Peace in the Storm

Was it ever going to stop?!!

My mind was racing in so many different directions much like the raging wind storm outside my vulnerable home living on a foundation of wheels nestled on the edge of my sleepy little town.

This hot and muggy summer morning was anything but sleepy as the raging twirling winds and the pounding rain battered the outside walls and shook the windows mercilessly. A dark blue and green sky blanketed my world.

As I grabbed my 6 year old girl with one hand and dragged her down the hall in panick, my other arm clenched my 9 month old daughter in the tightest football hold against my chest…trying to protect my little family as best I could in this moment from the unknown in my shaking home.

In those fleeting moments my mind flashed back to all my fears of storms as a little girl and how incredibly helpless I felt then and how incredibly helpless I felt now. That little girl was still inside now trying to protect her own little girls…

My fear of storms had followed me into my adult life through many a fearful camping trip, feeling so helpless and immobilized in being a role model for my 4 young daughters…who would tell them to not be afraid when I was paralyzed with my own fears?

My thoughts raced back to my reality in the moment. I dove between the wall and the bed in the futherest corner of my shaking home with my baby under me and my 6 year old huddling as close to her shaking mother as could be humanly possible.

My frantic call to my grandma down the road in the same small town had had come to an abrupt end as the storm mercilessly cut off my only thread of security.

As the wind got louder, the skies got darker, and the windows seem to shake harder than ever, my promises to God in that moment to do everything right in my life from here on in in exchange for protection for me and my frightened little girls was my utmost focus.

The feeling of helplessness overwhelmed me and the thought of not being able to protect my girls seemed to drown my heart as I heard the rage of the storm outside my door.

Many years later as my continued walk with God grew with more understanding of who my God was and what He really thought of me “on the bench” in the moment

, I realized there had been no need to bargain for my little families protection that day. My God did not work that way.

No matter how I may have fallen short in life, as His child I did not need to bargain for any of His protection or even Grace on my life.

He wants to protect his own as desperately as I wanted to protect my own. That is His heart. We may not always see it in our lives here on earth but that doesn’t change His heart towards us. He loves us so incredibly much… More than I could even love my own. He gave me the authority to speak to my mountains/ storms in His name as I found in His letters to me..The Bible.

But for that moment this was my plea.

As the storm quieted along with my fears, I gathered my girls from behind the bed and stumbled down the hall on still shaking legs toward a much brighter living room than I had remembered just a short time ago.

As me and my girls clinging to me like baby kittens on their mom entered the kitchen, I realized the intense streaming daylight was due to the entrance to my home having crashed on its side, leaving a gaping hole for all the light to pour in.

My knees wanted to buckle.

Yet in the same instant I was so incredibly thankful it was all over.

Hearing the news anchor tell of hundred year old trees crashing down in the neighborhood later in the day, I was even more aware of His hand of protection on me and my little girls that stormy morning.

It would be years before my immobilizing fear of storms would become all but non existent.

I remember one day I couldn’t and didn’t want to be in bondage to this fear any longer.

It was way to heavy to continue carrying.

I knew this would be it.

It happened that quickly. I gave it all to Him. In His Word He asks us to cast all our cares/ fears, anxiety, worries on Him…so I did. Nothing fancy…I just did…and He gladly took it.

In the years to come, I’ve woken up from a deep restful sleep to reports of bad storms that had raged on around me as I slept. I had heard nothing.

Sometimes the end of ourselves is the best place to be. It can be the open door to a whole new world of peace.

When the winds in our lives blow harder and the skies seem to be getting darker and darker….He is the Peace in the storm of our lives.

Peace that passes understanding as only He can give for anyone who wishes to take it.

And that day I took it.

The “Masterpiece”

Spending some time in the dining room of the local seniors manor , I entered into a conversation with a group of lovely ladies who had lived much life already.

One “young” lady was still amazingly sharp at 91. Her snow white hair beautifully framed her seasoned face telling of many years experienced. yet her dancing, piecing blue eyes told of a life that had been worth living no matter how the story had been written.

Our conversation led us to her fascinating travels and youth work experienced in her lifetime and well past her “retirement” years. Stories of her family were her favourite. Her eyes smiled even brighter.

When she started telling about all the writing she had done over the years.. I was all in. She spoke with such love in her steady voice of a special project she had tackled a number of years back which came in the form of a memoir, written especially as a legacy for her eight children and their families and for generations to come. A Christmas gift from her heart to theirs.

She had my whole heart by now.

She shared of how she still journaled daily as she gently pulled her baby blue journal she had been clasping close to her heart…and how much joy it still gave her.

I needed no convincing.

My heart had the true pleasure of listening to this young lady still tell about her life and how blessed and grateful she was for every experience no matter what Life’s picture had painted for her in her 91 years so far.

Her spirit, her heart, had many more years in her no matter what her 91 year old body was whispering to her.

This was not the end… only the beginning…of something new…everyday that she was still here.

As our conversation came to an end (my heart could have listened all day) I thought about how incredibly inspiring and encouraging this lady sharing her life in this moment was even in this winter season of her long life. Her life stories…her writings…her attitude.. and most importantly, the centre of it all..her God who had walked beside her all 91 years.

I walked away that day, encouraged and more than inspired to keep up with my own writing journey, keeping a perspective of joy and hope… always.

Most reading this will not be 91. But if you are, even more for you. I heard from this amazing life filled lady that life does not only not end at 70…80…or even 90, but seems to “begin” if the heart attitude is right and full of hope and joy salted and flavoured with “moments on the bench” with our God.

She clearly had found the center of her joy on life’s winding road…her “spot on the bench”.

This young lady inspired all who crossed her path. She enjoyed painting a “picture” of her own “masterpiece”…her life… with her words. And in doing so encouraged other to paint their own with thier own gifts, experiences.

That day she encouraged me to continue finding my “spot on the bench”…the life behind my words…

My own life’s “masterpiece” painted by the One who joins me on “the bench”

Today, find your spot “on the bench”…and begin painting your own “masterpiece”♥️

The Garden of our Heart

Mornings in grandma’s garden were nothing if not magical to my heart as a child. Breakfast had already been enjoyed… just me and my grandma…fresh homemade cinnamon buns made with much love.

Perched at the edge of grandma’s large colorful flourishing summer garden, the dew sparkled like jewels hanging so delicately off the flowering dill stalks and everything else the dew had gently found.

The earth between the rows gave off a pungent yet pleasant aroma that still lives in my senses to this day as I go back in my memories of grandma’s garden.

Grandma had already made her way down the row with her large pale yellow plastic bowl, filling it with a mix of tart green earth cherries and fresh vegetables that would be the foundation in creating her delicious meals…her harvest for the day.

The garden was a picture of beauty and health due in part to the large well worn bedsheets covering them at night when the frost wanted to nip at the ears of everything in it.

The strategic timing of the 1970’s vintage Green sprinkler refreshing the regularly hoed nutrient rich soil added to the heart of grandma’s beautiful summer garden.

Grandma was the master of her garden. The beauty did not just happen.

These memories remind me of our individual lives. Our life is a garden.

How we tend to our heart’s garden will depend on the care and attention or lack of.

Is the soil of our heart’s garden filled with all the goodness and Truth that makes our lives grow true and tall?… Do we water out gardens and cover when neccesary?… Do we feed the soil of our hearts with the best?

How we tend to our garden will always show in our lives…our garden harvest.

When we cover ourselves with God’s love, grace, and most of all Truth…water ourselves by pouring over His love letters to us regularly…and plant revelation in a well nourished soil( our hearts) …our lives..our gardens.. will flourish.

We were created to share….our joys, our sorrows, our beliefs, and revelations with the world around us so as to encourage others to plant and tend to their own gardens.

Our life’s experiences will undoubtedly affect our gardens at times. Times of drought, times of rain, times of clouds, times of frost, and times of sun.

When I place my “bench” in the middles of my garden…my heart…my ” In the moments” with my God as we meet there, will plant… nourish…water… cover… every corner of my garden.

There is much hope on the ” bench”

Find your place on the bench…

In the garden of your heart…and watch it grow♥️

Miles From “Home”

Staring out the 5th floor of the hotel window into the darkness with the city lights brightening up the midnight sky like thousands of pieces of broken glass, my heart was heavy.. heavy and broken…like thousands of pieces of broken glass. My mind wandered to the last few days and how I had ended up in this place…in this moment…in this time… of my young 15 year old life.

A thousand or more miles from home, my mind could only seem to live in this moment having been on the run the last few days and nights.

I had been “running” for a lot longer than that in my heart, running since I’d been 13 or so. Nothing seemed to fill the void I was feeling…so I ran. Now standing by the window I reflected on where my running had taken me this time..farther from home than ever before.

Days before I had walked out the back doors of my hometown highschool with my boyfriend at the time. Both of us heading West to escape “here” to get to “where”..??

By now my parents had heard of my whereabouts and a plan to get me home with the help of the local authorities was underway. Hours later, sitting in that holding cell waiting for my ride home the following day, I felt like my life was spinning in every direction yet nowhere I wanted to be. I did not want to be rescued.

An hour or so into the flight of the 4 seater chartered plane my dad had arranged the next night, the cockpit lights along with the exterior lights suddenly disappeared. My dad who was sitting up front with the pilot fumbled for a flashlight and scrambled to aim it at the cockpit instruments. As this started to become a state of emergency, contact was lost with the tower and we became a dark metal box gliding through the black midnight sky…the plane did not know where it was going and how it was getting there…something like I felt with the way my young life was going.

And then…to add to the air of panic…the pilot realized the landing wheels were jammed and the fuel needle was bouncing dangerously low…it was enough to make us all want to quit in that crazy moment.

As I sat in the backseat of the plane with my mom hanging onto me and begging me to pray, a numbness of sorts captivated me and I didn’t want to pray. I talked to my God in those years..yet in that moment ..I had nothing.

Watching the sweat drip down the pilots face in the dimness only illuminated by the small flashlight in my dad’s hand…I thought this was it. As the skilled pilot guided the small plane along a lit highway we finally descended down my small-town local airport runway with the landing gear unjamming in the moments before the body of the plane bounced onto the pavement.

Incredibly and Miraculously…we survived…and I was home.

In the years to come , although I was physically home…I was still miles from “home” in my heart.

As my life’s journey unfolded in many an entry in my journals , my ” moments on the bench” with my Jesus became a place where I would find “home”. My days of running were becoming days of walking… and my days of walking were becoming days of standing …and my days of standing …well you know…sitting…on the bench.. where my “running away” started to become a “running to”.

He gently continued to remind me of the lies I had and still was believing in my life that kept me “running”. He reminded me how incredibly much He ..the Creator of the universe..loved me and who He had created me to be.

Many years later, finding myself working in the school system.. I walked down the same school hallway I had once run from …and walked along side those teenagers who were still “running”…and getting the privilege to share my story…my “in the moments” with my Jesus…

And giving hope in how they too can stop “running from” and start “running to” the One who gave me hope of healing my broken pieces.

…..and finally find HOME♥️

Hope in Life’s Construction Site

Walking through a construction site at my work, I see floors that are ripped up looking pretty tattered, holes, missing pieces. I see unfinished walls supported by temporary supports, and amongst it all I see detour signs directing any who wish to navigate.

Our lives can be an ongoing construction site of sorts. Life has a way of ripping, creating holes, errecting temporary supports and detours.

“ I don’t have time for you”…RIP..”Can’t you be like other kids??”…RIP….”You are ugly”…RIP…”Slap”…RIP…”Touch”…RIP….the list is endless.

The holes get created…one thought…, one action… one word at a time. “Pictures” of self condemnation, anger, sadness, doubt, pain, etc get hung in this hole and a “home” of sorts gets made with these reminders everywhere we look.

Then missing pieces created by this construction paint a picture so inaccurate as the whole picture can’t be seen.

Supports and walls that were meant to be a solid foundation for our lives…family…experiences….love, become blockades to the pain and disappointment coming out of these “rips”.

Detours resulting from all this construction lead us into places we were never meant to be. Addictions, toxic relationships, identity, condemnation…and on and on.

Growing up as a young child I have many wonderful childhood memories. Yet like many others in this life, there were “rips” that changed the whole construction site of my life.

I was so loved. Oh SO loved by many. Yet some “rips” sometimes seemed to drown out the good…the great…the wonderful… surrounding my life.

Hurting people hurting people. My ever climbing weight on my young body. Lies. All played into my ever growing self hate and self destruction in so many different ways.

As the years clicked by, my teenage years were riddled with choices that had ultimately been fueled by the “rips” in my life. I ran emotionally, I ran physically as far as I thought I could from the rips…that created holes…that created walls…that created detours. The years brought marriage, babies, joys, sorrows, doubts, illness, deaths, all surrounded by my ongoing construction.

Fast forward to 8 years ago when my ” meetings on the bench” with my God in the moment took a shift. My journals started telling of questions that He was asking me.

” What lies you are you believing in your life?”

I was ready….or more ready to ask myself that question now.

Thus began my journey out of the “hole” in the construction of my life.

Who was this God I had been introduced to so early in my life as far back as I could remember? I was now on a hunt. There was more…I instinctively knew it. More what I didn’t know. I was on a search.

My search led me to a book in my love of reading. You’ve already Got It by Andrew Womack. It talked about me having everything I’ll ever need in this life on the inside to have peace, joy, healing…and much more…the abundant life He promises to us if we but take it, and the journey that taking it looks like. The One who created the world in all His power, and everything in it …living on the inside. The answers of what my God ultimately thought of me and the desires of His heart for me. All of this starting with Him giving His only son for me and the whole world so we could spend eternity in His paradise created for us.

I picked up my Bible with a new hunger and started pouring over it with different eyes…

The words on the pages seemed to leap out into my heart and speak to me in a brand new way….so different than all the years I had read those same words.

I started to experience joy and peace like never before, walking through my revelations of my amazing and loving God and all the promised He had for me.

As the days, weeks and years went by, the “pictures” of self condemnation, anger, sadness, doubt and most importantly lies that were hanging in my “hole”, were sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly being replaced by my new revelations of my God and how he wanted to heal every part of my being to live the abundant life He so wanted me to have.

The “rips” were being healed…the “hole” was being filled with Truth…and the “detours” were becoming roads to the promises in His Word that I could stand on in every area of my life.

The promises for all who come to Him.

His loving arms are open…wide♥️

– John 3:16 –

Write On..

Pouring over the journals and diaries of my beloved grandma’s at the kitchen table with my grandpa a few weeks after she had left this earth, many years ago…I felt she was right there with me in the moment.

Some entries were short, some were long, but non the less painted a picture of her life experiences…a life I had had the joy of being part of for 28 wonderful years. I felt as if my whole being could step inside those pages, even just for a moment.

From sad days to joyful days to what the weather was that day, the Russia years with family and the hardships surrounding those years, and then back to what was on the menu that day…perhaps her home baked buns…all seemed to leap off the page and into my longing heart hoping to feel a piece of her again.

Some were plain “scribblers” as they were called back then, and some were small neatly patterned diaries ( some of which I had been so excited to gift on her birthdays in my younger years) with little locks on them as if to portray a protectiveness of sorts of the “gold” written on the pages on the inside.

My Grandma was not a “writer” by definition, yet she painted many a picture in those journals with her words that seemed to come alive in my heart. So a writer she was…in my heart.

I believe her passion of putting thoughts to paper was passed down to me in this most simplistic way.

I started journaling as far back as my elementary years writing anything and everything that was important in my young life. My journaling grew in depth as I grew older…my joys, my sorrows, babies, adventures, relationships and much more.

In these journals I met with my God as I thought I knew Him…elequent and not so elequent at times. My entries were by no means always “on the bench” as I talked about in my blog introduction, but rather me “pacing the gravel road” as my Jesus sat on the bench listening patiently to me trying to convince Him my plans/ways for my life were in that moment…better than His.

As I look back on those entries, some long ago, some not so long, I didn’t realize the dance I was doing bargaining with my God. Yet I know now that He still smiled at my heart in all my self absorbed “life planning” because He loves me as far as the East is from the West…deeper than the deepest ocean…and higher than the highest mountains as He tells me in His journals to me (the Living Word)

Having a relationship with me has always been on His mind…the creator of the vast universe. How utterly overwhelming.

When I choose to sit “on the bench” with Him in the moment…He encouraged me to write on…to myself…to others…to Him.

….and I imagine Him pouring through my journals anticipating that relationship with me…

Just as I did with my grandma’s journals♥️♥️

Saying Yes

Wiping the sweat running down his two day dead of summer stubble, grandpa continued on in the blistering heat harvesting the fields as he had for many a summer making a living for him and his growing family on the farm.

This day had started out seemingly like any other yet would end with a turn that would ultimately change the course of my grandpa’s life along with generations of his family to come.

As the day carried on, something was different than all the other days of his life that had led to this day. Grandpa could not put off any longer the gentle but persistent tugging on his heart to give his life..just as it was…imperfect.. human.. to the One whom he knew had created him and who had been evident in his father’s and mother’s lives even through the incredible hardships of thier mother land Russia so long ago…and yet not so long ago.

Grandpa had grown up knowing about his God yet now his heart felt a need to know Him.. personally. A young husband, father and dedicated farmer at this time in his life, grandpa had already lived out a life of daily decision making, but this one was to be his most important one…one of eternity.

Grandpa had been a good person as such, yet he knew instinctively that wasn’t all…so in the sulturing heat of the sun, grandpa knelt on the scratchy stubble of the worked up field he tended to with perfection always, and he made the most important decision of his life…in that moment, he asked his God( who had ultimately loved him so incredibly much first) to come into his life. This decision would ultimately take him from just knowing about God to knowing God… personally.

Two miles to the north in the family farmhouse at about that same moment as their incredible stories were compared later, grandma was frying up some supper no doubt in her well used cast iron pan. Perhaps fresh summer garden potatoes fried to a crispness that only she could master along with some fried home butchered farmer sausage as was often served with love for any who happened to grace the farm table at the time in those early years and in years to come.

She too had grown up knowing about her God. Yet today…in the same moment…as her husband two country miles down the road.. felt a persistent yet gentle tugging of her heart to say yes to the God she had heard about…now wanting to know Him.

In that moment, Grandma knelt by the warm stove as her supper simmered on the stove top, simply welcoming Him into her life, the One who had loved her first.

I was born many years later as a grandchild into this family who was human…but who’s parents..in the moment…made decisions for eternity that impacted generations to come.

It is written in the Word that the angels rejoice greatly and celebrate each soul that chooses Eternal life.

That sulturing summer day …two souls made a choice…

What a celebration the Heavens must have had♥️♥️

The Highway of Freedom

Coming upon a scene on a highway where two cars have ” met” each other unexpectedly, and undoubtedly at the most inconvenient time, it brings to my mind how in life we sometimes ” meet” others…perhaps strangers..perhaps not, at the most inconvenient times in our ” me focused” fast paced lives.

We fight to slow down life and circumstances but ultimately in our own strength seem to be very unsuccessful. Then, in that most unexpected time…we meet with that we need to address. It has become unavoidable…and must be addressed before we can move on.

Trying to move on before the right people perhaps and right measures have taken place, would in time only need more attention because the proper/right measures to deal with the situation have not happened.

And so it is with those we meet on the “highway of life”. Anger, guilt, sadness, unforgiveness and more may have been riding along with us in the trunk…in our hearts…oblivious of hurts buried so deep until in a moment we “meet” and cannot escape the moment in which we finally need to make a choice to follow the proper measures that will ultimately free us to move forward on this highway of life.

The scene of an accident or “meeting” can bring many emotions to any observer and to those involved. What we see is keeping us afraid with “what ifs, why’s, and who’s”.

So too in life. If we stay committed to being a bystander in relationships, strangers or not, with those we meet…we take the chance of never knowing the answers and dealing with the situations until the right measures/solutions are taken to move forward from the untimely meeting of a “wreck” we so ache to avoid.

Our God longs to be the “neccesary measures” we need to untangle these meetings that have turned to wrecks in our lives. He longs to be more than a bystander looking on.

When we allow His love to flow through us in the moment to dump the baggage in the trunk of our heart by untangling the “wreck” of our meeting with those we encounter in this life…we are free to move forward on our journey….

On the highway of freedom.

Beauty for Ashes

(Excerpts from my upcoming book)

” Excited for another baby to hold, heading to my Dr’s appointment should have been a joy but something was very wrong. The ultrasound showed our little one’s heartbeat was not working as it should that day…we were losing our little one.

Over the next couple of weeks my heart was breaking over the news knowing my body was taking its course and it was looking inevitable. The night I realized it was truly happening, I drove myself to the ER with my little family still fast asleep in their warm beds. The time had come..there was no turning back. I was having to say goodbye when I was just beginning to say hello to this precious new life.

My heart was in two as I went through the motions of having a baby yet in the end..no baby. The room was eerily quiet as I lay in my bed in the dark with only the rythmic steady sounds of the hospital equipment doing what it needed to do to help the heartbreaking process. I felt so incredibly alone and sad. In the moment… I breathed a prayer to my God for comfort and instinctively reached out my hand. As I did, I knew..that I knew..that I knew…someone was holding it. Yet I saw no one. My Jesus had come to comfort me as He had done so many times in my life before. I was 21 now….and I knew I could. Could what I didn’t know. I just knew I could.

In the days, weeks and years that followed, I still yearned for the child that had left us far too soon. But I could go on for my little growing family. He had given me peace that passes understanding as He promises any that ask. He had been right there…right beside me sharing my sadness..and I could go on.

In the years to follow we were blessed with a complete family of four beautiful daughters! My God had not only restored what had been stolen from me, He had turned my sorrow into joy and..

Gave me beauty for ashes.♥️.” (Isaiah 61:3)