The Blessing of Protection

One recent morning, I awakened at 1:30 am with a sense of urgency to pray for my son. I prayed and climbed back in bed. It was no better. I prayed in bed. At 2 am, I got up again. As it turned out, I was up for the day. The sense of danger for my son was so strong that I ended up praying off and on all day. 

By lunchtime, I was overwhelmed. Something was wrong. 

I texted him. He was fine. Nothing was wrong. 

I kept praying. I texted my prayer partner to pray. I prayed some more.

Finally, at 3:05 pm, nearly ten hours after my first sense of danger, I received a text from Ryan. A crazy thing had happened. He was driving (in his tiny Nissan roadster) when an 18-wheeler passed him, had a blow out, and blew the tire onto his car. The tire missed his windshield (which would likely have killed him) and hit his front bumper instead. 

"Did it scare you, Ryan," I asked. 

"No, Ma'am. It happened too fast to scare me, but it sure surprised me."

There's damage to the bumper that will need to be repaired, but Ryan managed to navigate to the side of the road without crashing. He made his way to a service station and the man there, who was so nice, gave him several long zip-ties. Ryan, a modern-day MacGyver if there ever was one, zip-tied his car back together until he could report his accident and arrange for repair.

According to roadtreking.com, highway debris causes more than 25,000 accidents and at least 100 deaths each year in North America. When I called the insurance company to report his accident, the woman who answered asked how much of the car was damaged in the crash. 

"He didn't crash," I told her. "He said he just pulled off on the side of the road."

Most of the time, she said, when a flying tire-remnant hits a car, it causes a wreck. She was very surprised this one did not.

I'm not surprised at all.

The Lord has made known His salvation... Psalm 98:2 nasb

Our God, who is eternally present and sees the past and the future, knew about the accident to come at 1:30 that morning. He invited me into His divine preparations and I accepted the invitation. I can't begin to tell you how often I've been thankful for that. 

Lest you misunderstand, let me make it clear that Ryan wasn't spared because of his worried mama. Ryan was spared because a loving God intervened on his behalf. 

"He cares for you..." 1 Peter 5:7 nasb

On that particular day, at that particular time, God allowed me to glimpse His provision, His tender loving care. There are many days, in fact most days, when I do not glimpse His provision and tender loving care in such graphic detail. 

My failure to recognize God's care does not negate its presence nor His provision.

As disciples, we serve a loving, knowing God who cares for us with more tenderness, more love than we can imagine. Look around you today. Try to count the blessings you see, then count the unseen blessings that, though less tangible, are no less real. 

There's a song I learned as a child. "Count your many blessings, name them one by one. Count your many blessings, see what God has done."

Indeed. Count your many blessings today and thank Him for all He has done.

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In case you missed any of the past week's posts, here are the links: The Problem With Phone Calls, How to Recognize Good News, Removing the Callus, Refillable Nespresso capsules,  The New Normal, and The Blessing Disguised as Coincidence.

#highwaydebris #spared #handofGod #blessed #disciple #JesusChrist #grateful

The most read post of the past week: Removing the Callus.

Castles in the Sand

My son, Ryan, and I had played in the surf until we were both exhausted.  We settled down on the beach to recuperate and build a sand castle.  Ryan designed it and directed the building.  I was his willing assistant.  It was a wonderful castle, with a huge moat, a drawbridge, a tower, and a layer of seashells covering it all.  There was a gigantic retaining wall surrounding the complex, made also of sand.

The other children on the beach came to see it, then left to copy his design for their own sand castles.  Digging into the sand to deepen the moat, we found "slush"... shifting sand.

The magnificent structure was gone the next morning - washed away by the surf.  The castles of the children who had copied Ryan's were gone, too.  

When children watch us build sand castles on the beach and emulate us, they end up with the same results we do... a structure that will never stand against the pounding surf.  When they watch us build our lives on shifting sand, rather than solid rock, and emulate us, they end up (as we do) with nothing short of tragedy... a life that will never withstand the storms to come.

There are so many little ones who watch us - often unnoticed - as we go about our daily activities and routines.  Let's be very sure that what they see are lives in which every area is anchored on the Solid Rock rather than on shifting sand.

For your meditation:  Matthew 7:24-27
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This article was first published in Physician, July-August 2001

The Family Flowers

I have watched with envy as fellow gardeners have posted photos of their blooms on Facebook. I haven't had blooms to post, and I've been absurdly sad about it. It is spring, after all, so where are my blooms??? I had begun to think those Arctic temperatures had stolen all my flowers. 

Several days ago, my azaleas finally burst forth in an amazing profusion of flowers and colors. Today, my first Iris bloomed at last, with bulging buds that will open soon.  The rose on the trellis has leafed out, and roses won't be far behind. 

The flowers are beautiful and I've worked hard to build a colorful garden over the last quarter century, but what I love most about my flowers in this spread-over-too-many-acres-to-contain garden is not the beauty. It's not the springtime color.  It is the connection to my family. My grandmother had beautiful irises in her backyard, and my Aunt Olene had a yard full of the most breathtaking azaleas imaginable. The rose on the trellis is a cutting from my grandaddy's prized rose, rooted for me by my dear cousin Skip. The peony was a Mother's Day gift from Ryan years ago. 

The flowers look like family to me. They remind me of my roots (literally and figuratively), and the people I hold so dear. There is no telling how many stories Ryan has heard about my grandmother that began with, "My grandma had irises like these..."  The flowers have helped to bring his ancestors to life in the stories they've brought forth. I've told him all the flower stories, of course, but the stories about how my grandaddy worked at the Borden milk plant and my grandmother took in boarders to survive the depression have been in there, too. 

As I wandered through the flowers this afternoon and thought about the lesson of the blooms, I've wondered what stories Ryan will tell about my flowers. What stories about my character, my perseverance through trials will these flower trigger? Whatever he tells, I hope the stories will include tales of my faith and the wonderful ways I've seen God work. 

Maybe, just maybe I'm passing it on. At spring break, Ryan asked, "Hey Mom, can I have some of your rosemary you rooted? I found an abandoned patch of ground near my apartment, and I thought I could plant a little garden there." I can hear it now. Every time he passes that abandoned lot, he'll be saying, "That's my mama's rosemary growing there". If not out loud, at least I hope he's saying it in his heart, which I where I most want to be. 

The unlikely winner

Ryan did not want to do the Showmanship competition, but after a pep talk and prayers for both him and his calf, he headed into the ring.   I was pleased to see him focused and concentrating on the heifer, as well as the judge.  He was paying attention and had the calf firmly under control.  

There was another boy in the ring who was clearly more experienced, and more confident, than Ryan.  As the judge lined the children up by standings, the other boy was in first place and Ryan was in second.  Since he’d only competed once before, I thought Ryan had done well, and I could see from his face that he was pleased.

Just before announcing the winner, the judge hesitated.  Why was he waiting?  He had the winners in line and he should be through.  As I watched, I realized the boy in the first position was having trouble with his calf, which had become very restless.  Abruptly, the calf tried to bolt and a struggle ensued.  

Ryan never noticed.  He was focused on his calf, gently stroking her belly with his show stick, and watching the judge.  He had his calf, amazingly, under perfect control.  

I saw a surprised look on his face as he began to turn his calf around.  What was Ryan doing?  As I glanced back at the judge, I realized he was pointing at Ryan and motioning for him to swap places.  Ryan was moving into first place!  What in the world was going on?  I was shocked.  

When the judge picked up the microphone to defend his placings, he explained that the boy who started in first had lost control of his calf at the last minute.  Ryan, on the other hand, had persevered even when it looked as if he was coming in second.  He never stopped trying, and it had paid off.  He had won!

Later in the day, the judge commented to the crowd that he’d been watching Ryan ever since he entered the show ring.  He told them that it was no surprise his calf had ultimately won Grand Champion, because Ryan never gave up.

It’s fun to win a trophy for persevering in the show ring, but God has promised us something better.  James tells us the one who endures will receive the crown of life.  When the trial you face seems too hard to endure, remember the lesson of the show ring.  Keep your hand to the task with both eyes firmly fixed on the judge, and you, too, can come in a winner.  

 

“Blessed is a man who perseveres under trial; for once he has been approved, he will receive the crown of life, which the Lord has promised to those who love Him.”  James 1:12 NASB

Shooting Snakes

 One afternoon when Ryan was little, we were fishing near the big cedar tree that overhangs the water.  It was spring, and the snakes had just begun to move around.  I spotted what I thought was a deadly viper and raced for the rifle, dragging a reluctant Ryan behind.

I returned to the lake, determined to shoot the dreadful predator that threatened Ryan’s safety.  All the lessons I’d heard about the benefits of snakes were forgotten as I searched the lake for the long black creature I’d seen.  I couldn’t locate it anywhere.

“Ryan,” I asked, “do you see the snake?”  “No, Mommy,” he assured me, “I don’t see any snakes at all.”  “Ryan, look closer.  Are you sure you don’t see him anywhere?” I insisted.  Ever so patiently, Ryan explained, “Mommy, I don’t see the snake because I’m not looking for him.  I’m fishing.”  

Ryan was interested in bass and bream, not snakes, and he wasn’t going to waste a minute on anything else.  I, on the other hand, thought I had seen a snake and could focus on nothing else until it was removed.  We made a good team, but I’m not so sure how well we’d have done separately.  Ryan wouldn’t have been safe without a watchful eye and I wouldn’t have had a moment’s pleasure because of my concern with the snake.

There’s a tendency in Christian circles to treat Satan much like we treated the snake.  Either we are as obsessed as I, binding the enemy and fleeing demons rather than focusing on the task at hand, or as glibly oblivious as Ryan.  

Peter, writing to the first century church, explained, “Be of sober spirit, be on the alert.  Your adversary, the devil, prowls about like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.  But resist him, firm in your faith…” (1Peter 5:8-9)  

Paul explained further, in his letter to the Ephesians.  “Put on the full armor of God, that you may be able to stand firm against the schemes of the devil… the belt of truth, the breastplate of righteousness, the boots of the gospel of peace, shield of faith, helmet of salvation, sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.”  (Ephesians 6:11-17)

The objective, however, is not fighting devils.  The objective is carrying out the job Christ gave us to do until his return, no matter what gets in your way.  Go and make disciples, then teach them to obey.

  

I ended that lazy afternoon without catching a fish or a snake.  My son, on the other hand, caught a stringer full.  It’s important to keep a watchful eye, but Ryan had one thing right.  If you want to catch fish, you have to focus on fishing, not snakes.  

Puppy Prayers

​“Hey Mom, don’t you want another dog?” Ryan asked.  My twelve-year-old son was convinced that another dog was an essential addition to our menagerie, which already included an elderly dog, two cats, four rabbits, four chickens, three horses (including two wild mustangs), and two show cows, in addition to a small herd of commercial cows.  “Absolutely not!” was my quick reply.  

As the weeks went by, Ryan continued to push the issue.  “We really need a new dog, Mom.  Bud needs another dog to play with him.”  “Ryan, we do not need a new dog.”  “Mom, don’t you want a new dog?  Puppies are so cute!”  “Ryan, I am feeding enough animals.  I’m not buying a dog or any other animal.”  

​Ryan saw a potential crack in the armor.  “What if someone gives us a dog?  Can I have a dog if someone gives it to me?”  He was relentless, so I finally outlined the only way I’d allow a new dog.  “It has to be either a teacup poodle or a chocolate lab, registered, papers included in the gift, and female.   It would have to be a puppy, not an older dog who’s been someone else’s problem.”  Frankly, I thought the possibility that Ryan could find a dog that met all those criteria was pretty slim.  As time went on, he intensified his efforts, and began to look at the newspaper classified ads on a daily basis.    

​Children are masters at playing their parents against one another, and Ryan was no exception.  When Mom said “No,” he took his case to his Father.  His Heavenly Father.  He began to pray daily for a dog.  I reminded him of the guidelines for an acceptable puppy.  I assumed he’d mention those guidelines in his prayers.

​After several months, I began to feel confident about avoiding a new dog.  Ryan was even more certain a puppy was not far away.  

​One Saturday morning, he went with his 4-H advisor to look at a new show calf.  He called me with good news.  “Hey, Mom.  Mr. Greg has some cute puppies.  He says I can have one if you don’t care.   Please, Mom.  These are so cute!”  They weren’t teacup poodles.  They weren’t chocolate labs.  They weren’t even registered.  I was worn out with his pleas, and, amazingly, my resistance evaporated as he pleaded.  

​“Ryan, this will have to be the ONLY dog.  You can’t have another dog if you find one that’s registered.”  That was clearly fine with Ryan.  “Hooray!”  I could hear him telling Mr. Greg the good news.  “She says I can have it,” he whispered.  

​Like all puppies, the new half-Labrador Retriever, half-German Shepherd puppy was a wiggly, furry, bundle of fun.  As we played with the puppy later that evening, I asked Ryan about his prayers. “I thought you were praying for a Labrador retriever or a poodle.   What happened?  Couldn’t you wait for God to send what you’d asked for?”  “Oh, Mom, He DID send what I asked for,” Ryan said.  “I couldn’t remember all that stuff you said.  I just asked God to send me a dog you’d let me have.  And He did.  Isn’t he a cute puppy?”  

​I have a tendency to ask God to do what’s best in my situation, and then offer a variety of “suggestions” about how He should accomplish whatever He does.  I want to be sure He gets it right.  It sounds as silly as it is, doesn’t it?  One day, though, I’m going to learn to pray like Ryan.  He doesn’t bother to tell God a litany of guidelines, because he trusts God to not only know what’s best, but also to give what’s best.  

​Is it hard for you to trust God with your needs?  With the desires of your heart?  Take a lesson from Ryan.   Make your request, and then let God do the picking.  Ryan would tell you, “God picks good.”  Judging by our new puppy, I’m sure He does.