Tag: Psalm 34

Doldrums

Published on by marycatherinethomas3 Comments

Doldrums: a state or period of inactivity, stagnation, or slump (Merriam-Webster)

On July 5th, 1977, we headed to the base in Yokosuka Japan and rented a day sailor sailboat for the afternoon. There were three of us on this adventure, Dale, myself and a friend of ours.

We checked out the boat and headed out. The day was sunny as were our moods. There was a breeze and the little boat danced upon the waves. We were having a wonderful experience. We talked, laughed and just enjoyed watching the slight white caps on the bay.

We sailed that way for a good hour. We knew we had plenty of time before we had to return our rental. The sun was lovely, the temperature was perfect. The wind was continual and water splashed gently onto the sides as we glided along.

About an hour after leaving shore the wind died down. Then the wind stopped. It was quiet except the lapping of the waves on the side of the sailboat. We bounced on the waves knowing the wind would pick back up. We thought we would be heading back soon and enjoying our adventure again.

These little sailboats did not come with a motor. They had oars. We sat for a while, waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Conversation ebbed. Time passed. We were dead in the water. The gentle rocking of the boat caused us to drift a bit.

Eventually the oars were picked up. In our glee of being on the bay with a great wind we paid no attention to how far we sailed. The trip back to shore was going to be long, especially rowing.

The guys were determined and rowed toward shore. The trip back to shore was quiet. The joy of the beginning of our trip was replaced by resolve. The afternoon sun was turning into dusk as we came to the dock. The wind had completely disappeared that afternoon.

You need wind in your sails to move. When the wind dies you are left with no motivation.

The same is true in life. There are times where the laughter stops and the quiet begins. The energy level subsides. The noise turns to a deafening silence. We can become adrift.

This sounds ominous unless we have an anchor. An anchor will keep us from drifting far away from where we are supposed to be. My Anchor is Christ. When I face the doldrums, I turn to Him. He knows me inside and out. He knows when my sails are flat and lifeless. He understands that part of me. He holds me close until He knows I am ready to lift from my position and then gently, ever so gently, He will ruffle my sail giving me a tailwind.

“The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart, And saves such as have a contrite spirit. 19 Many are the afflictions of the righteous, But the Lord delivers him out of them all.” Psalm 34:18-19 (NLT)

Holiday Memories

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“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those whose spirits are crushed.” Psalm 34:18 (NLT)

Yesterday at our Christmas day service, our pastor spoke on the “First Christmas”. Yes, he did mention the day, but he went on to talk about those whose day was the first Christmas without a loved one. I looked across the aisle and watched a young woman sitting there alone. Her husband died suddenly a couple of months ago. He was just a year older than my youngest daughter. My heart broke for her and yet in her eyes I saw a peace and strength that can only come from the Lord.

The other ‘first’ Christmas mentioned was for those whose health was not the same as it was a year ago, or the finances were not the same. Christmas amplifies changes in lives. The day is built around memories and times in the past that were different than the current state.

I cried through most of the sermon. Not because of any personal changes, but because the day often finds me teary eyed. I am a softy. I can cry at a song. Obviously, I can cry at a sermon. I cry when gifts are opened. I cry at cards from Dale. I’m a Christmas cryer.

The sermon also stirred up memories that I try to stuff deep down at this season. Christmas and New Years of 1966 was my first Christmas without my Mom. As I was 11, Christmas day was like any kid’s Christmas. My older sister made certain it was a Christmas to remember. I do. I remember most of the gifts I received that year. A new pair of ice skates that I didn’t have to rent any more. A new jacket, a book I often think about still. There were twelve board games under the tree. That was amazing! Christmas was a good one that year.

New Year’s Eve, though is what has made me dislike the holiday still. Each year I force memories of that evening deep down. New Year’s Eve going into 1967 found me in tears. I could not fathom a year without my Mom. No memories to make with her ever again. I didn’t think I would ever be the same.

In a way, I never was the same. But, as the scripture above says, God was near to my broken heart. He was there with my crushed spirit. Since that time, I have been renewed several times. My sisters and I grew. We flourished. We functioned. We accepted that death was a part of life. It was our normal.

Whenever I talk with my sisters about this, we have the same mind. Yes, it happened. Yes, we dealt with it. Yes, we are stronger for the experience.

Change happens. Bad change as well as good. We cannot dwell and continue to suffer the loss of loved ones, health, finances. We need to live in the present. To see what is happening now. To be blessed by the little things in life. To marvel at the cold winter days and glory in the heat of a winter sun.

“Once I was young, and now I am old. Yet I have never seen the godly abandoned or their children begging for bread.” Psalm 37:25 (NLT)

God is more than our sufficiency. He tends to us. He comforts us. He provides.

He provides even when memories stuffed away somehow make their way to the surface and come out in the form of tears.