HOME by Joylene M Bailey

 

 

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Home is an important place to me. The word Home conjures up feelings of safety, sanctuary, comfort, and freedom. I suppose someone psychologically inclined might say those feelings stem from the home in which I grew up. They'd be right. As long as I can remember, my home has been my sanctuary.

When challenged to Go Big or Go Home, I'll pick home every time.

The Cowboy and I have now lived in our new home in the country for fifteen months. We built it prayerfully and purposefully: Built for us, with others in mind has been the motto since the beginning. We've seen over 200 people come through our door, and for every single one my prayer and desire has been that they would find welcome, comfort, sanctuary. That they would feel at home.

It's only recently that I've come to the realization that my writing seems to be built on that theme as well. My characters are finding their way home in one way or another. My blog welcomes readers to feel at home.

I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised. My writing reflects who 

I am.

A week ago, in the days following my godly mom-in-law's final home-going, I was intrigued to learn that she had never wanted to discover her spiritual gifts. Yet, everyone else knew what they were because they were so evident. They were part of who she was. And others were blessed by them.

In a small way, I connect that idea to my writing. Yes, there is a place for purposeful, goal-centred writing. But I believe my best work comes out of who God created me to be, and right now that seems to be someone who wants to bring her readers Home.

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Feature photo by StockSnap from Pixabay.

Joy and The Cowboy love welcoming guests to their country home in northerly Alberta, where the coffee's always on (now that the new coffee maker has arrived) and there's always an extra chair for one more. Find more Joy-infused writing at Scraps of Joy. 

Surprise Visits and Unexpected Words by Pamela Mytroen

 

Her knock on the door wasn’t a surprise – I had invited her. It was a surprise how it ended. I hadn’t heard from my friend in several weeks and I was concerned because the last time we were together she had been quiet, looking away from me to the sky as her children squealed circles around her. She had whispered to me with head dropped to her chest how lonely she was. I felt she was going into a depression. That’s not surprising these days. So I asked the Lord this morning during my devotional time, what special verse He might have for me to share with her. I wrote out a card for her but my mind was scattered and I couldn’t settle on a specific verse that I should add so I decided to play it by ear and just listen to her. I hoped she would know that she was loved and not forgotten.

When I opened the door, her eyes lit up. She joked with me for a minute and then her French braid bobbed on her back as he bounced off the stairs and headed to the back deck in the sunshine. She seemed herself again. We talked about light-hearted and fun things, had terrible instant-coffee lattes, laughed, and then talked some more about sobering issues. She talked about some truths that she was holding onto, which warmed my heart and then she stood suddenly, and pulled me into a long hug. “Do not worry. It always will be okay,” she said. She patted my back – this girl who I have prayed for, carried in my heart, encouraged, and taught. I have been her mother when her own mom lives oceans away. I have been a grandma to her boys when they needed a cuddle and a bed-time story. In a reversal of roles, she became the word – in broken English - I needed to hear.

 That morning, I had received a disturbing email. It was from an organization that told me I would be required to attend a meeting where they would force me to listen to their ideals, and then they would discuss my beliefs, and decide whether or not I would be allowed to continue volunteering. I hadn’t told my friend about the email. The visit was supposed to be about her, not me! I had hoped to share a good word with her, some inspiring truth! Instead, she comforted me with her encouraging and hopeful words  – even though she had no clue as to what I was going through.

Some surprise visits with unexpected words are good. Especially the one when The Word came down to us as a baby. “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth,” (John1:14). This baby Who came from another Kingdom, Who spoke words we do not always understand, became the One to encourage us. This baby who at one time needed to be carried, fed, taught, read-to and cuddled, surprised us. He is the Word from whom all Good Words come.

I’m still a little anxious about the upcoming meeting. But I will remember that good surprises still happen; that warm and unexpected words can suddenly cheer a heart of despair. Like the time when The Word suddenly surrounded me with a warm hug on the back deck, while drinking coffee, and laughing with a sweet friend. May my words be good too, even if they are a little broken. May they be a surprise visit, full grace and truth, for someone who needs hope in the middle of a hard day.

 

Pam Mytroen

Unshaken by Joylene M Bailey

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When I was given Psalm 16:8 for the month of January 2020, little did I know that it would become a fortress for the entire year.

In January I wrote:

Because I have set the LORD continually before me, He is within easy reach. I don't even need to think about it. It should be a natural reflex to reach for Him no matter the circumstances.

Like a child reaching for her father's hand, certain it will be there every time.

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When neighbours hid in houses and bustling streets went quiet,

Because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken.

When plexiglass barriers went up and friendly smiles were covered,

Because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken.

When looking down at directional arrows replaced looking each other in the eye,

Because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken.

When Covid numbers climbed and human experts cautioned,

Because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken.

When travel was restricted and I was cut off from children and grandchildren,

Because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken.

When groceries had to be disinfected as they entered our doors,

Because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken.

When my temperature was taken before I entered my hair salon,

Because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken.

When Mom was not allowed to attend the funeral of a beloved sister,

Because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken.

When grandchildren couldn't invite friends to their birthday parties,

Because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken.

When riots broke out and the world seemed to go crazy,

Because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken.

When I watched friends suffer during a time of Covid,

Because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken.

When fear threatens and despair taunts,

When weariness for the world sets in,

When prayers for others stack up like bricks too heavy to carry,

Because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken.

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When I look back over the year, I see how I reached for my Father's hand over and over again. Because He has proven Himself trustworthy in my past, it is a natural, almost unconscious, response to reach for the strong and comforting hand that I know will be there. Every time.

 Photo by Jed Owen on Unsplash

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I have set the LORD continually before me; because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken.

Psalm 16:8

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Joy writes from Edmonton, AB where she lives with her Cowboy, and soon-to-be-married Babe. The arrival of Covid19 prompted her to begin the Tea Time posts on her blog, Scraps of Joy, in order to help create community in isolation.

Showing Up Says It All by Bob Jones

Our mile long procession neared the cemetery. Riding shotgun in the lead car was my vantage point on a cold November afternoon. I had time to observe the trees lining the rural road, bereft of all greenery. Their lifeless branches matched the sombre mood of those traveling to a graveside to lay a nine-year old boy to rest. His twin brother proudly served as a pallbearer, helping to carry his sibling.

My mind was stripped bare by the sudden and tragic passing of a child I had never met but now could not forget. Family, friends and children huddled together against the chill under a grey sky. All ears were on this minister listening for words that could somehow make sense out of the senseless.

That’s when I am laid bare.

Words fail and the ones that do come sound hollow in my mind.

But speak I must.

With the words come tears.

We bow in prayer.

“Our Father in heaven…”

The casket is lowered into the earth.

Classmates of the boy have written loving words on strips of paper that they attach to ribbons tethering green balloons – his favorite color.

Together the students count down from 3 and set their balloons free.

We return to our vehicles, faces and hearts numbed by the cold.

Afterwards, a reception graciously hosted by the family, offers hot drinks, homemade sandwiches and baked goods – comfort food. “Thank you for your help. You were comforting.”

When words fail, showing up says it all. Laid bare of adjectives, nouns and verbs presence is a gift that speaks clearly.

To write with presence is the outcome of vulnerability.

Brene Brown observes, “Vulnerability is the birthplace of love, belonging, joy, courage, empathy, and creativity. It is the source of hope, empathy, accountability, and authenticity. If we want greater clarity in our purpose or deeper and more meaningful spiritual lives, vulnerability is the path.” (Daring Greatly)

There is more than a little comfort knowing that showing up gives opportunity for new leaves to sprout again.

Trees, barren of leaves in November are not without hope. Springtime will come. Sprouts will green up.  Life will come.

Writers, barren of words in the Novembers of our souls, are not without hope.

Write on.

Robert (Bob) W. Jones is a recovering perfectionist, who collects Coca-Cola memorabilia and drinks Iced Tea. His office walls are adorned with his sons’ framed football jerseys, and his library shelves, with soul food. He writes to inspire people to be real, grow an authentic faith in Jesus, enjoy healthy relationships and discover their life purpose.

Writing The Real Thing by Bryan Norford

How do I put this kindly?

There is superficiality in Christian circles that dismays me. I doubt it’s deliberate, just a time squeeze for many, and more subtly, a surreptitious accommodation to secular values that seem to be more reasonable, kinder and even more logical, than the old values espoused by Christianity.

A plethora of books and articles reveal a rising self interest in what I term “Christian self-help” writing. Not that this is wrong in itself, but at some point it develops the image of a Christianity that is primarily there to provide a life free of adversity.

A cursory overview of the past shows that this is not so in practice; persecution and martyrdom of Christians is a major feature of Christian history. On the other hand, cultures that have embraced Christianity have frequently prospered. Western civilization is an obvious example.

So here is the dilemma. Where do we draw the line between the biblical demand for self-denial and the healing of personal human difficulties that the Bible also offers? Perhaps better: what is the starting point of serious Christian commitment that can resolve it?

I like to adapt a popular call of President Kennedy to the American nation. “Ask not what God can do for you, but what you can do for God.” If there is one thing that characterises the Christian call, it is Christ’s empowering so “you will be my witnesses . . . to the ends of the earth” (Acts 1:8).

The prayer Jesus taught us reflects what should be our first desire: “Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name, your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven. (Matthew 6:9-10). If we sincerely pray this, it becomes our first mandate—whatever the cost.

Christianity is a paradox, well illustrated by Christ: “Whoever loses his life for my sake will find it” (Matthew 10:39). If there is comfort from Christ, it is an outcome of commitment to Him. We may not avoid the dark valleys but we pass though them with Him.

Thus, my writing must follow that claim. It’s too easy to bring comfort from Christ and avoid the commitment to Him that is the precursor. I desire to invite my readers into a life that has direction and purpose in Christ, and there are no short cuts.

Are You Coming Home? - Shirley S. Tye

When my father passed away October 11, 1994, I pleaded with God to give me a sign or somehow assure me that my father had gone to heaven. I thought he had but communication became difficult with my parents when I moved miles away and didn’t use my mother-tongue (Finnish) often. I could not express myself well enough to have a deep conversation with them and my father was a man of few words. I wasn’t sure of his relationship with Jesus.

God saw the anguish of my heart and answered me in a dream.

Shortly after the funeral, I had a dream. I walked into a large beautiful building much like the seniors’ home my father had lived in. I stopped to ask a young man who was washing the floor where my father was and he said, “Oh, he’s probably having lunch on the patio.”

I hurried down the long hallway to the cafeteria. Although it was lunch time, there were very few people. I walked out to the patio. Large flowering plants cascaded from baskets hung on the sparkling white granite walls. The patio was made of white marble and there were several white wrought iron bistro tables each with four matching chairs set far enough apart to allow for private conversation. Delicate crystal bud vases sat on the tables with pink and red roses. Surprisingly there wasn’t anyone on the patio.

Then I heard talking and laughing coming from the balcony to me right. There were people up there enjoying their lunch. I saw my father sitting at a table by the edge of the balcony. An elderly lady sat across from him. I’m not sure who she was, although in the dream I had a feeling of recognition.

My father called down to me in Finnish; “Are you coming home?”

I answered in Finnish; “Yes.”

He asked a second time in Finnish; “Are you coming home?”

Again I replied in Finnish; “Yes.”

A third time he asked in Finnish; “Are you coming home?”

The third time I answered in Finnish; “Yes, I’m coming home?”

Then I awoke. My immediate thought was that my question had been answered. But now at times I wonder if that dream actually answered my question yet I was comforted by it. I’m able to carry on without worry on the path the Lord has set before me. God comforted my soul – that’s what I really needed. Thank you, Father.

Don't Give up, You're on the Brink of a Miracle

On Christmas Eve, a lady whom I will call Sandra, came to our ministry in dire need. She had fallen it seemed, into the bottomless pit of despair after she decided to make a career change. She was a teacher and was becoming weary of her profession so she decided to study another vocation. Shortly after changing course she was involved in a car accident, which left her partially crippled, needing a wheelchair at home and she depended on crutches outside the home.

As a result of opting out of teaching she no longer had a medical plan. That’s when her life began to spiral out of control. The mortgage payments could no longer be met. The bills began to pile up, she could no longer work and there was no money coming in. Eventually, she lost her home so her 3 children had to be moved out to separate homes and she had nowhere to go. Even her wheelchair was confiscated. Her car became her new home. Finally, her friend reached out on her behalf and got her the help she so desperately needed.

Where was her hope? How far does a person have to sink before the burden is lifted? When does a miracle occur? When there’s hope of course. It is hope that we must cling to. There is something that each of us can share regardless of the storms of life, and the blessings of happiness and that is hope!! How can we say that we have hope while we live in this world as we know it? Keep in mind that Jesus came to earth to be among us to fulfill the Father’s will. He came to offer hope and life but He suffered and died on a cross so that each one of us may have the opportunity of eternal life. That is our hope!

He knows the problems that come our way. There is nothing that any one of us can go through that He hasn’t endured himself. In fact, He already suffered more than we could ever fathom. His resurrection, however, was victorious and triumphant. Hebrews 4:14 says: “Therefore since we have a great high priest who has gone through the heavens, Jesus the son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are – yet was without sin.”

God sympathizes us in our weaknesses. Our sinless Father to whom we cry out and have our hope is our compassionate Father. He asks us to place our hope and confidence in Him. Verse 16 says: “Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need. In our prayers we can say with confidence: “Lord you know my need, you know what I’m going through. I am seeking your grace and mercy to help me. I believe you will Lord because you understand!"

But wait, the story gets worse. Sandra had planned to commit suicide, but at the moment of contemplation she had her youngest child in the car with her and wouldn’t go through with it. You see, she began to give us more information. In a three-month period, her sister died, her sister’s husband committed suicide and her father died of a heart attack. That was the breaking point. She came to us like a broken vessel. We consoled her and took care of her. We packed toys for her children, we gave her warm clothing, and we made referrals to seek the help she needed.

How could we possibly understand her situation? We could only offer hope. Surprisingly when I walked her to her car, she felt a little better. I assured her that it would get better. “See, there is a glimmer of hope, isn’t there?” I said. She gave me a smile. I will continue to pray for Sandra and her children. She must be on the road to recovery by now. After all, God’s love and hope is for everyone. May we each take hold of the hope that is ours! Why must we cling to the old rugged cross? Because no one is exempt from despair. We must not give up believing that God’s power and grace carries us through life just as He promised he would.

Jan Keats