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Devotionals
What's New!
We have redesigned our website. It features a new look and feel, more visitor-friendly navigation and greater search capabilities to allow you to access the most relevant information for your ministry needs. Please send us your feedback by completing and submitting the online form on the Contact Us page "These things have I spoken unto you that My joy might remain in you, and that your joy might be full." John 15:11 Regardless of whether you are a writer or not, we want you to share what God has "talked" to you about from His Word. Please pass on your blessing by sending these devotional thoughts to the attention of Barbara Kay at:beloveddaughter@gmail.com She will edit as needed for posting here on the website. Please consider these guidelines. (1.) Keep your devotionals to 1000 words or less. If you have more to share, consider a several part series. Before you send a series, contact Barbara with your ideas. (2.) These are not Bible Studies, but personal application of scripture to daily life. A promise that is special to you and why; how a story in the Bible ministered to a felt need in your life or gave you instruction or encouragement; or sharing how God spoke to you through a passage of Scripture are the type of devotionals we need. (3.) Keep in mind that these are specifically for women. Using Microsoft Word you may send as an attachment or a copy and paste. With your submission please include your full name, phone number, the church you attend, and a few sentences about yourself.
Blessings in Pilgrimage Growing up I did a lot
of traveling with my family. My parents were missionaries in Chiapas, Mexico.
Every 6 months we had to exit the country and renew our visas. Occasionally we
made a day's journey to Guatemala, but more often we drove the length of Mexico,
through Texas, and on to Oregon and Washington where we had family to stay
with. During my early teens we made two tours, one around the Northwest, the
other around the US, sharing mission experiences and music on our 8 foot Chipanecan marimba.
"Behold what manner of love
the Father has given unto us,
To me the most amazing
fact is that God loves me! "I have loved you with an everlasting love," He
declares, "therefore with loving kindness I have drawn you." (Jeremiah 31:3)
I've paraphrased Isaiah 43:1-4 to read, "Barbara, I have created you and made
you the person you are. Don't fear, because I have redeemed you and called you
by your name. You are mine! Whenever you go through overwhelming experiences,
or walk amidst fiery trials, I am there with you. You will not be drowned nor
consumed. I am able to keep you from getting wet or scorched! Remember, I am
God, your Savior. Since you are precious in My sight you have been honored, and
I have loved you." What an affirming statement of my worth!
Fear or Faith?
Have you ever been afraid? I remember as I child I used to have
dreams from which I would awaken trembling with fear. Thing is, I still had
nightmares as an adult. Played out in real or bizarre scenarios while I slept,
my dreams reflected my fears. Fear of a house fire. Fear of having an
accident. Fear of the future. Fear of getting lost. Fear of being raped.
Fear of death. Fears for my family. After my Daddy, who was a mission pilot,
was killed when his airplane crashed in the jungles of Chiapas, Mexico I just
knew my husband would be next. Whenever he was late getting home from work I
worried that he'd been in an accident.
"Yes, I have loved you with an everlasting love,
This promise is the number one most
meaningful one to me in the Bible. Let me share why. For many years I lived
with a void in my life that only a father could fill. I am the oldest of 4
children, born all within the space of 6 years, and the only girl. During my
childhood my Daddy was away from home most of the time, and he didn't have time
to develop a relationship with me. Sometimes he would take one or more of my
brothers with him to do things, leaving me at home to be Mommy's little helper.
I knew my Daddy loved me, but he didn't give me affirmation or individual
attention. During my teenage years I longed for Daddy to take me on a date; I
wanted to get to know him. I wanted to share my life with this man who gave me
life. I wanted to talk to him about things that really matter. Before I got
that chance as an adult he was snatched from me in an airplane crash, and the
void deepened. __written by Barbara Kay
My New Name and on the stone a new name written, which no one knows except her who receives it. She shall inherit all things, And I will be her God and she shall be My daughter." Revelation 2:17 & 21:7
Momma was busy preparing all the barbeque fixings. Daddy had sent me inside for pen and paper. As I was rummaging through the kitchen drawer, I snuck a peek at Momma's face. Her green eyes were still glossy. In all my eight years I had not seen Momma so emotional. Just a few hours earlier we were sitting in the floor together laughing and playing jacks. I was about to try for my fivesey's when the phone rang. As she listened to the caller, the expression on Momma's face changed to one I couldn't read. She grabbed me up and squeezed so tight that I couldn't catch my breath. "What in the world is going on?" I thought. "Was somebody hurt? Had someone died?" Momma was crying. There must be something terribly wrong. Then, I discovered that she wasn't just crying. She was smiling, and laughing, and crying all at the same time. No one was hurt. No one was dead. Something great had just happened! "That was the judge, Peggy. The adoption's final!" Momma yelled as she twirled me around and around. "How 'bout celebrating with a barbeque when Daddy comes home?" "How 'bout the sidewalk story?" I asked. As I sat among the scattered jacks Momma retold my favorite story. "In March, 1954 Betty wrote to tell us she would be here the 30th. You would come just in time for Patsy's thirteenth birthday. Betty was moving from Virginia back to Birmingham. When the taxi pulled up, I ran out to meet your mother. When I took you in my arms, I knew you were my little girl. So, you and Patsy really share the same birthday. 'Cause right there on that sidewalk, you were born . . . In my heart!" I hurried back out with pen and paper. "What are you going write Daddy?" I asked curiously. "Not me," Daddy answered. "You. I want you to write your name." Obediently, I printed 'Peggy Jean Hamblin' and handed the paper to Daddy. To my dismay, he immediately wadded it up and threw it in the barbeque grill. Tears streaked down my face. Flames consumed my identity. It wasn't like Daddy to be so cruel. Feelings of rejection came flooding back. I was only six months old when my birth mother gave me to the Bryans. Betty made them a solemn promise. In exchange for being able to visit me, she would never take me away. I 'd always belong to Mozelle and Grady. Four years later, the promise was broken. Betty had remarried. She and her new husband were moving back to Virginia and they were taking me with them. One day I was safe and secure. My world was shattered the next. I couldn't understand what was happening. Suddenly, I was in this strange place with people I barely knew. Betty and Leon insisted that I call them Mother and Daddy. Had I been bad? Didn't my Momma and Daddy want me anymore? After a few months, Betty said that Momma Mozelle, Daddy Grady and Patsy were coming to see us. They were even bringing my dog Pouchi and all her new puppies. Excitedly I thought, "My family is coming to take me home!" But they didn't take me home. The only memory I have of their visit was the day they left. To keep from upsetting me, they planned to leave while I was still sleeping. I must've sensed it, 'cause I was up at the crack of dawn. After breakfast, I was told to say goodbye. But I just grabbed Momma's neck and held on for dear life, screaming, "No, Momma, don't go! Please don't go!" Losing the battle to hold back tears of her own, Mozelle swallowed hard, "Honey, kiss me goodbye. We've got to go, now." My grip tightened, "I want to go! I want to go home with you Momma!" One by one each little finger was pried loose from Momma's neck. Their trip back to Pell City was long and quiet. My pathetic pleas haunted them all the way home. The trauma proved to be too much for Mozelle. While Grady worked, Mozelle somehow blocked out the fact that I was gone. Aunt Jewel will never forget the day Mozelle called her, worried that she couldn't find me. She had fixed my lunch and called for me. After searching the house, she scoured the yard. Then she called Jewel, "Is Peggy with you? I can't find her anywhere." As gently as she could, Jewel said, "Mozelle, Peggy's in Virginia." Betty became very sick when I was five. We moved back to Alabama so she could seek treatment at the University Hospital. She was diagnosed with tuberculosis and committed to a sanitarium. Leon visited Mozelle and asked if she would take me for a while. But her sanity and my emotional state had to be considered. The answer was no—not without legal ties. Leon had to work. So I was tossed from one relative to another. One family's answer to dealing with me was to lock me in a room all day. The other one chose to give me crackers and send me out to the staircase while they ate supper. Neither of these situations was good. Welfare threatened foster care. However, Betty loved me enough to severe her parental rights so the Bryans could adopt me. The day had finally come! My adoption was final! Daddy sat me in his lap as he wiped away my tears. Then as he wrote my new name he declared, "Peggy Jean Bryan, you are my little girl! No one will ever take you away again!" When I remember that special day, I look forward to the day my 'other' adoption will be finalized. Jesus will wipe away all my tears and I will read my new name written in the palm of his hand. ---Peggy Bryan Harris (Peggy ministers with her smile and words of encouragement. She writes poetry, crafts cards, and cares for her hubby. She lives in Pell City, AL.)
"Trust in the Lord with all of your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths." Proverbs 3:5, 6 NKJV
When I was 10 years old I begin praying that God would lead me to the right man to marry when I grew up. I was born in Washington, where I spent the first years of my childhood. When I was eight we moved in a remodeled school bus to Chiapas, Mexico, where my parents served as missionaries at a self-supporting institution. I view it as providential that my 15th summer we came to Alabama looking for summer work in the flower fields and staying with my aunt and uncle on Sand Mountain. That summer I admired a young man who also worked for the Hills, in fact, I liked him quiet a lot. He was a hard worker, thoughtful of others, and courteous. I thought he might like me too, but until I got a Christmas card from him when we were back in Chiapas I didn't know for sure. Thus began an exchange of letters. I learned he'd bought a Ford tractor. I shared with him about the mission my parents were starting next to the Guatemalan boarder. He wrote about planting potatoes for a farmer. I described scrubbing clothes in the river. I looked forward to seeing Larry when we'd again travel stateside and work together in the flower fields. By the end of my 16th summer I was in love, but could this country boy be the man for me? He had quit school after 10 grades because there was no money for further education, and I planned to go to college after I graduated from high school. I felt like it was important that a man have at least as much education as his wife. Unknown to me, my boyfriend was praying about his future. God heard and opened the way for him to attend boarding academy that fall (we were both in the junior class) and he graduated head of our senior class. By the middle of our first year of college we
both knew we wanted to continue our relationship, and following our graduation
from nursing and industrial arts in 1978 we were married on May 14th.
The night before our wedding, as I lay in bed contemplating God's leading in my
life, I marveled how He had brought us together across the miles to become
husband and wife. On Mother's Day I celebrated not only the gift of my
children but also 28 years of marriage to a wonderful man.
"All these things Jesus spoke to the multitude in parables, and without a parable He did not speak to them." Matthew 13:34
I walked along the beach of Bimini, Bahamas. I was on the Teen Mission Trip of 2003. It was early morning, and several of us were having personal devotions on the beach. The day before, we girls had prepared a nice supper for the guys, serving them at tables we had decorated with conk shells and sea glass. It turned out rather pretty. We had gathered the sea glass during swim time—an addicting activity. Ashley and I discovered most the sea glass was green, brown, and clear, but there were a few beautiful pieces of blue. Now it was breakfast time and I was retracing my steps along the shore to where I'd kicked off my flip flops. With my eyes glued to the sand I looked for pieces of the precious blue sea glass. I was so absorbed in my search that when I looked up a few minutes later I was far down the beach, way past my flip flops. I could barely see them in the distance. I ran towards them. Grabbing them up I scrambled up the bank to the school where we were staying while conducting Vacation Bible School for the islander kids. I was late for breakfast; however I did get to eat! The next morning, my friends Ashley, Sasha and I were again walking on the beach. I told them of my experience the previous morning, then shared the spiritual application I got from it. "Ya know," I said, "I'm thinking that maybe that's the way it is with our lives. We get so busy looking for things we think are precious and rare. We concentrate our eyes on just this little area of time right around us instead of looking toward the future, learning from the past, or perhaps forgetting where we are going. While looking for earthly treasures we totally miss our goal—heaven. Even though I was late to breakfast, I still got to eat, but if we aren't ready when Jesus comes we won't be able to go to heaven. We need to look up NOW, and pay attention to where we're headed." While I was telling my friends this, we walked right past our flip flops! So to the object lesson I added, "And we can even be doing good works for the Lord and miss our goal!" The point is, we must continually keep looking at Jesus and not get distracted with this world and thus miss our goal. There are other spiritual lessons I learned from sea glass and the beach. Sea glass is simply glass which has been tossed by the waves and rubbed on the sand until the edges are worn smooth. It's pretty, and not dangerous like freshly broken glass. Using a comparison, God created perfect human beings in the Garden of Eden. Adam and Eve were the special and perfect companions of God. Then sin came into the world, and like a glass bottle being broken, we became sharp, jagged, ugly pieces of glass. God is like the ocean. He allows us to be in situations that may seem hard and cruel. However, He is always with us, and in the end, when we are washed up on the beach, we have become smooth and beautiful. So when bad things happen, simply thank God, trusting Him to work things out. In the end you'll be smooth and beautiful. Another lesson I learned on the beach in Bimini about sea glass and shells points out pretty much the same lesson. It is kind of a weird analogy, but I think it's kind of cool. While wading in the edges of the waves I would see a piece of sea glass or a shell that I wanted because I thought it was pretty. I had to snatch at it quickly before it was washed away. Thus it is in our lives. We are continually tossed and slashed about with various trials. These difficulties may seem hard and pointless at the time, but sometimes this tossing about could save us from being snatched up by the evil one. This thought isn't a hard, firm belief and analogy, but simply an idea I've been thinking about and turning over in my mind since that early morning walk. The last morning before our group left Bimini I went to the beach and simply stood in the sand with the waves lapping and swooshing around my ankles. I must have stood there quite awhile, looking out to sea, because when I picked up my foot to take a step I discovered both my feet were buried in sand up past my ankles. If you've ever just stood still in the very edge of the waves on a beach, you would've discovered the same thing, that eventually your feet will become buried in sand. However, if you walk or run down the beach your feet may sink in the sand a little, but you can quickly pick them up and continue on down the beach, actually advancing. The faster you run, the less your feet sink and the sooner you get where you're going. This feet-in-the-sand experience really spoke to me about my spiritual life. It was as if God was saying, "Krisanna, when you just stand still in your walk with Me, we don't really get anywhere. You just get buried in the sin of this world. You need to keep talking to Me, reading your Bible, spending time with Me, and sharing Me with others. You need to keep moving in your walk with Me. Let's run down that beach, OK?" One morning during worship one of our group members shared some thoughts comparing the ocean's waves with God's love. The waves come on big sometimes, small sometimes. They come from different angles, and it depends on the contour of the beach how they splash. But they always come. That's kind of the way it is with God's love. His love is vast like the ocean, and it is always there. God's love is steady like the waves. Because no matter what, IT ALWAYS COMES!!!!! Written by Krisanna Kay (Currently Krisanna is a senior at Bass Memorial Academy. She would like to go on another mission trip to Bimini. She enjoys hanging with friends and discovering joy in life.)
"Jesus is the true Light which gives light to every man coming into the world." John 1:9
The dusky moments of life are special to me—the greenish gloom of a thunderstorm, the dark velvet of a starry sky, the cozy comfort of candles and firelight, and silhouettes at early dawn. Perhaps it's because I find solace in the seclusion of shadows, as if they enhances the vision of my heart to a comfortable depth of thought. In soft light my eyes relax. A certain restful peace is experienced inside of the smudges of twilight. In dim light I am comfortable. However, when I step outside the office at mid-day the sun is so strong I have to squint my eyes until I can barely see. Eyes accustomed to the dim light find direct sunlight almost painful at first. So I wear sunglasses to fend off the glaring brightness. As I walk to my car I wonder, what happened? Why has the human eye become so degraded? Why does it hurt to glance at the sun? The Scripture depicts God as being very bright; too strong to directly look at. Moses, who was on a first name basis with God, once asked, "Show me Your glory." Moses desired to see the One with whom he talked. (I'm fascinated that God agreed to let a human see Him!) So the Lord put Moses in a safe place among the rocks of the mountain, and then explaining that no human could see His face and live, God covered his eyes with His hand as he passed by, allowing Moses to see only His back. If they chose, people can look at the sun for a few moments and still live. However, God is brighter then the sun so He mercifully veils His glory. I can't imagine anything more brilliant then the sun, but God is. In the Bible I read of the brilliant light surrounding God in the throne room of heaven, and of the light of angelic beings. The prophets recount their astonishment when they encountered a ray of God's glory, falling on their faces and covering their eyes. At the end of this world, when Jesus returns, the Bible says that the wicked will die from the brightness of His coming. My mind has trouble comprehending such purity! My eyes can hardly look at the sun, so how can I possibly be able to look into the face of my Heavenly Father, a perfect, dazzling Divine Being? Even though I love Him with all my heart how can I, a sinner, hope to someday see the face of my Savior? My human practicality and knowledge of such ingrained sinfulness tells me it is hopeless to dream of one day seeing God's face. Yet, God's word gives me the assurance that this impossibility will become a reality. "For now we see in a mirror (through sunglasses) dimly, but then face to face, because if we walk in the light as He is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanses us from all sin." 1 Corinthians 13:12 & 1 John 1:7 The dusky moments on earth are special to me because they hold wisteria melodies, but I guess in heaven melodious thoughts will blossom freely, without the dimness of earthly passages, and perhaps have an even deeper beauty. In heaven we will live joyously in the pure light of our Heavenly Father. No sunglasses!
By Caitlin Meharry (Caitlin is a student at Southern Adventist University. She enjoys music and playing her violin and the piano. She has been on several mission trips, sharing with others her love for Jesus.)
Where is Everything When I Need It?
I flopped down on my dorm room bed and rested my head listlessly on my pillow. A tear squeezed out of the corner of my eye. I had just learned that I had accidentally sent my cell phone home in a pocket and it had gone through the wash. And it was almost two weeks until home leave when I could get it. Hey, it was my only connection with the outside world. My brother had just been visiting me and I'd had a great weekend hanging out with him and Emily after a long, depressing, tiring week of school. Now, all of a sudden I was falling apart. The coming week was student week of prayer, and I was to give my testimony Tuesday night and I had no clue what part of my testimony to share. God had made it so clear to me that I was to share during week of prayer. But now I was filled with doubt and second thoughts. With a less than two days to prepare, I had turned for my Bible. The Bible that I highlight all my favorite verses in. It's like a part of me, and the closest link between God and me. I've had it for years. But it wasn't where it usually was. I had proceeded to search my room and determined that I must've left it in church the previous morning. It was during study hall and the church was locked up and I wouldn't be able to get it until sometime the next day. I had then immediately begun to look for Emily to spill my troubles to. But she was out of the dorm tending to some of her own preparations for week of prayer. As I flopped onto my bed thoughts of all the drama and struggles people had been pouring out to me flooded my mind. "Oh God," I cried, "Where is everything I need when I need it?" All of a sudden a thought struck me. Like it was God talking to me. "You don't need all that, Krisanna; all you really need is Me." That was a humbling reminder. "You're right God," I said. "I don't have to have my cell phone. I don't have to know right this instant what I'm going to share for my testimony. You'll give that to me if I just keep asking and trusting You. I don't have to have that specific Bible to hear Your will and comfort, either. Even though it is Your word, all I really need is just You. I don't have to have my friends to spill everything to. You are always here to listen. I don't need to get all overwhelmed about all the trauma and drama of life. I don't HAVE to be drama free (even though I take pride in the fact that I usually am pretty drama free!) You are ever with me and will never leave me even when all else fails. Your presence cannot be taken away. Thank you." (Written by Krisanna Kay during her sophomore year at Bass Memorial Academy)
"Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God." Hebrews 12:2 NIV
My feet are making quick and unseen tracks along the pavement of the winding country road as I travel the mile to where the trail begins, just past Lake Nicol. It's early morning and on the chilly side—Christmas Eve. It feels like any other Sunday as I head out to exercise—very ordinary, almost mundane. "God, I don't want this to be just another Sunday. I want it to be a day of Christmas. What does Christmas really mean anyway? It's a fun holiday, probably my favorite. I know that it celebrates the plan of salvation, but God, I want You to deepen my understanding. So, what does Christmas mean to you? Please show me!" There is no immediate answer. No obvious voice, no cloud formations in the sky spelling out life answers, and no thrilling sensation of love and joy. My feet plod along in a steady pattern. Soon I reach the trail and I'm coolly greeted by woods-in-the-winter scents sprinkled with a sparse dose of sunlight. Woodpeckers sound from their choice trees. I laugh, wondering if they have their own Morris Code system. I whisper, "Lord, please show me." Pressing myself hard, I am gasping for air when I finally reach the top, proud that I can still run the entire length of the hill. "Lord, please show me," I pant. All the way back out to the main road, past the dam and the lake, my mind wanders off on tangential tracks, some of which are not very happy. "Caitlin, you need to pick up that trash." Caught by surprise I almost stop. The thought comes so clearly that it jolts my many trains of thought back to their central station. I immediately recognized this to be a divine prompting. "No God, I don't want to pick up trash!" I sullenly mumble. "I know that the way people have littered this road is disgusting, but it's their germy trash and I don't want to pick it up! It's Christmas Eve, and I don't feel like reeking of beer from those old cans! It's gross!" As I continue walking I feel glummer than before. "You should pick up some trash." The idea will not leave me. "But Lord," I argued, "honestly, the few things I can carry will not make any difference in the aesthetics of the roadside, or reduce great amounts of environmental damage. You know that most any other time I would gladly, without comments or complaints, carry as much as I can hold, but basically I just don't feel like it!" After walking several more yards God again speaks to me. "Caitlin, pick up that beer can, yes, that one." "OK, fine," I grumble to myself, wondering if I'm usually this ornery. Feeling only a sliver of repentance I stoop to pick up an old Budweiser can and some foam cups from Sonic. The air is shivered with the wild call of the Pileated woodpecker somewhere off to my right. Suddenly I realize that this might be the answer to my prayer. God has used these quirky birds to get my attention before. Adding more items to my dirty collection, I apologize for being so dense and obnoxious. With my mind shifted into a more serene gear, I can hear with greater clarity. I contemplate how sad this earth is, how awful, trashy, dirty, and despicably disgusting it has become. "A stark contrast from Your original creation, isn't it? I'm so sorry." Imagining what it must have been like for Jesus to walk around on this earth makes me shutter. How repulsive, how discouraging, how tragic! I try to picture Jesus walking along this road with his arms full of trash. Gently Jesus says, "See, the disgust you have over roadside trash is just a fraction of how repulsive sin is to Me." Wow! My heart hurts for Him, how awful it must be to see the beautiful world ruined, and to see His people trashing, not just their environment, but their lives without a second thought. How hard it must have been to come and walk in the middle of all this mess, while knowing the joys and pleasure of heaven above. "Lord how did you stand it?" As the question exits on a thought, a beautiful phrase of scripture enters in sweet answer: "for the joy that was set before Him..." Its meaning swells deeper in my heart, for joy, for joy before Him! Do you realize that you are the joy that was set before Him? You are the joy, I am the joy. Yes, we humans are the joy that He hoped for. We are the goal of His mission, the desire of His heart, the love of His life. If you have ever felt like scum-of-the-earth, road-kill, or just plain trash, well, this simple phrase blasts all confining, bitter, and self-depreciating thoughts to smithereens! You are the Joy that was set before Him! The idea of adopting us back gave Him the steadiness, the rush of adrenaline, the grit and determination He needed to stick to the plan of salvation. He didn't just run up a little hill for Sunday morning exercise, He ran a marathon of thirty-plus years ending with a grueling climb up Calvary. You are why He was born into a world of squalor and filth, walked through the stench of garbage-filled alleys, touched and healed every type of disease, raised the dead, prayed entire nights, was tortured, murdered, buried. It was for you—the joy that was set before Him. This is what Christmas means to God. I pray that God's meaning of Christmas will create new meaning for your life, as it has for mine. Shared by Caitlin Meharry
"Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights." James 1:17 KJV
I decided I wanted to put up some new curtains in our bedroom because the ones I made years ago are faded and thin. I looked at the curtains Walmart carried, but didn't see anything that I liked. Nothing I found in the fabric isle suited me either. There's a fabric store here on Sand Mountain, and Monday I had time to drive down and see what they had available. Moore's Fabrics has a large selection of material, for quilting, crafts, weddings, and dresses. Surely I'll find something here, I thought. But browsing through the three rooms didn't turn up anything that struck me as suitable, both in matching the blue paint of our bedroom walls or my personal tastes. I was about to leave, thinking I'd have to do some more looking for curtains, when the owner handed me a bolt of fabric she'd just gotten in. The pattern of birds and flowers, with bright and cheerful colors, really caught my eye. I unrolled a length, liking the nature look with a scripture verse. Perfect! I had the lady measure off several yards, dug out some money I'd been given for Christmas, and clutching the plastic bag with the fabric I left the store with a feeling of satisfaction and joy. Last evening I took time to sit down at my Grandmother's old Singer sewing machine and stitch up curtains from the birdie fabric. As I looked at my new curtains hanging at the windows this morning I thought…if I had gone to the store several weeks earlier, as I'd thought of doing, I would not have found my bird curtains with God's reminder of His care for me. Printed among the various birds are these words of Jesus. "Look at the birds of the air, they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your Heavenly Father feeds them. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow." God let me look all through the store and not find anything satisfactory before He gave me the best, the bolt of cloth saved for last, with a personal message of love. I am delighted at how the curtains brighten our bedroom, and I am inspired at how God enjoys blessing me. These curtains remind me that my Father has the very best in mind for me. He knows my tastes and what I like, even when I don't know what I'm looking for. As I look at the sparrows, chickadees, finches, and wrens among the daisies, thistles, hibiscus, and sunflowers I see God's message to me—wait for the best; I'll give it to you. Written by Barbara Ann Kay Once upon a time, Barbara used to sew dresses for her girls and has made all the curtains for her house. One of her favorite pastimes is watching the birds come to the feeders, which her husband made and gave her for Christmas.
"The LORD thy God in the midst of thee is mighty. He will save; He will rejoice over thee with joy." Zephaniah 3:17
Surrounded by miracles, I feel hushed and hesitant to even breathe for fear that I might somehow break the tenuous thread of life. These babies in the neonatal intensive care unit are so small, many only 20-some weeks when they entered this world. They are frail, fragile, yet fiercely fighting for freedom. At this age many cannot effectively breathe on their own because their lungs are under-developed, and their hearts cannot pump effectively enough, which means multiple IV's, oxygen, and other types of tubes and monitors are needed. Helpless, vulnerable, and completely dependent these tiny babies have two options; to tenaciously fight for life, or to give up and die. Thankfully, God has instilled an instinctive desire to live within our human genes – to strive for life with every fiber of our being. As I observe one tiny girl, who has recently reached 100 days old, my heart twists with concern. She has to fight for every single breath she takes. Fervently I wish that I could somehow share my life with her so that she could breath easier and rest. As I watched her, God brought the orphan story from the book of Ezekiel in the Bible to my mind. God explained His loving care for Israel by saying that He had found her – a discarded orphan in an empty field, "And when I passed by you and saw you struggling in your own blood, I said to you in your blood, 'Live!' Yes, I said to you in your blood, 'Live!'" (Ezekiel 16:6) Our human plight becomes more obvious to me as I care for the infants We are helpless, vulnerable, and completely dependent with only two options—life or death. God alone can breathe life into our fragile existence, steady our fluttering hearts, and nourish our souls. Then we flourish as His dreams become a reality in our lives. "I made you thrive like a plant in the field; and you grew, matured, and became very beautiful." There are not a lot of procedures that I am allowed to do as a student nurse on such a specialized floor, so one of the nurses instructs me to try to quiet one of the fussy babies. Although this little one has improved a lot and will be able to go home soon, he is still is perhaps only 4-5 pounds - so tiny. As I take him in my arms he quiets down. The nurses are so busy they don't have time to rock him, and he just needs to be held. I think of how many people are alone, and those of us around them too easily miss the loneliness because it is camouflaged by layers of business, complicated schedules, emotional facades of all kinds, and sometimes just because we choose not to see it. As I cuddle this baby I notice his hands which are hardly bigger then the end of my thumb, yet so perfectly formed. How innocent this sleeping child is! My thoughts swirl in wonderment of God's creativity, and my heart trembles for what the world may do to him. What will his home be like? How will his friends influence his life? Will he be taught to love or to hate? Who will show Him Jesus? As these questions and all their possible outcomes begin to torment my mind, I recognize that there are only two things I can do—pray and hold him. So I pray that God will guide and protect every step of this boys' life, that he will come to know Jesus as his personal Savior, that he will cling to truth with the same tenacity he has for life, and that he will become a man of God. Along with these heart breathed wishes I pray that no matter what turns his life may take, or what failures he may face, that someday I will meet him in heaven. "Nevertheless I will remember My covenant with you in the days of your youth, and I will establish an everlasting covenant with you… Then you shall know that I am the Lord." (Ezekiel 16:60, 62) I hold him, cuddled close into the warmth of my arms, and I wish for a pair of little wings that would carry him above the storms of life. Do you feel helpless, vulnerable, and as if you must fight for each breath? Or do you feel alone, misunderstood, and confused about this often-cold world? Listen closely to God's heart as He thinks of us. "I drew them with gentle cords, with bands of love… How can I give you up? My heart churns within Me; My sympathy is stirred. I will heal their backsliding, I will love them freely… (I am) with you, (I am) mighty to save, (I) will take great delight in you, (I) will quiet you with (My) love, (I) will rejoice over you with singing." (Hosea 11:4, 14:4, Zephaniah 3:17) Please let Him cradle your heart close, let Him remind you of your identity in Him, and relish the warmth of His love. Then as we grow in His love He will teach us how to hold others, and through our hands life can be shared.
Written by Caitlin Meherry, a daughter of God, who is learning to listen with her heart. Caitlin is a nursing student attending Southern Adventist University.
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