Friday, December 13, 2019
Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.
Rest. We all need it, yearn for it, especially at this time of the year when busyness takes up unprecedented residence in our lives as we prepare to celebrate Christmas and the coming of a brand-new year.
So, my husband, Danny, and I will leave this coming Monday to spend the week at the same mountain cabin, Nantahala Gorgeous, where we took granddaughter, Virginia Rose, this past June.
No, the view won't be anything like the summer one, but there is something enticing about the barren limbs of endless trees marching up the mountainsides like stalwart soldiers parading proudly before their Maker. With their branches lifted toward the heavens as if in prayer, they remind us to seek out quiet time with God.
To rest in Him.
And that's exactly what we intend to do.
That being said, I will be absent from this blog until January of 2020. And if I don't show up to read and comment on your blogs during this interim, I know you'll more than understand. Be assured that I will be keeping each and every one of you in my prayers.
Danny and I wish you all a Blessed and Merry Christmas, and a Healthy and Happy New Year!
Thursday, December 12, 2019
After Jesus was born in Judea, during the time of King Herod, Magi from the east came to Jerusalem and asked, "Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star when it rose and have come to worship him."
And then upon a midnight clear
When shrouding clouds fled in fear
Light of the world, in babe, appeared
Love and hope and faith revealed
Tuesday, December 10, 2019
The greatest among you will be your servant.
My friend, and fellow blogger, Victor S. E. Moubarak, is a prolific and talented author. His many books range from the zany and humorous to thoughtful reflections on what it means to be a Christian in a world which seems intent on downplaying the importance of faith.
I've chosen to highlight three of Victor's works here. They are novels whose main character, Father Ignatius, a Catholic priest, faithfully serves at St. Vincent's Church in a rather economically depressed town in Great Britain. He is a humble, amiable servant and shepherd to his parishioners, dedicated in his faith, and living a life that shines the love of Christ to all and sundry. Fr. Ignatius has become one of my most beloved literary figures to date. I am so pleased and honored to introduce him to you in these brief reviews.
When three children encounter an apparition of Christ Jesus on their way to church, they eagerly and excitedly tell Fr. Ignatius about it. It isn't long before the entire town is abuzz with this incredulous news.
People, unsurprisingly, react to this vision in a variety of ways. Some readily accept it as truth. Other mock and scoff in disbelief. Still others react violently toward the children and their families.
Parishioners seek guidance from Fr. Ignatius, whereas the church tries desperately to hush the story up, hoping it will simply go away. Yet, as if in holy defiance, Jesus appears again and again.
As a reader, you are challenged to ask, "What would I do in a similar situation? How would I react?" This novel truly provides Christians with a reality check of what they actually believe.
The Priest and the Prostitute
Now that I have your attention with this ominous title, Fr. Ignatius finds himself in a world of hurt. He is suspected of murder! The church is rattled to its foundations, and his parishioners are all too ready to jump to multiple conclusions, judging their mild-mannered priest before any real facts are known.
Fr. Ignatius' faith is sorely tested as he tries in vain to plead his innocence. And through this grueling ordeal, he discovers who his true friends are.
To Love a Priest
This is by far the most poignant and controversial book in the Fr. Ignatius series. When a long-lost love from his less-than-discretionary youth reappears in his life, the priest finds himself wrestling between conscience and dogma, questioning the centuries-held belief that priests should never marry.
Traveling with Fr. Ignatius on this journey will touch your heart and your soul, and have you praying mightily that everything will have a positive outcome.
Christmas is right around the corner, my friends, so don't miss out on ordering Victor's amazing books for a loved one or for yourself. You can visit his entertaining and inspiring blog, Time for Reflections, to get your novels, or simply type Victor Moubarak in the search bar at Amazon.
These wonder novels are sure to make your Christmas merry and bright!
Friday, December 6, 2019
When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said, "I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life."
The dusk creeps, stealthy steps
Silent, bearing shadows bleak
Enabled by branches barren
Enfolding forest, yard and street
Darkness settles, cold and deep
Yet eyes, undaunted, search beyond
Apparent apparitions don't
Belong to souls, saved, forgiven
Though blackness broods, encroaching
Longs to wrap the clouds of doubt
Around, about, the trusting child
Light upon horizon dawns
Illuminates a world of truth
Tuesday, December 3, 2019
I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.
Advent it upon us! Can you believe it? Where has this year gone?
And with Advent comes the beginning of the New Year in the life of the church, the days we prepare to celebrate the coming of the Lord as a tiny, helpless baby into a world that would be reluctant to receive Him, anxious to destroy Him, and determined to prevent others from believing in His saving grace.
The odds that plagued Jesus in His lifetime are sorrowfully mirrored in ours. Marginalized are those who believe in Him. We who cling steadfastly to His everlasting promises to be with us always are increasingly mocked and reviled.
The more things change, the more they remain the same . . .
There are so many, too many, folks out there who boldly declare no Savior need apply. The assert that they have everything under control; at the helm, they are the "large and in charge." Never once does the thought, or need, of eternal salvation cross their minds. After all, they are the Elite, the Chosen, and the backwater, hayseed, uneducated, unwashed masses, who cling to God and His Word, matter not.
No one is permitted to tell them differently. If you do? You are silenced, shut down, or relegated to the significance of a gnat.
Makes me wonder: What has become of freedom in this country? Our Constitution and its protections? The Declaration of Independence that clearly states we are given life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness because God, our Father and Creator, deems it so?
I believe from the bottom of my heart that what our beleaguered nation needs, perhaps more than any time in our history, is prayer. Lots and lots and lots of prayer! And what better time than the season of Advent, as we await Jesus' coming into the world, to pray for those so antagonistic toward Him, that they would have a change of heart.
A heart of stone turned into a fleshly, feeling one, open freely to God's love and grace.
So, I'm going to spend every day of Advent in extra prayer for all the souls, lost and fearful, who need the Lord in their lives more than they know. And maybe, just maybe, if we all join together in prayer, they will have a stony heart turned into a fleshly one, and finally know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, what Christmas is all about.
Friday, November 22, 2019
In the last days, God says, "I will pour out my Spirit on all people. Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your young men will see visions, your old men will dream dreams."
Gone to bed
He is dreaming
I am, too
But still awake
If my deeds
A difference make
Dear friends, Thanksgiving week is upon us, and I will be taking a hiatus from posting until this time has been celebrated and enjoyed by all. Danny and I are going down to my mother's to prepare a Thanksgiving feast for all the family, and I will be in touch with your blogs as is possible. If I'm absent, please forgive! I will be back on track when Advent comes upon us. Until that time, may God continue to richly bless you all!
Tuesday, November 19, 2019
What do you think? If a man owns a hundred sheep, and one of them wanders away, will he not leave the ninety-nine on the hills and go to look for the one that wandered off?
Cell phones have become an intricate thread in the fabric of our lives. I'm willing to bet (not that I gamble) that 99% of you who are reading this never leave home without yours. Am I right?
And on the rare occasions when we do forget to carry our phones with us, I'm guessing that some level of anxiety creeps into our minds as we're driving along. I know I'm prompted to pray that the Lord would see fit to get me to my destination and back home without a mishap.
I usually carry my phone in my purse. But on Wednesday of last week, I decide to simply slide it into my coat pocket. I am headed to the eye doctor to pick up some fresh contacts for my right eye (the left one has had cataract surgery, so doesn't require further assistance), and then on to the gym, which is right around the corner from there.
When I park my car, I take off my coat and lay it on the floorboard of the passenger side. Great way to cloak my pocketbook! Workout completed, I get back in my car and head for home, not bothering to put my coat back on as I'm no longer chilled.
I arrive home, and carry coat, purse, water bottle, and headphones upstairs. It is several minutes before I remember to retrieve my cell phone. GONE!!!
What??? How can that be? Maybe, it slipped out when I laid the coat on the floorboard?
Back down to the garage, I go. No phone on the floorboard, under the passenger seat, or on the seat itself. Feeling a wave of panic rising, I force myself to think logically. Did I absent-mindedly remove it from my pocket at the eye doctor, leaving it on the counter?
Well, I certainly can't call to find out, so it's back in the car for another run, hoping against hope that my phone is there.
When I ask Amy, the receptionist, if she's seen my phone, I'm crushed by her reply. "No, we haven't seen it, Martha. I'm so sorry!"
"I just can't imagine where it could be," I say. "One minute it's in my pocket, and the next minute, it's vanished."
Amy's face brightens. "Working here, my phone often slips out of my pocket and slides across the carpet, ending up in spots I never would have imagined it would land. Have you looked under the driver's seat?"
The driver's seat!!! "No, Amy, that's the one place I didn't think to check because it seemed so far-fetched, but I'll do it right now. Thanks!"
Holding my breath, I unlock my car, open the back door, and peer at the floorboard under my seat. YES! YES! YES! There is that errant piece of indispensable technology staring up at me!
I am so ecstatic, I fly back to the office to share the good news with Amy. She is thrilled to know her advice has helped resolve my plight. "What was lost," she says with a smile, "now, is found."
"Amen!" I declare.
And as I return to my car, filled with joy and relief, I thank Jesus for that profound day in my life when He left the ninety-nine to come find me, and bring me home.
Friday, November 15, 2019
Your word is a lamp to my feet, a light on my path.
For word perfect
The mind explores
Recesses deep in thought
To find, unbind
The inner workings
Of a soul, price bought
By blood, perfected
Word made flesh
Those the Word has taught.
Tuesday, November 12, 2019
For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.
Daybreak is author, Beckie Lindsey's, third novel in her brilliant Beauties From Ashes series. Not familiar with the first two books? Please read my previous reviews of Secrets here and Uninvited here.
In Daybreak, the four main characters, Krystal, Mackenzie, Tammi, and Sadie, once again are mired in the spiritual battle of their lives. The demons, who know their secrets from the past, try mightily to drag them deeper into despair and hopelessness, while the Angels of Light defend and protect them as their relationships with Jesus are becoming more solid and real.
When Krystal's life-long friendship with Bryce takes a romantic turn, she is confronted by a decision that will change her life forever, no matter which path she chooses. Her friends, along with Bryce, rally to her side, giving her the support and encouragement she so desperately needs, even as the battles continue to rage in their own lives.
Beckie is no coward when it comes to exploring the tough issues facing so many teenagers today: Bulimia; childhood sexual abuse; depression; suicidal thoughts, and now, with Krystal, an unwanted pregnancy. Beckie's engaging, descriptive writing style propels the plot along seamlessly, as the story weaves between the earthly and spiritual realms. As I've noted before, Beckie has such a heart for young people, and that is reflected in the depth and breadth of the memorable characters she has created.
True confession: I was invited to proofread/edit Daybreak, and had to pinch myself repeatedly to remember I needed to slow down in my reading in order to fulfill my job in a worthy manner. The story held my attention riveted from beginning to end; yes, it is that enthralling!
With Christmas right around the corner, I do hope you will order all three novels in Beauties From Ashes as the perfect gift for that special teen in your life, or as a gift just for you! I predict that Beckie's stories will sweep you off your feet from the first paragraph to the last.
And I hope, if you're not already subscribed to Beckie's blog, God in Real Life . . . Also Coffee, that you'll pay her a visit, and sign up today!
Happy reading, everyone!
Beckie Lindsey is a wife and mother of three adult children, and proud grandmother of recently-arrived Luke. She is thoroughly content with a piece of dark chocolate, a cup of coffee, a great book, and her beloved cats. She loves to encourage others to not only know the truths of the Bible, but to experience them personally and practically in everyday life. Beckie is the editor of SoCal Christian Voice, an author and blogger.
Beckie's novels are available on Amazon. All you need to do is type in her name, and voila!
You can connect with her on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook.
Friday, November 8, 2019
1 Thessalonians 5:11
Therefore, encourage one another, and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing.
When I begin writing Meditations of My Heart many moons ago, I could in no way imagine how many fellow Christian bloggers I would meet along this remarkable journey. These friends have lifted my spirits, inspired my thoughts and increased my faith by leaps and bounds. As I hope and pray that my words here offer encouragement to you as you walk with the Lord, my blogging brothers and sisters always provide encouraging words in their posts, which I'm honored to read.
One vital way we can acknowledge each other as bloggers who make a difference in our lives, is by taking time to leave some love in the comment section. I can't begin to tell you all how dear your comments are to me! That you would take the time to not only read my posts, but also to share your thoughts with me, is the epitome of encouragement.
But what would happen if you love a particular post, try to pen a comment, assume it has "taken," only to discover it never shows up? Wouldn't that frustrate you no end?
Well, that's exactly what has happened to my friend, Floyd, whose blog, But for the Grace of God . . . There Go I, is one of my top tier favorites. Several months ago, Floyd lets me know, via email, that his comments are not appearing on my blog. It's a mystery we try to noodle out together, though I know I'm not much of a help.
Long story short, Floyd thinks he has the matter resolved. He begins leaving comments once again. But when he decides to go back through my posts to check for my responses, he is flabbergasted and appalled to find out that none of his comments are there!
And this is where Floyd and I need your help. Do any of you have an idea of what could be causing this communication breakdown? He uses Wordpress, and I use Blogger, but that, in and of itself, shouldn't cause the difficulty as many of my followers use the former, and have no difficulty in leaving a comment.
If you think you have a solution, or can steer us in the right direction, I ask you to leave detailed info in the comment section. Floyd can't respond, but he can access them to see if anything offered helps resolve the issue we are facing.
Fellow bloggers and friends, we need your encouragement more than ever! Praying that some dear soul among you will have an answer.
God bless you all, and please visit Floyd's marvelous blog at the link I shared above. And don't forget to leave some love!
Tuesday, November 5, 2019
You who are young, be happy while you are young,
and let your heart give you joy in the days of your youth.
Follow the ways of your heart
and whatever your eyes see,
but know that for all these things
God will bring you into judgment.
Even in my shower Sunday morning, I have misgivings. I'm not sure we can make it to the 9:45 service on time, no matter how much we hurry. And to know me is to know how much I detest rushing! Being retired, I believe, has a component of in-the-moment-laid-back-ness that is as contagious as the common cold.
Oldest granddaughter, Virginia Rose, is staying with us, and she isn't so easy to rouse up early either. Then comes an unanticipated text from her mother, Sarah: "John just got called into work. He really needs to be there. Can he bring Savannah and Alexandra over after he drops me for my lunch shift at O'Charley's?"
Okay, that settles it. Sabbath is officially sabotaged! We must prepare for an unexpected, and anything but restful, Sunday instead. "Of course, we can help," I message back.
I turn to Virginia. "Looks like you're going to have to put up with your sisters much sooner than you thought."
"What do you mean, Gammie?"
"Daddy will be dropping them off shortly so he can go to work. Will you help me out with them if I need you to?"
"Sure," she says, though I know she'd much prefer playing with her tablet, on which she is currently creating animated shorts. I have yet to figure out how Virginia does it, but in lieu of reading an actual book, I know her imagination is being fully engaged by this activity. In light of this, I am so grateful for her confirmation of assistance.
Husband, Danny, and I know just how rambunctious and energetic our youngest grands can be, so we steel our nerves, preparing for the worst, especially because neither of their parents will be here. Our calm Sunday, we fear, is about to devolve into calamitous confusion. And when Savannah and Alexandra first arrive, full of more energy than the law allows, we're catapulted into an all-hands-on-deck adventure. Virginia assesses the situation flawlessly: "So, Gammie, now I see why you don't want all three of us here together. It's so much work!"
I can't help but laugh. Yes, it is "work," but it turns into an incredible experience for all of us.
Papa fixes tater tots and fruit for lunch, we play in the back yard, toys are unearthed from the closet, and finally, when Savannah and Alexandra grow weary, we turn on the television for some episodes of Sponge Bob. Previously, because of their raucous behavior, they have been forbidden to sit on our new living room sofa and love seat because they wanted to climb and jump. This time, they sit quietly, like the ladies they are destined to become.
Not only that, when we ask if they would like a box drink or another serving of apple, the response is, "Yes, please," followed by, "Thank you." Oh, my! What an incredible job my daughter and her husband are doing in raising these beautiful girls!
They are young and learning, but most of all, they are happy in their youth, relishing every moment in the moment, a lesson that all of us can, and should, learn. My prayer for all of them is that God would be their guide when they follow the ways of their hearts.
And for us, what we thought would be a sabotaged Sabbath, becomes a blessing!
Tuesday, October 29, 2019
Those who know Your name trust in You, for You Lord, have never forsaken those who seek You.
I am the farmer, tilling soil
Reaping in God's time
I am the miner, coal-face
Black with sooty rime
I am the fisherman at dusk
Hauling catch to shore
I am the local baker, maker
Treats supreme, galore
I am a seamstress, patient
Designs unique, my own
I am construction worker who
Makes a house a home
I am, and We the People, know
With whom we stake our claim
Deplorables, and worse, we're called
By Him, we're known by name
My friends, I'm going to be taking the rest of this week off as I have to travel back to my Mom's home to help her with some new hearing aids. Yes, I will have my Chrome Book with me, so will be able to correspond with you as needed, but will not be posting anew until a week from today. Know I keep you all in my prayers, and would appreciate yours for safe travels, and for Mom's continued health.
Love and blessings!
Friday, October 25, 2019
2 Corinthians 12:7b-9
Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me.
I awaken this past Monday to be greeted by a debilitating pain I've never experienced in my lower back, specifically on my left side. While my husband, Danny, struggles with back issues from time to time (he's in the throws of one now), this is a new and entirely unwelcome irritant to my body. It lends a whole new meaning to the words "back stabbed."
I run through the gamut of questions. What did I do to bring this on? Is it caused by not getting enough physical activity during the previous week? Too much time spent in the car, driving to Mom's and back? Sleeping in the wrong position?
The questions soon become irrelevant as the persistent ache forces me to run for the medicine cabinet for relief. Two Tylenol, and thirty minutes later, I'm able to somewhat tend to household chores without whining or grimacing. But by the afternoon, that morning dosage has worn thin. Motrin and a heating pad are the next remedies of choice.
By the time I retire for the evening, I am feeling better. I do rest peacefully and comfortably. But in the morning? Here we go again!
Motrin to start this time around. Otherwise, the dishwasher won't get emptied, the birds won't get fed, the bed won't get made, the laundry will languish, and I will wear a grumpy expression for the remainder of the day.
But with this unexpected mess come some unexpected blessings.
I'm forced to slow down. Measured steps and thoughtful movements have me living more in the moment, mindful of the present in a heightened way.
I'm humbled. There's nothing like pain to remind you that your body is NOT what it was 20 years ago. For someone like me, who frequents the gym, and thinks other peoples bodies will wear out, but not mine, this is a true eye-opener.
I'm thankful. Not for the "thorn," but for God, whose walking this path with me. I can lean on His strength, knowing His power will be made perfect in me in spite of my imperfections.
I'm reminded. God's grace is, and always will be, sufficient for me.
I'm praying (more than usual). Yes, I do pray for God's healing power to work wonders. But I remember to also pray that His will, not mine, be done.
And I would sure appreciate your prayers at this time, my friends, and for Danny, who has opted to go to our chiropractor for much needed relief. Who knows? I may be next!
Additionally, if you are in need of special prayers for you or a loved one, please leave those in the comments' section. I will most definitely read and respond to each of you.
Most importantly, I will pray!
Tuesday, October 22, 2019
Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.
(Susie Fairchild's conversation with Anna as they are planning to prepare chicken and dumplings - Excerpt from Children in the Garden.)
"Do you really think they'll like how I've made them?" Anna asked with a hint of uncertainty in her voice.
"Of course, they will, dear," Mrs. Fairchild assured her. "We have time for a little more practice, and I will help you do them perfectly."
"Mom says no one is perfect," Anna said, "so how can I do something perfectly?"
Susie smiled inwardly at the inherent knowledge of the young. It never ceased to amaze her that the words spoken with such innocence could always cause her to review her own shortcomings.
She said to Anna, "All right, dear, maybe not perfect, but as close to it as one can get, how's that?"
"Okay," she replied and skipped gaily back to the kitchen.
A few weeks ago, granddaughter, Virginia Rose, and I are having a conversation about her fourth-grade classmates. "I have lots of friends, Gammie," she states, "but there are some girls who go around telling everybody they're perfect."
"Really? What do say to them?"
"I tell them that nobody's perfect," Virginia answers. "And you know what they say?"
"But I'm perfect!" Virginia shakes her head in exasperation. "They just don't understand humankind."
I have to agree wholeheartedly, and not without my own inward smile at Virginia's precocious observation. We are all flawed. We all make mistakes.
For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God. ~Romans 3:23
And if we were perfect, why would any of us have need of a Savior?
So, what does Jesus actually mean when He tells us to "be perfect?"
As Pastor Alex explains in a recent sermon, becoming perfect is a sanctification process which lasts all of our days. It is God's labor of love working within us.
But there is a catch. God cannot do His work of perfecting us unless we submit entirely to His will. If we surrender to Him, though, He will be faithful to mold and shape us into a true reflection of Christ Jesus.
That's what I want my "perfect" to look like.
How about you?
Friday, October 18, 2019
May he be like rain falling on a mown field,
like showers watering the earth.
Funny, isn't it?
The things we cling to, keep
And those we toss away?
I keep watering can
Precious gift from Dad
With memories of witness
Not curtailed by time
Or space, or place, or death
To water earth with grace
A prophetic moment
Dad's smile, his laughter
In the here and now
Tuesday, October 15, 2019
I was young and now I am old,
yet I have never seen the righteous forsaken
or their children begging bread.
They are always generous and lend freely;
their children will be a blessing.
Last week, I decide it's high time I pay a visit to granddaughters, Virginia Rose and Savannah Jane, at school during their respective lunch times. Virginia and I have shared many lunch dates in the past, but as Savannah has just started kindergarten, this is our first rendezvous.
I'm uncharacteristically running late, so when I arrive at the cafeteria, Savannah's class is already in the lunch line. I have to scan the tables filling up fast with children to spot her. When she sees me, she smiles broadly, but neither shouts nor waves her hand. I ask, "Savannah, do you want to stay here and eat with your friends, or go over to the tables reserved for visiting parents and grandparents?"
Savannah points at the table, indicating she'd like to stay put, so I take the seat next to her. Immediately, the other little girls at our table start chattering away at me - so cute! But my own granddaughter? She utters nary a word. Just nods or points or smiles.
Or makes faces!
There are many volunteers on hand in the cafeteria, especially when the younger crowd is there. They cheerfully make the rounds, helping to open milk cartons or juice boxes, handing out napkins, and generally patrolling the children's behavior. I take particular notice of an older woman wearing a shirt with this proud boast on the back: Blessed To Be Called Nana. That makes me smile!
Before I know it, this same woman approaches me congenially, and pointing to Savannah, says, "She never speaks a word in the cafeteria. Does she talk at home?"
"Yes," I reply, amused. "But not nearly as much as her older sister, who does most of the talking for her."
Nana laughs. "That's what I figured. It happened in my family, too." Then she's off in a twinkling to tend to the needs of waiting students.
I turn to Savannah. "You know what got Virginia in trouble in kindergarten?" She shakes her head "no." "It was her constant talking. Guess that won't be a problem for you, will it?"
I'm rewarded with a grin.
But no words.
When it's time for her class to leave the cafeteria, Savannah gives me a big hug, and gets right in line with the other students. I wave good-bye as they troop down the hall.
Now, it's wait time until Virginia's fourth grade class appears at the lunch room doors. When she spots me, she waves me over, hugs me, and marches confidently toward those tables designated for visitors. Virginia is more than content to sit separately from her classmates in order to spend time with me. Such a thrill for this Gammie!
And while Savannah only picks at her food, Virginia gobbles her lunch with gusto!
Yes, we talk. On and on and on. Right up to the minute Virginia's class is lining up. "I love you, Gammie,''she declares, giving me a parting hug, which I warmly return.
"I love you, too, sweetie!"
As I reflect on the dramatic difference in personalities of these two precious grands, I find myself filled to overflowing with thankfulness for each unique and lovable soul God has chosen to put on this earth.
And this much I know: I am blessed to be called Gammie!
Friday, October 11, 2019
But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.
I first posted the above photo in August, when these two marvelous turkeys, a mom and a juvenile, begin visiting our yard to partake of the seeds spread for the birds, squirrels and chipmunks. Amazingly, the duo returns on a daily basis, sometimes more than once per day. How we love seeing them and watching the "little" one grow!
These photos show, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the young turkey is a Tom. See how his wattle is a brighter red than that of his mother? And the head more bluish than hers? Not to mention the size!
But sadly, these last few days, no turkeys have appeared in the yard. How I miss them! I'm constantly peeking out the kitchen or bedroom windows, or walking out on our deck, to see if they have returned at last. Yes, it's becoming an obsession of sorts.
After all, when wild creatures grace our days so faithfully, we can't help but become attached to them, imagining they are visiting just for us. I'm fervently hoping we will see our two feathered friends soon.
And I wonder. Did the father of the prodigal son spend hours, day after day, gazing vigilantly with tearful, wistful eyes, down the road his son took weeks and months ago? Hoping against hope that he would at long last see his beloved child returning home?
I can't help but think so.
When we wander from our Father in heaven, he, too, watches steadfastly for our return to Him, welcoming us back with a warm embrace that makes us wonder why we ever chose to leave in the first place.
If you've strayed from God's presence, turn around in repentance, and run into His outstretched arms.
His love is waiting. Just for you.
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