were stern and catered to.
Later in my life, this man became the single parent to three daughters. How strange that must have been for him. I am certain he felt overwhelmed and at a loss as to what to do. But, he was steadfast in being there. Not always saying or doing things correctly, but he was a constant.
As I walked this morning, I realized that our Heavenly Father is a constant also. He is a father to the fatherless. I felt this morning that it has been too long since I walked hand in hand with Him. Like normal families, we often dash in to grab a quick snack only to dash out again to be on our way. Our Heavenly Father is understanding, but I feel like He longs for us to stop, talk, crawl up into His lap and listen as His voice fills our being with knowledge that we are special.
