Tag Archive | family

Home, Heart and Holidays and back to share…..

The year 2010 has proven to have been a tremendous blend of wilderness and mountain top experiences colliding with one another so that candidly well yeah,  I was overwhelmed by them. I suppose many of you like me cannot quite fathom we are on the cusp of 2011. How did time go by so fast? A favorite saying of mine is that God has speeded up time and that is why it seems we cannot keep up. In fact, there is some proof of that but ( sigh ) that is quantum physics and I am not gonna go there….maybe I went to Purdue University but my gifts have never lain in that arena. However it seems to me that His grace has shortened the days for a whole lot of reasons.

I cannot let 2010 go by without giving great praise to our Almighty God! My heart is so full of joy today as the blessings of this year are remembered in my heart. The Lord did something very special for me these last couple of days and that is He reminded me how much He loves me. ( us ) It is too amazing for words and just the intimacy of time with Him during the 4th watch this week has been deep and rich.  It is so simple and perhaps that is the mystery of it… He just wants us to seek Him, believe He was the one who was and is and is yet to come.  The Master of this great universe, choreographer of the dance of the stars, and the dancing light in my grandchildren’s eyes… sent His SON down from Heaven to become flesh so we might understand who He is. This is the journey we as believers are on is it not.. to be diligent seekers of going deeper to know, believe and have a relationship of who He is.  That is my heart’s desire as I grow older and learn more every day how much my life needs to be about this one true thing.

John 1

The Eternal Word

1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was in the beginning with God. 3 All things were made through Him, and without Him nothing was made that was made. 4 In Him was life, and the life was the light of men. 5 And the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend[a] it

This morning was an amazing one… the release to write this blog again came at long last. This morning the was full of joy as up alone taking in the dawn of day seeing the brightest star on the eastern horizon, the night slip into day with it seemed all of creation singing! Birdsong outside my window as little wrens, redbirds and yes even blackbirds rejoiced in the melting NC snow to dart in and out of less freezing weather.  My heart was full of worship and my spirit in awe of the answered miracles that I had awoke to find in email that the Lord had performed for the ministry He has called me to. ( that is another testimony and a blog to come ). So I took in the morning with song, a snuggly dog, warm blanket and an excellent cup of coffee and I celebrated the reality of being in a place where I could worship Him in abandon.  A blessing not to be taken for granted and my prayer is that me, my family and fellow believers stand for this privilege.  In retrospect, I celebrated this past year with it’s intensity, challenges and deep blessings. We lost two family members in 5 months ( both of Tony’s parents who died exactly on the same day 5 months apart. The difficulty of public persecution on a personal level as a ministry leader, the challenges that followed in rebuilding the ministry internally  with the finest team ever and  the sweetness of what resulted by the power of prayer, and the faith that develops stronger in such circumstances. I am thankful. Then there was my husband Tony’s knee injury and surgery inserted in the midst of our pending trip to Israel. This trip had been a life long dream which again by the grace of the Lord and prayer .. we went and while there learned our son Reed and his wife Erica are going to bless us with a grandchild to become our third.

Many of you who correspond with me regularly or who happen to be close friends and family know that it has been my desire to share all about the trip my husband Tony and I took to Israel.  Until this morning, I did not have the release, I was waiting on from the Lord to attempt to share what we saw, felt and understood by being there.. I pray with all my heart that all these riches still processing in my heart and mind can be put into words.

So beginning this first day of 2011, I am going to commit to do this till it is all chronicled as a life changing experience.

May God bless you richly this New Year and may we all occupy well as we long for His return.



Lessons in the heart.. ” You are for Me”

Here I am in the last moments of the day up here  in my “quiet place ” tending to my emotional wounds of the day and well yeah, frankly feeling lonely, misunderstood and having the proverbial pity party. Maybe I have good reason for this foray into this emotional indulgence but when I took it up a level to include the Lord in my concerns, teardrops turned into prayers.

One of my favorite quotes is the following:

You can draw near to God even though you cannot say a word. A prayer may be crystallised in a tear. A tear is enough water to float a desire to God.”

– Charles H. Spurgeon

Amazing how God reminds us in those bare and broken of spirit moments in life just how much He understands our feelings. After all His Son was sent here to earth  experiencing in the flesh the range of emotions. What a lesson He is teaching me about the “cup of His suffering ” … my minor earthly glimpse that has overwhelmed me. How much His heart had to have been broken by those who would so dismiss, mock, despise the Lord our God.. the Master and Architect of the Universe.
Boy… does that give some perspective to what He wants us to understand about walking with Him and yet He did the amazing thing.. He loved, and forgave and understood giving himself totally over to the will of His Father.

I confess to not being in the most loving spirit as I remembered the day and some of the thoughtlessness that was encountered in real life living that deeply hurt my feelings.  Invisible my feelings to others it seemed..

So in my little office  looking out at the night as it falls and having the blessing of iTunes and all of my favorite music before me I opened up my email. My emails  came flooding in which included some amazing teachings from folks who are fervent believers and seekers of Jesus  as well as notes from friends brothers and sisters in Christ. Many of whom, I have never met but have a deep fellowship with in the Holy Spirit and the trust, kindred spirit that has developed over the years . Likely some of you reading this post are in that group and others understand exactly what I am speaking of.

In my perusal of my emails,   I was  seeing the prayer requests of some in very deep need.  So with my “sufferings’ placed aside for reaching out-– the supernatural effort of encouraging others lifted my spirits.

Soon a change happened in me .

By listening to songs of worship, praise  and the effort to look up scripture for those I am praying for and with… some are members of my family who mean so much to me and are a blessing daily in my life–others whom I have not met but in “spirit” and sharing … He worked  on my heart.  His loving presence exchanged the place of “self” which regardless of what our  cultural  feel good “Church” is teaching is not what Jesus taught at all.  He taught that we must decrease so He might increase..

Chip Brogden teaches amazingly on this in “The School of Christ http://www.TheSchoolOfChrist.org  in this article


He .. Jesus , Yeshua HaMashchiah , knew all the range of emotions and yet He took the full cup of suffering.  Truly I don’t want to  drink from it.. willingly but in His love and example He supernaturally imparts Himself into our hearts.
He is for me , for us.. the fruits of the spirit waiting for us to pick them up and develop deep roots in my ( our ) hearts. Roots deep enough to feed faith and wrapped in the daily fertile soil of His word and continual prayer.

So as I pray tonight for those who need it (including me ) … He uplifts my soul and whispers to me… that He knows..

Psalm 119:25-48

25 My soul clings to the dust;
give me life according to your word!
26 When I told of my ways, you answered me;
teach me your statutes!
27 Make me understand the way of your precepts,
and I will meditate on your wondrous works.
28 My soul melts away for sorrow;
strengthen me according to your word!
29 Put false ways far from me
and graciously teach me your law!
30 I have chosen the way of faithfulness;
I set your rules before me.
31 I cling to your testimonies, O Lord;
let me not be put to shame!
32 I will run in the way of your commandments
when you enlarge my heart! [1]

From Daily Light….

The chief Shepherd.—“I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me. . . . My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand.”

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.

All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.—“I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.”—“I will seek the lost, and I will bring back the strayed, and I will bind up the injured, and I will strengthen the weak.”—For you were straying like sheep, but have now returned to the Shepherd and Overseer of your souls.

Heb. 13:20; 1 Pet. 5:4; John 10:14, 27, 28; Ps. 23:1-3; Isa. 53:6; John 10:11; Ezek. 34:16; 1 Pet. 2:25

Selah and blessings on the journey….

Better than a Halleujah.. Life’s Melodies part 2

  ( Amy Grant ) Better than a Hallelujah.

When my husband Tony and I went back to my childhood home, we prayed it would have redemptive processes. My family relationships needed work. My mother is an independent tough, hard working woman whom time, age and life have mellowed.  My feelings on my sleeve as I would contemplate what our reunion might be under her new dependency and my coming home specific at her request.  During the nights before we actually left to go, and somewhat overcome with so much to be done at work –before we left for both of us.. my prayer was to have a “servant’s heart on this trip.   You see, as a child and often as an adult,  the words exchanged between us ( and lack of them too )  were often problematic memories.  Her whole understanding of me was that she did not understand me and as a little girl, often my desperate need for her to see me for me was a feelings pushed down– heartache.

I found many ways to escape from these feelings. Long walks in the pastures bringing in the cows where I would hide out on my favorite cow, Sapphire’s back.  This big ole Holstein cow would allow me to lay on her while she was taking her breather before the next big milking assignment at 4 pm each day.  The sound of her breathing among the other ladies in the herd– cud chewing and sweet alfalfa breath in my face when I hugged her was a resonance of the melody of the fields.  My songs were made up and sung to her and all the other cows who were my audience.  Silent critics who let me belong in their fold.  A playground all of my own. My melody of life alone with the cows and God in the fields. It was there, I begin to love writing. Developing poems and stories about what I was seeing, feeling and hearing in those long dairy farm days.  My Mother looked out for me in her way when she was concerned using her binoculars to see me out in the field with the cows.  Which I didn’t know till much later…

Tz’fanyah 3:17 [Zephaniah 3:17]
“The Lord your God in your midst, The Mighty One, will save; He will rejoice over you with gladness, He will quiet you in His love, He will rejoice over you with singing.” NKJV

My Dad and I were much alike in personality and were drawn to want to examine the world beyond our farm like borders. That frankly threatened the heck out of her.  This ongoing conflict was complicated. All I knew as a child was that if I rode my bicycle or horse to our neighbors house or my paternal grandmother, suddenly I was unconditionally loved and made to feel special.This grew to a list of adopted older women about and around our farming community.  Unconsciously this list grew and grew and I was many people’s child as well as my own parents too.
Upon my return with the cows back to the milking parlor, the sound of country music would be belting out loudly among the rhythm of the milking machines whoosh and swoosh.  The little calves  would be waiting for me and my younger brother, Doug to mix up the Purina calf mix for them in bucket with rubber teats for them to drink.  Their anxious to eat bawling blended with the barn sounds a melody that still rings as I remember … remembering now as well how hard my mother worked.  Milking cows twice a day, making a big mid day dinner ( lunch in suburban language -dinner is supper ) of fried chicken she had to get fresh chickens for, killing, plucking, cleaning, frying.
Then the numerous assists to my Dad and brothers in the fields, sometimes on the tractor herself.  Giving birth to me after milking the cows and realizing she had minutes to get to the hospital.  She had no time for things other mothers could do and little time for herself.  Her yodeling and singing and playing the violin ( which fascinated us ) long put away.  Her songs now only heard in church on Sunday mornings  replaced  by the life melody as a farm wife who was likely more tired than I could understand.

Flash forward>>>>

Our time in my parents home in Southern Indiana involved an incredible amount of cleaning their house .  The amount of dust they were breathing was immediately obvious to us but not necessarily to my parents. Although they had difficulty with colds and coughs which they struggled to be rid of … it did not register that there was so much dust and likely mildew. An anger also rose in me that it had been allowed to get to this point. Now mind you, they are not easy to subdue with such things but oh come on… the bathroom conditions in the tub and showers just broke my heart. So we were on a mission and surprises lie in wait to what might be revealed.

The cleaning in itself became our daily routine. I probably have never admired my husband more than the temperance he displayed during this perpetual “dust fest”.

There was more to this than cleaning their house– it was a moment of internal emotional cleansing too– holding my breath and allowing  my mother humbled by her inability to do things for herself, to allow me to be her daughter. Doing things that daughters would do for their mother– be tender, and respectful and a benevolent dictator with a new understanding in my later life maturity which helped me  to respect the boundaries.

So clean away… coughing and with amazement sometimes to the amount and bounty of worthless knickknacks, and to our hysterical shock, a pair of teeth in a glass shoved way back in the cabinet.  The discussion over this became hilarious, as we thought they were my Dad’s as did my Mom when finally nobody knew whose they were or how they got there.   Out they go!

Well kinda, my Dad was now obsessed with the trash.  He did not want coffee grounds loose in his trash bags . My husband and I exchanged some looks and conversation about this compulsive trash ritual, my Dad had developed. My mother said it was not being as busy as he once was and being in her “back pocket”.  Dad making sure each thing was sorted then burning trash frequently, too frequently which we exasperated by all our cleaning.  Then realizing something had physically changed my Dad too, maybe an unknown stroke and that the two of my parents had enough physical and mental resources together in their 63 years of marriage  to make it day by day.  Their aging life melody that we watched being played out before us.
Down came curtains as we coughed through their washing, out came the vacuum sweeper to deep clean and floors scrubbed.

In our cleaning mania we learned that spiders and nests were everywhere and that the garbage disposal did not work.  Our investigation led to many things that needed repair and a plumber was called who was a minister to boot. We loved talking with him as he made the repairs.  Kinda of prophetic that too. The garbage disposal that would not work– now humming along taking out debris. New sink facets bringing in flowing water.  These things speak of letting go of the emotional debris and allowing cleansing to come.  It was part of the daily melody of life for us that week.  Looking at the past and what it had meant.


Then we came to the antique and heirloom dishes.  This was a delicate new junction in my relationship with my mother. She had never been one to release easily her things to me.  Now she suddenly tells me that the antique bowls, glasses, cups, plates, keepsakes from generations past and some from the home of one of the “adopted grandmothers”  could be mine.
This was simply amazing to me and I was troubled she would change her mind.

So I gingerly began to select items and discuss those with her.  She was eager for me to take them but alas the next day said she had others in the family who needed to also have these. My brother inherits the farm and many things and suddenly my feelings wounded anew by her swift change of position upon praying decided not to take any. Praying hard so I could just be contented to have had great moments on this trip with her.

The next morning when she wobbled into the kitchen where I was having coffee and busy on my laptop with issues at work that needed attention, she makes a verbal observation.  ” I see you did not pack up the dishes last night, and I thought you would have already” . Her way of saying she was sorry.

So we went out to get boxes , bubble wrap and packing peanuts.  Our journey had us cleaning out all these items in every small town post office around us and then some.  We also visited UPS who told us to visit a place in Vincennes that was owned we learned  by a friend of my deceased brother. We were ready to begin. After hours of washing dishes, sorting and pulling these out for display the dining room table was covered in dishes and generations of memories. The gentle clinking of the crystal combined with the discussion over the history of the dishes… memories flooding back of my adopted grandmother who hand painted many cups and signed them. Of my German grandmothers, aunts and great grandmothers whose young bride treasures –these many heirlooms, that had graced their tables.  We were wrapping  the unheard dinner, breakfast and family celebrations in each item we packed.

My mother sharing stories of her remembrances of her mother’s things and the auctions where my brother Doug ( he was also an auctioneer ) would bring her home, the  treasures he had bought. Making them even more special to her now special to me.  This was her way of loving me an unspoken melody understood between us. My joy and hers full in this mother and daughter exchange.

When finished we took these to the friend of my brothers who tenderly put each of our packed boxes in yet another air packed box to protect them.  Then he shared that he had been with my younger brother the night before he died. I was so thankful to the Lord for this unsought but divine appointment to learn things that I would have not known.

How amazing this incredible sharing of sorrow and joys with someone whom I had not crossed my memory again till now.

We are now preparing to go back to NC. My mother is happy for all the cleaning but thanks my husband not me, and I realize this is a good sign her old ways indicating she is becoming herself  again.   This is hard this up and down time. So I go and walk out to the lilac bushes taking in their smell while a slight gentle rain falls… dropping down watering my face hiding tears as I struggle to stay in the right place recognizing that my mother loves me the best she can.
My uncle Max shows up along with my older brother and his wife  about this time with  his  zany stories making us all laugh and the sound echoes into the night air, blowing in the windows as the sun begins its drop for the moon to come up.  Their story swaps better than a hallelujah I imagine, as this family struggles to forge our relationships and I am  hoping God is pleased.

To be continued….

From Meet Me in the Meadow

Great Is The Lord  by Roy Lessin

Today, may you love Him as your Father,
Thank Him as your Creator,
Look to Him as your Guide,
Depend upon Him as your Protector,
Trust in Him as your Provider,
Seek Him as your Strength,
Yield to Him as your Lord,
Worship Him as your God,
Serve Him as your King.

Give thanks to the LORD and proclaim His greatness. Let the whole world know what He has done. Sing to Him; yes, sing His praises. Tell everyone about His wonderful deeds. Exult in His holy name; rejoice, you who worship the LORD. Search for the LORD and for His strength; continually seek Him. Remember the wonders He has performed, His miracles, and the rulings He has given, you children of His servant Abraham, you descendants of Jacob, His chosen ones.
Psalm 105:1-6 NLT

Better than a Halleujah.. the melodies of life part 1

The last two weeks have been a collage of memories that have collided with things past.. things now and things future. As I sit here trying to put these events into words.. the full moon is beaming in my window and the pure night air drifts in and it is a comforting feeling. The comfort needed due to the utter weakness felt in my spirit and soothed by the ritual of the night sounds and His creation sounding a much-needed lullaby for my soul.

Maybe it’s the overwhelming realities of life confronting me and my family at this time.  It’s been a time of conflicting emotions running around in my head bumping into the feelings long buried in my heart, awakened now for so many reasons.

Last week  found me being in the rolling farm land of Southern Indiana where the weather is the most important topic of conversation because it links to crops going in ( and coming out ) to not only be the provision for the farm families involved in planting them but for the livestock to be feed, and the literal breadbasket that we enjoy abundantly in this country.
Mornings where 5:30 AM is the expected rising time and the sound of cows lowing and roosters crowing blends with birds melodies coming in an open window or banging screen door.

Mornings begin where my once agile parents “shuffle ” into the kitchen. The sync of coffee, and breakfast over the “farm report” turned up so loud that my husband got a pair of earplugs to endure the blaring noise of it. Tough way to ease in the day but since they are becoming hard of hearing, it sounds just right to them.  So we patiently explain that if you hit the “mute ” button on the remote.. they would not have to keep trying to get the volume to come down but one “hit” and it would be back where they like it.  A compromise we sort of negotiated while there. Days when my childhood memories came tumbling back as we drove around the large land townships which make up the county where I grew up.  A drive on my father’s 1000 plus acres where instead of the beautiful Holstein dairy cows, calves, heifers and steers there now are natural gas wells and mini gas plants pumping and they are everywhere. They are in-between the hollows , lakes and ponds mixed strangely beside fields where rich dirt is being cultivated and planted. Gone the solitude of these areas now with strangers in trucks who come with this new industry. A new melody in the best of my childhood. North of town the coal mines have taken out the 4th generation family farmhouses built by the German immigrants who came to build the most beautiful of barns, homes and gardens here in the heartland of America.  The house of my mothers childhood mowed over by the vast underground mine development and left are the ghosts of hedgerows and a rare grove of trees, or fence running along the lanes.  The loss of what used to be there was strong and on a day when my fragile mother wanted to be taken on this ride, she mentions the places and whose family farmhouses and farms are no longer recognizable to the extreme.  The melody of the land different now and patched here and there are the places that remain.  Back to our small town, where the local restaurant is full of the old and new generations that come for real fellowship.  The regulars there swapping stories, political commentary, jokes and the comfort of folks who come in their “work clothes” shoes covered with dirt, the uniform of  overalls,  and hats advertising the local agricultural vendors covered with dust from plowing. Where when one man or woman gets up, another comes in sits down to join the group eating like family members.

I was there with my husband and parents on “catfish” Friday, when it was all of it you can eat and pies dotting the counter.  A true deal of food including the drink and pies with your meal for $6.50.  Older ladies who squinted to see me and came over extending hands and hugs of welcome.  To them I am the hometown girl come back and embraced with my childhood nickname spoken which made my husband laugh out loud. A community who tipped hats and greeted my mother who made this public visit back into the circle with my husband and I steadying her from the car her cane in toll and seeing her sway as she reached the curb. They had taken up a collection to send flowers during her stay in the hospital. She had a remarkable 25 arrangements sent to her while in the hospital .. this melody of life played out before my eyes through the sound of clinking glasses of tea, forks on pie plates and voices of people I had not thought of for so long…

We travel my husband and I in the car across Amish country which is a county over and the place I remember well. There too are the gas wells but the generations of farms, barns and houses are intact. They comfort me as we pass them, neat as can be.  We go to the Amish restaurant where again, I am welcomed for family maiden name, older folks who remember me and one relative who finds out I am speaking at Bethel Church on Sunday and they come to Sunday School just to  hear me share. Do I feel like crying about it all , yes I do. Because not only of failing parents who cannot do all they have done but because of the era of America vanishing from the landscape but not the spirit of the people who for the most part don’t lock their houses when gone all day because they know each other near and far…

Then to the cemetery at our family church ” Bethel ” where the carillon bells play at sundown on Saturday night.

A tribute in gift from my parents a melody of life where this rings across the land for a 26-year-old son who died in an accident in 1981 on a picture perfect June day. My brother Doug who is still so beloved.. suddenly  is bigger than

life in my memories of him as we see his grave stone among those of family all the way back to 1847 when early family settlers lost loved ones to yellow fever, and hard times.

Roses grace the cemetery, wild roses and the sound of birds chattering in the maple trees that tower in this place.

My Dad is out and about in his pick up truck driving to see what crops are coming up and what fields my older brother had not yet planted. Going without a cell phone nor often telling my mother who is still quite sick where he is going but driven all the same. A sadness in him that was not there before because of the age changes in his body that have changed too his light- hearted personality.  He hears a different melody of life now and is interested most fervently to hear the sound of the trumpet — of our Lord. He measures each day with one closer to the rapture.  His hope to see Doug again in heaven ever-present daily.

So I rise in the quiet of the house while there .. which has floors that creak and is filled with dust of a much needed cleaning, washing of almost everything in it because my parents cannot do these things anymore.  I sit in the moonlight with my laptop and my air card to pull my devotionals and the online Bible.  The stillness of the night comes like a friend where my ritual of rising in the 4th watch has me talking to God about the melodies of this life and feeling so out of sorts. I sit and pray for my mother, Dad, folks back home, online friends, staff and children at the ministry in NC that I lead and our own children and grandchildren. Thanking God for the legacy of life and the childhood filled with fields where among the wildflowers and cows.. I knew Jesus as my friend and later as Savior and the Son of our Almighty God.  Praying too for my husband’s mother whom was struggling with a body that was becoming weaker and in this night watch knowing He knows my every thought and need. I worship Him there in the moonlight which cuts a shadow across the grain bins standing tall with a harvest to come. The hallelujah of it all resounding the  wonder of His ways…

Psalm 5

1 Give ear to my words, O LORD,
Consider my meditation.
2 Give heed to the voice of my cry,
My King and my God,
For to You I will pray.
3 My voice You shall hear in the morning, O LORD;
In the morning I will direct it to You,

And I will look up.

01 Better Than a Hallelujah

To be continued….

God, ever loving in the details of our lives

I am writing this in the morning quiet of my childhood home in Southern Indiana.  Here in the morning mist of a farming community I am out of the periphery of my normal everyday life.  My mother who is an independent, very tough woman humbled herself and begged me to come home to care for her for during her immediate release from the hospital. She had fallen several times and the last time fell out of bed unconscious in the middle of the night. She and my father are very co-dependent on one another. He is much more like me in personality, my Mom and I are exact opposites. That in itself makes our relationship a challenge. So she calls and asks and I know we need to go. My Dad is more befuddled during her hospital stay .. upon her discharge they are both floundering.

My husband and I both had things to organize at our places of work and then we made plans to fly up to take care of them both.

We had to catch a fairly early flight at the airport which was not crowded nor busy at the US Air counter.  As always we had prayed and sought the Lord for safety and His protective covering.

We got to the US Air counter ONE … minute past their half-hour cut off time for checking folks in. Truly, just one minute. The fiery darts for the trip were beginning with this one female representative at the counter. She insisted we were past the cut – off and she was already booking us on another flight. She also mistakenly was insisting we had to pay for our carry on pieces that my husband had meticulously measured as per the US Air webpage.  They qualified. A vigorous debate ensued and she was set on making things difficult. Thankfully, a manager intervened.

Off we go– now really rushing because of the hullabaloo. We get to security and a very kind security officer told me to “declare” if we had any liquids.. so the water bottles were given over. My favorite Crabtree & Evelyn fragrance.. Wisteria was then subject to loss.  I had put more in my purse such as my jewelry, make-up etc because of what one can take on the plane. I pulled out the perfume which had been carefully wrapped in my jewelry wrap and next to it in a little bag were my diamond earrings.  The security guard looking at my beloved Wisteria bottle .. waved it on and said the ounces were just under. But alas in the rush, my little pouch with my diamond earrings fell out on the floor. I swooped down picked up the pouch and put it back in my purse. There was not any opportunity to dump out the contents of my bag anywhere till we arrived at our destination.  At long last I did and there were no diamond earrings to be found.

Now, I know this is just “stuff” but these are dear to me because they came from my husband on our 20th wedding anniversary. I was so upset and did not want to share this news with my dear spouse. But finally, the courage to do this rose up in me.  He was not a happy camper and proceeded to lecture me and my father who was present listened to this martial discourse. I said little in defense of myself … because I didn’t want to cry. I told them both, that I was going to call airport security to see if they had been found.

Both of these men, my Dad, my dear husband scoffed at the foolishness of my doing so and said I could kiss those goodbye.  But I prayed and prayed.I did make the call however, and was told by a sympathetic airport security officer that no diamond earrings had been found. He said anything like that would be unusual but to go ahead and describe them… so I did with my heart in my throat.

A few hours later, my cell phone rang and I missed the call. It was 1o PM long from 6:45 AM back in North Carolina at a busy airport. I called back to find the airport security officer on the phone. Could I give more detail on the earrings? The description rushed out in a flood and YES they had them. The both of these small earrings laying on a floor in a airport all day.
My heart rejoiced and I could hardly contain the joy of this miracle …. full of praise ( BTW — the security officer also agreed it was a miracle as I witnessed that to him in my babbling praise the Lord over and over )

My Dad and my husband were both incredulous! Agreed it was a miracle.My ( our ) Heavenly Father had protected those earrings for me.. a detail of His loving touch, favor, grace and mercy.. it was a strong message. So I feel this bears the need for testimony too.

My son  in law retrieved these for me for keeping till back home. He reported they were neatly placed in a box with my initials on them. WOW

This all seemed a bit prophetic to me as well.  I have been pondering this ever since and wanted to write these thoughts today. Our Father is merciful, gracious and His loving-kindness lasts forever….

Several scriptures:

Matthew 10:29
What is the price of two sparrows—one copper coin ? But not a single sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it.

Oh such is our Heavenly Father in control of the finite details of our lives as His word states above.


and the second row an emerald, a sapphire, and a diamond;
Exodus 28:17-19

17 And you shall put settings of stones in it, four rows of stones: The first row shall be a sardius, a topaz, and an emerald; this shall be the first row; 18 the second row shall be a turquoise, a sapphire, and a diamond; 19 the third row, a jacinth, an agate, and an amethyst;

This is talking about the breastplate of judgment. It is interesting that in this scripture in the second row are the stones that are my favorite here on earth. I had not noticed this when reading this scripture before… another personal detail for uniquely me in this situation as I study it.

The other interesting thing to note is that my loss was at the gate ,where security was waiting. There at the place of security the smallest details of my journey were protected…it was a little thing but then again it was not.  A stone of remembrance in my life.

The older I become.. the more it is noted by me in daily events that the Lord speaks to us in the physical often with a parallel in the spiritual.

So I come away with this .. He is at the gatekeeper of my security, the Great I AM … the gatekeeper of protection and yes judgment. The choices are mine. the symbols in stones in the second row of the ephod reflect the stones of my remembrance and He is our High Priest. When I look to Him for protection, guidance and He is always faithful. The are 12 stones in the ephod– and it was 12 hours before I reported my missing “jewels’ to security.Oh how He is a God of the details. Still seeking Him on more on this…

I did not put some of this together till seeking the scriptures referenced here and so will continue to pray into what He wants me to learn. Rejoicing that He cared enough to hear my heart .. and all of ours for the asking when we truly cry out.. amazing — it is simply amazing! This watch care

Oh how He loves us….