What do I have in my Hand?: A Promise to Keep by Alan Anderson

 

 

But Jesus called them to him, saying, “Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them; for to such belongs the kingdom of God. Luke 18:16 (RSV)

 

 

What is in my hand?...A reminder of my human nature

I mentioned in my last post of 2024 I faced health challenges throughout the year. A neurologist diagnosed me with a damaged nerve condition called Peripheral Neuropathy in February 2024. While this condition continues, I do not allow it to hold me back.

I am prone as a man to frailties of human nature, like physical vulnerabilities. I am getting older and not as spry as when I enjoyed my twenties or thirties. This, however, is no reason to quit or crawl into a corner and let the world go by… You see, I have promise to keep.

What is in my hand?...The tears of grandparents who need a voice

Through the years since I began to blog here, life has changed. Each year in my posts around December or January, I dedicate a message in memory of my five grandbabies in heaven. These are babies who never made it to birth. While some people might think it odd, I made a promise to these babies. I promised them I would not forget them.

Since I made this promise, I have encountered people who grieve over the deaths of their grandchildren. I have collected stories and experiences from grandparents open enough to share with me. A common expression they have is, “we don’t have a voice.”

I hold their tears in my hand because I resonate with them. Grandparents often spend much of their grief energy caring for their families who also grieve. Their grief matters as well. After hearing and writing their stories, I decided to capture their words and tears in a book. The book has taken me three years to write so far. Life can get in the way, but it does not stop me. I pray the book will be a voice for grandparents who grieve.

I have a couple of titles for the book, but no decision what the title will be. Here are the proposed titles: “Plant Them A Garden: A Reflective Work of Grief, Faith and Poetry,” and “Hidden Poetic Voices: A Reflective Work of Grief, Faith, and Poetry.”

The words I have in my hand are from the beats of my heart and words of faith.

I end this post with a poem to be included in my book.

Give Rest to the Children

By Alan Anderson, July 15, 2023

(I adapted this poem from an Orthodox Christian funeral liturgy for a child.)

The sword of death has come,

my world has changed.

Sorrow steals every moment.

The sun has become cold,

evening is frozen darkness.

The death of my grandchildren…pierces my existence.

How shall I live, O God,

must I continue to breathe?

My tears drown me,

my sobs suffocate me,

life is still.

Grant Your light to these children, O Blessed One,

for they have not sinned or spoiled creation.

Welcome them, give them rest,

where there is no sickness or sorrow or sighing.

They are but children,

have mercy on them, O God.

I will give my grief to God,

The Lord who loves all people,

He will not allow me to be ruined.

With Him, I know my grandchildren live.

God opened the gates of heaven to them.

I can bear my stumbled steps,

begin to walk one foot before another.

I can face the day,

sleep in the night,

with peace.

I remember the children with great love and playful memories,

for God has not forsaken me,

neither are the children lost.

For their memory is eternal,

in the mind of God.

Give rest to the children, O Lord.

 

Alan lives in a small village called Deroche, British Columbia, with his wife, Terry, and their poodle, Charlie. He enjoys walking on the dike near his home with trees all around, where he finds inspiration for his writing. He occasionally writes articles for FellowScript Magazine and is a regular contributor to the InScribe Christian Writers’ Fellowship blog. Alan is the new BC/Northern Regional Rep. for InScribe. His website is https://scarredjoy.ca.

A Bird in the Hand by Gloria Guest

It was a magical moment; after some patience and a lot of standing still as a statue with outstretched arm, a small bird had landed on my hand to enthusiastically peck at the birdseed I held. So light that I couldn’t really feel it except for its beak pecking away at the seeds and its tiny claws poking into my skin. I held my breath lest it would fly away. Eventually it did of course as all fragile moments do.

This month's theme What is in your hand? brought back my little bird experience. The saying goes, ‘A bird in the hand is better than two in the bush’ and I’d have to agree. I could never have experienced the uniqueness of that bird if it hadn’t been so willing to alight on my hand. It made me realize how often I’ve searched for ‘birds in the bush’ in my writing endeavours rather than taking the disciplined route of being still, quieting my soul to let an idea alight and then be still further, to take in all the moment has to offer, long enough to not let it take flight before the idea has been nourished in my mind.

Searching around for other ‘birds’ by comparing myself to others or not being willing to focus on what is in front of me has taken away from my writing.

That little bird reminds me that life is fragile and fleeting and when a creative, beautiful, unique idea alights on my hand, I need to protect and nourish its presence, letting it become all it needs to be before I finally release it into the world.

In contemplating this I realize that a few ‘birds’ are in my hand today that I can make space for:

I belong to a small writers group that offers camaraderie, encouragement and accountability. To this I need to show up for and grow.

I have re-committed to writing for the monthly Inscribe blog; this serves as seed by the way of discipline and opportunity to share my voice however small that may be.

I have a devotional project in the works which will include both past and future writing; I need to be patient and present and enjoy the process, rather than chase it off with discouragement as I’ve done with some other longer term writing projects.

 
Thank you to Inscribe Christian Writers Group for the renewed opportunity to blog on this page and for all you do to inspire and encourage many writers, including myself.

Gloria Guest blogs and writes from a small prairie town in southern Sk. Her writing aims to bring hope and healing. Her published work includes newspaper articles, fiction and poetry. Currently she is writing creative non-fiction/memoir and devotional.

The Posture of My Hands by Lorilee Guenter

I hold my hand open, fingers straight, palm flat facing the sky. It remains empty as items placed upon it roll off. Burdens that are not mine to carry are released since my hands, when open, won't hold them. Likewise, distractions and temptations that threaten to overwhelm and drag me down are released. They are not allowed to drown me. The weight disappears with hands wide open.

With empty hands, I begin to curl my fingers until my hands resemble a bowl to be filled. God is waiting to fill these open hands. He lavishes compassion, grace and everlasting love on those who trust Him. To lavish is to fill to overflowing. It is extravagant giving. Ephesians 1:7-8 tell of God's forgiveness and riches of the grace He lavishes on us. From there we receive the gift of His wisdom and understanding that makes His will and good pleasure known to us. 1 John 3:1 lets us know the Father has lavished His great love on us. We are filled to overflowing with God's gifts when we hold our hands cupped and waiting.

My open hands are filled beyond what they can hold. God's rich grace and great love spill over the sides. Through my pen, they fall as words on a page enabling others to experience the same gifts. When readers open their hands in trust, trickles turn to floods. God's glory is seen and heard not because of us, but because He spills out more than anyone can hold. He spills out in words and actions that touch us and those around us. We are not meant to hold it all. Our cupped hands are no match for God's extravagance.

I'm tempted to close my hands around this flood. I want to hold on, but that is not a posture of trust. The more I trust, the more I am able to hold these gifts loosely knowing God will continue to pour them out, filling me and filling His people.

God's extravagant love includes discipline. I don't like discipline, nor do I like the storms of life that come from living in a broken world. Still I can trust. God is in the storm. He puts limits on the trouble [Job 17]. He oversees the discipline. They are different but many times look the same. My hands closes as I hold on to the promise of God's presence. I am still surrounded by His extravagant, unending love. I am still being taught through His wisdom that brings understanding. 

I have two hands with three postures: hand open wide, fingers curled to form a bowl, and hand clasped tight, holding firm. Each posture has its place and purpose in my life. I strive to use each posture well as I release what is not mine. Someone else will tell the stories that are not mine to tell. My overflowing hands spill forth stories of God's everlasting, unchanging, incomprehensible character. My clasped hands hold firm to the promises I have been given. I trust God will continue to teach me to use these postures well so that no matter the circumstances, my hands will be full of God's presence and the stories of His work in and around me.

Lorilee Guenter is a writer and artist from Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. She enjoys exploring God's creation. Her hobbies and interests are varied which leads to an eclectic set of books she is reading.

My Hands Feel Empty by Carol Harrison

 

 

Lately, on many days, my hands feel empty. Even a pen slips from my grasp and my storytelling grinds to a halt. Moses had his staff, his everyday piece of equipment for tending his flocks of sheep. God used that in mighty ways. What do I have in my hands that God can use on days I feel like I am running on empty?

Sunday morning in the sermon, the pastor was preaching from Nehemiah 10. He reminded us that with all the sacrifices that needed to be offered, someone had to cut the wood and bring it as an offering or a tithe to God. Something often overlooked as we think of all that people gave to God from the animals to the temple offerings. Yet the wood was indispensable. Everything is important to God no matter how little it seems or how much in the background.

This got me thinking again of this month’s prompt of what is in my hands? Is there something still I can offer when my hands feel so empty? As I worked on this blog post I kept thinking of encouragement. It might seem like something small but to those it is offered to, it can be the difference in their day. Can I fill my hands, mind, and mouth with encouraging words and actions?

Yarn has a double meaning of storytelling with exciting twists and turns or continuous twisted fibres woven together for strength. In Ecclesiastes 4: 12 it says, “And though a man might prevail against one who is alone, two will withstand him—a threefold cord is not quickly broken.” Together we are stronger. In Hebrews 10: 24 & 25 we read, “And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near.”

Stir up one another to love and good works. Encourage each other. Encouragement can be in my hands and help form a three-fold cord with others, God, and me. How can I offer this encouragement? It might be picking up my phone and making a call or sending a text or email. It might be picking up a pen and writing a note to send or give. It means offering a smile, giving a hug, reading another’s work and offering comments or leaving a review of a published book. There are so many little things that can be an encouragement to others.

As I thought of how I had been encouraged, Inscribe came to mind. I have learned so much from other writers, been given encouraging words, and helpful suggestions. Together we are stronger than alone. So what is in my hand is like yarn or a three-fold cord that is stronger than one strand by itself.

How have you been encouraged? How can you encourage someone else today?

 

Carol Harrison lives and writes in Saskatoon. She hangs on to encouraging notes to read on those days her hands feel empty.