Well, it’s only 36 days until Christmas. Have you started your gift shopping? Most shopping today is done online, but there is something enchanting about going to the mall or a local store to “feel” the excitement of this amazing season. The stores are magnificently arrayed in red velvet, gold, silver trimmings and sparkles are everywhere. It’s like a fairy tale filled with one beautiful sight after another. I grew up in the 1940s and 1950s, so we were also treated to the Thanksgiving Day Parade in downtown Milwaukee. My grandmother lived in an apartment on National Avenue, which is where the festive floats made their way down the street, accompanied by several high school marching bands. We had the best seats in the house when it came to the beating of the drums and the roar of a chorus of trumpets.
At that time, the best gift for little girls, was a Nancy Ann Abbott Story Book doll. Nancy started her doll making operation in 1936 with $125, working from her apartment. From that came a company that swept the nation. Her dolls were based on story book characters from nursery rhymes and fairy tales. To receive one of these dolls, was on every girl’s Christmas list. The fact that my grandmother was a seamstress, I could look forward to lots of extra doll ensembles for my doll to wear. The dolls came in a pink polka dot box. As soon as the wrapping was removed, it was apparent that the recipient knew exactly what was inside before opening the box.
Time has passed. Dolls have gone through a history of their own. From the Story Book Dolls to Barbie, Cabbage Patch, Chatty Kathys and currently the American Girl Doll. I recall one Christmas, taking my granddaughter to the American Girl Doll store in the Mall of America. I was almost as excited as she was to purchase her first one. Like the Story Book Doll, the face was pretty much the same on each one, and they weren’t especially pretty, but a child could choose from a variety of styles. Most of the time, they would choose one that resembled themselves. The trip to the mall was to be the start of a new tradition for us, but when we arrived, the American Girl Doll Store was closed for a private party. Both of us were highly disappointed. In order to soothe our broken hearts, we went to have dinner, which would be followed by a visit to see Santa. By the time we got to see him, his little village was ready to close! Being the fierce grandma that I am, I confronted one of the elves and I insisted that my grandchild get her turn to tell Santa what she wanted for Christmas. I think they saw the fire in my eyes and agreed to let her in.
In spite of that, she did get her American Girl Doll as well. I felt vindicated and pretty good about standing up to the man in the red velvet suit.
In just one week our South Carolina family will arrive to celebrate Thanksgiving with us. One of their sons is now living in Illinois, so he will drive to get here in time for the festivities as well. The Thanksgiving feast will happen on Friday. Instead of going shopping we will be on a different schedule than most of the country. Our youngest daughter will host the party and she and her family will prepare the feast. We will be missing our son and his lady since it is hunting season in Wisconsin and tradition has always placed him there for the holiday. There’s really nothing better than a shot in the arm filled with family. As I think of all that’s happened within just the last year, there is so much to be thankful for. Each morning brings this simple prayer to our lips – “Thank you, Jesus, for another day.”
Somehow the holidays exemplify almost every emotion on the spectrum. We’re happy, sad, grateful, excited, touched, deeply moved and so much more. Many who suffer from depression, find the holidays a time of remorse, grief or self-pity. Being grateful for a life filled with sorrow would seem not to be an option. Many suicides occur during this time of supposed joy and gratitude. There is pressure to put on a great spread – to serve amazing food – to extend the budget to the max buying special food and drink. There are the gifts to purchase and wondering how much more our credit cards will stretch. It is a formula for depression when you become overwhelmed by it all.
God wants us to be grateful for His gifts. He showers us with so many every day. Taking time to thank Him should not be a chore or a special day. It’s something we do because we truly are thankful for our blessings. God doesn’t need our gratitude. He’s God! But think of all that He has given you today and every day. I’m not talking about material things, but things that truly matter. For us, that simple prayer says it all. “Thank you, Jesus, for another day.”
“Rejoice always,pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 NIV
My post this morning referenced a walking stick my husband, Paul uses. It is finely crafted with the addition of a horse’s hane at the top. It fits nicely into his hand and always causes a comment. It has also used this stick from time to time as a weapon. Some of you wanted to see what it looked like.
“but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.” Isaiah 40:31
Within the last week, we’ve found ourselves sitting in waiting rooms again. I wrote about this a couple of months ago while sitting in the above waiting room for Paul to have his shot in the eye for macular degeneration. I can’t begin to imagine this procedure and fortunately God has left me with one remaining sense which happens to be my eyesight. The rest of me could be considered senseless. As we are in the final stretch of a lifetime, these waiting rooms have become like a second home of sorts. Last week, Paul had a CT scan and blood work to see what was going on with his cancer. The next few days later, we met with the oncologist. The results were remarkable. Paul’s tumor is shrinking. His blood work was all in the normal range and his vitals were right where they should be. Praise God! The oncologist found these results unexplainable, but we know that God is the reason for this good news. Still, cancer remains in his body and we will meet again in January to see if anything has changed. (without explanation.)
These waiting room experiences are becoming a sort of refuge for the time waiting. I’m beginning to become an extrovert as I talk to those waiting along with me. Yesterday, I almost felt like I was becoming a clone of my husband. Before he was called in for his appointment, he’d struck up a conversation with a fellow who was waiting for his wife. It began with reference to the walking stick Paul carries to brace himself these days. It’s a homemade stick which has some intricate patterns whittled into it by Paul. The top part of the cane was formerly attached to a horse’s hane. It is quite interesting and almost always begs a comment or two.
This time it was my turn to talk. Once Paul was called into the Dr.’s office, I picked up where he’d left off. The fellow seemed to be in need of someone to talk to and most everyone else in the place was glued to their phones. He talked about his time in the Marines in Viet Nam. He spoke about his retirement home in the north woods. We shared the many ailments that we go through as we get older. After 45 minutes of waiting, I felt as if I knew the guy’s full life story. His life, like ours, has been filled with ups and downs. Many of his friends have passed away – he has suffered several heart attacks – and has had to change his lifestyle over the past few years. I could totally relate. I told him about the challenges we’re facing right now and the peace we have with our decision not to opt for any treatment for Paul’s cancer, knowing that life doesn’t end when we die. It was an opening for discussion about God. I discovered that the man was a churchgoer, but he had doubts if there would be a place for him in heaven.
I don’t consider myself an evangelist and I often have doubts if I will make it through the pearly gates, but the door was open. ‘So we talked about faith and the free gift of heaven. As we talked about all this, I could see a younger woman taking interest in our conversation. She joined in. It was like an instant connection all around. You never know where God is going to use you each day. For me, yesterday it was a waiting room. When Paul returned from his visit with his doctor, he was stunned to find me engaged in conversation and laughter with a new set of friends. So was I. It was a good day.
We all go through times of distress in this life. Whether it be a financial issue, a relationship problem, a life shattering illness or a test of our faith, each individual will at some point in their life find trouble coping. How do you cope with the difficulties of every day? For me, it often involves tears. Lately, my emotions have been on an emotional roller coaster. Tears dry out eventually, but the ups and downs persist, and each day seems to present more difficult decisions.
One of my favorite Psalms is 139. Read it slowly to yourself and put yourself in the Psalmist’s place as you do. The first few verses talk about yours and my value to God. He knows us inside and out. He was in our existence before ever came to be. How powerful is that? God lives in us every day. He is in our thoughts, our prayers, our living, our dying, our goals and dreams, our sadness and joy. He never leaves us. I would call that an amazing piece of comfort when we have difficulty coping with anything. The King of Creation, the maker of all things, the one and only God loves us. He loves us more than we can possibly love each other. His is an unconditional love = no strings attached – free and clear,
As the Psalm goes on, it refers to that tight relationship between us and our maker. We can’t hide from Him, no matter how we try. He knows our mind, our heart, our emotions, our losses and sadness. He even knows how we struggle to live in faith when difficulties come our way. In the next few verses. we read that God was there at our conception. He was responsible for the great mysteries within our bodies – the impeccable design – the intricate patterns created by His touch alone. He created the genetics, the DNA, the workings of each part of us. Yes, you and I were made by God. His love for His creation is impossible for us to comprehend.
So, we ask Him to search our hearts. To give us understanding and wisdom. To continue to be with us in all the challenges we face each day and to show us, through His Holy Word, that He will never leave us. We are not alone in our fears. We are always surrounded by His perfect love. We are cuddled tightly within His protection. We have the assurance of perfection after death and into eternity. In this life, we will experience heartache. We will hurt emotionally. We will be faced with troubling decisions. We will cry out for comfort, but we can live with confidence, knowing that we are not alone in our struggles.
ART BY KATHY BOECHER – POETRY BY JOHN MCRAE (1872-1918)
In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place: and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie, In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw The torch: be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields.
This beautiful poem, written by John McCrae, declares the need for us to remember the fallen soldiers who gave their lives in defense of their country. The poppy itself is a flower that grew in abundance wildly across the field of Flanders where many lives were lost during the first World War. The imagery of red flowers growing amongst bloodied soldiers is not only a vivid reminder of the cost of war, but the bravery exhibited during battle.
In ancient times, the poppy was used as an offering by the Greeks and Romans for the dead. The opiate effects of the drug extracted from this flower, denote sleep – a numbing that overtakes the mind in the face of the enemy – but no amount of numbing can take away the memories these warriors face on a daily basis. The scars of war are often more invisible and internal than physical. The blood red color also is a reminder of the cost of military engagement. More precious than any accolades delivered later.
Heroes most often don’t consider themselves any different than anyone else who loves their country. We all have the capability to come through in the time of extreme distress, when we place our faith in the greatest hero of all time – Jesus, Christ, our beautiful Savior. His heroic death on the cross and resurrection on the third day is proof that he actually overcame death for all who believe in Him.
Facing the enemy as youth, with only basic knowledge of battle – unknown fears – displaying courage in spite of seemingly untold odds – pushing on for a cause. This is what it takes to be a hero. The men and women who served their country in this way deserve to be honored not only on Veteran’s Day, but on every day of the year.
There are times when old mistakes come back to haunt me. Even though I know that Jesus has paid for every one of them, they still live in my mind like a smoldering ember. I think that even believers in Christ’s loving forgiveness can struggle with this problem at times. We forget about God’s unconditional love for us and think we have to fix things ourselves. The devil is very cunning. He knows our weaknesses and he uses them to his advantage. God gave up everything so that we could have it all. We can be assured that even those past sins have been paid for.
Even though ALL of our sins have been forgiven, does not give us a free pass. That gift from God should remind us of the debt we owed and the price He paid for our release from the darkness of Satan. Because of our gratitude, help us to be as forgiving, loving, sympathetic, kind and compassionate towards those who hang on to darkness. Jesus gave His life for us. We owe it to others to share God’s grace with them.
Thank you, dear Father, for caring so much for me that you paid the ultimate price. May I in gratitude begin to look forward rather than back, and let others know that their ransom has also been paid. Amen!
To be confused is a state of mind when things don’t always add up. You might be facing an illness – a relationship breakdown – a financial issue – a family struggle where all the facts point to a solution and suddenly you are faced with another option. What do you do? Like the quote above, “if confusion is the first step to knowledge, I must be a genius,” I have been on this path all my life. By now I should be more brilliant than Einstein – have a higher IQ than Leonardo da Vinci – be as innovative as Edison and as rich as John D. Rockefeller. Instead, I’m an average 81-year-old woman who has accomplished very little in this life but continues to learn every day.
As King Solomon expressed his opinion of life being meaningless, there are days when I wonder why am I here? I struggle with the opinions of others. I become confused when people can’t take “no” for an answer. I am totally bewildered by the health care system. I wonder about our country – our morality – our sin. I’m at a loss concerning the violence that continues to escalate in our world. Question marks fly above my head when I have to fill out a health care form that asks what I identify as.
Still, in all this confusion – the roller coaster rides of life – the fear of death and loss – the trust in other human beings which has been challenged, all leads to more confusion. There is only one thing that allows me to carry on. I know that God, my Creator, my Father, my Brother, my Savior, my everything, is in complete control of every perplexing thing that tugs at my heart. His Word always draws me to the right passage. He never changes and He is always available to counsel me.
“Let my cry come before you, O” Lord; give me understanding according to your word!” Psalm 119:169 ESV
The word, “quiescence,” is one we don’t use very often. Its meaning refers to a state of dormancy, inactivity, idleness or suspended animation. Going to sleep has never been a problem for me. I can hit the pillow and find myself in dreamland in no time at all. As I grow older, I’m spending more and more time in that suspended animation state. The intensity of my days seems to have come to a waning afterthought, but still in my quiet time, I’m learning to categorize the important things – eliminate the unnecessary – prioritize the meaningful – resist the desire to return to the same mega-ferociousness of my once extremely exhausting lifestyle.
Up until the past few years my time has been dedicated to others and the thought of turning inward doesn’t fit my vocabulary. The idea of taking a nap in the middle of the day is new to me. The thought of not having something to keep busy is frustrating. I know the time has come for me to enjoy my life without obligation, but that concept has a hard time butting its way into my little pea brain. I guess that’s why God has built sleep into our being. Even though He doesn’t need rest, He took the last day of the week off to rest.
I think about the animals of His creation and how they inwardly know when it’s time to hibernate. I am amazed at how humanity can stretch out time to the limit without rest. Now that our clocks have been set back, I wonder if I’ll ever adjust to the change. It seems to be a conundrum for me. Maybe it’s because I don’t like change.
So how does one go from an extremely busy schedule to a non-existent one? Most people would be delighted to simply let go of all responsibility, restraints or burdens. I secretly have thought how delicious that concept would be. Something inside me is still beckoning me to do all things at the pace of Martha as she prepared a meal for her Savior. I dream of becoming more like Mary in my approach to this new way of life. Still there are times when I become burdened with guilt for sitting around and doing nothing. This Bible passage is very comforting.
Proverbs 3:24 “If you lie down, you will not be afraid; when you lie down, your sleep will be sweet.
Dear, Lord, thank you for blessing my life with peaceful rest. Help me to accept this new way of living and renewing me so that I can further serve you – in your way – not mine. Amen!
Recently, we were shocked to learn that funny man, Matthew Perry, took his own life. The man that spent most of his energy making others laugh finally succumbed to his own sadness and depression. Death by suicide is never the answer to our fears, our depression or anxiety. In the process of taking one’s own life, it is not only ending one life. It also is a crushing blow to those left behind. We often become aware of the mental trials a person has endured when it becomes too late to do anything about it.
There are a number of reasons why people take their own lives. For example, extreme depression, brought on by feelings of low self-worth – money issues – the fact that your life isn’t going the way you want. It can be the result of impulsive behavior – a cry for help – an actual psychotic disorder, like schizophrenia or PTSD. The increase in the number of suicide deaths is on the rise. We see it touching the lives of the young, middle aged as well as our senior community. I was surprised to read that 85% of those committing suicide are 85+, yet as I get closer to that age bracket, I suppose one might feel the world would be better without them. I also can understand why, when life becomes so overwhelming – so hopeless – so dark – that we forget who has the final say about our lives and our deaths. He has a plan for each life that exists on this planet. He has even given us the faith to trust in Him for direction in our lives.
Jeremiah 29:11-12 – “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will hear you.”
There is hope for everyone. When we realize that God’s plan is so much better than ours, we can lessen the pain of depression and anxiety. We can guide anyone who is thinking about ending their lives in this way by giving them the counseling they need through the resources available at the Suicide Intervention Hotline at 988. This number will allow you to text or chat.
There is so much confusion today in our world. There are senseless wars – relationship problems – questions about our own identity – fear of disease – countless other things that gnaw away at our existence. Still there is hope. God is available all the time. He is with each one of us in our misery. He knows how to calm, comfort, treat our illnesses and He’s given us the hope of life here and in eternity. lIFE
Well, it’s already November 4, 2023, and four days into “Nanwrimo.” I’ve procrastinated once again. I have a couple novel ideas. In fact, I wrote one about five years ago and it’s still somewhere on a flash drive, yet unpublished. One of the comments on a submission I made, suggested that I take some writing classes and maybe try again. I’m not good at taking rejection. I’ve written almost a hundred plays in my lifetime. I wrote a screenplay once. I write a daily blog. I write poetry that seems to be enjoyed. I don’t write letters much anymore, because no one can read my handwriting. I’ve written commercials. I’ve written several children’s stories. I seem to be able to write a lot. Writing has been much a part of my existence for several decades, but I can’t seem to get past this fear of rejection.
So, can I write a novel in a month? The requirements for this event are simple enough. Am I too late to begin? Can I use an existing, unsolicited, unpublished piece? The aim of this event is to get us to write at least 1700 words a day. By the end of November, you should have accumulated 50,000 words and the completed first draft. No editing is necessary. Sounds pretty easy. Maybe I’ll get started after Thanksgiving. Talk about procrastination.
I’m not a fan of Surrealistic art, but in 1931, Salvador Dali painted the above image, called. “The Persistence of Memory. The painting created quite a stir and tested the intelligence of everyone who viewed it. What was the deeper meaning of this painting? As the wife of an artist, I can tell you that the mind of an artist is always active. Even when they sleep, vivid dreams are being created for future art. There isn’t always a motivation for painting. Sometimes an artist will simply try to recreate the beauty of nature. “Why don’t you just take a photograph?” some might ask. However, the painting artist has a slightly different eye for the depth of his art. So much of that person is enveloped in the final result. It no longer becomes another image, like everyone else might visualize, but an actual piece of the artist is imbedded into the work. I can imagine what Dali was thinking while creating this masterpiece, but to actually get inside his head is impossible.
This weekend, as we once again change time to save the hour that we lost last spring, I can’t help but think of this particular image. The melting clocks are so much like memories that are slowly slipping away. They no longer maintain their original shape. Some have been added to over time. They become larger than life. As years pass, that memory no longer resembles the truth of the original event. So it is with time. As we grow older, the years seem to melt into one another. We often forget the truth of the past. We may even try to forget it altogether. Age can cause us to dwell on the past, as we forget about things that happened five minutes ago.
When we’re young we have all the time in the world. As we grow into adulthood, the years are filled to the brim with obligations and responsibilities. Time flies during those years. As we come to the end of life, time should slow down, but it seems to step on the gas at the last moment. Each day runs into the next. Our pace slows down, but the hours pass quickly as we approach the end of them. At times, we can’t imagine how we will ever make it through this life, but there is more time waiting for us beyond the grave. God saw to it that time would never end for those who believe in Him and His unconditional love. He gave His life for us. That’s truth that far exceeds time.
When you’re a blogger, there are so many people to interact with. I’ve never met any of them. I know only what I see of them in their postings. Their writings are often thought provoking. They become friends through those words. I’ve been blogging for more than twelve years. Many of those I follow come from various parts of the United States, Canada and other countries. There are a few that I’ve followed for a long time. Some of them leave the world of blogging and I never hear from them again, but when that happens, I miss them.
One of the first people I met was a cattle rancher from the south. He inspired me to write about my faith. I enjoyed reading his stories about working with a group of Jewish Christians. Another fellow from the south worked as a cable guy and went into nursing a few years later. A Jewish convert to Christianity, a wife, a mother, a lawyer and captivating writer was one that a met a few years into this history. Each of these remained friends for quite a while and then they were gone. It was like losing a good friend.
Recently, I became friends with a young woman who is fighting for her life. She is about the same age as my oldest daughter. This faithful young Christian has worked with children with special needs, has a family of her own and has endured a long struggle with Cancer. There is the woman whose son lost his life in an automobile accident. The fellow that writes amazing commentaries on the teachings of Christ. His creative side comes out in his characters including eggs, apples and other foodstuffs. He has a whole series of stories meant to amuse as well as teach. He recently lost his lovely wife, but his faith allows him to grieve with the assurance that he will see her again someday in heaven. There’s a woman who grew up in a family accompanied by addiction. She knows the pain of losing someone she loves to that very malady. She is humorous, steadfast in her faith and always has a great lesson to teach us about this crazy world we live in. There is another woman who has been trying for many years to write a memoir about growing up with a narcissistic, abusive mother. I’m sure that story will help many people going through a similar experience.
There are countless others that I follow each day. My point is, I don’t know these people personally, but I feel like I know some of their inmost thoughts, fears, hopes, dreams and goals. This venue is often a place for us to vent. We may share things that we would never otherwise share with another human being. We become vulnerable to attack for some of our words. We are placing our lives on the line in a way.
I wonder how God feels when each of His creatures come to Him with their inmost, deepest thoughts and prayers. Of course, He’s God, so I will never be able to comprehend His power. I do know that His love is also beyond my comprehension and that when we pray, He hears each word. He listens with attentive ears. He knows the solution before we even utter the words. It must be like a great cacophony of voices though. All asking for something. All pleading for answers. All praying for wisdom. Yet, He hears every individual prayer and has already planned for the outcome.
When we tell our stories, we’re laying it all out there, sort of like what we do when we pray. I pray for each of those people who share their blogs with us. We can add them to our prayer lists. We can reach out to them with possible solutions or wisdom, but only God can give complete and perfect answers.
Dear, Heavenly Father. You know our every need. You can relate to our struggles. You know the things that bother us and eat away at our very core. Help us to trust in you completely. Your wisdom is all that matters. This world will continue to decay, but you will always be there for us. In the name of your Son, Jesus, who took on human flesh and became one of us, I pray. Amen!
Today, the church celebrates those who have preceded us in heaven – the saints, as they are referred to. This includes all those who have passed away, believing that Jesus redeemed them and prepared a special home for them in paradise. Not really knowing what heaven will be like, it’s hard to even begin to imagine what lays before us as we pass into those pearly gates leading to eternal life. When you attend a funeral, you might hear words like – He/she is in a better place – no sorrow or pain – new bodies without infirmities – sitting on a cloud – singing praises to God. You might even hear someone suggest that the loved one is playing cards – having coffee – bowling or playing golf – enjoying the good life. Somehow, those words, meant to give us comfort, really don’t. To know that they are alive again – that they have resurrected from death to life – that they are talking face to face with Jesus – that there is no more sin – that life is perfect – those are words that give us peace. Yet comfort doesn’t come to those who are left behind. It may take many years to recover from the loss of one we love. Their memory has been etched into our hearts and become part of us. Their legacy becomes ours eventually, as we follow the road they have laid for us.
The church of today has given us this “holiday” to thank God for the truth of eternal life. Protestants set this day aside to meditate on that fact and look forward to it. It is looked at as a festival. The Roman Catholic church has chosen to celebrate All Saints Day as a day of obligation and prayer for those who have died and paved the way for the rest of us to follow. Which ever way you choose to look at this day, it truly is a time of celebration. This is not just a day for saints like Peter and Paul. It isn’t reserved for the heroes of faith, like Moses, Abraham, David or Samson. The day is a time to reflect on those who trusted in God’s promise of salvation for those who believe in Him. It includes the very young, the teenagers, the middle-agers and the elderly. It includes every resident of heaven. We don’t know what heaven will be like, but I am certain it exists – that it will resemble the Garden of Eden which God originally created for man – and that I’m going there some day. How about you?
1 For all the saints who from their labors rest, who Thee by faith before the world confessed; Thy name, O Jesus, be forever blest. Alleluia, Alleluia!
2 Thou wast their Rock, their Fortress and their Might; Thou, Lord, their Captain in the well-fought fight; Thou, in the darkness drear, their one true Light. Alleluia, Alleluia!
3 O blest communion, fellowship divine! We feebly struggle, they in glory shine; yet all are one in Thee, for all are Thine. Alleluia, Alleluia!
4 And when the strife is fierce, the warfare long, steals on the ear the distant triumph song, and hearts are brave again, and arms are strong. Alleluia, Alleluia!
5 But then there breaks a still more glorious day: the saints triumphant rise in bright array; the King of glory passes on His way. Alleluia, Alleluia!
6 From earth’s wide bounds, from ocean’s farthest coast, through gates of pearl streams in the countless host, in praise of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Alleluia, Alleluia!
Ah, the joys of the season – the holiday celebrating the living dead – the ghosts that go bump in the night – the fear filled movies that are intended to scare you to an early grave – the spirits of darkness. All of these things are not something to be happy about, but . . .
Halloween has become a million-dollar industry. We live in the Halloween Capital of the World (not sure if that’s been disputed) in Anoka, Minnesota. Homes are decorated to the hilt. There will be numerous parties. parades and candy distributed- encouraging children to destroy their teeth, but I digress. There’s a very dark side to this holiday. Demonic possession, witches, goblins, zombies and death permeate the darkness and, in days of old, were fended off by setting carved pumpkins outside the houses. As years pass, the ability to shock the masses is getting harder and harder to achieve. We’ve almost become numb to the ugliness of the dark side.
October 31st is not only a day for spooks and demons. On October 31, 1517, a lowly monk, named Martin Luther took on the Roman Catholic Church and listed 95 statements pertaining to false teachings that had spread throughout that regime. Those 95 theses were the beginning of the Protestant Reformation. This firestorm raged through Europe and the power of the newly invented printing press fueled its flames. The church of today has suffered attack in recent years. People question its validity. They don’t like to hear about sin, but without knowing about it, there is no need for a Savior – and, oh how we need a Savior!
Martin Luther loved music and used it as a preaching tool in his church. He penned these words to remind us that the devil still exists and has been allowed to prowl around for those he can capture and destroy. His minions appear in many places all over the world. “A Mighty Fortress is our God,” is one of Luther’s famous hymns. In the following verse we see exactly who provides a fortress against him.
Though devils all the world should fill, All eager to devour us. We tremble not, we fear no ill, They shall not overpower us. This world’s prince may still Scowl fierce as he will, He can harm us none, He’s judged; the deed is done; One little word can fell him.
Devils will continue to walk this earth until Christ returns to judge the world. Not one of us will escape His judgment. Yet those of us who have complete faith in God’s Word, can be confident that God promises that we will inherit eternal life when we die. Luther was a common man, a sinner just like you and me, but He diligently searched the scriptures and found controversial differences in what the Bible said and what the church was teaching.
So, what do Halloween and the Reformation have in common? Halloween is full of darkness, evil and horrid creatures that seek to defeat us. The Reformation occurred so that the world would once more see the Light and return to God’s Word for the truth. May we continue to shine our light in a dark world and show that God has already defeated the evil one.
I am amazed by people who get up early in the morning, do a load of wash or two, make lunches for their kids, plan supper, go out for a quick run, take a shower, get their kids up and off to school, put in a full day at work; and then come home to make supper, help kids with homework, pay the bills, watch a little TV and finally have a few hours of sleep so they can go through the whole process all over again the next day. I guess I used to do those things at one time. I’ve forgotten.
Even though I’m supposed to be retired, my time seems to get used up before my body and mind have a minute to catch up with them. This has been business as usual at our house lately. We’ve devoted a great portion of our time to filling every minute with each other. It seems that an inoperable Cancer diagnosis can do that to you. Since deciding to forego any further treatment, we’ve been putting our time to good use. Even then – trying to fill every moment can become tiresome and might become a burden in itself. We still need time to rest. We try to hang on to the controls of our lives even when our existence is loaded with worry, trouble, depression, pain and anxiety. It should be so easy to let it all go and depend on God’s promise to carry those things for us. Somehow, even that can become a struggle.
I am learning to “let go” daily. It’s a lesson that comes very hard. I try to place my worries in God’s hands but feel like I should still be involved in the process. Today, I slept in. I felt guilty about it. I will get over the feeling of guilt, but when will I learn to turn over the burden to Jesus, who promises to take it on His own back?
When we are so tired from hard work; when our bodies just can’t function anymore; when life seems to be closing in on us there is only one place to go and I’m not talking about a spa or a vacation. Jesus told his followers in Matthew 11:28 “Come to me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”
Lord, I need your loving arms to caress me each day and give me the strength to do the work I need to do. Thank you for your invitation to come to you even when I’m tired. Help me to rely on your promise and let go of the things that are unimportant. Amen!
As I reach the end of my years, I find I have a lot of good information stored up in this old decrepit mind of mine. If I don't write it all down, it may vanish and no one will have the advantage of my thoughts. This is why this blog exists. I love the Lord, Jesus with all my heart and soul. I know I'm undeserving of all He's done for me, but I also know that His love is beyond my comprehension.
I've always wanted to write. I never kept diaries, but tucked my thoughts in my head for future reference. I use them now in creating stories, plays, poetry and my blog.
I continue to learn every day. I believe the compilation of our time spent with God will have huge affect on the way we live. I know I'm a sinner and I need a Savior. I have One through Jesus, Christ.
My book, "Stages - a memoir," is about the seven stages of life from the perspective of a woman. It addresses all the things girls and women go through in life as they travel it with Jesus, and it is available on Amazon.com.
Life is a patchwork of moments — laughter, solitude, everyday joys, and quiet aches. Through scribbled stories, I explore travels both far and inward, from sunrise over unfamiliar streets to the comfort of home. This is life as I see it, captured in ink and memory. Stick around; let's wander together.
God's amazing grace removes walls and replaces those barriers with Jesus, freedom from sin's consequences, freedom to forgive, and freedom to love unconditionally.
atimetoshare.me 
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