A Drop of Love ~ Valerie Ronald

 

If I were relating the defining moments in my writing life, they would begin with the story about the gypsy girl I wrote in grade five, when I discovered I could imagine worlds into being. Then on to times in a high school creative writing class where my words took wing, encouraged by affirmations from my teacher and classmates. College journalism courses, a job as a rookie newspaper reporter, first published magazine article ˗˗ all were significant in my writing career. As important as these moments were, their significance pales in light of the impact of God on my creative journey.

It would take too long to narrate the tale of how God drew me to Himself. Through many starts and stops, wanderings and returnings, He continually pursued me with His love until I surrendered completely to Him. Where else could I go? My own desires and decisions had landed me in an emotionally abusive marriage with no way out that I could see. There at rock bottom, God met me. My circumstances were the same but my heart was changed, renewed by the Lord who made me.

One brief moment stands out above all others. If I ever held doubts about God’s singular eye upon me, His omniscient attention to every detail about me, this moment wiped them all away. Admitted to the hospital for some minor surgery, I remember actually anticipating a few days of escape from my emotionally stressful life. Exhausted by a roller coaster marriage to a volatile, spiritually abusive man, doing my best to mother three young children and dealing with fatiguing health issues, I longed for rest. A hospital stay was hardly the ideal vacation, but the prospect of a few days in bed offered a welcome respite. I remember breathing a hasty prayer before the anesthetic took affect.  

Then I awoke with an overwhelming knowingness of God’s love for me.  

That sounds so simple, such a given, but it does not come close to capturing the all-encompassing intensity of how loved by God I knew myself to be in that moment. I did not want to return to full consciousness, to leave what I knew even then was a foretaste of heaven.

A nurse tried to rouse me, but I fought to remain in that place of complete love deep within where my soul resided with God. Of course, I couldn’t stay. The real world of bright light, noise and pain could not be avoided. I opened my eyes and responded to the nurse, but my spirit continued to dance on the verge of its natural home, trailing glorious love like streamers floating to the earth.

I am not one to pursue signs, wonders and visions. My belief in Jesus Christ is based on the rock-solid truth of His Word. I recognize I am made up of body, soul and spirit and capable of a myriad of emotions, as designed by my Creator, but emotions do not rule my spiritual life. Neither do I seek out artificially induced emotional experiences, as could be credited to the anesthetic drugs. But since that soul-deep epiphany, I now know what God’s love feels like. He gave me those few moments as a glimpse of what is to come, I am sure of it. A crack appeared in the floor of heaven to seep out a minuscule drop of His great love for me. I could not have handled any more than that, but He knew at that particularly difficult time, a drop of His love would carry me through. In fact, it has lasted throughout my life, impacting my faith, relationships and hope for the future in a deep and lasting way.

“By constantly using your faith, the life of Christ will be released deep inside you, and the resting place of His love will become the very source and root of your life. Then you will be empowered to discover what every holy one experiences—the great magnitude of the astonishing love of Christ in all its dimensions. How deeply intimate and far-reaching is His love! How enduring and inclusive it is! Endless love beyond measurement that transcends our understanding—this extravagant love pours into you until you are filled to overflowing with the fullness of God!” (Eph. 3:17-19 Passion Translation)  

When the white-gowned bride I used to be was trampled in the mud by the man I married, that singular drop of God’s love redefined me as cherished beyond value. Like a never failing cruse of oil, God’s drop of love sustained me through raising my children alone, facing poverty and fighting cancer. My painful past is long behind me now yet the impact of that love-soaked moment continues to influence how I live and write.

Knowing His love for me is replicated many million times over for all those He has fashioned, stimulates me to be a conduit for this miraculous drop of love. I cannot love well on my own. Only the indwelling Spirit of God, through Christ, can disperse this love like a drop of ink in water, to saturate all who encounter it. In God’s economy, a mere drop of His love goes a long way. 

Valerie Ronald lives in Portage la Prairie, Manitoba. She is a graduate of Vancouver's Langara College journalism program, and has worked as a newspaper reporter, freelance writer, public speaker and bookstore employee. She writes devotionals for her home church bulletins and her online blog. Her current book project chronicles how God's faithfulness saw her through the dark valleys of divorce and cancer. Along with her husband, Valerie enjoys spending time with their blended family and six grandchildren. She is a nature photographer, water colorist, cat lover and Scrabble addict.

More of her devotionals can be read on her blog https://scriptordeus.wordpress.com

Extraordinary Love by Alan Anderson

"For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life." (John 3:16, Revised Standard)


The writing prompt for July caused me to ponder a lot. Ideas of how to approach this post did not come to me like others have. With only a day to go until the date for this post, even now I ponder. Now I must write and put a message together.


Since the Covid-19 virus invaded our world I have not written too much about it. Other writers have done a superb job of offering their perspectives on an enemy none of us are familiar with.


In my May 22, 2020 post I included thoughts on the virus in my message, “Writing in the Cracks of Life.” Until now this has been the only piece I have written on this crisis. 


Since governments began to “lockdown” cities and countries because of the virus a lot has happened. The crisis has shown the evil, cruel, mean, uncivilized, and criminal side of people. This time of a worldwide pandemic has also shown the beautiful, good, and compassionate side of people.


As a Christian man, my attitude has not always been sympathetic to the experiences of people during this time. Time to be silent, to ponder (I love to ponder), to pray, to listen, and to ask a question became a need. My question, where is God in all this craziness and disruption?


The answer or, “extraordinary directions,” came through the well-known, John 3:16 passage of the Bible. God loves the world. God is in the love all around. This is never to be ignored or forgotten. While in the past months evil for a time has gone mad, God still loves people. The media played up the riots that broke out after a man was murdered. Some people seem to have used this tragedy as an excuse to show their angry and destructive side. God’s love still became clear.
 

I read an article about two buddies. One man is Black, and the other is Caucasian. Both men see beyond their colour. Instead of rioting or protesting these guys sat outside and offered to give people an opportunity to talk. They set up chairs and a cooler with beer and waited for people to drop by. All they wanted to do was care for people amidst a troubled time. They reached out to their neighbours. This is love in action.


One question in my mind and heart is this. Have we as God’s people forgotten His love for the world? Can it be when we behold the evil of the day we neglect the fact God still loves people? I wonder how our world would change if instead of being overwhelmed by it we loved the world instead.


On our own we cannot change the world. We can, however, reach out to our neighbours. The Covid-19 virus does not seem in a hurry to leave. We have time to show love to those in our part of the world. Instead of being overwhelmed we can overcome. The love of God can overcome us as we reach out to people around us.  God loves the world and so must we.


My friends, what can you do to show this extraordinary love to the world? I ask myself the same question.




https://scarredjoy.ca/

God Speaks Through Special Needs

“Long ago God spoke in many different ways to our fathers through the prophets, in visions, dreams, and even face to face, telling them little by little about his plans.” (Hebrews 1:1, TLB)

The prompt for our June post is a timely one for me. I am going to go as far as to say through this prompt God has spoken to me. A few days ago I was reviewing my blog, Scarred Joy, and decided to refocus it. The only thing is, I wasn’t sure what this refocus would be. I knew whatever direction the blog was to take it would retain my tagline of “touched by grief, held by hope.” The blog would still not shy away from the painful side of life.

Over the past few years my family has undergone life changing and significant experiences. This includes the death of my parents and my wife’s mother, the passing of five grandbabies due to pregnancy loss and the birth of six more grandchildren including two labeled by society as “special needs.”

My daughter and her husband have three children and the two children termed, “special needs” are part of their family. The lives of “special needs” families have a soft spot in my heart. Families with children who are perhaps not considered “typical,” face lifestyles that also are not typical. They are those who walk through life often misunderstood and not always welcomed by the typical world.

As grandparents my wife and I are part of the special needs world of our daughter and son in law. We have set ourselves apart, so to speak, from the typical world of grandparents. We have our times of grief and tears, yet the joy our “special needs” grandchildren hug us with is a gift beyond words. Such gifts remind us of God’s love. He sees beyond our “special needs” and loves us still.

 

The world special needs families live in is an emotional and multi-faceted one. The emotions are raw at times. This is the rawness the typical world of families is most often unaware. Day to day living for many special needs families may unexpectedly change. Plans may have to be altered as caring for a child takes precedence due to some unforeseen emergency.

As I write this blog post, my plan for my Scarred Joy blog is to include stories etc. of families and individuals who live with “special needs.” We may often think of “special needs” as primarily referring to children and other people living with such challenges as autism, cerebral palsy, Down syndrome, etc. A family having experienced the death of a child may also be considered as having special needs.

In using the term “special needs” I am cognizant it applies to people at any age or circumstance. A woman, who is now a widow or a man grieving the death of his wife, may have special needs. I also think of such things as people with acquired injuries or a terminal cancer resigning them to live with a special need.

Since becoming a grandfather a number of years ago I have taken on a greater love and view of life.  Far from being perfect and whole, life is fragile and in a sense enigmatic. As I look through my grandfather filter I see not all of life is black and white, right or wrong, good or bad. Life just is and it includes mystery!

I especially dedicate the Scarred Joy blog to grandparents who may be all too familiar with special needs. I believe grandparents have a unique bond and role to live out if they are part of family where special needs are “normal.”

https://scarredjoy.ca/

Mercy in a Gift Shop By Marcia Lee Laycock

I was in a hospital gift shop some time ago, stocking a rack with Christian books. A young woman asked me about the flowers in a nearby display case. Her eyes were hopeful but I had to disappoint her and explain that I did not work in the hospital gift shop. I was just there to stock the book rack. I pointed to two ladies at a nearby counter. “Maybe they can help,” I said.

She nodded, stared at the flower display and sighed. “I’m not really sure what I want.”

I took note of her dress then – a baseball cap pulled over messy hair; a thin pair of pyjama bottoms topped by a hospital issue housecoat wrapped around a frail frame; pull-on terrycloth slippers, two sizes too big.

“My friend is dying,” she said, then turned back to me. “I am too.”

I put my clipboard down and waited. Her story unfolded in simple language, the words slipping from her mouth almost as though rehearsed. She reached into a pocket and pulled out a picture of her seven year old daughter. I could see the resemblance. She smiled when I mentioned it and went on to say there was a surgery that she was hoping for – highly experimental, there was only one doctor in the country who could do it and he just happened to live in a nearby city. But then her voice fell and I had to lean close to hear. Her friend had had the surgery. She was still dying.

The conversation turned to the word hope then. She had hope they would agree to do the surgery, hope that, unlike her friend, she would recover, hope that she would live to watch her daughter grow up.

She said a pastor came to visit sometimes and “we say our small prayers together. They seem small, just words, but maybe not, eh?” Again that hopeful look in her eyes.

I was praying small prayers right then. She’s so young, Lord. Please. Please.

Then she was gone and I resumed stocking the rack. I do it once a month and in that hospital, the rack is usually almost empty by the time I return. As I filled the pockets with books I was acutely aware of their contents. They hold pages about the love and mercy of Jesus, pages filled with stories of courage and faith, pages of humour to lift a sad heart and inspiration to encourage a weary soul. Pages of hope and redemption.

I knew I was sent there that day to do much more than just stock the book racks, but my job suddenly seemed important. My other job, as a writer, suddenly seemed essential, “That I may publish with the voice of thanksgiving and tell of all thy wondrous works” (Ps. 26:7, KJV).

How Deep the Father's Love by Susan Barclay

This month we were asked to ponder the following question: When has Christ revealed something about Himself to you at Christmas? 

With too little time for thinking, I decided to peruse some posts from a blog I no longer maintain, and came across one from December 2014 that so neatly fit in with yesterday's church sermon, I had to share it with you, dear readers:

At Christmas we remember and celebrate God's love and his incredible gift to us. [side note: I think it's no coincidence that on many of my Christmas cards and on my kitchen chalkboard, I'm sharing 2 Corinthians 9:15 - "Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift!"] 

Whether or not Jesus was actually born on December 25, this is the day that has been set aside to recall his coming. 

God is love (1 John 4:8 and 16). We know this because, even when we were yet sinners, he had a plan for our salvation. This plan required that Jesus come and live among us. But it would not be all babe-in-a-manger, lovey-dovey and sweet. It would be doubt, fear, anger, rejection, the cross. Jesus demonstrated John 15:13 - Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. 

Christ-followers love God. We love because he first loved us (1 John 4:19) and gave us the example. We show him our love when we give him our lives and allow him to take control. We show him our love when we praise him with our whole heart and when we obey him. 

Christ-followers love each other. We are bound together as brothers and sisters in the Lord. Anyone who says he loves God, but hates his brother does not have the love of God in him (I John 2:9-11). Love is the standard by which we must judge ourselves. Some people are more difficult to love. If we examine our own hearts, we should wonder that God could find us lovable. How much more should we love those he has placed in our lives?

Christ-followers love those who are outside the faith. We see them as God does. Everyone who has ever existed, exists, or will exist is someone created by God. In his image. Loved by him. If he loves them, who are we to withhold love, or worse, to throw stones? It is love, after all, that everyone craves. And it is love that has the power to draw people to God.  

Consider today how well you love. Is there anything you need to change? Lean on Christ; he will help you and be your strength.

One thing is clear. As Christmas points to Easter, God reveals his great love for us - that he would take the form of a man, dwell among us and relate with us in every way, is truly amazing.

May God bless you this Christmas season with reminders of his love. "How many fathers gave up their sons for me?"

____________

Please visit Susan Barclay at her website, www.susan-barclay.blogspot.com 

Handling Blocks by Connie Inglis

I've always liked blocks. When I was young it was the vintage wooden blocks with colorful letters. It was always a balancing act, trying to stack them as high as possible. Soon after my son was born, that turned to Lego blocks. He and I would spend hours building out of our imaginations, inventing games with castle walls and catapults. Beautiful memories.

So when the question, "Why do blocks happen for you?" was posed this month, my eyes rested on the word "blocks" and that got me slightly side-tracked to ponder the question: Are blocks really a bad thing?

I feel that in this past month, a gigantic set of Lego blocks has been placed before me, before our family. You know the kind with 3000+ pieces--my month has been a jumble of that many pieces. With Lego I've never actually built anything that elaborate but the challenge intrigues me because I know it is possible. And that encourages me as I try to piece past events together--building from the inside out taking one block and putting it on another block, adding another block and so on and so forth until the project is complete, until some sense is made out of it all.

Writing involves the same kind of undertaking--building one thought upon another thought, one character trait upon another character trait, one relationship upon another relationship until the project is complete. Building blocks. 

The distractions of this past month have kept me from meeting my writing goals. But that doesn't mean I haven't written daily--a thought here, a thought there, an inspiration here, an inspiration there. Ideas, or blocks, for the future--God-given ideas. And even though these thoughts have been disjointed at times, it doesn't mean God can't take these blocks and use them to create something beautiful. That again gets me excited about playing with blocks, blocks of another kind.

And I am reminded of the lake that we camped at recently. I enjoyed sitting on the water's edge on a tranquil evening after a full day, the lake's surface a perfect mirror reflecting a kaleidoscope of colors on the west's horizon.  A time to be still and know that He is God (Psalm 46:10). A time to meditate and be thankful.

Yet the beautiful thing about a seemingly still lake is that underneath the surface, life is happening: Fish, crustaceans, frogs, insects, pondweed, grasses--all these life forms are moving under that surface. So even though it appears that the water is static, life below proves otherwise.

I have to believe that it is the same with my writing. That even though my pen has been relatively silent this past month, life is still stirring and creative juices are still flowing. And just as the lake's surface will not remain calm, so I know my pen cannot sit unused. To be a writer, I must write. God has taught me that the past month's experiences are not wasted. He will stir in me and the words will flow--He will turn my experiences into useful building blocks.

I don't have any astute words of wisdom to cure writer's block. If you look you can find a number of blog posts that deal with the issue.  But I have learned that sometimes it is okay to just sit by the quiet waters and let God fill you up. His filling will inspire because He is a good God and He loves to give good gifts to His children. Rather than beating yourself up over a feeling of ineptness, bask in His love and seek to know His love more and more. (Eph 3:14-21). That is truly what He desires for each of us. And I believe then the writing will come.

God is the Master builder. Ultimately, He is the one building masterpieces in and through our lives. And as Ephesians 2:10 (NLT) says, we are God's masterpiece. Ultimately, He is the one building us into something beautiful. He is the one using us to create works that speak His goodness and love into the world, thus glorifying His name. I rest in that knowledge.

Lego Taj Mahal

No more. Please. No more! Bobbi Junior

     It was June, and the last few weeks of Grade One for my little girl. The year-end days were being filled with field trips, track events, hot-dog lunches, and more. 

     Andrea’s little brother and I were in the backyard, waiting for her to come home from school. Her class had held a games tournament that afternoon, and I expected to hear all about it. 

     The back gate squeaked. Luke babbled as his sister walked up the sidewalk. Calmly, she went to a basement window, and kicked her foot through it. 

     Andrea! My sweet, strong-willed but always gentle little girl kicked out a basement window!

     I think we were both in shock. She stood and looked at what she’d done, and I did the same for a few moments. This was so out of character for her, it didn’t occur to me to be angry. What in the world was going on?

     I brought her to the step and we sat down.

     “Tell me what’s going on, Sweetie.”

     Silence for a minute. And then, “Do I have to go to school, Mom?”

     “Is something wrong at school?”

    “They keep….   doing things.  Every day they DO things. Why can’t it just be school?”

     Discovering our children’s personality is an ongoing exercise for a parent. It was in this moment I identified that my little girl thrived on routine. An occasional diversion was fun, but day after day after day? The excitement had become too much of a good thing.

     “Well, do you want to stay home on the activity days, and just go for the school part?”

     “Could I?” she begged, her eyes wide and glistening. 

     “You can.”

     We stuck to our agreement, and nothing more was destroyed. 

     Twelve months later, as Grade Two wound to a close, I sat Andrea down to make a plan. 

     “Do you remember last year when you got so upset about all the activities at school?”

     “Yeah.”

    “I think that this year you should pick just two things they’ve planned, so you don’t get all worn out again. What do you think?”

     Tears filled her hazel eyes and she stuffed her thumb in her mouth.

     “Do I have to pick two?”

* * *

     This week, had there been a basement window near my foot, I might have had the same urge my child had, all those years ago. So many exciting things have been happening in my writerly life in the past year, that only by the grace of God has this introverted newbie-writer been able to survive the intensity. Good things in the writing and speaking world come with work - work being directed by those requesting your presence, your participation, your words, according to their agenda.

     It seemed things were winding to a close with an event last Monday, but then edits for a dangling project I’d almost forgotten about arrived at my inbox. When I opened it and saw the barrage of comment boxes, I crashed. 

      No more, Lord. I can’t do it. Please, can’t I just pull out? Would you mind?

     Just as I had taken my little girl and sat down with her on the steps, the Lord drew me close to him. I knew from his Spirit within me that it didn’t matter one way or the other what I did with the story. I was, I am, his little girl. His pleasure is in me, in our love for each other, not in what I accomplish. What a glorious sense of peace, to know if I never produce another word, I am still his beloved child.

     I haven’t come to terms with what I’ll do with my story that now seems to be more the editor’s story than mine. I have determined not to decide until I am well rested and can think about it without feeling stressed. Then I’ll ask the Lord what he would have me do.

     In the meantime, I will rest in the pleasure of knowing that he takes pleasure in me, just as I am. 

www.bobbijunior.com   

Breathings of My Heart by Tandy Balson

Several years ago I heard a song that reduced me to tears.  It seemed to speak to the breathings of my heart.

The song talks about what you hope people will say about you after you pass on.  I still get emotional when I hear the words, “She loved more than anything else.  She loved, with all of her heart.”

This resonates so strongly with me because it is the cry of my heart to accept, encourage and inspire others by showing them love.  The more I bask in the Father’s love, the easier it is to reflect it to those around me.

Until a few years ago this was done through a smile, a hug or spoken words.  As personally rewarding as these methods of sharing love were, God had something bigger in store for me.

He chose to give me words to write down and share.  Not only did these words point others to the love of God, they made it deeper and more personal for me.  

  

The message of God’s love that has flowed through my fingertips has spread farther than my spoken word ever could have.  I am humbled that He chose to breathe His love though my heart and onto the page.

www.timewithtandy.com