Snow on Halloween!

     Snow on Halloween

by Anna Lucas

Oh, halloween, that grisly night
When everyone is hid from sight
And safe behind closed doors so wide
Huddled by the fireside
Because of hobogoblin fright
And dragons’ eyes that flash so bright.

There’s witches riding on their brooms
And hopping over orange moons,
And red-eyed demons come a-leering
With missing teeth that crunch a-jeering
When children listen to weird stories
‘Bout ghosts and cemetery gories,
And everyone’s about to spook
At sight of sheets and orange gook.
 

When unknown spooks go creepy-crawly
And poor scared children fall-a-wally.
Oh, Halloween! Oh, black dark night!
Just talking ‘bout it chills with fright!.

This October thirty-first
Would definitely be the worst

We’ve even in our wildest dream

Imagined about Halloween,

Dark and dismal, scary, spooky,

Cloudy, devilish and gooky.

 

But what is happening down here?
Instead of imps and roguish sneer
Comes falling gently, white on white
An autumn snowfall through the night.

 

Instead of witches’ wails and screams
A peaceful stillness crowns our dreams.
White snow like a cozy blanket
Shrouds every hillock and will bank it.
Branches bow beneath the weight
Of snow and ice inside the gate.
A solemn silence reigns supreme
October of Two Thousand and Eighteen.
 

I think how leering devils wait
To scare God’s people at the gate.
They show their toothless grins so wide
And send folks screaming back inside
To where their welcome hearths await
Their sitting down to welcome fate.

 

The demons tantalize and quiver
While poor scared people sit and shiver,
Instead of walking straight and tall
Where no one cares to go at all,
Like to the poor and worst oppressed,
Preaching joy and peace and rest,
They cry tears afraid and huddle
While godless confusion dark befuddles.
Snow, Lord! Send Your people snow,
To cover all the black below.

Quell all the fears! Silence the jeers!
Dry with Your handkerchief all the tears.
Walk in all our cemeteries
Not with poor imagined fairies
But with Your angels calm and bright.
Scatter all the darkest night.
Lay, Lord, all Your lovely frost
To blanket us with burdens tossed,
Grace to cover all our sin,
Love to make us whole again.
Transform the cold and bitter night
Into a harvest of delight!
October Thirty-First we’ve seen
God wreck the devil’s halloween!

When Mom Goes Hunting

When Yer Mom Goes Huntin’  --written for Crystal away at college
    but you can listen in

Listen my children and you shall hear
Of the midnight hunt of yer mother dear.
When the elk were bugling loud in the mount,
And all of the family decided to hunt.
When the others had left with all their gear
And nobody but Hannah was anywhere near,
Yer mom got lonely and yer mom got loony,
And yer mom decided to follow the moony.
Up and she got her, up and away,
Nothing and no one could get her to stay.
Your mother packed up, and loaded the car,
With blankets and pillows and water jar.
Whatever the wind, whatever the weather,
Mother and Hannah were camping together.
They sped through Falcon, Marksheffel and Fountain,
Waldensburg, Monte Vista and on to the mountains.
Dad came down to meet her at friends,
And together they drove to sundry road ends.
From Alamosa they head for the hills,
And for forty-five minutes western beauty spills.
They stop by a river gurgling and splashing
Where yellow cottonwoods stand unabashing.

They hit a dirt road and eat dust by the spoonful
While Hannah is singing a mouthful of tuneful.
The dust is bad and the sun is glaring
Right into the windshield where Mom is staring.
Then all of a sudden a disaster occurs--
The back door of Dad’s topper came open unawares.
And one thing after another went plop!
Down onto the road, but yer Pa wouldn’t stop.
A black boot, then a coat, then another black boot.
Oh, Pa, please, please stop! Will I have to shoot?
Yer Ma honks the horn for all she is worth,
But yer pa, remember, is in elk-hunting turf.
His head’s in the clouds and his eyes are aglow,
And he hasn’t a care in the world just now, so
Your mother’s loud honking must dry to a toot
While she brakes to a stop to pick up the first boot.
Then the coat, and now boot number two.
Then a bag with orange juice, oh now what to do?
She drives on in the dust and the glare of the sun,
Hoping over no more items to run.
Yer Pa finally must’ve looked in his mirror,
For he’d turned around now to see a bit clearer
What all had fallen from the back of his truck
And onto the road or into dry muck.
And how his poor wife was faring way back out of sight,
Who now had caught up and saved him from fright.

On reaching a meadow with cattle guard bad,
Mom parks Carrie's car and climbs in with Dad.
Mom is on the hunt now for the elk and her honey,
And it really doesn't matter that she hasn't much money.
She has her pillow and blanket in tow
And her water jugs and long janes are ready to go.
You can't see Dad's truck for all of the dirt,
But that is okay; a bit of mud just won't hurt.
They stop at a cliff that's a thousand feet down,
To a river that is miles and miles from a town.
They look at the New Mexico ridgeline that winds
By the ancient and ghastly bristlecone pines.
They arrive at the campsite after forty-five minutes
Where Rose is quite ready her story to spin it.
All dressed in her orange hunting gear suit
Rose shows Mom her elk and beams in her boot.

Rose got this fair dame of an elk in the meadow,
A shot that will fill all remaining elk with dread-Oh!
That shot severed the arteries at the heart and backbone
Leaving the bull elk all sad and lone.
But only for a day, for Alonzo him downed,
So they can meet again in Elk Happy Hunting Ground.

But anyway, back to this blissful hunting story,
Of Mom Lucas going camping in all of her glory.
In all of her long janes and baggy blue coat,
With warm socks, fuzzy scarf, and checking the totes
For where on earth is the food so we can have supper,
So she looks in the bags and pans and all of the tupper.
Rose cooks slices of elk, its tender  backstrap
In the big iron skillet, and it's done in a snap.
We all stand around in the absence of chairs,
But when you hunt elk, why really who cares?
We chaw on elk back strap and warm sweet potatoes,
And roast some King Sooper mashed marshmallows.
Mom eats a small bowl of Tammy's chicken soup
Which is flavored with some kind of hot peppers, oh whoop!
Soon her mouth is all hot and her lips are a-sting,
And before you all know it, she's kinda going zing!
The zipper on the tent is going, almost gone.
It gets stuck when it's up, it gets stuck when it's down.
If it's cold outside, to be inside you hope
When the zipper decides to not respond to your grope.
But if you've got to use the cute camp portajohn,
Let's hope that the zipper suddenly turns itself on.
Inside that old tent there is smoke upon smoke.
And that's no exaggeration and that is no joke.
Your mom stood there in that poor old white tent,
Hoping not to take her turn with the zipper that's spent.
Before very long, eight o’clock, time for bed,
Time to crawl in your sleeping bag 'n' pillow yer head.

For your mom an amazing camping cot did appear,
Out of nowhere or somewhere, but don't worry, don't fear.
When Mom can't figure out how to set the thing up,
Which side is down and which side is up,
Your dad has a way of appearing on the scene
And figuring it all out all twixt and all tween.
For Hannah Mom two garbage bags spreads
Under a table, on which to lay her bed.
So all of us crawl into bed cozy and comfy
Even if everything is all a bit cattawumfy.
They snuggle up tight in their sleeping bags warm,
Only noses peeking out, and they set their alarm.
Alonzo listens to the game scores for a sec,
And Mom tries to think how to keep kinks from her neck.
The quilt under Hannah is a little bit wet,
And the blanket over Mom smells worse than a pet.
It smells like the diesel that spilled in  Dad's truck,
But when you are hunting, it's part of the guck
That you've got to put up with when you're on an elk hunt.
To have everything perfect's an impossible stunt.
So you go to bed on a thin mat or a cot,
Or on a thin quilt if that is all that you've got.
You wear your old clothes and don't think pj's,
Cause there's nowhere to change on elk hunts nowadays.
Mom takes down her hair and Dad gives her a kiss,
And they huddle with the kids in un-marital bliss.
Yer Mom wakes up with a blister in her lips
From the jalapeno pepper in her chicken soup sips.
Her lip has a blister, her neck has a kink,
Her hipbones are hurting, her eyelids won't blink.
But your mom won't stay home when the elk hunt is on.
From now on for the weekend your mom is along.
The john is too far so in bed she must stay,
But your mom on this elk hunt is NOT staying away.
The zipper won't work, so Mom stays in her bed,
Till the alarm rings at 4:30 instead.
Then I must tell you--the day comes to life
For children and Alonzo and husband and wife,
For Tammy and Kevin with face ebony black,
And everyone is hunting for their hunting packs.
Outside is pitch dark, outside it is cold,
But they're going for elk, they are going for the gold!
They put on their gloves and they throw on their guns,
They put on their orange, hurry up everyone!
They start up the engines on the poor old four-wheelers,
And soon they are gone like some guilty car dealers.
They're gone to the mountains to find all their wealth,
To sit behind blinds and hike in great stealth.
Your mom's back to bed but not back to sleep.
Her feet won't get warm and mountain cold creeps.
She can't remember all the names on her folded prayer list,
So she prays some small prayers, and hopes God gets the gist.
Then she's up about eight to visit the john,
And since it's so cold she puts other johns on.
Which might leave you in part mystified,
If you don't know which john is which; you decide.
Then Mom goes outside and helps Hannah start a fire,
For breakfast must cook for when the hunters retire.
Hannah whittles some kindling and Mom strikes the match.
Then blow, mother, blow! Oh catch, fire, catch!
Mom's a great camper, but the fire won't start
For almost an hour. Starting fire is an art.
Mom crinkles up paper and crouches to blow
Till her oxygen level is dangerously low.
Gotta gulp in some air, gotta wipe your burnt eyes
When the smoke blows in your face by surprise.

So yer mom and your sis coaxed the fire back to life,
And you're proud of your dad. Be proud of his wife!
She sizzled the bacon and scrambled the eggs,
And I won't tell you 'bout the spill, not even if you beg.
I'm not telling you 'bout the eggs that spilled right into the coals,
Not even if you whimper, nor whine nor cajole.
Nobody will ever hear about that silly mistake,
'Cause your mom was elk hunting, for pity's sake.
A camp robber gray kept fluttering and swooping
And pecking at Rosie's elk hide that was drooping.
We sat in the sun; dead wood we did gather
For tomorrow there's a big change in the weather.
And your mom will come home, but the rest all will stay
Cause this is what happens on elk hunts today.

Then we hear a far roar of the four-wheeler. Please!
And we wait till an orange hat comes twixt the trees.
And Timmy chugs up to tell us the news,
That Alonzo got a bull elk and skeedaddles our blues.
Now Timmy must find lots of elk-holding straps,
And Hannah and I run to find orange hats.
With Timmy we're both going to jump on and ride
With Mom's orange vest and denim skirt all astride,
But then all of a sudden Kevin comes in sight,
With Sam's four-wheeler's tire flat and rim bent, what a plight!
Kevin must go back with Timmy on the seat
That Hannah and I would have ridden so neat.
We swallow our disappointment and take it in stride.
Next year your mom will get a four-wheeler ride.
But wait. Not next year. This year, says your dad.
"I'll give you the ride you were supposed to have had."
But before I get to that part of the story,
I have to get back to the bloody and gory.
We wait and we wait for an hour and a half
Till finally the roars of the hunters make us laugh.
With vim and with valor, with gusto and pride,
The hunters arrive with the bull elk astride
The back of Alonzo's four-wheeler, ship shape,
With guts all removed and tongue hanging agape.

We ladies all cheer; we ladies all yell;
It's okay in this circumstance to jump for a spell.
We take fancy pictures, and congratulate well,
The hunter whose story we soon want to tell.
Your mother, my dear, has scurried about
To have lots of food for the hungry hunters set out.
There are hot dogs and brats, and bacon with eggs,
There is salad and cookies and coffee gone to dregs.
And while the others are keeping their blood sugar steady,
Your pa sets your ma on the four-wheeler now ready.
He's taking your ma for a ride in the hills,
Through the woods and the meadows where happy hearts thrill.
We bump along merrily where ruts wend their way
And we think how could there be a happier day,
With the sky blue with clouds, the sun warm on our backs,
And God looking down on us; nothing we lack.
Yer pa and yer ma stop somewhere down in the woods
Where we share quite a few kisses that sound really good.
And then we go tearing back out to the camp
Where the guys are a-hanging that big bull elk scamp.
They're shimmying up two big aspen trees
To set a cross-log to hang the elk in the breeze.

But yer dad and yer sis and yer mom's got to run,
Cause back at the homestead chores got to be done.
So yer ma and yer pa and yer sis ride the road
All the way to the cattle guard where Carrie's car's stowed.
Dad kisses yer ma, and she's off in the dust,
Leaving hubby and kids and the elk there she must.
And now here she is at home on the ranch,
Feedin the fire with scrap wood and black branch.
Havin' done all the laundry and washed every dish,
And cleaned up the kitchen as much as she'd wish.
While up in the mountains yer dad texts his blues
That snowin' and rainin' and sleetin' is news.
But yer mom and yer sis milk the goat, tend the dogs,
Feed the bunnies, haul water, and take off their clogs.
Yer sis does her school work, which yer mother checks,
They unload the car and the mail inspect.
Then yer mother sits down and writes this here rhyme
"Bout the wonderful, marvelous, fantastic time
Up there in the mountains where wild elk roam--
But she's happy now back at her home, sweet home!

Rose Shoots Cow Elk First Hour of Hunting Season!

This was one of those red-letter (or shall we say orange-letter) events in the life of the Lucas family--

when Rose bags a cow elk at 7:08 in the morning the first day of hunting season in the mountains!

She was as proud as a peacock with lots of orange feathers!

I expect more pictures later, but this is the one Jonathan texted me shortly after it happened! 

This event was in the middle of some rather lesser events--including a blown tire recently on Jonathan's way to work when he hit a metal cap of a pipe in a hole in the road, thanks to city utilities leaving several such metal things on the road in an area they were working in and close to Jonathan's job site.

 He had to call me to bring the spare which happened to be at home rather than in his truck. It took a few hours out of each of our day, and time spent calling city utilities and trying to get them to pay for a new tire, which required meeting the service rep and paperwork and so on.

 

 As Scott Hubbard of Desiring God wrote, "Many of the good works in front of you today will not feel magnificent. But...not one will go unnoticed or unrewarded — from the biggest sacrifice of your comfort to the smallest deed done in faith."

https://www.desiringgod.org/articles/awaken-me-to-today

And as Marshall Segal wrote in Desiring God's "The Joy We Know Only in Suffering,"

"Real joy doesn’t have to be put-together and smiley... It is...often tear-stained and worn out, crawling after God with whatever strength and longing we can muster."
That phrase "crawling after God" intrigued me, maybe because there aren't very many events in my life like shooting an elk not just the first day of hunting season, but the first hour. 
Most of my days are humdrum.
Day in and day out, just doing the tasks that lie before me, plus dealing with the many ordinary frustrations of having my days very often rudely interrupted with everything from having to take a spare tire 50 minutes across town
to having to run out and chase stray animals back into their pens or pastures,
sometimes too distracted with the many things going on to really spend a long time focusing on God as I'd like.
But my heart "crawls after God,"
after the toils of the day,
after most of the family has finally taken their tons of hunting paraphernalia out and have disappeared hours away to the mountains,
and things are quiet.
My tired heart crawls after God--and finds Him!

Cousins, Company, and Carrots

A few weeks ago upon arriving back from our time in North Dakota, we had a nephew, a niece, and two friends here all at the same time! Almost every evening the children--oh, dear, I guess I should say young people--played games at the kitchen table.

This one was Snorta--which hides little farm animals inside little barns, and you have to remember which animal sound to say to whoever draws a matching card. Whoever gets the other person's animal sound right first gives all his/her cards to the other person. The point is to get rid of your pile of cards first!

Cousin Candace was such a treat to have in our home! She helped with a lot of sewing--skirts, nightgown, etc. 

Her bright smile and friendliness and helpfulness meant a lot to me. 

One afternoon before it was to possible frost, the children went out and pulled lots of our veggies--

beets, pumpkins, carrots.

The children planted rainbow carrots, and we got several colors! They are so good!

Rose is storing some dried camomile in a quart jar.

Here are a couple links to wonderful articles I've read recently.

https://www.desiringgod.org/articles/obey-god-with-your-creativity

https://www.desiringgod.org/articles/whatever-is-lovely

Even Church Steeples Need Anchors

A beautiful white steeple went up in Denver last weekend!

But we didn't just set it up there on the church roof and say, "Wheee! Done!"
What a lot of work went into getting that steeple up!
First we had to apply for permission from the local building department, because anything over a certain height has to be approved by the local building department.
We had to drive all the way to Texas to purchase and bring back the steeple. It had to be stored somewhere till it could be put up.

Jonathan had to contact an engineer, go into the engineer's office when he wouldn't return phone calls, set up an appointment to meet the engineer clear up in Denver inside the attic of the church a couple weeks ago, and then drive all the way up there to meet in the church attic.

Then Jonathan had to draw up the plans with all the details of how the steeple was going to be anchored, take it to the engineer, change certain details, get it approved and stamped.
Then that plan had to be submitted to the Building Dept by fax, and finally Pastor Walker could pick up the permit last week.
Finally, finally, finally we could take the steeple up to Denver, having made arrangements for several young men to be there to get the steeple up on the roof.

It was an exciting day.
Having a steeple up there on the roof was definitely going to make this building look more like a church!

I was the one who pulled the tape and red flag off the end and scrubbed off the dirt and fly specks that had accumulated over the last couple months while it sat out by our driveway. I was happy to do that and let the men carry that thing up on the roof!

While Jonathan figures out everything about bolts, fitting, measuring, etc, the men help lug junk that has collected over many years from the back church yard to load in our trailer that we'd hauled the steeple in. Samuel, Timmy, Hannah and I lugged load after load of stuff from the church attic storage room which had become a sort of catch-all and which the Walkers wanted to clear out. 

 Finally the steeple and ladders are ready.

So here they are starting to lift the steeple.

 Pastor Gutierrez, from the Lakewood Bible Missionary Church, had come to help. (He hopes to get a steeple on their church roof next year!) He is hauling up the heavy end of the steeple with Timmy in the middle and Jonathan at the other end,

 while Justin Stanton, Pastor Walker, and Samuel Morley reach to grab it as soon as it is up the ladders.

Up, up, up!

I had to get a picture from the other side of the parsonage yard, with the yellow leaves framing the scene.

The men took off their hats as Pastor Walker offered a prayer of dedication, and then Justin and Pastor Gutierrez left for their homes.

Jonathan had told me he thought this job would be done by noon.

Ha ha. Hee hee. Ho ho. 

We weren't out of there till nearly 5:30!

Measurements ended up being off, and there was an awful lot of work to do to anchor that steeple in the trusses and/or beams of the church attic.

It was beastly hot in there, despite the cool air outside. The boys and Jonathan came out with their shirts soaked in sweat.

But that steeple would blow over in no time at the first gale of wind that came along 

if it had not been firmly and securely anchored in the beams of the church attic.

On his knees, Jonathan climbs inside the steeple to get the bolts in place.

And on our knees we get into the Bible to learn what God has to say
so that our beliefs are firm and will not blow over at the first gale of questions, doubts, mockery and disagreements of others.

"The church is going to blow away before that steeple comes down!" Jonathan declared.

"Have a care where there is more sail than ballast." William Penn wrote, a quote in Fruits of Solitude.
Lord, teach us to so anchor our faith in Your Word and in Your Son Jesus Christ

that no stormy wind shall ever cause it to waver!

What Do Mopping Moms and the Protestant Reformation Have in Common?

This October is the 500th Anniversary of the Protestant Reformation. Each of these 30 days of October, I've gotten by email a brief biographical sketch of one of thirty leaders of the Reformation. (Two of the sketches were actually about women, including one lady named Wibrandis Rosenblatt who was the wife of four different reformers, but not at one time! One by one each husband died, and eventually she married again--four times! She was nicknamed the "Bride of the Reformation.")
Actually here is the link to signing up for these emails and to see a list of the reformers discussed:
 https://www.desiringgod.org/here-we-stand
These are eye-opening, engaging, awe-inspiring stories of the common, ordinary, yet heroic people who ended up being leaders in the Reformation, some of whom gave their very lives for the Word of God. 
But, as I asked, how are mopping moms related to the reformation?

In the same way as were boys behind the plow.
Plow boys, as William Tyndale called them, were the commonest, and least of society of his day,
just like moms who stay home and take care of families are pretty close to the least of today's society.
The basic theme of the Reformation was to get the Bible into the hands of the common people, the moms and the moppers,
the dads and the carpenters, the children and the poor and the least and the most unlikely, so they could read it for themselves rather than have it dictated to them from  church leaders who hid God's Word behind a foreign language and then used it only for their advantage
Here is one of the quotes in this 30-day series:
“As Hus read Scripture and watched the popes of his day abuse their power, he concluded that papal authority was not ultimate. He needed a sturdier foundation than was built from the straw and sticks of men’s opinion — no matter how highly regarded those men were. He built his life and ministry on the word of God.” 


It's easy to laud Luther now for nailing his 95 Theses to the door of the church,
 but in Luther's day he was Mr. Bad Guy.

The act we Protestants have lauded for 500 years as heroic was considered horrible, heinous, and hellish.
"Heresy! Heretic! The devil is really fighting!" was on the tongues of pope, priests, and people alike.


Now Luther who got into trouble with pope, priests, and peers alike is revered by the Protestant Church at large.
All because he was concerned, not about his good name, but about getting the truth of God's Word out to the common people to set them free from papal bondage.
Jesus chided the religious leaders of His day for decorating the graves of the prophets and claiming that they would not be involved in their murder like their forefathers had been, yet in fact, they were about to crucify the very Son of God.
It's so easy to look back in history and see with hindsight that indeed these reformers, however imperfect and uncouth in method, were right in their purposes and beliefs.

But what would we have done with Mr. Luther, Heretic, had he been in our day?
Just wondering.

Better to Light a Candle Than Curse the Darkness--When God's Love Is Shed Abroad in Your Heart

"It is better to light a candle than to curse the darkness."

This quote was in Timmy's grammar lesson one day, and I noticed it as I was checking his punctuation lesson.

This quote has always meant a lot to me, and it keeps meaning more and more.

Sometimes the only way to expel darkness is not to curse it, but to light a candle.
It's so tempting to curse the darkness--the darkness of injustice, unfairness, hypocrisy, and pain of whatever kind.
Maybe you are never tempted to curse darkness because you have never felt unbearable pain. 
When Corrie ten Boom was talking with a man unable to rid himself of his burden of hatred and bitterness toward the people who had dropped a bomb on his home and destroyed his family, she did not just preach to him to forgive them as he told her in black despair that so many other people had preached at him and counseled him.
She could understand already that he could not forgive. She had been in those same shoes at one time--when a guard who had forced her to walk naked past other guards on her way to prison was in one of her services and came up to ask her to forgive him.
She could not. All the bitter humiliation of those moments and those memories haunted her, and she could not forgive.
It was too much.
But in her raw pain, she made a choice--with all her lack of forgiveness she chose to reach out to shake his hand,
and that was when the love of God flooded her heart and forgiveness was suddenly there.
For this man, the pain, still so raw, was the same bitter anguish that Corrie knew.
And she understood that preaching about forgiveness was not what this man needed.
 There was too much pain and darkness.
So God gave her the wisdom to ask him, "How do we get rid of darkness from a room?"
Do we push it out with a broom? Do we flap a towel about and chase it out?
No, you just simply open the door and let the light in!
Corrie ten Boom told the man that if he could not forgive, he could choose to open his heart to God's love, just like he could open a door to bring light to a dark room, and God's love would simply chase the darkness and unforgiveness out!
That illustration helped the man understand, and while he could not forgive, he could at least open his heart to God's love.

And when He did, the love chased the hate out!
Yes, suddenly, he could finally forgive.
It was a sort of inverted order of what is usually preached. God's love first bringing healing to that deep, anguished, humiliating pain, and then the power to forgive came.
 This story came back to me again in the last couple days as I was battling searing pain over things that had been unbearable for me,
things that had left me totally humiliated, confused, sleepless, bursting into tears over and over, and I couldn't get rid of the pain of it all--
until I remembered this story today. It had helped me overcome another similar situation.
I hope that if a reader is struggling with something you can't overcome, that you will understand that God is not going to pound you over the head with some kind of concept, however spiritual and even Biblical, that doesn't work for you in the middle of your pain.
So the Bible is used to wallop you over the head.
Sometimes the pain is so great you can't forgive, and you can't function no matter how much of a Christian you profess to be.
That is when you need a different word picture, a story, if you will, rather than an abstract concept, however spiritual, of forgiveness.
You need, like I did, a word picture of darkness and a candle or a window.
 
Maybe you can't "get" how to forgive these people or give to God the hurtful situation, but you can "get" how to open a window or a door in a dark room, and let the sunshine in.
You can "get" asking God for His love.
And the amazing thing is that when you simply open your heart to God's love, light comes pouring into your darkness, and that love replaces all the hatred and bitterness, all the pain and frustration.
Suddenly, there is a bubbling joy, like I experienced today. I didn't know that days from the searing pain, the hills would be singing and the trees would be clapping their hands as I read in Isaiah 55 today.

Corrie ten Boom understood, as they teach at Caring for the Heart Ministries, that sometimes a person has to find healing for at least part of the pain in their lives and heart before they are able to forgive.
Sometimes the pain is just too deep, or too recent, or too raw.
Sometimes you have to help the person take their pain to Christ for healing before they can forgive.
Let us not be unaware of this need.
It is an incredible way to help someone be able to forgive--first ask Jesus to fill their hearts with His healing love that drives out the darkness and bitterness and unabated pain.
I know it was this way for me--over and over.  
That is what we take ourselves and others to Jesus for--for healing from the hurts that leave us crushed and broken, so that we can forgive and be healed ourselves even if the other person never understands or acknowledges where they were wrong or where they hurt you, however right they think they were.

"Jesus, I can't forgive, but I want to open my heart to Your love."
This prayer holds amazing, miracle-working power.
If we are in a dark situation, or a time of confusion, or a time of grief or loss,

or we don't understand, or we don't know what to do--

rather than curse the darkness, let us light a candle.