A Time Like No Other ~ Part 2

          It seems fitting, as I pen this blog post for you, that storms are pouring through our region. One after another, feeling like they’ll never end, although we know they will.

          We often equate “storms” with difficult events in our lives. I’ll share with you in this second half about storms in ours and how those tie in with my friend, Joan.

          First though, let me say I believe the death of a child is the hardest type of pain and grief parents can ever feel. How can mothers and fathers ever get over this? Yet, as one wise woman shared with me once, “Life goes on for the living.”

          It has to, but sometimes that seems impossible.

          For Joan and her husband, it took them in two different directions. No, they never separated or divorced, but Joan sought help to work through her grief and called out to God repeatedly. Her husband “seemed lost” in his grief, went on through his working day because he had to, then pretty much “buried himself” when home.

          I was blessed to have such a friend as Joan. We met when I was 11 years old. She was a mom with youngsters then. Through the testimony of her neighbor, Joan came to the same church we attended and had accepted Jesus as her Savior. Joan volunteered to help at VBS that year. That’s where we “connected.” We’d grow a no-matter-what friendship—the kind that only gets stronger whatever came our way.

          So, here I was now with a brokenhearted friend and me living a couple hours away. But that didn’t sever the ties. We talked by phone, and I visited her up till the time Brian and I married—then he also joined me in this friendship.

          Not only did Joan and her husband lose their son (and their daughter, her brother), but even before he was buried, people (family included) hurled condemnation on them. “You should’ve raised him differently.” And “If you hadn’t found religion, this wouldn’t’ve happened.” And “It’s obvious you drove him to this. No kid in their right mind would just leave home like that.” Etc.

          Joan shared with us that the accusations were almost too hard to endure on top of the already crippling grief that buried them. Still, she determined to heal because she just couldn’t imagine going through life without finding solace.

          Eighteen years passed when we’d face our time like no other—when our world crumbled.

          August 1996. Brian and I needed a friend who truly understood our pain. Our child ran away. Who was the first person I sought out? It should’ve been God, but I’m not sure it was. I do, however, remember calling Joan.

          At that point we didn’t know if our child was just “gone” or worse. I cannot go into all that took place, but I can tell you it was utter torment!

          …a time like no other!

          We did learn enough about our child’s whereabouts and how she ended up 600+ miles away. But from the end of October into the following year, I feared the worst and cried day and night.

          Brian tried to reassure me our child was not dead—that she was “out there” somewhere and would eventually come home. Thank the Lord, my husband was right, although she didn’t choose to come back to us.

          Joan’s phone line was open to us any time of day or night. She checked in on us, and I was grateful to have her—more than I know how to express!

          Why share all this with you, readers? Because deep friendships matter. This commitment. This bond. Especially when one who’s already been on grief’s journey can turn around, take your hand, and lead you to a better place.

          That’s who Joan was to me. Like God’s Word shares:

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies

and God of all comfort, Who comforts us in all our affliction so that

we will be able to comfort those who are in…any affliction with the comfort

with which we ourselves are comforted by God.” II Corinthians 1:3,4 (nasb)

 

          No one desires grief or pain. (At least I don’t think we do!) Yet, when the storms of life engulf us and we see no way out, God is our very help. When we turn to Him for solace and rescue, He brings comfort and walks with us through our grief and pain. Carries us when we can’t walk against the wind, and eventually brings us to a place of healing.

          No, we’re no longer the same. The storm has left its scars; but by relying on Him, we’ve received the best Counsel ever—from the One Who knows what it’s like to go through the worst!

         Here’s how God uses those experiences—God comforted Joan as she sought Him (also attending a support group for parents who lost children and benefitting greatly from that), Joan comforted me (us) in a way I accepted because she’d “been there” and our friendship was so strong. And, once we were on the healing journey, God brought people into our lives with whom we could share His Words and offer them comfort.

          On this subject: I remember reading that Betsy ten Boom told her sister Corrie (both having been in the concentration camps)* that when they were freed, “We will tell everyone that there is no pit that is so deep, that God is not deeper still…they will believe us, because we have been there.”

          Pain and grief are great “authenticators.” If you’ve been through storms and survived with God’s help, you have “earned the privilege” of helping others get through their storms. And, as Betsy expressed (although she did not survive the camps—only Corrie did) those who are hurting will believe you because you have “been there.”

          I’ve told many people, we didn’t “get in the line” for the hardships we’d go through—runaway child, accusations that crushed us, blame for what kind of parents we were, etc., but God wastes nothing!

          Even the deepest pain—the most awful “storm damage”—can be used to point others who hurt to our God. The Rescuer. Comforter. Healer.

Till the Storm Passes By

by Hovie Lister (playing the piano in this video)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HdDM0K9XC78

 

*Their story is told in the book, The Hiding Place by Corrie ten Boom—also made into a movie.

#storms #runaway #falseaccusations #pain #grief #healing #Godofallcomfort

Photo Credit: istock.com

A Time Like No Other ~ Part 1

           May 1978. A month like no other!

          What excitement filled the air as Brian popped the question. “Will you marry me?”

          My answer? “Yes!”

          We sealed “the deal” with a kiss, then Brian put in a call to my dad asking his permission which Dad gave, then yelled, “Ruth, pick up the other phone!”

         When Mom got on the extension, Brian shared the news with my ear closely pressed to the earpiece and him so I could join the call.

          Mom added, “Are you sure you can afford her dental bills?” (Leave it to Mom to mention my rotten teeth at this glowing moment.)

          After the call, Brian and I said our goodnights, and he headed to his room down the road from where my Hope town house was.

          Hope Town. Where we met. Where we fell in love. Let me give you a little explanation of these surroundings and our situations within them.

          In 1976, I went as a home missionary to Hope Town Christian School for the disabled. The administration “tried me out” as a summer camp counselor before I could apply for full-time ministry. When I did, I received approval to come onboard as a houseparent at the year-round residential facility. I’d share this responsibility with another gal, together caring for up to 6 disabled children and teens.

          Brian applied to Hope Town a year later. He was assigned as a teacher’s aid in the school program and was given lots of odd jobs during after-school hours.

          So, that’s how we met and reached this day when the question came up in the merry month of May!

          It was Brian’s weekend off (ours didn’t mesh at that point), and he took his usual upstate NY trip to spend time with his folks and help in his home church. He’d return late Sunday night.

          That particular Sunday, I wanted to visit one of our Hope Town kids who was long-term in the hospital 35 miles away. Another staffer offered to go along to help get the rest of our “family” to Sunday School and church. So, I planned to drive to see Carol and make it back in time to rejoin the kids/teens in the dining hall.

          I’d need to hurry a bit to make it to the hospital, visit Carol, and be back for after church dinner; but it was doable. I grabbed my cassette player and a few tapes, got in my VW Beetle, and started off, forgetting to buckle my seatbelt. My mind was ½ on this journey and ½ on Brian. I hardly noticed it had rained and roads were wet. I popped a sermon into the cassette player. That would be “church” for me this particular day.

          I zipped along the wet highway that passed through a state park. As I attempted to turn the steering wheel left to follow a curve, my “bug” instead headed straight. The brakes didn’t work either. I flew off the road, over a ditch, and through brush while crying out, “Help, Lord!”

          The car hit a small tree causing it to tip partway over, and it landed, lodged between two other huge trees.

          My head hit the top of the car, and I stayed there stunned a moment before wiggling my fingers and toes to see if I’d broken my neck. (Yes, I’d read Joni.) They moved, and I cried, “Thank You, God!”

          What to do next. I heard a couple cars go by on the highway I’d left involuntarily, but I was below road level and pretty much out of view. Thankfully, my VW Beetle had a sunroof. When the car came to its abrupt stop, not totally up-side-down, there remained space enough for me (I was much thinner then) to crawl out the sun roof. I worked my way through the broken brush, up the embankment, onto the highway.

          It wasn’t long before a small truck came along. I thumbed the driver, and he pulled over. I explained I’d had a wreck and asked if he’d take me to where I lived—Hope Town. He was most obliging. (Phew!)

          Back at Hope Town, all the residents and staff were finishing dinner. My fellow houseparent took the kids home while I called a tow truck and got a ride back to where my “bug” was.

          At the accident sight, a policeman awaited me. “We won’t charge you for the damage you’ve done to the park.” (How nice.) “You were lucky, Miss.” He pointed to the accident sight. “Had your car gone to the left or right, it would’ve plowed into one of those trees. The outcome would’ve been very different.

           I shared how I had prayed as the car flew off the road, and God did help me.”

          Soon the tow truck I’d called earlier arrived, pulled the car out, and plopped it upright. Ironically, the car seemed only slightly dented above the passenger-side door. I was able to drive it back to Hope Town.

          I didn’t initially feel any pain in my head, but I did sport humongous bruises on my leg and arm. (Unbeknownst to me then, I’d fractured a couple ribs and also damaged the tippy-top of my spine, causing me life-long difficulty with migraines.)

           It had been a long, hard day.

          Monday was my scheduled day off. My boss suggested I head home to New Jersey for the week—to recover. How grateful I was for that gift! I’d be with my folks right after I’d become engaged, and we could “talk wedding” while I recovered some.

          Black and blue but happy! That was me as I headed home in my I-don’t-trust-you-anymore car! (I later learned what had happened was called hydroplaning, and I didn’t ever care to do that again!)

          During the week in Jersey, I called my best friend, Joan, to see about a visit.

          She hesitated then said, “Sarah Ann, Mike ran away.”

          Mike? Her son—the boy I’d known since he was 4. A kid I’d babysat—he and his sister!

          How totally broken Joan and her husband must be! “Maybe I’d better wait till next time?” I suggested.

          “No. I want to see you. Need to. It would help.”

          So, I went to visit this lady who was ever-so-dear to me. After long embraces and tears shed, I sat across the table from Joan, held her hands, and listened. At the end of the visit, we both pleaded with God to bring Mike home.

          Mike will come home, I thought as I drove back to my parents’. After all, his high school graduation is just around the corner. He wouldn’t miss that!

          But Mike didn’t come home. He couldn’t.

          He had died.

          So, the week of supposed-to-be recovery and sharing excitement over wedding plans ended, instead, grieving at the funeral home with Mike’s family and friends.

          A May like no other, that 1978 year. From one week to the next, emotions flying to the heights and diving lower than anyone could fathom—as wild as the needle on a Richter Scale during an earthquake!

          Years later, the Holy Spirit would use our friendship with these dear ones to carry out Scripture found in II Corinthians 1:3,4.

          Reader, have you experienced times like these? Times that made your knees buckle—and tear your heart? Has the Holy Spirit ministered to you through God’s Word? Through others who’ve hurt and understand your pain?

          Next blog post—Part 2.

Does Jesus Care?

 

Does Jesus care when my heart is pained too deeply for mirth or song;

As the burdens press, and the cares distress, and the way grows weary and long?

 

(Refrain) O yes, He cares! I know He cares! His heart is touched with my grief;

When the days are weary, the long nights dreary, I know my Savior cares.

 

Does Jesus care when my way is dark with a nameless dread and fear?

As the daylight fades into deep night shades, does He care enough to be near? (Refrain)

 

Does Jesus care when I’ve tried and failed to resist some temptation strong;

When for my deep grief I find no relief, though my tears flow all the night long? (Refrain)

 

Does Jesus care when I’ve said goodbye to the dearest on earth to me,

And my sad heart aches till it nearly breaks—Is it aught to Him? Does He see? (Refrain)

 

(from hymn Does Jesus Care? by Frank E. Graeff, 1901, public domain)

#love #engagement #caraccident #bestfriend #runaway #heartbreak #Godshelp

Photo Credit: classiccars.com

TRUSTING JESUS ~ Part 2 ~ Hudson Taylor and I

          Decades ago, while my husband and I served as missionaries in southeastern Kentucky, this account took place:

          Brian handed me a $20 bill. “Here. Use this for groceries. You can stop at the store after your doctor’s appointment.”

          I took the money and tucked it in my pocket. “This isn’t gonna go far.”

          “I know, but it’s all we have left,” Brian said.

          Earlier that week we asked God to meet our need, but no extra love gifts arrived. This $20 was it.

          After my appointment, I walked through the waiting room glancing about, when my eyes fell upon a couple from our church.

          Eddie was a retired coalminer on disability due to chronic emphysema and on oxygen 24/7 and Janet, recovering from a recent stroke. 

          I stopped to chat with them a few minutes, then I excused myself and headed on my way to the grocery store.

          “Give Eddie and Janet the $20,” a still small voice whispered.

          I stopped dead in my tracks. “But Lord, we need food.” I continued to the car, got in, and started the engine.

          “Go back and give them the money.”

          What should I do? I folded my arms atop the steering wheel and laid my head against them. Here I was—unable to phone Brian (this being before we owned cell phones)—God saying one thing and my husband entrusting me with the $20 to buy groceries.

          After a couple minutes, I thought I’ll go to the store, get two $10 bills and give Eddie and Janet their $10. That’ll work! So, I shifted the car into reverse, checked my mirrors, and backed out.

          “Give them all of it.”

          I hit the brakes, pulled back into the parking space, not-very-gently put the car in park. “Lord, what am I supposed to feed our family for supper tonight?”

          He didn’t need to say more.

          I turned off the ignition, got out of the car, and returned to the doctor’s waiting room.  

          There they were, Eddie bent over some, trying to breathe. Janet saw me coming and looked surprised at my return.

          I walked up to them and took the $20 from my pocket. “This is for you.” I handed it to Janet and gave her a hug.

          “Oh my!” She turned toward her husband. “Hun, look! Answered prayer!”

          Eddie brightened and sent a smile my way. “Thank you kindly.”

          I headed out again and, on the way home, played over in my mind what I’d tell Brian. I felt like Jack returning home and announcing to his wife, “Don’t worry! I bought magic beans!”—except I didn’t even have beans!

          On the way home, I had a good cry before it sank in. This is a do-you-trust-Me moment. I dried my eyes. “God, supper’s on You.”

          I walked in the house, and there it was! His answer!

          Brian had opened the mail and laid it out for me to see—a love gift of $50. Tears flowed as I thanked the Lord then went to share the rest of the story with my husband.

          He, too, rejoiced. And we both realized God’s answer had been on the way long before we’d even asked Him! Indeed, we could trust God! He proved that over and over again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

         While recently reading Hudson Taylor’s Spiritual Secret, I was taken aback by an account mentioned. Dr. J. Hudson Taylor lived in England during the 19^th century. This man of great faith gave his heart and soul to serve God in China. Before leaving for the foreign mission field, though, Hudson Taylor needed to learn about relying on God for his needs. He shared this:

          “…Sunday was a very happy one. After attending divine service in the morning, my afternoons and evenings were taken up with Gospel work…in the lowest part of the town…After concluding my last service…a poor man asked me to go and pray with his wife, saying that she was dying. I readily agreed (to go)…the family was starving. Immediately it occurred to my mind that all the money I had in the world was the solitary half-crown, and that it was in one coin…

         …there was at once a stoppage in the flow of joy in my heart…’Ah,’ thought I, ‘if only I had two shillings and a sixpence instead of this half-crown, how gladly would I give these poor people a shilling!’ But to part with the half-crown was far from my thoughts. I little dreamed that the truth of the matter simply was that I could trust God…but was not prepared to trust Him only, without any money at all in my pocket.”

          Hudson went on to explain the conditions he saw once he reached the poor man’s home—a wretchedly poor place, starving children, and desperately sick mother with a newborn moaning—unable to even cry.

          ‘Ah,’ thought I, ‘if I had two shillings and a sixpence, instead of a half-crown, how gladly should they have one-and-sixpence of it.’ But still a wretched unbelief prevented me from obeying the impulse to relieve their distress at the cost of all I possessed.

          …I was unable to say much to comfort these poor people…I began to tell them, however, that they must not be cast down; that though their circumstances were very distressing there was a kind and loving Father in heaven. But something within me cried, ‘You hypocrite! telling these unconverted people about a kind and loving Father in heaven, and not prepared yourself to trust Him without half-a-crown.’

          I nearly choked. How gladly would I have compromised with conscience, if I had had a florin and a sixpence! I would have given the florin thankfully and kept the rest. But I was not yet prepared to trust in God alone, without the six-pence.

          To talk was impossible under these circumstances, yet strange to say I thought I should have no difficulty in praying. Prayer was a delightful occupation…all I should have to do would be to kneel down and pray, and that relief would come to them and to myself together…I knelt down.

          But no sooner had I opened my lips with, ‘Our Father who art in heaven,’ than conscience said within, “Dare you mock God? Dare you kneel down and call Him ‘Father’ with that half-crown in your pocket?”

          Such a time of conflict then came upon me as I had never experienced before. How I got through that form of prayer I know not…But I arose from my knees in great distress of mind.

          The poor father turned to me and said, ‘You see what a terrible state we are in, sir. If you can help us…do!’

          At that moment the Word flashed into my mind, ‘Give to him that asketh of thee.’

          …I put my hand into my pocket and slowly drawing out the half-crown gave it to the man, telling him that it might seem a small matter for me to relieve them…but that in parting with that coin I was giving him my all; but that what I had been trying to tell them was indeed true, God really was a Father and might be trusted. And how the joy came back in full flood tide to my heart!

          …the poor woman’s life was saved…my life might have been a wreck—would have been, probably, as a Christian life—had not grace at that time conquered and the striving of God’s Spirit been obeyed.

          I well remember that night as I went home to my lodgings how my heart was as light as my pocket…

          Next morning…the landlady came in holding a letter…I looked at the letter, but could not make out the handwriting. …the postmark was blurred…I found nothing written within, but inside a sheet of blank paper was folded a pair of kid gloves from which, as I opened them in astonishment, half-a-sovereign fell to the ground.

          …I cannot tell you how often my mind has recurred to this incident, or all the help it has been to me in circumstances of difficulty.” *                                          –J. Hudson Taylor

Trusting Jesus

Simply trusting every day, trusting through a stormy way;

Even when my faith is small, trusting Jesus, that is all.

 

Refrain: Trusting as the moments fly, trusting as the days go by;

Trusting Him whate’er befall, trusting Jesus, that is all.

 

Brightly doth His Spirit shine into this poor heart of mine;

While He leads, I cannot fall; trusting Jesus, that is all. (Refrain)

 

…Trusting Him while life shall last, trusting Him till earth be past;

Till within the jasper wall, trusting Jesus, that is all. (Refrain)

 

(from the hymn Trusting Jesus by Edgar Page, 1876, public domain)

 

A movie about J. Hudson Taylor, missionary to China &

founder of the China Inland Mission (CIM):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SSDJgDJToeo

 

#trustingJesus #God #praying #needs #JHudsonTaylor #missionary #China #answeredprayer #Godalwaysontime

*from Hudson Taylor’s Spiritual Secret ~ Chapter 4 “Further Steps of Faith” by Dr. & Mrs. Howard Taylor

Photo Credit: biteproject.com

Trusting Jesus ~ Part 1 ~ A Lot of Tatting & an Easter Ham

          I was a woman on a mission! Goal: Create about 200 tatted items, then sell those to raise funds toward a mobility scooter as I couldn’t keep my oxygen at a safe level while walking distances. Surely this is something God wants me to own. And that’s how I prayed, telling God how much I needed the scooter and only seeking His counsel on which model.

          With my long blunt needle in hand and multiple thread colors at arm’s length, I tatted every spare moment for weeks. Months actually. 

          Between projects I chatted via Facebook with my friend, Marion. We’d met decades ago while serving in a church’s deaf ministry. She’s my go-to for sign language questions, sharing about our days, asking advice, talking crafts (her being a skilled crocheter), and exchanging prayer needs and praises. So, I told Marion about my interest in a mobility scooter, sent her a couple pictures of ones that interested me, and asked her to pray with me about this.

          “Are you going to sell some of your tatted items to raise the funds?” she asked.

          “That’s the plan. I did really well when I did so in the past.”

          “Let me know how you’re progressing, and I’ll be praying,” she said as she often did when encouraging me onward.

          So, from time to time I sent her messages like—“10 ornaments done…5 hearts today…wonder if I should make crosses this year…new pattern driving me crazy…30 bookmarks done—yikes…” etc.

          When all the items were ready to sell—starched, ironed, and bagged to go—I looked forward to seeing how successfully this venture played out. I prayed, “Lord if it’s Your Will, please help me raise a lot for this need.”

          I fully expected God to answer my prayer with good sales. After all, when I tatted items to raise money for a couple other causes in the past, those sales went very well.

          I did sell quite a few items although not as many as before.

          But then something happened.

          As I tucked the money into an envelope marked “Scooter,” the Holy Spirit spoke to my heart, and I began to question if the scooter was God’s Will or mine.

          I admit. I pushed that thought aside for several weeks.

          Then we learned a dear widower friend, Mr. Bishop*, and his son had to make a much-needed medical trip out of state. The costs they faced were astronomical. Here was a life and death situation…

          …and I wanted a scooter? Seriously?

          Again, the Holy Spirit spoke to my heart. He even woke me in the night with a burden for this great need our friend had.

          I got up, went to my desk and put on a low light so I wouldn’t awaken anyone else, took out the “Scooter” envelope and counted the money. In tears I laid out the bills and told God, “It’s Yours for the medical trip.”

          Immediately I felt a peace.

          In the morning, I went to my husband. “What do you think about giving the tatting money to Mr. Bishop and his son? Their need is so much greater than mine.”

          Brian answered, “Whatever you want to do with it is fine.”

          That same day I handed the money to Mr. Bishop. Oh, it really wasn’t much dollar-wise, but what joy to be able to give it! And once I accepted God’s Will for the use of the money, some unexpected orders for tatted items came in, so I was able to give them more.

          But the story doesn’t end here.

          I’m sorry to say that a few weeks later I wrestled with the decision I’d made. I really could’ve used that scooter—at least in the future. If only I hadn’t given the money away.

          I’m also sorry to say this thought lingered with me longer than I wish to admit.

          Shame on me! I wept again—this time over my guilt. Yes, grieving the Holy Spirit—for I’d acknowledge God’s Will in the giving of the money but then “grabbed it back” within my heart. Now my tears flowed for a different reason—knowing I needed forgiveness, and God forgave me.

          I happened to be chatting with Marion the day after this and brought her up to date on the scooter saga.

          She asked, “Do you have complete peace about the decision you’ve made?”

          “Yes, I do.” I then went on to tell her about wrestling with the Lord—about my guilt and how I sought God’s forgiveness for my selfishness.

          “And now you’ve made it right with the Lord,” Marion said.

          “Yes.”

          “That reminds me of the Easter ham I gave your family years ago.”

          What? I quickly dug through the files of my brain to remember what she was talking about. Dig, dig, dig. Oh yeah. There it is. File: Easter Ham.

          Marion continued, “I did the same thing. I wrestled with my decision too.”

          Reader, here’s where I turn this over to my friend for the telling. She’s graciously consented to do so.

          Okay, Marion! You’re turn!

The Day I Argued with God 

          On a day many years ago, I was eating breakfast like I do most every day. As I was enjoying my cereal, I looked down and saw a tiny worm.  Yuck!  (After researching it years later, I now know it was most likely an Indian meal moth larvae.) 

          A little back story.  My husband had recently taken a huge pay cut.  I was trying my best to be frugal.  I used coupons that were sometimes doubled or tripled at the local supermarket.  I shopped the sales and saved a lot of money.  The problem was I didn’t buy only what we needed. I hoarded an insane amount of dry goods.

          Well, the morning I found the worm, God spoke to me very clearly.  He told me to pack up all the extra food and give it to my friend, Sarah.  As I was bagging the food from my pantry, God told me to give her the ham in my freezer.  I had purchased it for Easter which was just a few weeks away.  I told Him, “Not the ham.”

          I continued to gather the groceries, and He continued to gently whisper for me to include the ham.  I repeatedly told Him no.  The chest freezer was just inside my pantry, so I saw it each time I was getting food to send with Sarah. 

           “Not the ham, Lord.” 

          “Give her the ham.” 

          Back and forth we went.  Meanwhile, I called Sarah and told her I had some food for her family.  She agreed to come to my house to pick everything up.

          I finally, but begrudgingly, gave in and grabbed the ham. 

          Sarah arrived and we talked for a few minutes.  She told me her husband had paid their bills and only had a few dollars left for food.  She said her family prayed that morning for God to provide.  And he did (through me in spite of my selfishness). 

          She was SO thankful they now had a ham for Easter. 

          My sister invited us over for Easter dinner.  We didn’t need the ham.

          I learned a valuable lesson that day from my dear friend, Sarah, and what it means to trust God to provide.  She also taught me how important faith is, even if it’s surrendering a ham.

 

Matthew 6: 25, 26

“Therefore, I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink;

or about your body, what you will wear.  Is not life more than food, and the body

more than clothes?  Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away

in barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them.  Are you not more valuable than they?”

Matthew 6:33-31

“Seek His kingdom first and His righteousness, and all these things will be given to you

as well.  Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.

Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

 

—Marion

 

          So, you see, Reader, I wasn’t alone in my feelings, failure, and reconciliation. Maybe you’ve found yourself in a situation like this also. If so, know that God loves a cheerful giver, forgives one who’s not, and restores the joy.

          In PART TWO (next blog post) I’ll tell you a similar account—one I share with famed missionary to China, Hudson Taylor.

          Really?

          Yes, really!

I Can Trust Jesus

The Collingsworth Family

 

 

#tatting #ham #Easter #trustingJesus #giving #regretting #forgiveness #joy

 

*name changed

 

Photo Credit: tatted items, Hampshires

                      ham, istockphoto.com

                      Marion, used with permission