When I Am Weak, Am I Really Strong?

There was a day recently when it was chilly and I was needing a rest.

So I found the shawl that my friend Mary had knitted for me two Christmases ago and the "Amazing Grace: quilt that her daughter had made for me more recently, and I curled up for a rest.

It's been years since I've felt very strong. 

I'm not sure I ever did feel strong.

Mostly I have lived my life exhausted and weak--even all through those years of childbearing and raising children.

I don't know how I did everything I did. 

I guess it was God, really, who truly helped this weak person do whatever may have been a bit worthwhile.  

 Up in South Dakota, I was glad for an office job of helping to edit the next Indian Vision that was supposed to go to printer soon. 

I was sitting there some of the time feeling whoozy and weak. 

Nothing new really.

Can't blame it on this cancer, for I've felt this bad many times before.

But it's amazing what a little rest does for a person (like my mom in the picture above).

She's in her eighties and still keeps going.

It's amazing what resting in God does for a person. 

Resting in God makes a weak person strong. 

Lord, when I am weak,

when I can't do nearly all that I wish I could,

when instead of healing and strength Your kind voice comes reminding me that Your grace is sufficient for the disease that won't go away,

or the tumor that wants to stay,

or the pain that makes a permanent dwelling in my house,

or the heartache that drags me down with the weight of an elephant,

help me to remember that 

truly it is when I am weak that I am strong, 

because then I have to rely on Your strength instead of my own. 

Remind me, when I am struggling to make it through my day, that

resting in You is what makes a weak person strong. 

Kitten in the Tree--and What Steals Our Joy

 There she was--that rascal of a kitten-almost-turned-cat.

Climbing up into the branches of our austree, fascinated by the birds in the tree.  

Naughty kitten! 

I saw her again this morning, stealthily prowling through the same tree, as if the birds could not see here.

I could hardly see her myself, but of course, the birds saw her. 

And away they flew--like our joy flies away when our stealthy enemy comes prowling along.   

How he loves to steal our joy

by threatening our past, our present and our future,

by reminding us of past sins or failures or mistakes,

by tantalizing us with all the things he assumes we think we should have but don't. 

God, however, has given his sparrows wings, and they need not fear their kitty enemy sneaking into their tree.

Away they fly-up into the clear blue sky, up to the tip-top of the fir tree or the house roof,

there to sing their merry hearts out.

While the sneaky marauder gives up and slinks away.

"Resist the devil, and he will flee from you," the Good Book says. 

And one of the best ways to resist is simply to remember that we have wings--

either the ones God has give us to fly with to Him in prayer,

or His own wings to cover and protect us.

Either way, on wing or under wing,

let us sing! 

When Robins Serenade Your Morning

We slept in Sunday morning in South Dakota. And when Jonathan went outside about 8:30, he was soon calling me on the phone, speaking quietly so he wouldn't scare the robins he'd discovered.
    “There’s a whole flock of robins up here in the trees in the draw!” he told me.   

I didn’t waste any time. “I’ll be right up!” I said.
    Grabbing my coat, I dived into my boots and headed out into the cold. It wasn’t as cold as the first two mornings up there, though, and what a joy to listen to the calls of robins! At least a dozen or more flitting back and forth between the trees, perching on high branches, and twittering.

 

    Aspen, the dog, was far more interested in flushing a rabbit out from its hiding place! The next thing I knew, I saw a large rabbit dashing around the hillock and disappearing, with Aspen close behind, but losing the bunny as it zigzagged over the hill. As Aspen sniffed and snoofed, the robins fluttered further away.
    Jonathan and I climbed up the hill further and watched and listened. Did this mean spring would be coming soon? 

 The children joined us and we went for a long walk, enjoying the snowy fields and blue sky, the yucca all nibbled off apparently by deer during the deep snow of the blizzard. 

We heard about a ranch that lost about 1500 head of cattle during the December blizzard. The cattle huddled together in a low spot for shelter, but were drifted in with snow and froze on their feet. A trucker is busy making trip after trip, trucking out 30 frozen cows at a time. What a loss!   

Other people burned furniture and even clothing to try to stay warm during the same blizzard and following cold snap of about 30 below zero.

It sounded like experiences we only read about in books. 

 But Sunday morning robins met us and cheered us with their song.

Lord, thank You for our feathered friends, the flock of robins that remind us that in You we may have joy,

even when blizzards have brought us devastation.  

Jesus, in the middle of our storm, You are our joy!

Snow Where it Does Not Belong

Sometimes snow, like fear and anxiety and worry, creeps (or sweeps) in under the door where it does not belong, like the snow inside the door somewhere in South Dakota. 

 

Fear and anxiety can make our way slippery, and if we aren't careful, we can find ourselves in the ditch of despair, paralyzed with the icy drifts of worry.

Anxiety can pile up right in the middle of the street where you are supposed to go, like the snow was piled in the streets of Valentine, Nebraska, on our way home from South Dakota. 

A front-end loader was loading snow into a dump truck. 

Lord, sometimes we need Your own Front End Loader to scoop up our piles of fear and worry and anxiety. 

Cart them away, Lord, and dump them in some faraway spot. 

Replace our concerns and worries with Your rest and peace.  

 

Help us to replace worry with prayer, 

anxiety with resting in You,

and fear with remembering Your promises.

 

Working on in the Dark--Is it Always a Good Thing?

Sometimes the evenings of life seem to fall early. After supper we'd really like to just curl up by the fire and read a book or write a blogpost.

Instead, there is work to be done. Danny and Jonathan were still framing walls at our South Dakota house late into the evening.  

You just need a head lamp, or a light of some sort.  

I worked after supper Saturday in South Dakota, making a huge apple crisp which I planned to take along to the evening meal after Sunday service.  

Sometimes however, it's good to listen to your body and go to bed soon after dark. My doctor told me that he wanted me to start going to bed at 8:30 in the evening because a person's body gets the most rest and does the most healing in the hours before  midnight rather than after midnight.

 I've read that before.  It's hard, to stop everything and go to bed then, but I do notice that about 8:30, I'm aching with weariness and just want to go to bed. 

According to my doctor, I need to listen to my body in that regard and tumble right into bed. 

After all, Jesus talked of giving His people rest. 

He Himself had His favorite haunts for rest, including the garden outside Jerusalem and perhaps the home of Lazarus and Mary and Martha. 

He stayed up all night praying every once in a long while, but in between times, He just laid Him down and slept.

No pillow.

No bed except the grassy ground.

But He slept, rested, and was refreshed for each new day. 

When winter's days are short and cold, it's okay to rest.  

I might not get as much work done, or as much blogging or emailing, but I might heal faster.

And that would be a good thing.

What the Wind Blew Out--in South Dakota

Although it was late and dark when Jonathan, Danny, Hannah, and I arrived at our place in South Dakota, Jonathan wanted to run up to the house to see if it had stayed intact during the December blizzard and other storms since.

Well, it had, except for a couple things.

The wind  had blown one piece of OSB off the garage and then had blown through the house where it blew out a window in the sun room/ back porch! 

It had not broken, but was only cracked in one corner!

We were grateful that was the worst of it. 

 

We had already stopped at Menards in North Platte, NE, for some materials not only for our house but for the Rosebud parsonage. 

And Danny got busy right away the next morning, finishing laying subflooring in the attice bedrooms. 

He has been amazing, just being his dad's right hand man, and sometimes even working alone!

They have to try to fit the subflooring pieces together with tongue-and-groove edges. 

Hannah pulling nails out of used 2x4's so we can use them again.  

It took Jonathan and Danny nearly a whole day to figure out, brace, and build these irregular but charming steps leading to the low loft over the backside of our house. The children and I wanted access to all the space possible under the eaves for storage, and Jonathan was able to build the house with an open cathedral ceiling with loft in part of it. Adults can't stand up in most of it, but children can, and we can store stuff.

Danny framed the linen closet in the master bath. 

Jonathan put in all the locks and door knobs for three doors.

Hannah and I also helped with tacking electrical boxes up all over the house for switches and outlets.  

It was fun all working together figuring out where each one went. I helped with measuring and setting, and Hannah pounded the tacking nails in.  

Clogged with Creosote--and Is the Chimney Clear?

A couple weeks ago our wood stove was lacking a good draft.

Which meant one thing--the chimney must be clogged again.

Once or twice a year, Jonathan or the boys have to climb up on the roof and clean the chimney pipe of all the creosote buildup in it. 

Here's what the chimney cap looked like when Jonathan and Danny brought it down to clean it.

Dirty work! 

Meanwhile, I headed out to bring in wood from the scrap bin.  

 

Our lymph system won't work unless we move and exercise, so I am busy every day making sure I get outside for lots of fresh air and exercise--carrying feed and garbage to chickens, taking out trash, picking up scraps, bringing in wood, walking, and jogging. 

It's much more fun when others are outside, too, so I went out while the men worked on the chimney.

It was a dirty job, but now that the creosote has been cleaned away, the draft is good and the fire glows brightly.  

Lord, the wood stoves of our lives need to have the ashes taken out regularly,

and our chimneys cleaned from the creosote buildup of pain, worry, procrastination, care, impatience, bitterness or distrust. 

Clear the chimneys of our hearts, Lord, so that the fire of Your love may burn brightly.

Subzero Temps Make Beautiful Frost!

 Frosty mornings with subzero temperatures bring their own delights. I open my window blinds and there sit sparrows, all fluffed up to keep out the bitter cold.

 

Like me, in the frosty grip of disease, distasteful cancer treatments, and disastrous national news--

furtively fluffing my feathers to keep out the chill.

 The chill that nips clear up to the blue of the sky. 

And yet, all at the same time, a chill that creates the most beautiful, glittering frost imaginable!

For when everything around us is subzero and evil and dark, the light shines brighter.

And the whiteness of goodness, purity, and love shimmer with a happy glow that points to heaven.

I wonder what that sparrow was thinking as it cocked its head and tweeked the twig it was sitting on, sending a flurry of frost down to the bare ground below. 

Was it wondering if the face staring out at it would then look up to our Father in heaven and be glad?

Later, from a place and moment of misery, I saw a whole flock of sparrows perched just outside the window, 

as if they knew I was alone and not looking forward to some miserable moments because of this cancer.

As if they wanted to make sure that in fact, I was not alone. 

As if they were reminding me about the Father's care--that truly He was with me in the middle of everything--

even cancer.