Category: Prayer

Women at the V.A.

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Today I went with Dale for a couple appointments he had at the V.A.. It’s always an interesting time when we go.

Usually, I watch the veterans. Mostly men, older, although many young men are also there. I heard a few conversations between these men. One was talking about his Ranger training and as I turned to see who was talking, an older man limping down the hallway was doing the talking. To hear the stories and see the men is something that touches my heart deeply.

Today, though, my focus went to the wives. They accompanied their husbands. One who was waiting was deeply engrossed in a book. One led her husband up to the window and gently pushing him toward the window made a fairly loud comment to sign in there with a hand motion. She turned around and mouthed the words “He can’t hear a thing!” to others waiting for their turn in the audiology department. Others pointed directions, walked beside their spouse, gently holding onto hands and guiding their backs.

Yesterday was Memorial Day, a day to remember those who gave all in battle. The heroes that wrote checks to this country with their lives.

As I sat watching and thinking, it occurred to me what military spouses have given. In our youth we waited through deployments. We learned how to maintain vehicles, fix lawn mowers, fix wobbly doors. We were the ones to kill spiders, bugs, and chase off snakes. We were Mommy and Daddy. We kept moving through exhaustion and wrote letters at night that didn’t mention that part of life. We had to think of morale. Our deployed husbands didn’t need to hear of half a problem solved, they needed to know that things were under control. They needed to know the kids were well, the bills were paid, the car was running, the lawn was mowed. There was no e-mail. No video calls. No photos instantly sent.

The women at the V.A. today were in that group. We did without. We made do. We prayed for wisdom, we prayed for safety, we prayed for sanity. And today as I watched these incredible women, it occurred to me that we are still doing that. Supporting our men, watching them, waiting for them, being there. The toughest job in the military? The military spouse.

A Whole Bunch of Stupid

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“You will show me the way of life, granting me the joy of your presence and the pleasures of living with you forever.” Psalm 16:11 (NLT)

47 years ago today, my husband and I accepted Jesus as our Lord and Savior. The best decision we have ever made. Our lives were immediately changed for the positive. Old habits went to the side as we learned to walk in our new faith. Each year this day brings memories and reflections with it.

Yesterday I had an initial appointment for physical therapy. The therapist asked a bunch of questions about my aches and pains and why I thought I had them. She had me do some exercises and she felt my back to feel the differences in it.

She asked how I broke my back. I explained that 23 years ago I went sledding with my youngest daughter and her friend, they were both high school seniors at the time. We were all sharing a single round saucer and the run was great! That is, of course until I sped off one boulder covered in ice and slammed into a big boulder covered in ice. The result was a compression fracture of my lower back.

She then asked if I had had anything happen recently to cause my back to act up. The only thing I could think of was when I fell and broke my elbow two years ago. I explained the fall and how it was an epic fall, me flying through the air and landing with a thud. She was laughing along with me and asked about other injuries.

I mentioned that I had broken my other elbow years ago when I tripped over my pant-leg and fell into the street. I mentioned how Dale does not allow me to walk and chew gum anymore.

The appointment was filled with laughter as I sheepishly gave a litany of my “stupid” acts.

Today while I was driving into the store (it’s a good 20-30 minute drive), I was thinking about yesterday and also today. It occurred to me that at my age I have experienced a whole lot of stupid. A. Whole. Lot. Of. Stupid.

Each day we all do thoughtless things. Or, maybe it is just me. (Yikes!) Things like stubbing your toe on a piece of furniture that hasn’t moved in years. Using a wet potholder on a pan in the oven. Heat travels fast! Slicing yourself while slicing a vegetable. Just stupid little things that in the greater scheme of life don’t matter.

As I thought about all the stupid that I have experienced it occurred to me that through this all I have been protected by my Creator. We hear of guardian angels, well, I think I have gone through several. Psalm 91 talks of the protection the Lord gives us. He is my refuge, my shelter. He will rescue me from traps and disease. When I gave my life to Him, when I made Him my shelter, He will make certain no evil or plague will come near my home, He has given angels charge over me to hold me in their hands.

I have tried the Lord in all of this. I have smooshed angels as I fell on them (see examples above). Like any child I tend to do stupid things. Not disobedient, just thoughtless. If God the Father had gray hair, I would say a lot has come from me. Each time my stupidity comes to light, or to a thump, the Lord has been with me. He has comforted me, healed me and allowed the experiences to give me stories. Stories that make me laugh, make others laugh.

Life is full of wonderful adventures. For 47 years I have had joy, even on the hardest days. I have had hope during dark days. I have been loved by God even as He must be rolling His perfect eyes at my antics. This is just a preview of what I will experience when I can finally see Jesus face to face. When He hands me a saucer and suggests going sledding. (Will there be snow in Heaven?)

Life is filled with a whole lot of stupid, but it is also filled with joy, laughter, peace, hope, and above all love. 47 years ago the dread, the anger, the hopelessness of my young life left me. That is when the Creator of the universe took up residence in my heart, making me new and reborn.

Today I Saw a Crocus

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“Even the wilderness and desert will be glad in those days.  The wasteland will rejoice and blossom with spring crocuses.” Isaiah 35:1 (NLT)

It has been a while since I last wrote. I have had some ideas for posts, but have not written, and as is usual, discouragement has begun to set in. 

January was a long, yet quick month for me. Our oldest had another surgery and Dale and I had the privilege to be with her family. Time flies by with a nine year old around. It was a wonderfully exhausting time spent with her. 

During our time there, Dale and I celebrated our 49th anniversary. We have spent three anniversaries in that area, our first, our 48th and our 49th. Obviously, it was a time of reflection for me. The city has changed drastically since we were first married, dirt roads are now paved busy highways. The sky scape is filled with homes, high rises, and buildings. 

Seeing the city’s growth reflected my thoughts on our marriage. When we lived in the Tidewater area, we had many rough and dirt roads in our life together. We also have seen growth together. Much of our life together has been filled with reconstruction, and paving of our ways. We have been torn down like the apartments we lived in 49 years ago. We have had to restart and renew and ask for forgiveness and give forgiveness. Our life is now like the gentrified areas of the town we started out in. We have been given a fresh start and have grown to welcome and be comfortable with each other. As I looked at Dale at our anniversary dinner, I saw glimpses of the young sailor I fell in love with, but, I also saw my life, my heart.

As February came and we arrived home, I knew that there was a feeling of something deep in me. Yes, I miss my daughter and her family. I miss the noise and activity of our granddaughter. But, there was something missing.

As I walked to get our mail, a spot of yellow caught my eye. Our crocuses are blooming. Out of the cold and dormant earth, these little flowers break through. A reminder that spring is right around the corner. A little hope in a drab and dreary winter landscape, pushing past the dead leaves surrounding them.

Writing is what gives me joy. When I don’t write discouragement happens. I know I am not the best writer in the world, but it is what feeds me in a way I don’t find elsewhere. It is where I hear my Savior’s voice and encouragement. It’s where I feel His presence. 

As I walked toward our mailbox, I prayed. So many thoughts rambled through my mind, so many prayers of gratitude for this past month echoed again as they have throughout January. God is good. He is faithful. Today, He gave me words to write and a tangible sign of hope and strength. There is nothing like seeing a crocus in the middle of winter. 

One More Time

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 “pray without ceasing” I Thessalonians 5:17 (NKJV)

Before going to bed last night I read a meme a friend posted. Of course, now I don’t remember who posted it, so I will not be giving full credit where it is due.

The meme talked about praying just one more time. It gave a list of things to pray for just one more time. Health, salvation, finances, new jobs, family, children, relationships, friendships, grief, all the things one tends to pray for.

The past couple of nights I have not been able to sleep. As I lie in bed my mind wanders in all directions. I tend to pray for all of the above things in between making my grocery list and wondering where that piece of paper I need is.

A few minutes ago, before getting up to write this, I remembered another part of that meme I mentioned above. The part that said, pray just one more time, like your life depended upon it.

While we may not think our life depends on praying for finances or new jobs, or any of the other things listed, in reality, it does. Our lives are intertwined with our family, our friends our church. Each person truly is a part of me/you.

We each have had those times where you just want to be prayed for in a mighty way. We want to hear the words spoken over us that will give us encouragement, hope and bolster our faith. Someone’s need for restitution in relationships, or someone’s financial needs my not be a matter of life and death to us, but for those who are walking through those times, it feels like life or death.

The enemy of our souls will distract us with grocery lists, or schedules, or meal planning, but we are told to pray without ceasing. I have been challenged by what I read last night.

I may not do this right, but I am determined to make the effort to pray like my life depends on it. I am also going to pray one more time. Galatians 6:9 says, “So let’s not get tired of doing what is good. At just the right time we will reap a harvest of blessing if we don’t give up.” (NLT)

There are somethings that I have prayed for years and yes, I have gotten discouraged at not seeing answers the way I want them to be. But, if we pray just one more time, it may be the right time where we will see the answer.

Psalm 121

I will lift up my eyes to the hills—
From whence comes my help?
2 My help comes from the Lord,
Who made heaven and earth.

3 He will not allow your foot to be moved;
He who keeps you will not slumber.
4 Behold, He who keeps Israel
Shall neither slumber nor sleep.

5 The Lord is your keeper;
The Lord is your shade at your right hand.
6 The sun shall not strike you by day,
Nor the moon by night.

7 The Lord shall preserve you from all evil;
He shall preserve your soul.
8 The Lord shall preserve your going out and your coming in
From this time forth, and even forevermore. (NKJV)

I Don’t Understand

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“Then a dispute arose among them as to which of them would be greatest. 47 And Jesus, perceiving the thought of their heart, took a little child and set him by Him, 48 and said to them, “Whoever receives this little child in My name receives Me; and whoever receives Me receives Him who sent Me. For he who is least among you all will be great.” Luke 9: 46-48 (NKJV)

I became a born-again Christian in 1977. 46 years ago. Almost a half century ago.

When I was first saved, I devoured the Bible, read it and tried to absorb all I could. Having never read the Bible before I basically underlined the entire Bible. I didn’t understand most of it, but I was still excited. I thought as I grew as a Christian, I would totally understand each word and be able to dissect it with precision.

We go to a church that preaches the Word of God with truth and power. We are blessed to be in this church. We recently began a study on Heaven. Our pastor is gleaning from the book by Randy Alcorn, “Heaven“. The study has challenged thoughts I have carried about Heaven and has excited me at the same time. It’s excellent.

The Ladies of our church have been having a Bible Study at the same time on the 7 churches in Revelation. Our teacher is someone who studies and can present deep topics with grace and ability. I sit amazed and try to absorb all I can while she teaches.

Late this past summer, I talked to the Lord and asked Him to help me grow closer to Him and to learn more from Him. I felt inadequate in my walk with the Lord. I want more. I desire to walk so close to Him that with each breath I am being led and hearing all I can from Him. I guess this Mary (me) is desiring to be Mary who sat at the feet of Jesus.

In this time, I have begun to think that I am like a child in faith still. A child will ask it’s parent, “what does that mean?” Most of the times, after getting an answer they will walk or run back to what they are doing. They may understand or they may not. I have seen looks on my grandchildren’s faces after asking a question. Sometimes it’s satisfaction and sometimes, it’s filled with more questions.

Lately, I am the latter. I have derided myself. Why am I not understanding? Why am I questioning?

Matthew 18:3, ” And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” (NIV)

I have read this scripture many times. I have heard sermons and teachings on child-like faith. I have always in my mind wondered about this verse. Like Nicodemus, I ponder. Yes, I am born again, I get that part, but how do I return to be a child, to have faith like theirs?

This morning, as I read the Bible (and yes, basically underlining each sentence) it occurred to me that my prayers to have that child like ability have been answered. I am reading, listening, and questioning. I pray that I keep running, like a little child to question what I have just heard and run to my Heavenly Father and ask what it means. After almost 50 years, I have begun to be a child.

Those We Grow Up With

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“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.

Sigh…

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to take a deep audible breath (as in weariness or relief) ~ Merriam and Webster definition.

Sigh. We all do it. I am married to someone who sighs all the time. I have a difficult time trying to figure out what the sigh means, is he sore? Is he frustrated? Is he angry? Is it just a sigh? It is a running commentary most of the time for us. His response usually is it is a cleansing breath.

This morning I read Mark 8:12, “But He sighed deeply in His spirit, and said, “Why does this generation seek a sign? Assuredly, I say to you, no sign shall be given to this generation.” (NKJV)

After reading this, my thought was, “huh, Jesus sighed too”. I then wondered how many times he sighed while on this earth. Most likely a multitude of times! He probably still sighs.

Yesterday while I was coming in from town, I received a text, it was one I was looking forward to. Fortunately, I hit a red light so I was able to read it. I immediately started loudly thanking God and praising Him for the information in this text. I was alone, so I could be as loud as I wanted to be. My oldest had had a successful surgery.

After praising God for a minute or two, I sighed. It was a memorable sigh for me. I sighed and a weight was lifted off of me. A season of life was now in the past. Tears filled my eyes and I had to remind myself that I was behind the wheel, so tears were stopped and I drove the rest of the way home.

A sigh. An action of a four letter word that encompasses so many things. Yesterday it signaled relief, a weight lifted, prayers answered, a season over for the most part.

Life is filled with sighs. Yesterday the sigh was joyful. Today it may mean something entirely different. I keep thinking of a saying popular in years past, What would Jesus do? I read it today, He sighed. Thank you Jesus, yesterday I did what You would do.

What I Did on My Summer Vacation (part 2) “The Trajectory of a Life”

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“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.

A Random Memory

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“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.

Women’s Heart

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As I have mentioned, I attended a Ladies Retreat this past weekend. I have been to several in my lifetime and each one has had it’s own unique feeling.

Most retreats I have attended have had a feeling of getting through the speaker and sessions so it could be playtime. It’s not a bad thing to do this, as the playtime usually brings women closer to one another and forms bonds that cannot be broken. This is what I expected to experience this weekend.

How wrong I was! Yes, there was the chatting and laughter and joking around. Those of us with husbands commented on our husband’s quirks and how irritating it can be. To a casual person passing, the comments could be taken wrong. But, in looking into each other’s faces and laughing over the quirks,(which we determined was a common thing among spouses), you could feel the love each woman has for her spouse. The quirks just made our husbands who they are and they are an endearing part of them.

Other conversations centered around body image, scars, tales of how the scars happened, and laughter. Lots of laughter.

Yes, that was the normal part of a retreat.

Interspersed with each conversation women’s hearts shone through. The hearts continued the feeling of worship and praise. There was a continuation of the services we had. A genuineness.

Usually prayer is only for after the speaker is done. This weekend, prayer was as common as the laughter. Prayer and care were evident in each room you passed. The laughter would lift and then quiet and peeking into different areas you could see women hugging, praying and crying with each other.

Yes, friendship bonds were formed this past weekend. The thing I took away was the care and tenderness displayed through the women. Women are quick to share and get to the heart of matters. We will listen to the pre-story, the lead up and then the heart of a matter comes through. The trust in one another shines forth and ministry takes place.

This was a different type of retreat. The bonds of friendship were made. More important, though, was the bond of caring, of understanding, and of love, which broke through the surface and knitted this group together.

“Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds us all together in perfect harmony.” Colossians 3:14 (NLT)