My husband and I have spent over a year becoming lazy, good-for-nothing couch potatoes. But, this didn’t happen just because we’re lazy and a couple of good-for-nothings …
Continue reading “Two Travelers and a Rodent”Tag: Prayer
Christmas Without Jesus
After weeks of shopping, decorating, cleaning and cooking, Christmas 2023 is over. It came and went in what felt like five minutes. All that remains are a few leftovers still hanging out in the fridge, one stocking someone flung under the tree, the satisfaction of holiday success and the dreaded “un-decorating” of the house.
But, it was a great Christmas with family and friends. And once I settled my anxiety over the necessities of hosting, there was actual enjoyment.
This year, during the last few days before Christmas, I became aware our son had begun playing tricks with my nativity … specifically with the baby Jesus … the baby Jesus I hadn’t planned on putting out this year.
Let me explain.
Each Christmas our fireplace mantle displays a painting of the nativity and is covered in garland with angels, bells and shimmering trees. My decorations include a large nativity with animals, shepards and wise men on the entryway table. But this year, instead of the nativity on the table, I put out snowmen, candles, snowy scenes with little Christmas trees and glittery, festive baubles everywhere. My decorations looked lovely and Christmassy.
Then a friend commented about going to a Christmas parade and not seeing a single float that depicted the reason for the season, not even the church floats included a nativity. It was all holiday, holiday holiday, but nothing “Christ”-mas.
I stopped in my tracks, looked around at my own decorations, and despite the nativity painting on my mantle, I knew I must make my Christmas décor highlight the true meaning of Christmas, so out came Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus. Phew! Christmas crisis averted.
But then the games began …
I first noticed my nativity looked jostled. Mary or Joseph would be turned, looking across the room, not at the baby. Baby Jesus would be out of place. I was always readjusting them. Then one morning, it happened, baby Jesus was gone! There was Mary and Joseph gazing lovingly down at absolutely nothing.
My panic and search resulted in finding baby Jesus on top of the refrigerator. Knowing my son, I now understood the mystery.
That was only the beginning of this game. It became a daily hunt for baby Jesus. I found him with the snowmen. On the mantle. Under the tree. Even my husband became a “mover”. My guys were having way too much fun messing with me.
But I always found baby Jesus. He was never far away and I realized there was something to learn in our little family game … if you seek Him, you will find Him.
Christmas has become a season of apprehension. We fret over gifts, food, and decorating. Rushing to this event or that concert. These are all wonderful things but, when do we find time to fit Jesus into our holiday calendar?
Our little family game may seem silly, but it emphasized the importance of putting Jesus into every moment of the season. And even if we lose sight of him, he’s never far away. We will always find him.
Without Jesus, Christmas is just another holiday. Just another day off work or school. Without Jesus, Christmas has no real joy, no real reason for the season.
Christmas without Jesus? No thank you! I will seek Him and I will find Him.
Birds In A Windmill
I recently read a story from a man who grew up on a farm with a working windmill. Occasionally, they would turn the windmill’s power off for an extended period of time and birds would build nests in the ironwork.
As a young boy, his father sent him out early one spring to check the windmill before returning its power. He found an elaborate nest made completely from wire that a bird had apparently scrounged for over a few summers. But she built her nest in a hazardous location and it had to be removed.
Birds in a windmill … that got me thinking.
Continue reading “Birds In A Windmill”Windmill in the Tempest
Abigail Mason was haunted for years by the mystery of why the windmill survived the storm … until she learned that God provided a Windmill in the Tempest.
1935, The Great Plains, Nebraska
Rotating darkness loomed above them, throwing jagged streaks of light to the ground. Wind swirled and rain began to strike her cheeks as they raced to the barn.
“Don’t stop, Abigail.” Her father’s voice rang above the raging storm. “Hailstones are a comin’. Move, girl! Move!” Fred Mason slid the barn doors open, pushed his wife through and grabbed Abby’s arm. “Let’s go. Get down the ladder.”
She watched her father struggle to slide the massive doors closed. He turned to see her standing behind him. “Get down that ladder now, Abigail.”
“What about Emma, Daddy?”
“Her pa’ll get her to where it’s safe. There’s no time … ladder now!” He snapped his fingers and pointed down.
The pale face of Abby’s mother beckoned, and her thin arms reached for her daughter. Moments later their little family huddled in the dark, dreary underground room. Wrapped in her mother’s arms, Abby heard the near silent whispers.
Deep, pleading prayers. Please, dear Lord, calm the storm. Protect us. Mercy, Jesus, mercy.
Abigail Mason, now ten years old, remembered two previous times her family ran from an oncoming twister. Thrust into this room again, the roaring manifestation of the approaching tornado engulfed her. Helen Mason’s prayers morphed into screams above the seismic waves underneath them as the merciless twister advanced.
Abby heard her own screams, too. She couldn’t stop them. Fear forced them from deep within her.
Fred Mason’s arms wrapped around Abby and her mother. “Dear, God. Dear, God,” were the only words he seemed to find. Abby squeezed her eyes tight shut and gripped her mother’s blouse.
Then, the calming dissipation. The roar quietened. Wind ceased. An eerie silence surrounded them. Except for … what? A creaking? An ominous squeaking and scraping.
“What is that Daddy?”
“It’s the windmill, Abigail. The windmill.”
1965, The Blue Ridge Mountains, North Carolina
Abby Mason awoke screaming, plagued by the same dream for thirty years. Running from the tornado, the roar, the earth shaking … then nothing. The dream held onto its secrets, refusing to unmask more memories of the aftermath. It would relinquish only the sound of the squeaking windmill.
The tornado took everything but the windmill. Even the barn above them was left in splinters. She knew, not because she remembered, but because her daddy had told her again and again about that day.
The squeaking windmill snatched her from sleep night after night. But why? Why wouldn’t the haunted sound of that windmill leave her alone?
Remember Abby. You’ve got to remember.
What was she doing before her daddy rushed toward her and pushed her into the barn? With eyes closed, Abby pressed fingers against her temples and tried to envision those moments in her mind. She was at the windmill. She wasn’t supposed to play around the windmill, but she and Emma loved to play there—
Emma! Emma had been playing at the windmill with her. What happened to Emma?
Abby grabbed her phone off the nightstand and dialed her mother’s number. Her daddy passed away two years ago, but maybe her mother would remember.
Or not. Helen Mason had been left a traumatic mess following the storm. Twenty people died that day. Had Emma been one of them?
“Momma?” Abby said after her mother’s panicked greeting at a call that hour of the morning. “What happened to Emma? Did the tornado take her? Was she one of the dead?”
“Let’s not talk about that day. There was so much hurt and loss. Are you still having the dreams?”
“Momma, I remembered I was playing with Emma at the windmill before daddy forced me to the barn. What happened to her? You have to tell me.”
“Oh, baby girl.” Abby’s mother sighed. “Your daddy saw the two of you playing. He yelled to Emma’s pa and they both started runnin’. Your daddy grabbed you and he thought Emma’s pa was behind him. After the storm … goodness the destruction … we found little Emma holdin’ on to the windmill tower. Her parents didn’t make it, Abigail.”
“Emma was alive?”
“Yes, praise God. It was a miracle she survived. Emma went to live with her aunt and uncle. I couldn’t stay there, Abby, so we moved away.”
“The tornado took everything except the windmill … and Emma.”
1966, Key West, Florida
Laughter rose from a corner table in a cafe on the historic seaport. The dreams were gone now, and though it took almost a year, Abby found Emma.
“Oh Emma, it’s wonderful to see you and hear all about your adventures.”
Emma wiped a tear that slid down her cheek. “My life’s been a roller coaster of story after story. But God has taken me many places, opened doors to share his goodness, and he’s blessed me. That old windmill may have haunted you, Abby, but like a ram in the thicket, God kept that windmill standing to deliver me from the storm.”
Abby took Emma’s hand. “Yes, Emma. God provided a windmill in the tempest.”
“Then Abraham looked up and saw a ram caught by its horns in the thicket.” ~ Genesis 22:13
“Don’t be afraid, for I am with you. Don’t be discouraged, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will hold you up with my victorious right hand.” ~ Isaiah 41:10
I’ll Take What’s Behind Door Number Two, Monty!
Doors shouldn’t be hard to open.
We push or pull them and walk through, right? The mechanics of operating a door is easy.
It’s what’s on the other side that can get tricky.
Continue reading “I’ll Take What’s Behind Door Number Two, Monty!”The Sinking Sand Mystery
Stalking behind the hope of each New Year can be haunted past hurts, griefs and disappointments from the year behind us. Continue reading “The Sinking Sand Mystery”
Wait! Did Life Just Bite You?
Sometimes life falls apart. Completely. Falls. Apart.
Real life can come hard and fast. It becomes difficult to keep up with change, stress and loss—the shock as things pile one on top of the other.
Then comes that one thing that makes life stop. Literally stop. It’s earth shattering, heartbreaking. All the things that were important become nothing. Everything becomes nothing.
Raging fire surrounds. We can’t move forward or backward. We’re just plain stuck. What do we do when we’re stranded?
Go back to the basics.
1. Get into God’s Word
It may have been awhile, but dust it off, crack it open and get into that old Bible that’s been up on the shelf.
My pastor calls God’s word “the only change agent on the planet”. Within its pages, God has given us the words we need for healing, for strength, for empowerment. He gives us direction and hope in every situation.
“This is my comfort in my affliction, for Your word has given me life.”
~Psalms 119: 50
“Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.”
~Psalm 119: 105
2. Let The Music Play
“Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent.” ~Victor Hugo
Turn off that television! Yes, I know it helps shut down the mind and keeps depressing thoughts at bay. But instead of mindless drivel, let’s fill our hearts and minds with music—worship music.
Let the Holy Spirit invade with His presence. Worship and God will take us to that place where we can find Him. Where God will touch us and our situation. God will energize us and our thoughts. As His Holy Spirit covers us, here is where we find hope. Here is where our faith will grow. In this place chains are broken.
“And so it was, whenever the spirit from God was upon Saul, that David would take a harp and play it with his hand. Then Saul would become refreshed and well, and the distressing spirit would depart from him.”
~1 Samuel 16: 23
3. Find a Community
Reach out. We must find our people and let them help! God has embedded these people into our lives for a reason. They will hold us up when we can’t hold ourselves.
I’m a loner, so this one was a challenge for me. But I did it, and you know what? My people were there, and they WANTED to help me. To love on me and pray for me and with me.
Our people. FIND OUR PEOPLE!
“Share each other’s burdens, and in this way obey the law of Christ.”
~ Galatians 6: 2
4. Pray
I put this last on the list for sheer emphasis. These gut retching, heartbreaking, life-altering things will slap us silly and knock us face down on the floor. These situations drive us to our knees. Perhaps that’s what they’re meant to do.
Like it or not, these are the situations we have no control over. We can’t pick them up like a puppy chewing on the furniture and say, “No! Bad boy!” then give them something else to play with. We can’t change things that easy, this isn’t kid stuff.
Our only remedy is prayer. The old saying is still true to this day, prayer changes things.
When we fall to our knees in prayer over a situation, we enter the arena of battle. We are now on the front line. What we cannot do in the physical, God can and will do in the spiritual. As followers of Christ, we know this is where every battle is won.
We must become prayer warriors. It will be on this battlefield that strongholds are broken and walls fall. So get down into that trench solider and PRAY!
“For the weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty through God to the pulling down of strongholds.”
~2 Corinthians 10: 4
Life can break us. Those we love the most can wound us. Get back to the basics. God is there, and He is our way out.
Cozy Intrigue ~ Janet Campbell 