Category: inspiration

“Return To Sender”

These day the excitement and anticipation of online ordering has taken the world by storm from absolute needs to frivalice wants and everything in between.

On occasion the wrong package/letter with all its contents gets delivered and “RETURN TO SENDER” gets quickly scrawled across the package/letter and gets sent back from where it came.

On a daily basis we receive “packages/letters” that do not belong to us amongst those that do. A letter containing words that write on our hearts and leave lasting impressions that shape our daily walk, sneaks on our “porch”( heart).

“You are less than…you don’t measure up….it’s your fault….you’re too fat…you’re too skinny….you’re embarrassing…”

And the list goes on. You fill in the blanks.

Learning to know which packages/letters you need to keep is a lifelong dance that gets easier the more you learn the truth about who you really are.

Somedays “packages” end up on your “porch”(heart) which contain memorabilia but nothing you want to remember or hold onto for that matter.

Past hurts.. memories.. beliefs about this all in your life’s journey.

Sometimes they arrive in beautifully wrapped boxes or glittered envelopes ( representing people who you trust and love) just beckoning to be opened.

As you open in anticipation the contents instantly leave you stuck and confused, sad, mad, seldom glad, hurt,…all over again.

Recognizing these dressed up packages as they arrive on your “porch” as misplaced mail is key to keeping your heart free and full of joy. Some are sent intentionally while others are innocently dumped on your “porch”( heart) from those dealing with thier own “mail issues”.

They may have been delivered to you but slapping on the label“ Return to sender” and getting it off your porch sooner than later keeps your porch/heart clear for the packages/letters that truly belong to you.

These contain messages somewhat like this:

“You are valuable…you are worthy…you are loved…..etc…”

And the parcels which hold these powerful gems are truly yours….

“Forgiveness….love….faith…grace…”truth….Joy….”

And so much more….meant to be opened with Joy as the contents speak life and are meant to find a permanent home in your heart to nourish your spirit continually.

If we are not careful the “hallways of our hearts” get lined with “parcels/letters” that were never meant to stay on your porch(heart). Soon, there is no more room to “walk” and it becomes too easy to live in the narrow hallways of our hearts away from any “windows of light” and Truth.

Holding onto these packages/letters over my lifetime..I tried making sense of them when in reality I could have traded all my futile efforts for resting in the Truth…the Truth of my identity in my God as my foundation and criteria for letting go of the “mail I was to stamp “Return To Sender”

My journey led me through some hard lies…and that’s exactly what they are….before walking into a season of the beginning of some revelation a number of years ago… still walking.

It started the construction of this ever important foundation we were all meant to have as His children.

No matter what was wrapped in these packages or letters and no matter where they came from, if it didn’t line up with what God was saying about me or how He wanted me to live the abundant life He promises…it needed to be stamped…

“RETURN TO SENDER”

……and sent off my porch.

In ancient times mail was sent and identified in various ways. Royalty had thier own individually stamped crest or signature embossed in a seal.

The “letter/parcel” we can trust is the one embossed with God’s personal seal. His opinion of us, how we are to live and the Truth that sets us free is the only mail we are to keep.

Often God enlists people that will be His “mail carrier” with His seal of authenticity, repeating only the words He himself would say to us.

Today be aware of “packages/letters that were never meant to end up and stay on your porch (heart).

Get out your biggest, blackest, permanent marker and get busy writing in bold unmistakable letters…

“RETURN TO SENDER”!!!

…..and may the mail that is left on your porch…your heart… come straight from the heart of God!♥️

He Knows You By Name

What’s in a name?

Our tiny bodies get a label as we make our way into this world. Culture, interests, religion, meanings, and more guide us in our choices for a name in our first attempt at identity.

In the summer of 1965 I entered this world with a smile as my mother tells it, so my middle name became Joy. Years later I searched the meaning of my first name Arlene and found it to mean “The Lovely Promise”. I don’t believe my mother knew the meaning as she named me yet it has spoken to my identity.

I always wanted to change my name growing up since I had never heard of the name Arlene before. I’m glad now I didn’t change it. The meaning has spoken to my heart over the years and I don’t think it was by accident…

The “Lovely Promise of Joy”

Working in the classroom one day a couple of years ago I experienced what a name could do.

I encountered the personal lives of two girls who were walking through some very troubled things in their teenage lives. In the midst of some heartbreaking conversations, I asked the girls if they knew the meanings of their names. And so began our search.

The girls came back to class the next day and were inspired by what their search had found. I saw a change in their attitudes as they started walking and acting out the meaning of their names, seemingly unintentionally…yet was it?

Weeks later I saw these two girls in the hallway at school surrounded by hundreds of bodies going in every direction. The one girl looked at me from a ways off and our eyes met for just a moment in the crowd of teenage bodies…it made it almost impossible to stay connected…but in that moment I heard her distinct voice pierce through the noise of the crowd as she pointed directly at me..

“Lovely promise!!”

Some students turned to see who was was getting all the attention. In that moment our eyes met but for a moment but long enough that the crowd and all its bustling around me disappeared. I saw those girls bouncing and waving as they pointed and looked directly at me.

The connection was made. These girls went from marking their arms and depression to graduating and finding upstanding jobs and purpose.

I’m not saying finding the meanings of their names was everything, but I do know I saw a change in their lives.

Christmas cards were passed out to celebrate the season months later. One card stood out in the pack I had collected in my hand. As I opened it a beautiful country cabin on a lake filled with beautiful snow met my eyes and at the bottom where the words…

“Merry Christmas to the Lovely Promise!!”

It was from these two girls.

My heart melted. Our connection with finding the meanings of our names had taken us on a journey through that year that held a relationship that continues to this day. I was even invited to their graduation… what an honor.

This was a small piece of my experience with the meaning of a name. If the possibilities of having such a life changing experience can be had with just a name given by your family, how much more incredible could our life be if we run to the names God gives us…

Citizen of Heaven

Raised up

Loved of God

Chosen
Holy

Blameless

Justified

Friend of Jesus

Fellow Heir…

Just to names a few.

Take any one of these names and you could watch your world, your life, change.

Take them all… and own them as your identity..

Just imagine..

The God of the universe calls you..

He calls you by name…

how incredible♥️♥️

Here For a Reason

I used to think the Billy Grahams of the world where the only people chosen for such a life of influence. The mass crowds over the decades, the changed lives as a result of one man’s influence and obedience to his calling and gifting. How could one match such greatness and influence.. where would one begin..

well… in the same place Billy Graham did. He was born into a modest family in South Carolina.. mom, dad, brothers, sisters. He grew up on a farm working hard from an early age as was common. He did what young boys did barefoot in the Carolina dirt, fighting on occasion with his siblings and even disobeying his parents once in a while I will venture to guess.

Sounds like almost anyone on the planet even if one couldn’t identify with family and siblings… you were all young boys and girls once upon a time… so now we are all included, included in the possibilities Billy Graham encountered.

His walk, his gifts, his calling. Billy even hated church as a boy…great way to start a lifetime of worldwide evangelism dont you think?:)

His ultimate message and invitation drew many to accept the Cross and Eternal Life.

My life was changed by his message and invitation.

What message, gift, influence have you buried because you didn’t fit into all the Billy Grahams of the world’s shoes? ..disabilities, disadvantages, status, age, and so more are all but stepping stones.

Your stadium is your world.

Are you a mother?

What a calling.

The shaping, molding, loving through the tough and the less tough… because face it.. being a mom is tough.

I know..I’m so blessed to be one♥️

Are you a dad?

Incredible calling that potentially transcends the today’s and influences all the tomorrows of the generations to come, all starting in the moments of today.

Are you a King?.. Are you a Queen? Doctor, teacher, Pastor, young, old…homeless..?

Your audience/stadium may be in the home. It may be in a castle, it may be at your job and it may be in a soup kitchen ladling some piping hot soup staring across at someone who needs your smile possibly more than the soup that day.

My dad had a massive stroke steal from his life 10 years ago and the chair and the bed are his home, yet I always leave encouraged.. encouraged to be a better me…

Be a reason for someone.

Don’t let what life has “stolen” from you, your beliefs about your worth on this planet and whatever else stands in your way be the reason you leave your stadium and crowds behind.

Be the reason someone chooses another day.

Be the reason someone chooses forgiveness and eternal life…

Just be the reason….

your world…your Stadium..

will be forever changed.

#Here for a reason♥️

Mirror Mirror

Barely tall enough, my little chin gently touched the top of the brown shiny dresser built new in the sixties, my eyes gazed intently into the marbled mirror, the copper lines fading across from end to end telling of its age.

A partial wisp of medium brown hair cut into a pixie as my dad always preferred so as not to hide my eyes, came into view. Half a brown eye sitting on top of a chubby dimpled cheek gazed at the whitewashed tile ceiling that came into view bordered by the view of a matching dresser.

I was always trying to find new things in the reflection in my young world.

My reflection in the mirror was tainted by a number of things. The sight line because of my young self… the cracks in the mirror…it all did not give me a true reflection of the True me and spoke to my heart in a harsh tone over the coming years.

As I grew older, my teen years were filled with anxiety. Looking into a mirror my made my heart ache as I saw what I thought I saw in the reflection. My inner voice teamed with some outer voices and had left my view of my reflection tainted….the sightlines very inaccurate.

My efforts to perfect what I saw spoke to my identity or what I thought was my identity. My struggles with my weight since I was a toddler clouded my mind and heart at many a season in my life.

What I saw in the mirror physically, spoke to my soul.

I never suffered from an eating disorder as such with a name attatched….yet I suffered.

My heart breaks for those who look in the mirror and “see”what they think they see.

I understand too well.

Bulimia and anorexia are labeled eating disorders but it goes way deeper than that. All can be summed up as one identity disorder… the binge drinking, addictions, drugs, even relationship disorders are all symptoms of a root..

identity disorder…

from a tainted “mirror”.

Who are we really?

My makeup was used to hide me instead of enhance the me I was always created to be. I would go from leaning in really close to find every flaw to avoiding the mirror all together some days… yet the addiction of “fixing me” drew me back time and time again to the “Talking Mirror”…and it was deafening…

And sometimes silent… both were incredibly hard.

As I continued my visits on my bench with my God over the years through my journals and reading His letters to me, I realized some things that began to wash over my heart like a tide from the ocean. The mirror that would ultimately speak Truth to my heart was the Living Word. When I looked into it, no matter what angle, I saw a me that had been created in His image… the Creator of the universe had created me in His image…

how utterly incredible. I was not only a Child of the Living God…

I was deemed Royalty… a daughter of THE King… who when I looked into His mirror… I was deemed MORE than good enough.

Every day I had to choose to pick up the right mirror ..His Word..and ultimately believe what the reflection said.

The Journey of heartache in front of the mirror is being replaced season by season as a true reflection in a mirror held up but my God, yet daily I need to remind myself of the Truth, so I do not gaze into the mirror from an angle of false identity.

Any tainted mirror will always bring nothing but heartache.

Today… gaze into the mirror that tells you your True reflection..

Royalty…

Child of THE King..

Redeemed.

This reflection will transform your life from the inside out..

If you only let it.

Legacy of Love

Good-byes had been said for the two months prior to this day since my grandma had been given the fateful news of brain cancer.

My best friend was leaving earth this day as she was taking her final breath with her family surrounding her.

I had prepared, as one really can, for this day in my heart since I had been a child, and now being 28 years old and a mother to three young daughters , no preparation really was ever enough, but what was enough was God preparing my heart from my loss as I drove to the hospital in the early hours of that October chilly night leaving my sleeping family tucked in their beds.

I drove the few miles gripping the wheel with uncertainty of what I would encounter, and in that moment I offered up a prayer of help for my grieving heart and for how I would cope in the days, weeks, months, and years to come for the loss of someone so very dear to me..

. and He heard me.

A few weeks earlier my 28 year old self had crawled into my grandma’s beautiful big bed, adorned with her hand made perfectly stitched comforters.. her loving hands now tucked under the warmth of her creation.

I tucked in close to her as she lay so still in her bed longing for some conversation.. words of wisdom… a smile… anything… As I watch the ugly cancer take her away little by little, her mind having been quickly stolen from us in the past weeks, the grandma I knew was not always present anymore.. but today.. my grandma emerged for a special moment in time.

Many years of daily 11 a.m. phone calls to Grandma’s house in my adult years were burned deeply into my memory as were beautiful childhood memories. A new season was upon us as grandma was preparing to leave this world for a much more wonderful one, but I wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet.

She was 71 years young and only 2 months earlier, still lived a vibrant life walking 2 miles daily with her sweetheart with whom she had shared shared life for 48 years and counting.

Sewing blankets for her family, ceramic classes in her basement, weekly trips to the city for the latest CDs, and making home movies were among the many wonderful things grandma left for us to remember her by.

25 years later those home movies, now handed down to me, are priceless treasures. I hungrily want to step into those movies on the screen of another time of the family, babies, the lake, and Christmases…. Oh the magic of Christmas that Grandma created through the years for her family.

Every part of her being was wrapped in her family. My baby girls had been wrapped in her lovingly made crocheted blankets as she rocked them gently and whispered loving things only babies could understand.

She taught me the art at a young age…crocheting …and how to hold my babies lovingly in my arms as she did.

Now nestled beside her, all these beautiful memories washing over my heart…my grandma’s eyes were telling a story… she was ready to take a journey to another land to meet her God and all those whom she had missed so dearly including her father who had suddenly died one Christmas… Oh how she had missed them all.

A moment my Grandma had with a best friend a few days earlier painted a picture for my heart that helped me to say goodbye.

As my Grandma had been laying in the bed so the story goes, her eyes staring far far away, her friend came in close and spoke in a low soft voice..

.” You see it… don’t you??”

My grandma slowly nodded her head now propped up in a soft white pillow.

She whispered slowly. YES..YES I do! and it’s BEAUTIFUL….

Hearing this shared experience from her friend I couldn’t wish her to stay any longer especially with the cancer stealing her away from us so mercilessly.

My God’s heart hurt with me.

As I gazed longingly at my beloved Grandma, her white wavy hair framing her face lined with much life lived, tears moistened the corner of my eyes. Grandma turned her gaze to me and asked very matter-of-factly,

“So what do you want to do with your life?”

My answer came quickly as I sat startled for a moment. I replied…

” I want to love my family like you have!”

It was a short simple answer not covering everything I wanted to do with my life, but in that moment.. loving my growing family and those to come, the way she had for so many years, covered everything. It was a legacy I wanted to carry on.

Many years later our fifteen foot harvest rustic wooden table would seat my ever-growing family, children and grandchildren and still counting.

I still feel her beside me as I open that front door as

my kids and grandkids come stumbling in with their giggles and “Grandma!” with arms open wide, my heart having those same beautiful memories of life with Grandma. I love them like she loved me /us ..her family. It was more than enough so long ago with my grandma…it was and still is a legacy of love.

Now making my way through the darkness on the deserted highway in the black of the night, my prayers to my God was answered. Our journey on earth together was ending, but her legacy would carry on 25 years later.

My heart knows she has enjoyed the beauty of Heaven..the glimpse she saw then, now experienced in full for all eternity. And just like my grandma’s love was enough for her family here on this earth, God’s love was enough for me in that change of season.. losing my friend, my grandma.

His love came in the form of peace Peace I still carry today knowing I too will experience the Wonders and beauties of Heaven as his child in His legacy of love.

Leave a legacy of love today.. it is the greatest gift you can ever leave♥️♥️

Touch the Wall

Who am I?….What am I?… Where am I?…..

Questions that have crossed many a mind in their life’s journey.

Life can burst forth with such excitement and purpose when we start out in the youngness of our minds.

The world seems to linger on our fingertips…ours to do with wherever our passions lead us….the sky seems to be the limit.

So we charge foreword in our quest to pursue our passions and gifts…our hearts full of promise.

Then along the journey, the closer we get to the “promise land” of our pursuits.. our passions…the further away we seem to be.

And then you see it…and then maybe you don’t… In big neon letters…

“People pleaser”

The imposter has moved in. The “you” has taken a back seat. The exaustion in your passion does not come from your dedication or endless exausting hours of hard work, rather …from the imposter.

The people pleasing keeps you hostage and acts as a harsh task master to the point of you losing focus…and ultimately your passion that was always inside of you…. starts to die under the crushing weight.

You hit the unforgiving wall.

You’re exausted.

Throwing everything away seems to sooth your mind in the moment….everything that says “you” in your passion..

.you are throwing away you.

The imposter..the people pleaser has taken over the real you.

The who has been defined.

The domino effect takes over and the what am I is defined. Failure…

The next domino falls… where am I…

Done with your dreams ..done with your passions.. done with you. All because of the imposter.

I loved sewing for my 4 little girls…thier pretty little coats and dresses…I loved planting flowers in the dirt in front of my little green house…I loved visiting with the elderly…I loved babysitting my friend’s babies…I loved baking treats for my neighbours..I loved writing ..I loved painting art…. And the list goes on.

But the imposter took over and my passions were chained to the people pleaser… And the joy was zapped.

My time on “The Bench” over the years with my God, led me to recognize the imposter as He invited me down a different road…a road of rest…rest from wearing the imposter mask with my true identity in Him that was always meant to be the root for the gifts and passions he had given me to share with the world.

In swimming, athletes touch the wall at the end of the lap..but they don’t stay there…it’s not an end, it’s a place where the wall becomes a springboard to a 180 that leads to the finish.. perhaps the gold.

Don’t let the wall of People pleasing defeat be your end and leave the world around you with less or even none of your gift.

Let the wall of exaustion and the end of people pleasing be your springboard to a 180 …find you again. the you you were created to be.

Kick the imposter to the curb…

Paint that picture, plant those flowers, visit that neighbor, make that record sew that dress…write that book.

Go for the gold…

And touch the wall.

The Ultimate Gift

December 24th..

The most amazing day of the year in my childlike heart.

Christmas Eve would not come soon enough. The weeks leading up to this moment in the year were filled with times of experience in the magic as I would call it. Red, blue, green, and yellow Christmas lights we’re hung by my grandpa dressed in very clean gray thin striped coveralls accompanied by rubber boots, balancing with much assurance on a frosty metal silver folding ladder, each light placed with perfection on the 1960s farmhouse. The colors in the crisp white snow danced as though it were a wonderful piece of art on display.

The perfectly shoveled path led to the front door where all the wonders of Christmas continued behind it as I stepped through it, smelling of all the goodness of Christmas as I remembered it.

White Grandma cookies with marshmallow topping toasted with coconut, cottage cheese fruit salad, colorful broken glass cake, among many other mouthwatering Christmas aromas blanketed the house everywhere my young self moved.

Rounding the corner into the living room of the farm bungalow, I’d enter to the Christmas sounds of Jack Benny and Doris day, Anne Murray, Heinche, John Denver and many many other over the course of the holiday season.

The artificial Blue Spruce Christmas tree sparkling with strands of evenly placed multi-colored lights and shining teardrop and round decorations wrapped in silver tinsel and garland, painted a postcard picture of Christmas like I’d seen in the five cent to Dollar Store on our frequent visits there.

The tree was perfectly placed in front of the wooden living room door. The gifts placed under the branches were wrapped in the gold, silver, reds, and blues tied with shiny ribbons. No name tags would grace the presents, only strategically placed initials placed by grandma that not even she could find at times.

Family would slowly trickle into the door after the Christmas Eve program had ended in our local hometown Church.

The excitement in my heart would continue with anticipation.

The time had come I had waited for all year… The whole family was home.

Some found spots on the blue 1960’s couch draped with a blanket graced with a family of deer. Others, on the moss green sculpted rug. The corner golden yellow rocker was always reserved for Grandpa as grandma didn’t need a chair as she was running around more often than not making sure everything was taken care of.

The tradition of gift-giving for all young or old, was a process that took well into the night and was a thrill to my young heart as I experienced the warmth and love each gift came with.

This beautiful time would sometimes continue until 4am dotted with Christmas snack breaks at the family table that had been beautifully decorated with its candles, chocolate, ripple chips, french onion soup dip and Pepsi along with the traditional halva..my favourite.

The sights.. the sounds… the laughter… The Joy… the family…

A gift infinitely bigger than all the gifts under the tree even then in my young child’s heart.

I cannot imagine having had to stand outside the living room window in the cold of winter looking in… how sad I would have been not to be able to enjoy this intimate experience in all its fullness.

It reminds me of my relationship with my God. For many years I stayed on the outside of that “living room window” out in the cold only catching a glimpse of the Majestic wonder of the experience I was missing out on.

The Ultimate Gift.

The intimate personal relationship and experience with my God…now finding it on ” the bench”.

The beautiful gifts under the tree where the blessings sitting and waiting for me to come in and open them, the Abundant Life and all his promises beckoning me from the Christmas family table he so wanted me to have and enjoy.

He was longing for this intimate relationship…always inviting me like the gentleman He is.

How sad to have left those gifts unopened.

Many years later, many Christmases later, being graced with being a grandma already, I still look forward with anticipation to passing on pieces of those early majestic Christmas memories to my children grandchildren’s hearts.

But in all of this my heart’s biggest prayer is that they will find The Ultimate Gift.

The blessings, Abundant Life, the promises. But most of all the gift of Him who came from above and the personal relationship that they are invited to experience inside the “living room window” ..

The Ultimate Gift♥️♥️

No More

Walking didn’t seem the best option any longer as my husband stumbled out of the truck, white knuckling his way along the edge of the box rim attempting to remain upright on the parking lot of the ER.

I frantically ran for help.

As the ER nurses all but dumped his increasingly helpless body into a wheelchair, my bewildered mind couldn’t help but imagine how his/our life was about to change.

The decline of my husband’s health had taken a nose dive days before and was all but deteriorating in front of our eyes.

As I followed the medical team wheeling my husband into the ER, I realized this was going to be a very different day…I felt it…and different it was to say the least.

By the time he finished triage, he could barely walk. Whatever was happening to him was happening fast.

After a mirage of scans and tests, the diagnosis came in …a massive heart attack.

Heart attack…wow….trying to let that sink in, we settled in on the cardiac ward intent on following this journey that this diagnosis would take us through, and hoped this potentially life changing news would lead us on a journey of recovery sooner than later…

But it was to be a journey we will never forget.

The next couple of days brought us to a shocking turn of events as my husband’s mobility started to deteriorate, his body paralyzing from the bottom of his feet to the top of his head…the prognosis took an alarming turn…1 in 100,000..

Gillian Barre Syndrome…

No heart attack.

Our lives seemed to be spinning out of control as if in a bad movie…but there was no changing the channel…we were in for the ride of our lives.

Watching my husband lay in the metal hospital bed, rails holding in his helpless body, machines beeping all around us, only being able to move his eyes…

Our world as we knew it seemed to be crashing down around us at an alarming rate.

Where was life taking him??…us…our children…our grandchildren??…the youngest just 3 months old.

Heading home one night from the hospital after an exausting week with no change, my mind and my heart wanted to fear the unknown. As I fell into my unmade bed that night, my head hit the pillow, exausted.

My mind was still racing as I remembered what I had started listening to the last couple of months…

“Speak to your mountain.”

“God has given you the authority over your problems in His name.”

“God wants you well.”

The doctor had just given us a description of what was happening in my husband’s body at this point, especially painting a picture of his spine and it’s short comings at this point.

Until his body would heal itself and the nerve endings to a degree…there was no point in starting rehab or any hope of recovery…. statistics were the only answers they had for us at this point….

At best.. lifelong pain in the hands and feet and long term instability.

At the worst…confined to a wheelchair… respirator…or even death.

As I lay there that night, I spoke to the seemingly enormous mountain in ours lives and I spoke life into Bruce’s body as I had heard to do. It was all very new to me but I knew I needed comfort…answers…but most of all hope. Hope of a healed husband that would walk confidently with strength back into our home..and back into.our growing families lives.

What did I have to lose?

Falling into a deep exausted sleep after my short prayer, I experienced a dream so vivid, depicting my husband’s spine with what looked like giant fluffy white pillows wrapped around it from top to bottom all around the nerve endings…protecting the damage. In my dream I saw this as protection against any further damage…and healing.

Oh how I longed for healing.

I awoke with new found peace and rest the next morning. I felt like I had slept for days.

I arrived at the hospital that morning to the news that his spine and the nerve endings were responding and healing had begun…

How utterly incredible! Against all odds and statistics…but I knew my God was not a God of mere statistics…He was showing us all that in these moments.

Days later I experienced another very vivid dream. I saw my husband walking in a field with tall waving yellow grass towards a woman in the distance.who was bending down holding the hands of 2 small children.

We had lost our second baby 25 years before, and I knew beyond a shadow, this was our child.

As he got closer, it became clear the woman was my husband’s mother who had passed on 5 years earlier.

She waved at him to turn back and said…

“It’s not your time yet.”

I awoke with a jolt and knew with such certainty my fears of death being the end result had been quieted by a dream I called a “heaven” dream sent by God to my anxious heart in those moments of those long hours, days, and weeks.

Three weeks went by and paralysis was still a big part of his life..yet I held on to His promises…speaking to my mountain and speaking life…

A five day $25, 000 blood treatment hung from an IV pole having been declared the liquid gold that would save his life as declared by the doctor.

Week four was rounding the corner and small improvements turned into big improvements in a short time.

His legs and arms began to moved as rehab had begun. By week six he was making strides with a walker down the hospital halls. The nurses on every rotation became his cheering section along with many a senior in the rehab, giving them something to look forward to everyday too.

The days were looking brighter.

As the first day trip was signed off by the doctor, we made our first trip in the truck with the walker tucked away in the box…headed straight for home as per hubby’s wishes. Pulling up the driveway, me not quite having put the truck in park, he jumped out of the truck and left his walker behind as he grabbed the wall on the side of the house pulling himself heavily onto every step. I frantically tried to grab the walker from the truck but got waved away as he made it in the front door.

Heading straight for the dining room table in his unsteady legs, he pulled out his chair…and sat down…

I saw the look in his eyes and knew in that moment he was seeing himself whole and healed back in his home.

The day then finally arrived…

He was going home.

As he walked tall past the nurse’s station to say goodbye and thank-you, he was met with huge smiles and cheering and was giving the title he still wears with incredible gratefulness….

The Miracle Man.

What was to have taken possibly years to recover or at worst death…turned into a life changing 6 weeks in an incredibly different way.

He was the walking miracle…and still is to this day 6 years later.

I have often looked back to that time in our lives and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God was there in our every moment wanting to show us His most powerful character…Love…and His heart towards His children.

He never wanted this for us but in this fallen imperfect world these are the realities. People do die and don’t see healing at times. But that doesn’t change God’s heart.

But on that day in the biggest crisis of our lives…

We said mountain move..

and healing came.

We said… no more.

No more laying in that bed…

.

Thanking Him still so much for His protection and healing….

But above all..
His incredible love.♥️♥️

What a Day That Will Be

Summer could not come soon enough for my child heart. It meant holidays at grandma and grandpa’s house on the farm.

It was a place my childhood was transformed from everyday life to something special everytime I rounded the corner on the long winding gravel road.

The hand painted yellow hip roof barn with vintage green perfectly placed shingles loomed in my sights as I continued to round the corner to grandma and grandpa’s house.

As the driveway continued on branching to the right, three old farm buildings with dirt floors which had seen many a generation of farm calves stood stoically as they came into view. Grandpa’s tool shed was next, framed with old windows and a squeeky wooden rustic door that opened to many silent stories of generations past.

The summer kitchen as it was called in days of old was last in the row of nastalga. Many a time tested farm meal had been prepared with much love within those walls in the heat of the summers.

As I would strain my neck trying to peer over the dashboard and out the windshield of the chariot …possibly my dad’s light blue ’66 Merc as my dad would call it, or my grandpa’s trusty cherry red truck with grandma and grandpa’s name and address painted on the side door…my heart would leap with excitement as my eyes would fall on the rest of the yard that had been mowed and tended to so meticulously by my grandpa, grass hand trimmed around the house and barn with a hand scissor.

The perfectly whitewashed farm fence created a perfect boundary for grandpa’s healthy herd of black and white Holsteins dotted with a few brown Jersey cows, grazing in the beautiful meadow, tails whistfully swatting at the summertime flies landing on their glistening hides in the heat of the season…. my heart’s picture continued to grow.

This white fence had also served as a perch for the vintage green kitchen glasses that were filled with a choice of sparking mountain Dew or Pepsie poured out of glass bottles at breaktime for the bailing crew( and little me..grandma’s orders:) on those hot summer days…

I can still taste it.

Coming up to the ’60’s bungalow( with grandma’s large beautiful farm garden sitting in the distance), meticulously painted blue and white by my grandpa, my eyes would fall on one of my favourite places to sit…the neatly swept cement porch framed by black rod iron railing on either side.

The shade from the towering neatly planted oak trees planted by great grandma and grandpa in generations past, created a majestic cool place of protection from the hot summer sun as the cool breeze wound it’s way through.

I could hardly wait.

The farmyard was nestled neatly between two gravel roads on either side on which I took many a summer walk or bike ride on my trusty cherry red banana seat bike. One of grandma’s pale yellow or green icecream pails accompanied me at times to help collect the juicy ripe choke cherries and Saskatoon berries hanging high and low on the bushes running along side the road.

My grandma was my partner between farm duties on some days…

Those were the best times.

As my ride would finally come to a halt, my little chubby tanned legs would skip down the paving stone path up to the side porch past grandma’s neatly planted colorful petunias.

I knew for even just a few days..I would be more than content…

It was my heaven on earth.

As I let my mind go back to those beautiful childhood memories, I can’t help but think what Heaven will be like.

Someday, I, like everyone else on this planet, will have a date with my destiny and I’ll round that corner at the end of my life’s journey and soak in Heaven and all its beauty that has been prepared for me and all who take the invitation to live there forevermore.

The gravel road will be replaced with streets of gold and the berry bushes with the Tree of Life.

As promised, as the Bible tells me, I will have my very own mansion prepared just for me by the One who loves me more than anyone ever could.

And just as I longed for the summer days spending time with my grandma and grandpa on the farm, in my Heaven on earth….I will long to spend time with my Jesus …in a favourite cool shade spot no doubt…perhaps that ultimate “spot on the bench” in that moment.

Walking in the gardens of plenty among the towering trees with the one who created me.

And just as my childlike heart longed to spend time with my grandma and grandpa on this earth…

I long for the time I will round that corner…in that moment…and see their smiling faces again…arms open wide….not just for a summer…but forever.

What a day that will be♥️♥️