Category: God’s Faithfulness

Blame it on an “Act of God”

The newspaper said it was an “act of God.” And they didn’t mean a miracle.

A major storm blew through the area, and the falling debris from trees damaged someone’s car. The car owner’s insurance company refused to pay for repair costs because it was considered an “act of God.”

How strange, and convenient for insurance companies, when men deny the existence of God in one breath, and point fingers of blame at Him when bad things occur.

Am I guilty of that mentality?

Blaming bad things on an “act of God” and ignoring Him when my life runs smoothly?

What is an “ACT OF GOD?” Supernatural, unexplained, an insurance clause?

Was it not an Act of God that redeemed my soul?

Aren’t mankind and nature a wondrous Act of God?  

How many countless, merciful Acts of God occur throughout my life—many times without my knowledge—to spare me from calamity, or the consequences of my own sin?

jen pic for blog

Some days, I choose to ignore the collateral damage of this fallen world, and praise God for His blessed acts.

I breathe in the scent of fresh-cut grass, and sweet Jasmine growing on the vine. Listen to the melody of birdsong, and watch them nourish themselves at my feeder.

“God’s in his heaven, and all’s well with the world.”

But if I only praise God when  

My world feels good.

My health is better.

My bank account is in the black.

The sun is shining.

Then I’m a fair-weather friend. I’m only in relationship with God for the good things He gives me, rather than for Him alone.

And if that’s true, then I’m no different than the birds. They don’t come for me; they come for the seeds I provide.

 God help me.

I don’t want to be like the multitude of people who followed Jesus because they were hungry and knew he could miraculously feed the masses with five barley loaves and two fish.

“Truly, truly, I say to you, you seek Me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate of the loaves, and were filled. (John 6: 26)

I don’t want to be like insurance companies, eager to blame God for damages, and never giving Him the glory for His awesome deeds.

Instead, “I will sing to Him, sing praises to Him; Speak of all His wonders.” (Psalm 105:2)

What Does the Future Hold?

IMG_6108My Christmas tree, an Evergreen symbol of eternal life, stands stripped of its color and lights. Waits to be thrown away like last week’s used gift-wrap.

I pinch the needles, still soft and green. Run my fingers like a comb through strands of silver tinsel clinging to its branches. Pine scent lingers, but the Christmas gifts are gone.

Refrigerator shelves, once crowded with a feast, look bare.

Cookie platter has nothing left but crumbs.

And the living room, where guests sang carols, is filled with empty chairs.

Christmas has come and gone. All gone, like 2012.

A melancholy sigh escapes my lips.

All gone, except the dust and piles of dirty laundry.

Why does the Creche on the mantel suddenly seem out of place? God’s gift to the world is no less real just because it’s New Year’s Day.

Move Baby Jesus to a storage bin, toss the Christmas tree outside. Dust the mantel, vacuum pine needles, put tangled lights into a pile.

Christmas time is gone.

Even the stores have moved on. Their shelves once stocked with candy canes, now display pink heart-shaped candy.

Winter rain will come, perhaps it will even snow.

But today the sun is shining so my dismal mood must go.

Daylight stretches longer, beckoning more warmth.

And dormant bulbs beneath a cold, hard ground, are scheduled to appear when the Groundhog comes to town. Will he see his shadow?

The good Lord only knows.

Till then, I …

Peruse mental snap shots of  family far and near; and the extraordinary “in laws” we met two weeks shy of the new year.

I remember forever friends, new friends discovered, and the kindness of strangers who once crossed my path.

A new calendar hangs on my wall, twelve months of the unknown. For example, who knew this time last year, the abundant blessings God had in store? Who could predict ill health, tears wept, and painful losses that made me shout, ‘no more!’

I glance through last year’s journal to read from whence I came. Reminders I can trust the Lord to walk with me through the coming days.

God is present and He loves me…whatever 2013 holds.

“I launch my bark on the unknown waters of this year,

with thee, O Father, as my harbour,

           thee, O Son, at my helm,

           thee, O Holy Spirit, filling my sails.”

Puritan Prayer from The Valley of Vision

Why a Mammogram?

House phone rings while I’m on the couch in my living room, sipping coffee, and reading my Bible. I allow the message machine to answer.

“Hello, Karen. This is Patty from the Women’s Imaging Center. Please call our office. We need to schedule another mammogram.”

My pulse quickens.

Another? What’s wrong with the mammogram I had two days ago?

I walk to the kitchen and replay the message.

It’s probably nothing, but then again…

There’s a reason October is Breast Cancer Awareness month.

Pink memorabilia such as t-shirts, water bottles, and bandannas are on sale in retail stores. And every grocery store transaction affords me the opportunity to donate dollars towards “Hope for a Cure.”

More than once this month, I gave money in memory of two friends who died from breast cancer, and one who survived.

Because I witnessed their battle for life, I refuse to gamble with my health. Each year, I have a mammogram. I’d rather give blood than have my breasts flattened like pancakes, but early detection increases survival.  

Last week, I went for my annual mammogram. I joked with the technologist; asked for an 8 x 10 copy while she placed my breast on a platform and lowered another platform from above, until there was enough compression to make my eyes bulge. As the digital image of my breast was taken, she told me, “Hold your breath.”

Part of me always fails to breathe again until my test results come back normal.

Even now, as I dial the Imaging Center, I have to remind myself to breathe deep. Ignore the warm tingling on the back of my neck.

Patty is just the messenger. There’s empathy in her voice, but no explanation as she schedules another mammogram.

“Have a nice weekend,” she says, before hanging up.

Sure thing.

I slump on the couch, swallow lukewarm coffee, hoping to drown the worst-case scenarios percolating in my head.

My Bible is open to Psalm 121, the place I paused when the phone rang. “I will lift up my eyes to the mountains; from whence shall my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth. He will not allow your foot to slip; He who keeps you will not slumber.”  

I lift up my eyes as I touch my right breast; the one in question.

And wait between today’s imaginary what ifs and the reality of next week’s test results.

Assured that even in this circumstance, God knows, He is my help ….

Even when “what ifs” happen.

What if?

“What color bathing suit was your son wearing?”

 The Sheriff’s voice on the other end of my cell phone is calm, matter of fact. He can’t see my wrinkled brow as I struggle to recall the photo I’d taken of my son four hours earlier.

He was standing ankle deep in the river wearing a red life vest and…

“Black knee-length swim trunks.”

“How much does he weigh?”

Am I really having this conversation? I’ve never dialed 911 to report a missing person, or in this case, persons. My teenage son went river rafting with my grown daughter and her boyfriend.

And now I’m standing on a tall embankment, with my husband, staring down at the river’s swift current. Thankfully, the water is shallow, but the boulders on the riverbed would have slowed their progress; made the trip challenging.

What if the raft deflated? What if someone’s injured? What if they’re stranded on a riverbank?

“I wouldn’t bother you Sheriff, but they should have been here an hour ago. And the sun is setting!”

My voice is steady, but there are high-pitched voices in my head: What if they got separated from each other? What if their raft was carried further down river?

Warm skin tingles as dusk settles over the mountains, ushering in a cool breeze. What if they have to spend the night outdoors?

“Stay by your phone,” he says. “I’m calling search and rescue.”

His words conjure horrific news reports. I tell myself, Don’t go there!

My husband and I drive a short distance along a gravel road that parallels the river. We stop, searching the horizon for signs of life.

Within minutes, my heart jumps. “A beige raft!”

“How many people?”

“I only see two.”

I wave my arms like sheets in the wind until my daughter waves back with her paddle.

“Three, I see three people!”

 My husband hurries down the dirt path to the river’s edge while I notify the Sheriff. “We found them!”

Three exhausted, dripping wet, shivering bodies walk into my eager embrace. They reassure us, “We weren’t in danger.” But relief is written on their somber faces.

A half hour later, back at camp, night is dark as coal. Tears stream down my cheeks as I praise God for protecting our children, and sparing us from the multitude of what ifs that could have happened. But didn’t.

  “Through the Lord’s mercies we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” (Lamentations 3:22, 23)

Remember When

Miles and miles of asphalt stretch like black ribbon across the arid land of southern Arizona.

As my vehicle transports me westward through Tucson, memory carries me backwards when I called this city home. Its mountain range was the scenic backdrop during the bulk of my childhood. I dream about it still.

If time wasn’t a factor, I’d spend the day searching for landmarks, hoping my memories remained reality. Is the rope swing still hanging from the tree? Are the neighbors the same? Would Buttons, our black and white cat, be sitting on the backyard fence?

Remembrance brings tears.  Wishing I could travel back in time. Knowing I can’t.

Sweet memories rise like creme to the surface, negating any bad remembrances. But is anything gained by looking at yesterday? Lessons learned? Friendships made? Turning points …

My heart flutters. Jesus Christ became my Lord and Savior when I lived in Tucson. It was here I received my first Bible: a white leather, King James Version, with my name engraved on the front cover. I remember the desire He planted in my twelve-year-old heart to follow Him, know Him.

Not remember?

How could I walk this earthly journey “by faith and not by sight” if I didn’t recall God’s faithfulness during my life?

His Word repeatedly says, “Remember”…

  • “The deeds of the LORD and His miracles of long ago” (Psalm 77:11).
  • “God is our Rock; that God Most High is our Redeemer” (Psalm 78:35).
  • “Life is fleeting” (Psalm 89:47).
  • “To obey God’s commands” (Numbers 15:40).
  • “Words the Lord Jesus himself said, ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive‘ ” (Acts 20:35).
  • “Jesus Christ, raised from the dead, descended from David. This is my gospel…” (2 Tim. 2:8).
  • “The poor” (Galatians 2:10).
  • “Each other in prayer” (2 Tim. 1:3).
  • “Those in prison” (Hebrews 13:3).
  • “Your leaders, who spoke the Word of God to you...” (Heb. 13:7).

Plus the multitude of scripture which says “God remembers.” He remembers His people, His covenant, His promises.

A highway patrol car passes on my left, pulling thoughts back to the moment. New homes and freeway overpasses show the city is expanding. In my mid-teens, I moved away. But Tucson isn’t a ghost town or stuck in the past. It’s progressing, thriving like me after all these years.

And God, the Redeemer who sought a twelve-year-old girl in Tucson, is still leading me on the highway of life.

Jesus Christ, the Alpha and Omega. The beginning and the end. 

That’s something to remember every day.

Remembering Him, even in this……