Questioning the Plot

“Really? No such thing as a dumb question?”

If I’m only a few pages into a novel and already questioning the how and why of the plot, kudos to the author. I settle in, ready to untangle a good story. A good story invites me to participate. If I have no questions because everything is being explained in sequential order and I don’t need to do any of the “work” in solving the mystery, kudos to the book seller for being able to unload a useless pile of words, but “No, I won’t be buying another of your books.” And I’ll write a review to warn other readers.

Personal preference and taste aside, there’s a time in every story to reveal a detail and cause a plot to twist, and there is a chapter or sentence where the tiniest of details needs to blend into the plot without slowing the author’s pace. Readers may, or may not, be able to recall the exact page or paragraph number, but they’ll find satisfaction in remembering that detail when the plot is finally complete. As a writer, I’m trying to remember that elementary key to giving a reader information.

Day 2 of my plan to read the Bible in chronological order (not following a table of contents) and I already have questions. Don’t laugh. Some of you had questions yesterday!

My question has to do with why the Lord didn’t regard Cain’s offering, but Abel’s offering seems to be well regarded and fine. (Gen 4:1-5). So far in the story, there’s been no mention of what makes an acceptable offering. There’s hardly been any explaining at all. Was this Cain’s first lesson on giving back to God? About 75% of the Bible reads like a story, and over the years, I’ve read the book through to the end a few times, so I kinda know the answer. Even though it’s not exactly spelled out in one or two paragraphs, it’s simple. Highly-educated scholars have stumbled through five syllable words trying to convince me they have all the answers, yet I’ve heard fifth-graders explain it with confidence and clarity. That leads me to believe that readers must get the big picture and most of the middle, but we also love to have a good discussion about an author’s intent and reasoning. I’m so impressed by the author of the Bible. He knows his audience.

Lots of people have read the Bible looking for a flaw or a gap in the plot, but this is no ordinary book or story. All the necessary how and why answers are in there, but sometimes I need a scholar to help me locate them, and sometimes I can ask a fifth-grader. Some quit reading far too soon. Perhaps they find participation in the mystery too much work. Perhaps the story of Jesus disrupts the happy ending they’ve pinned their heart and soul to. For many, the Bible is simply a fairytale, well written for the gullible and needy. They’ve judged a book by one or two chapters or by its plain, leather-like cover (something they tell the rest of us not to do).

The story of Adam and Eve’s kids is just the beginning of this page-turning, spellbinding mystery. I’ll be watching for the little details, not wanting to miss anything important to the plot. By the way, when God constructs it, a plot is really a plan that will definitely meet a grand conclusion.

Some of you are on this 365 day journey with me. Don’t be shy about asking how I’m doing or hesitate to hold me accountable to the reading. And if you’ve got a question, or can point me in the right direction for answering one of mine, I’ll listen.

In case you’d like to read along with me, there are many Bible reading plans available. Here is the link to the one I’m using:

https://mtbiblestudies.com/index.htm

No More Ugly Sweater

Dec2

By Kathy Stanford

For me, Christmas is a truly sacred time of the year. Not because of the beloved traditions or the giving of gifts or even the special family time, but because of who we celebrate. Emmanuel – God with us.

One year, as I shopped and prepared for a Christmas Celebration, it seemed that everywhere I went, I saw Ugly Sweater products. I found myself getting really annoyed. As I stood in one store, filled with righteous indignation over yet another way the world had taken this precious and beautiful piece of God’s love and demeaned it to crass commercialism, I sensed that gentle presence that can only be the Holy Spirit.

And then my heart heard this question, “Why are you so bothered by this?” Of course I answered back something like – “How can you ask that? Don’t you see what they’re doing to Christmas?” Then He reminded me that making the ugly beautiful is what He does.

Matthew chapter 1 is one of the places where the linage of Jesus is recorded. Not many of us love reading long lists of who was whose father. So you might be unaware that among that long list of males there are five women listed. They are Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, Bathsheba and Mary. Now lets imagine life at birth as a beautiful, perfect sweater. By the time these women are written into the lineage of Jesus, their sweaters are not so pristine. They are a deceiver, a prostitute, a widow from an enemy land, an adulteress and a young, unmarried, pregnant girl.

The first mentioned is Tamar. Her story is told in Gen. 38. She was married to Judah’s son Er, but he was wicked and God took his life. Then she was married to Er’s brother Onan, because it was their custom to provide an heir for a brother who died childless. But Onan acted wickedly and God took his life too. Then Judah made a promise he had no intention of keeping. (v. 11) He sent Tamar back to her family and told her to wait for the youngest son, Shelah, to come of age so that she could marry him. Years went by and Tamar knew that Shelah was grown, but Judah had done nothing toward fulfilling his promise. We need to remember that as a woman, she had no rights of ownership and was solely dependent on her male relatives, such as a husband or sons, to provide for her. So she took matters into her own hands. Pretending to be a shrine prostitute, she deceived Judah into sleeping with her and became pregnant with twins. One of those twins, Perez, is listed in the genealogy of Jesus.

The second name is Rahab. We read about her in Joshua chapter 2. You may remember the story of Jericho and the walls falling. Part of that story is Rahab, the prostitute who helped the two spies escape by hiding them and then letting them down the outside of the wall. Before they left, she struck a deal with them to save her entire family when they captured Jericho. (v.12-13) Sometime after Jericho fell, Rahab married Salmon. Their son was Boaz.

The third woman was Ruth, a woman with her own book in the Old Testament. She was from Moab, a land that was often at war with Israel. She was a woman of good character who, upon being widowed, chose to travel to an enemy land so that she could care for her mother in law. There she married Boaz and they were the great-grandparents of David.

The fourth woman was Bathsheba. The 11^th and 12^th chapters of 2^nd Samuel tell the story of her infidelity with King David. A lot has been said about her not being able to say no to the king, but there is no evidence that he forced himself on her. Because of their adultery, she became pregnant and David had her husband murdered. Though that 1^st baby died, she later bore Solomon, the first direct descendant in the kingly line of David.

And that brings us to Mary. Her story is found mostly in the first two chapters of Luke. We don’t know a lot about her life circumstances, but we can see evidence of her faith and godly character in the way she submitted to God’s will. And we see her faith and loyalty as she followed Jesus to the cross. We also know that she was misunderstood and thought wrongly of by Joseph.

Perhaps the brief story of one of these women resonated with you. After a few years of living, your life’s sweater has some spots on it. It may even be a little torn or slightly frayed. You may think it’s beyond hope, good for nothing but the trash bin or the rag bag.

Maybe, like Tamar, you’ve suffered betrayal by those you loved or trusted. A betrayal so deep and painful you felt utterly alone. Maybe you felt you had to do something to get justice for yourself. Even if it meant doing something you knew wasn’t right.

Or it could be that, like Rahab, you’ve made some wrong choices because you couldn’t see better ones. Maybe you have some major regrets that the enemy keeps throwing in your face, telling you that you’re an unlovable loser.

Perhaps you feel like Ruth. You’re just trying to live your life and do what’s right. But your life is filled with loss and disappointments, and dreams get crushed.

And then there’s Bathsheba. Maybe you’ve been tempted by greener grass. Maybe you’ve coveted that bigger house, those “easier” children, or that more perfect husband

Or maybe, like Mary, you love God and want only to please Him. But you keep finding yourself misunderstood, even thought to be in the wrong.

But I want to remind you … right here … right now … we have hope – because of Jesus. Because of His love and sacrifice, the ugly sweaters of our life can be made new. His gentle hands will remove those splotches that life has thrown on us. Weather they come from our bad choices or circumstances beyond our control, His love can make our ugly sweater like new again.

We all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God. None are righteous. None. In our ugly sinful state God can’t fellowship with us. But because of Jesus we can be made right – our ugly sinfulness washed clean. And we can have deep, intimate fellowship with I AM, the One, the God of creation!

“Father, thank you for the love and sacrifice that sent us Jesus. Thank you for the gift of taking our ugly life sweaters and making them beautiful again. Thank you for including imperfect women like me in your story. We love and praise you, in Jesus name. Amen“

If you don’t have a personal relationship with Jesus, or are unsure, click on the tab “Do you know Jesus” at the top of the page.

Dead Wood in the Living Room

Aug10

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by Rita Klundt

I’m stuck in a relationship. And it’s not healthy. It’s like there is this “thing” in my living room just taking up space, and keeping me from moving on. I’m living well, but it’s so bad between us that if there’s music in the room when the two of us are together, all I hear are the groans and squawks of something that annoys me. It’s holding me back.

In the morning when I wake, I’m determined to give the relationship some attention. After all, part of the problem is me. Always has been. Yet, if I did absolutely everything right, it’s undeniable, we still aren’t meant for great things.

I promise at least fifteen minutes of total devotion to what seems to be an inanimate object. But that seldom happens. Something or someone else is always more important. There’s a dishwasher to load, laundry, shopping to do and junk mail to shred.

Lunchtime comes, and I’d rather be entertained by the mid-day news or eat in silence.

Afternoons, my most productive hours, are for accomplishing goals and working with my keyboard to secure my future as a writer. I can’t be chasing after long-gone dreams. I need to lean into my strengths, so I close myself off in an office. When it’s time to stretch and take a break, I glance into the living room and see how neglect is leaving me stuck and remorseful, but I’m not motivated. I’d rather sit on my front porch alone, and watch birds.

Most of my workdays are long because stepping away from my desk in the middle of a paragraph is hard for me. I know much of it will be edited away the next day, but I put words on a page, enjoy them for a while, and then delete.

Maybe that’s what needs to happen to this relationship. The beginning was a thrill. I ran with it. And now it’s time to delete. Fatigue overtakes my evenings, and the determination I had in the morning is gone. It’s too late for caffeine. Maybe tomorrow.

I considered a trip to Virginia to reconnect with the “one that got away.” That was no fling. We lasted over twenty years, and parted as friends. I had no illusions then of anything magical. Both of us were flawed, but we were comfortable and had a chemistry. We were forgiving. Our fights never lasted long. And when I wanted to be angry, depressed or wallow in any negative emotion, I could sit and pour it all out without judgement or reprimand. I deserve a relationship like that.

We said goodbye more than fifteen years ago, yet if I close my eyes, I can still hear the words and the melody of our last song. Then I remember why it ended. I was the one to move on. I was the one to let go. No tears, and the regret was momentary.

We’ve both aged, and time has its way of distorting the past. I know I’d be disappointed with what I’d see today. I ponder a while, enjoying the vision and essence of what used to be. If ever I am in Virginia…

Like a lot of women, I watch as the good life drifts away, and long for something new. I’d rather leave the old behind, move across town and live in a tiny house, than clean up my sprawling mansion; if that’s what it takes to get unstuck. I hint of my dissatisfaction to friends, hoping they will know someone who knows someone. I’ve shopped around, in churches and bars, looking for something different. I think I’ve found it, but I count the cost, and it doesn’t seem worth it. I scroll down my phone and see opportunity. Hey! There’s one in Virginia!

Am I weak and afraid, or wise and playing it safe? I stay stuck.

Weeks turn into months, and months have turned into years. I can’t remember when we turned from honeymooning toward blasé. I don’t know what to do. I tell myself the curb is an option. “Always an option.” I talk with friends and they agree.

“Have you thought about placing an ad?”

We laugh about lighting and angles for the photograph. There is no best side to display! “Be sure to include the statement ‘as is’ and mention that you’ll cover the cost of moving,” a friend suggests. It sounds so tempting. We enjoy a good laugh.

“But what happens at that first in person meeting? I can’t do that to an innocent stranger.”

So I do nothing.

I found a letter the other day, written and dated a few months after we’d been together. The words made me cry. You see, I’m not the only one that feels “stuck” in this relationship. The feeling has been mutual.

If you haven’t figured out by now, this story is not about the relationship between me and my husband. We’re happy and intent on sticking together. This is about the baby grand piano that takes up space in my living room. When one of my sisters (the talented pianist of the family) needed to make room for a new piano, my husband and I agreed to move her old and somewhat abused baby grand out of her way. It traveled by trailer all the way from Louisville, Kentucky to our home in Pekin, Illinois. Before that, it had been in a fine and fancy home, but hadn’t been played in years. My sister Rhonda, no doubt, had been the love of its life.

And then there was me. I play, but for my ears only. And I don’t practice like I should. The groans and squawks that annoy me when I play are mostly me, and only partly because my sister’s old piano is damaged and can’t be brought into tune. It’s sad.

I used to have a piano, one that I loved, and it really is in Virginia. I wish I had it back sometimes, but I’m afraid it’s not the piano it used to be. My dilemma: How do I separate from this huge but “baby” grand? If it goes to the curb, it would have to be in pieces. I can’t do that. And, do I invest in a new piano when I haven’t practiced or appreciated the old one?

Isn’t that a common dilemma, with things and with people?

I hate to leave you with such a sad thought, although I believe a little pondering is good for the soul and for our mental health. We move our affection too quickly, don’t you think?

In 2013, a few months after Rhonda’s old piano became mine and after not playing in years, I had a particularly awful practice session. I wrote the following poem as if a piano could feel, think and talk. It’s written from the perspective of that old baby grand. This would be the “letter” I found the other day:

January 22, 2013

Lament of the Baby Grand

Dear Rhonda, I’m in quite a slump.

Out your door. Yes, I felt that huge bump.

I was stolen away by a gal who can’t play.

Send a plane or a train. I will jump!

She has polished my wood and my metal.

The man, he attached my three pedals.

She’s like rust on my strings. Help me Lord when she sings.

I am suffering more than I’m able.

Yes, I know that my ivory is old.

But to give me away? That was cold.

I’ve a lot yet to give, so please let me live.

I have value, or so I’ve been told.

Could you not find a church or a school?

Is there some kind of unwritten rule?

She’s your sister, I know. Why did I have to go?

Fam’ly first. What am I? That was cruel.

The tuner is coming this week.

I do hope he’ll fix my small squeak.

I’ll sound fine and dandy. I’m still sweet eye candy.

I hope he’s not some sort of creep.

She tells me that you have another,

Not my daddy, full grand. Not my brother.

I hear she’s so sweet, quite cute and petite.

Have her keyboard! Enjoy one another!

As for me in my terrible state,

I suppose I’ve no choice but to wait,

For a visit from you. An old song will do.

Make it soon – before it’s too late.

Words by Packard Baby Grand

Penned by Rita Klundt

Music by (Not Gonna Happen)

Rhonda visits from time to time. I recall that first reunion between her and her piano. My sister’s eyes went straight to her ex-partner and friend. I think I heard the piano calling her to come sit and play a while. She did, and everyone in the house was drawn into my living room. The piano needed tuning, but it didn’t matter. We sang along.

Piano for sale. Any offer to remove will be accepted. I’ve got my eyes on a sleek new upright.

Favorite Summer Read: A Book Report

Jul11

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What are you reading this summer?

by Rita Klundt

It’s been a long, long time since I was required to do a book report, so I may have forgotten some of the rules. Teachers often had unique requests, but they always instructed, “Put your name at the top of the page.” I remembered!

I started this book on Memorial Day and expected it to last through the full three months of summer. I finished it in half that time. It was that good. The author used the entire first chapter as an introduction. I suppose he might have thought readers would skip over it if he called it what is was. I probably would have. I went back and skimmed the first chapter after reading the last, and now it’s clear how his introduction was so important he didn’t want us to miss it.

Chapter 2 is where the action really begins. A good sized crowd is gathered for a holiday, a Memorial Day of sorts. A huge wind storm dropped out of the sky, kind of freakish-like, and everybody got excited. They all started talking at once. For sure, it was the strangest storm they had ever experienced. Not only could they hear each other through the noise, they knew what each other was saying. It was such a funny site. People who were close enough to see, without being in the storm, laughed and thought they were stirring up all the dust because they were drunk.

Then a man named Pete (a big part, but not really the main character of the book) mesmerized the crowd with his explanation of what had been happening. He warned them that they’d been getting a lot of things wrong. They’d been remembering the past and counting on the day when life as they knew it would be better. It was a hard life for them. Their country, and even the world, was being ruled by self-serving and evil men.

Pete reminded them of what they should have already known, and told them what needed to be done if they were to survive. He was surprised by his own words. The storm had really shaken him. That Pete would get up and confront a big crowd was not a shock. He was a rowdy and forceful man’s man. But that he could deliver such a powerful, yet eloquent speech had everyone wondering.

In Chapters 3 and 4, Pete runs around town getting mouthy. He practically causes a riot. Along with his friend, John, he’s got a peaceful campaign for change going on. Some politicians and other important people get all upset. The whole stage is set for a huge conflict between these rival gangs: Two uneducated rebel rousers, with their gang, and a powerful group of men, determined to maintain their status quo, with their gang.

You get the idea that it’s mostly Pete, but his friend John is a co-conspirator and the two of them get arrested. Then they get released. A faulty arrest…and no proof. You’d think the leader of the rival gang would leave them alone, but no. If ever there was a story that pits the hard-working, good and common citizen, against the system, this is it.

I hope it doesn’t ruin the read for you if I tell you that the guy who leads the gang against Pete and John kills one of their best friends. The murder goes unpunished because it was a mob type killing, and they couldn’t arrest and convict half the town, or there wouldn’t have been a town.

This is a book report, so I’m not supposed to give away the plot twists, but I think you’ll still enjoy the read if I tell you that the leader of the gang who killed Pete and John’s friend is confronted and overtaken by the hero. I won’t spoil the surprise by telling you how. But the guy does a complete turnaround. I actually started to like his character after that scene. That chapter alone is worth reading the whole book.

The rest of the chapters take you from one horribly unfair circumstance to another. The writer is a natural born storyteller with a supernatural flair. He has you reeling in anguish over the hero, who never actually appears in person throughout the entire book. Same way with the villain. I’ve never read a story like it! He knows how to insert one of those warm, fuzzy, mysterious moments at just the right time. Let’s you catch your breath, and then better than a roller coaster, someone is breaking out of jail and another guy is about to commit suicide.

There aren’t a lot of female characters in the book, but one or two of them stands out. A woman named Pricilla dropped dead—no reason, other than she told a lie. I guess her heart just stopped. Pinocchio got off easy. (Ha Ha).

I’m telling you, this book was written by a pro. As a writer myself, I think it ought to be used as a textbook for journalists. It’s got everything it takes to be a best selling novel. I may have to read it again next summer, just to glean more writing tips.

Chapter 28, the final chapter, leaves readers at an amazing cliffhanger. It looks like everyone is safe, but there are rumblings that the war between the gangs is not over. Did I mention this book is part of a series? Sixty-six books in all. I think I forgot to say the title, and any teacher would take off points for that. Have you read The Acts of the Apostles lately?

We Are Not Alone

Jun4

By Kathy Stanford

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. Isaiah 43:2 NIV

In times like this, we discover the reality and depth (or not) of our faith. Recent months have taken the illusion of “control” over our life and exposed it for the wishful thinking it is. In it’s place, we are left with the knowledge that nothing in this finite world can really be counted on. Fortunately, we have access to an infinite God. One whose love and power are not confined to this realm. Psalm 56:3-4 NIV states,

“When I am afraid, I put my trust in you. In God, whose word I praise— in God I trust and am not afraid. What can mere mortals do to me?“

David is credited with writing this Psalm, regarding a time he was seized by the Philistines, in Gath. He had reason to be in great fear – for his life. But he held firmly to his faith, trusting in a God whose faithfulness surpassed the plans of mere mortals.

The promise in the verse at the top of this post is one I held on to years ago, during a time of personal trial. It gives me hope and comfort now, as it did then. It’s not a promise of no difficulty. It is a promise to keep me from being overcome, as I pass through the difficulty. I’ve a particular liking for the way it is worded in the New Living Translation.

“When you go through deep waters, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown. When you walk through the fire of oppression, you will not be burned up; the flames will not consume you.” Isaiah 43:2 NLT

I wish with all my heart that I could share some deeply inspiring comment that would make all we are going through, as a nation, seem okay. But I don’t have any special insight or wisdom. I only know that God is still sovereign and He still hears my prayers. Because my faith is being strengthened, even as it is being tested, I KNOW, without doubt, that I am not alone in the midst of this fear and confusion that has been our experience, so far this year.

My friend, I hope you are trusting in this faithful God, and are experiencing the comfort and peace that only He can give. If you don’t know Him, and would like to know more, click on the “Do You Know Jesus?” tab at the top of this page. If you already know Him, keep trusting and turning to Him in prayer.

Dear Jesus, Prince of Peace, please grant us your peace in our hearts, even as we cry out for peace in our nation. Heavenly Father, thank you for being a God of love and faithfulness. Help us to keep turning to you when we feel afraid. Thank you for the promises made in your word, that you will never leave us to deal with the hard things in life, alone – but will always be with us. We love you and praise you, as our Savior and Lord.

Short Story Swap Contest Winner:

May15

Today is the day some of us have been waiting for, and I have good news for a young lady from Valencia, California. Your story has been selected as the overall winner of the Short Story Swap Kids and Youth Contest.

Congratulations to Lucy Stimac!

Enjoy her lovely story, just as it was submitted. Judges commented that it is well-written, creative and entertaining. Good job, Lucy.

The Girl Who was Friends With the Forest

Long ago, there lived a family in a small house in the woods, just outside a grand kingdom. The family consisted of six children, Birch, Fleur, Sky, Ridge, Autumn, and Willow. All but one had dark hair and eyes, while the other, Fleur, had long, golden locks, bright green eyes, and a heart-shaped birthmark sitting on the inside of her wrist.

Birch, Sky, Ridge, Autumn, Willow, their mother and father all loved adventure, and would leave every day to visit a new part of the wood, or the kingdom. This left Fleur to run the house. She hadn’t ever asked to join her family’s journeys, nor did they ever invite her to join them. Never before had a hand been laid on the girl, nor a harsh word ever spoken about her, and yet she felt as though her mother and father didn’t love her as much as the others. But, instead of focusing on the imperfect parts of her life, Fleur made the best of where she was at, spending her free time in the woods with her only friends, the forest animals. She helped the squirrels collect for winter, helped the bees by growing bright, colorful flowers, and helped the bluebirds build nests, who, in return, helped Fleur in any way they could.

When the rest of her family left for another adventure, Fleur always asked two of the bluebirds to accompany them, to make sure they stayed safe. She taught the birds two songs, one to indicate that her family was safe, and the other to say that her family was in danger.

The song that showed that the family was safe was vibrant, light, melodic, and joyful, while the ‘danger’ song was quick, shrill, and full of haunting ideas.

Everyday, one of the birds came to Fleur once every three hours whistling a tune. The song the birds sang had never once been for danger, so Fleur began to be at ease. Even though she was less worried, she continued to send bluebirds after her siblings and parents, just to be sure that trouble didn’t befall them on their explorations.

On her fifteenth birthday, Fleur went out to collect apples to bake a pie for after supper. She had just gone to pick up an especially red one, when a shrill, dark song pierced through the air. Recognizing the tune, the girl hurriedly stood and followed the haunting melody to find one of the birds hovering in the air, waiting for her. As soon as the bluebird saw Fleur, it turned and flew back towards where it had come from. As she ran after it, the other animals followed closely behind, wanting to help keep their friend from danger.

After a quarter of an hour, the girl and the animals reached a clearing on the dirt path leading to the kingdom. Fleur came to a sudden stop when she saw her family, the only people she’d ever known, shackled and surrounded by ten of the king’s soldiers. The king and queen were also there, in a carriage. The king looked furious, hands balled into fists. While the animals shrank back from the anger of the king, Fleur also saw traces of anguish etched into his face. The queen had her face in her hands, shoulders shaking. When she glanced at her husband, Fleur noticed that her face was wet with tears, and grief masked her normally serene expression.

Gathering all her courage, Fleur stepped forward into the clearing. The king glared at the young newcomer. Refusing to shrink back under the king’s withering stare, the girl continued forward, stopping only when she reached the carriage where the king and queen were. Standing straight, she turned to the king, looked him in the eye, and asked, “Why have you chained these people? What have they done to you?”

“Leave girl. This does not concern you. Now, go peacefully, and speak not a word of this unless a public announcement is made.”

Fleur made no sign of leaving, yet her mother still cried out, “Don’t leave my child! Come save us from this wretched fate that will surely be given us.”

“Whatever did you do, Mama?!” the confused girl exclaimed.

“My baby. She took my baby!” the queen sobbed.

“I gave your child a different view of the world. I taught your baby not to be in favor of the wealthy,” Fleur’s mother shot back.

“No, she stole our child. We agreed on the terms that the child be returned safely back to us on her fifteenth birthday. But instead of bringing the child to us today, the woman comes with these other children she brought into this world,” the king spat out.

“I just want my baby!” the queen wept.

All the while, Fleur had been observing the royal couple, and noticed that the queen had carefully styled blonde hair. However, pieces broke loose and curled around her face. When the king tore a hand through his own brown hair, she spotted a heart-shaped birthmark on his wrist.

Stepping forward again, Fleur interrupted her mother’s next shouts. “Am I the one they are looking for Mama?”

The woman fell silent, not looking up. A bluebird flew towards her, chirping loudly in her ear. Shooing the bird off, Fleur’s mother looked up again before slowly nodding.

Fleur faced the king and queen, the king looking doubtful, while the queen wore a hopeful expression.

“Your proof?” the king inquired.

“I have golden hair, like Her Majesty the Queen,” Fleur supplied.

The king scoffed. “So do many. You have no right to give that as proper proof.”

“All right Your Majesty,” Fleur boldly returned. “I was born with this.”

The girl held out her wrist, displaying the heart birthmark for the king to see.

“And you have one too,” Fleur finished when the king fell silent.

The queen, on the other hand, leapt out of the carriage, her tears becoming those of joy. She ran to her daughter, hugging her, and whispering words of motherly love.

By this time the king had recovered from his state of shock and joined his wife and Fleur, wiping tears from his own eyes.

“My darling, it truly is you!” he cried.

Fleur wept, and clung to her true parents, never wanting to let go. Glancing over her shoulder, the girl saw her old family, still bound. She slowly let go of the king and queen, turned to her parents, and asked His Majesty to release her first family.

Once the shackles hit the ground, Fleur ran to her mother and father hugging them, then Birch, Sky, Ridge, Autumn and Willow.

“Thank you for everything. You must know that I love you, and always have loved you, but that this is where I belong. Good-bye.”

Fleur slowly turned towards her new family, got into the carriage, and rode to the gleaming castle, followed by bluebirds, who were singing a new song, softly and lovingly. Fleur reached the palace, leaving her life in the woods, and joining a new family filled with love, a life filled with new beginnings. Fleur finally found her way home.

The End

OUR REFUGE

Mar25

By Kathy Stanford

Psalm 59:16-17 “But as for me, I will sing about Your power. Each morning I will sing with joy about Your unfailing love. For you have been my refuge, a place of safety when I am in distress. O my Strength, to You I sing praises, for You, O God, are my refuge, the God who shows me unfailing love.”

Don’t you love it when you realize God has been working behind the scenes, providing for needs that you didn’t see coming? I recently had the privilege of engaging in a committed time of prayer for a specific group. As I read through some of the verses He gave me to pray over this group, I noticed how appropriate a few of them are for this unique time of uncertainty.

Isaiah 26:3 “You will keep in perfect peace all who trust in you, all whose thoughts are fixed on you!” You may recognize this first one from my blog entry on Jan. 1 of this year. I love the exclamation point at the end of this sentence. I like to imagine God shouting through His cupped hands, reminding me to keep looking up, focused toward the One Who is Sovereign over all. It has become my go to verse to help me keep a right perspective in the midst of a world turned sideways.

1Peter 1:6, “So be truly glad. There is wonderful joy ahead, even though you must endure many trials for a little while.” This verse gives me so much hope. No matter what it looks like now, I can look forward to better days ahead. Even if my life on this earth ends, I have confidence I’m going to a much better place. And I will spend eternity in worship and praise of God.

Psalm 50:14-15 “Make thankfulness your sacrifice to God, and keep the vows you made to the Most High. Then call on me when you are in trouble, and I will rescue you, and you will give Me glory.” The words thankfulness and sacrifice don’t seem to belong in the same sentence. But there it is, calling me to be thankful in the midst of turmoil. Thankful, not for the turmoil itself, but for the One Who holds everything – even the turmoil- in His loving, powerful hands. And thankful that He is listening when I cry out to Him.

Psalm 5:11-12 “But let all who take refuge in You rejoice; let them sing joyful praises forever. Spread Your protection over them, that all who love Your name may be filled with joy. For You bless the Godly, O Lord; You surround them with Your shield of love.” We are not meant to face life alone. He only waits for us to “take refuge” in Him.

Psalm 33:18 “But the Lord watches over those who fear Him, those who rely on His unfailing love.” If your circumstances seem bleak and you find worry or fear creeping in, fix your thoughts on God. And take courage that He sees you and is watching over you.

Heavenly Father, I praise You because You are faithful and loving. I thank You for the comfort of knowing You are with me always, even when my circumstances seem beyond hope. Help me to keep my mind fixed on you, and my heart filled with peace, as I take refuge in Your love.

Yes God. Restore Me.

Feb28

By Rita Klundt

I don’t know what came over me, but with all the important and productive things I need to be doing, I started the work of restoring some used and unusable furniture. No experience. No particular expertise. Just a little advice from a friend and loads of general tips on the internet.

The furniture was among, and had become, part of the “junk in the basement.” Valuable living space was occupied by dated hardware attached to an ugly and abused nightstand, dresser, chest, and some other piece I have no name for. It needed to go, even if only to make room for less ancient, junky stuff.

Paint and new brushes filled me with ambition. I prepared the workspace, and plugged in my old boom box. Then the fun started! Hours shopping for new hardware were going to pay off. The chest still needed some real creativity since one of its drawers was beyond repair, so I started with the little nightstand. It had been desecrated by Crayola in the hands of a toddler, but was otherwise sturdy and workable. I scrubbed. Red crayon goes deep. I sanded until I quit. A coat of primer had been recommended. Finally, real progress!

The next morning was sunnier than the days before. My mood was lifted along with the window shade, but then I saw red. “No problem,” I said aloud although I was alone in the room. “Another coat of primer will take care of that.” And it did.

The feeling of satisfaction is addictive. The nightstand was adorable with its topcoat applied. My other important and productive work, like laundry, dishes and writing were scheduled for later in my days. I still had a dresser, chest and that “other” piece to complete. More scrubbing and sanding. Some repairing and replacing of drawer glides. By the time the second piece was finished, I knew this was more than a simple addiction. It was a commitment. I shopped for drawer liners to match the soft gray paint. Pride in my accomplishment was approaching the level of sinful.

With his eyes, my husband told me, “It’s still old furniture.”

A simple distraction from work had become work. But now, I had something to prove.

Mornings drifted into afternoons and evenings as I sanded, painted, and then sanded off the layer of imperfect paint from the day before. For something so vital, patience is hard to learn. Applying multiple thin coats of paint, and watching each layer dry, seems inefficient, but is undeniably the best method. This project taught me that patience is nothing more than a profitable form of stubbornness. I’m set!

Best of all was my husband’s smile when he saw the scrappy furniture restored and in an upstairs bedroom. He did most of the lifting to get it there. Dollar signs flew through his mind and landed in his savings account as he recalled the price tags on the bedroom furniture we almost bought.

Removing two of the broken drawers gave me some versatile space and an updated look for this 50+ year-old piece.

I sat in front of my computer on the day after my furniture project had been completed. There were stories waiting to be written, emails waiting to be answered, and dishes in the sink. I would rather have been painting furniture and was tempted enough to consider the junk in someone else’s basement.

“Don’t go dragging more stuff into this house!” Yep, my husband knows where to draw a line. My finger nails are weeks away from accepting a proper manicure, and my wrists hurt at the sight of sand paper or paint. We both know I need a break from the physical labor. I suppose it’s back to my ordinary and usual work schedule. Restoration was hard on me. I wonder, will overnight guests even appreciate what I’ve done?

Still, the thought of another restoration project won’t leave me. Maybe it’s my age, but seeing that something old can be fixed and re-purposed gives me extraordinary hope. My Aunt Margie left me her old armoire. It needs a little work to earn its way upstairs. There is a table and a couple of matching chairs. Surely, with some sanding and a fresh application of varnish, someone would want and use them.

Soon. I’ll get to them soon.

The verse on my mind this morning before I opened my eyes was Psalm 53:10: “Create in me a clean heart, O God, And renew a steadfast spirit in me.” Before opening emails, editing yesterday’s writing, and definitely before loading the dishwasher, I opened my Bible and read those words again.

I kept reading. Verses 11-17:

“Do not cast me away from Your presence,
And do not take Your Holy Spirit from me.

Restore to me the joy of Your salvation,
And uphold me by Your generous Spirit.
Then I will teach transgressors Your ways,
And sinners shall be converted to You.

Deliver me from the guilt of bloodshed, O God,
The God of my salvation,
And my tongue shall sing aloud of Your righteousness.
O Lord, open my lips,
And my mouth shall show forth Your praise.
For You do not desire sacrifice, or else I would give it;
You do not delight in burnt offering.
The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit,
A broken and a contrite heart—
These, O God, You will not despise.” (NKJV)

I read the verses again—this time, as a sincere pray. My confessions will remain private, but here are some truths I found again this morning:

I’m broken, but God’s creation. He thinks I’m worth the work of restoration.
The work I’m doing doesn’t invite others to Jesus nearly as often as it should. I need daily restoration.
Sanding off damage and neglect hurts.
I can slap a thick coat of paint on sin and call it good enough, or better than most, but that won’t make me beautiful or add to my value.
I’m too easily pacified, yet seldom satisfied with mediocre.
I can always find a good project to distract me from the real work of restoration. I can sacrifice, and make sure people see the good I’ve done, but those efforts will not restore the joy of His salvation.

Heavenly Father,

Create in me a clean heart. Thank you for remembering me. Remind me of the plans you’ve made, and restore me to your purpose. Forgive me when I’ve looked on others and seen a “project” rather than a sinner, like me, in need of restoration. I praise and honor you for your generous Spirit. Let others see me, not for the work I’ve done, but for what you are creating in me. Amen.

Another Fresh Start

Jan1

by Kathy Stanford

Isaiah 26:3(NLT) “You will keep in perfect peace all who trust in you, all whose thoughts are fixed on you!”

The best thing about the New Year, for me, is another fresh start. I know it’s only a matter of perspective, but it always gives me a sense of excitement as I hang a new calendar and wonder, “What great things does God have planned for me this year?” And then I think, “What great challenges does God have planned for me this Year?”

Whatever the year brings, I know one thing above all else – God loves me, He is with me and He has a plan for my good and His glory. Whether I understand the plan or not, whether I see the desired end result or not, I can choose to keep looking to Him for what I need, to get through each day. Every year brings it’s good and bad moments, so it’s foolish to think of God as some sort of good – luck talisman. But He has promised to give us peace, if we remain focused on Him and keep trusting in Him.

So I wish all who read this, a year filled with His peace. And I offer this verse as a prayer for you:

“I pray that your hearts will be flooded with light so that you can understand the confident hope He has given to those He called – His holy people who are His rich and glorious inheritance.” Ephesians 1:18(NLT)

If you don’t have a personal relationship with Jesus, or are unsure, click on the tab “Do you know Jesus” at the top of the page.

Do Angels Really Sing?

Dec17

by Rita Klundt

We were at one of those “all church fellowship meals.” You know the kind, especially if you’re a Baptist. I was enjoying the afterglow of our church’s Christmas play—a play that I had written, and our children and youth had performed.

But, before anyone gets the idea that I’m bragging about an impeccable script, or my clearly written stage directions, they should know this was my first children’s play-writing attempt. That I was able to express my vision through words on a page took a bit of divine intervention. That the directors were able to get a couple dozen kids (of varying ages and stages of development) to work so hard memorizing lines, and make it to the stage on time, took a ton of mercy and loads of grace! I counted faces, and it took no less than forty people to pull this thing off. It helped that most of our audience was made of parents and families. We were counting on them to be enthusiastic and forgiving. They were.

Now, back to the table in the fellowship hall where someone raised the question: “Do angels really sing?”

Of course angels in heaven sing, don’t they?

“But is that biblically accurate?” the person challenged.

I answered, “Well, the angels in my play sang!”

Months ago, I determined to portray the true story of Christmas in this play. I’d taken care to dispel the common mental image that three wise men were present in the stable where Jesus was born. Not wanting to offend anyone, I did so with a little humor. I also wanted the audience to see girls as shepherds, not to satisfy some politically correct standard, but because at the time of Jesus’ birth, if a girl’s father had sheep, she was probably a shepherdess.

I’d used a translation that is generally accepted as accurate, and inserted the story from Luke 2, word for word, into the dialogue. I thought I had included all the basic stuff people expect when they go to a children’s Christmas play, while writing it according to what the Bible actually says. But now I wondered.

In their sermons, preachers with open Bibles, mention angels singing. Words about angels singing are in every third or fourth Christmas carol, not to mention other hymns. From my early childhood, I’ve known that angels sing. Of course angels sing! Right?

The internet has plenty of comments about how Greek and Hebrew words of the Bible don’t technically support the widely held idea that angels sing. After reading some scholarly logic, and getting bored, I opened the Bible on my desk and started flipping through some of the references having to do with angels and singing.

And guess what? I read some of the verses those scholars used to support a lack of evidence that angels sing. They almost convinced me, but I still believe that angels sing. I think the preachers were right in making that claim. I believe the carols and hymns are correct, at least the parts about angels singing. And, I trust what my mother and Sunday school teachers told me.

After reading the same verses those scholars used as references, I believe they are asking the wrong question. They should be asking: How could angels not sing?

Angels sang, sing, and will be singing when we get to Heaven (capitalized because it’s an actual place.) In case you want to know how I came to that conclusion, I’ve made it easy for you. Consider a few of the verses I found. Then tell me, do you believe angels sing?

If you don’t trust my cutting and pasting, look these verses up in your own Bible. Read them in Hebrew or Greek if you must :

Bless the LORD, O you his angels, you mighty ones who do his word, obeying the voice of his word! Psalm103:20 (ESV)

Praise the LORD!
Praise God in His sanctuary;
Praise Him in His mighty expanse.

Praise Him for His mighty deeds;

Praise Him according to His excellent greatness.

Praise Him with trumpet sound;
Praise Him with harp and lyre.

Praise Him with timbrel and dancing;
Praise Him with stringed instruments and pipe.

Praise Him with loud cymbals;
Praise Him with resounding cymbals.

Let everything that has breath praise the LORD.
Praise the LORD! Psalm 150:1-6 (NASB)

Praise the LORD!
Praise the LORD from the heavens;
Praise Him in the heights!

Praise Him, all His angels;
Praise Him, all His hosts!

Praise Him, sun and moon;
Praise Him, all stars of light!

Praise Him, highest heavens,
And the waters that are above the heavens!

Let them praise the name of the LORD,

For He commanded and they were created.

He has also established them forever and ever;
Psalm 148:1-6 (NASB)

A psalm. A song. For the Sabbath day. It is good to praise the LORD and make music to your name, O Most High, Psalm 92:1 (NIV)

As the morning stars sang together and all the angels shouted for joy? Job 38:7 (NLT)

And when he brought his supreme Son into the world, God said, “Let all of God’s angels worship him.” Hebrews 1:6 (NLT)

Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some have unwittingly entertained angels. Hebrews 13:2 (KJV)

If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. 1 Corinthians 13:1 (ESV)

Everything on earth will worship you; they will sing your praises, shouting your name in glorious songs.” Psalm 66:4 (NLT)

Do you think I cannot call on my Father, and he will at once put at my disposal more than twelve legions of angels? Matthew 26:33 (NIV)

Beware that you don’t look down on any of these little ones. For I tell you that in heaven their angels are always in the presence of my heavenly Father. Matthew 18:10 (NLT)

Then I looked, and I heard around the throne and the living creatures and the elders the voice of many angels, numbering myriads of myriads and thousands of thousands, saying with a loud voice, “Worthy is the Lamb who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing!” And I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and in the sea, and all that is in them, saying, “To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be blessing and honor and glory and might forever and ever!” Revelation 5:11-13 (ESV)

Then I saw the seven angels who stand before God, and seven trumpets were given to them. Revelation 8:2 (ESV)

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men. Luke 2:13-14 (KJV)

If you don’t hear them singing after reading what God says about angels, then something inside you is badly wounded or broken, and it’s not your ears, or what’s between them. It’s your heart.

Luke 15:10 (ESV) says, “Just so, I tell you, there is joy before the angels of God over one sinner who repents.”

It’s a merrier Christmas when you hear the angels singing. They sure can carry a tune.

Where is Your Bible?

Nov27

by Rita Klundt

My friend, Hugo, is feeling sad.

Someone broke into his car yesterday. They took a computer bag, and made a mess, but his laptop was not in the bag, and the thief didn’t get away with any cash, credit cards or anything that could be traded for real money.

Hugo is the kind of guy who would have counted it a privilege to open his wallet and hand over his ready cash to someone in need. If the thief looked hungry, Hugo would have taken them to lunch. After finding their car abused this way, the cling-to emotion for most of us would be anger, but my friend is feeling sad. He told what happened on Facebook, but there was no mention of the damage to his vehicle or the expense involved in replacing his computer bag and its contents. There was no derogatory name-calling or curses wished upon the thief.

Now, you might want to ask him if he had left his computer bag visible and tempting to the thief. He (conveniently?) didn’t say in his post, and I’ve no plans to ask. I’m sure his wife will take care of that. He did lament the loss of some sentimental items.

I feel Hugo’s grief. Last month, my Bible was also taken, not from a car, but from a church pew. Of all things, I was on a mission trip! A big distinction can be drawn between our grieving. Although I believe my Bible to have been stolen, it may have been taken inadvertently. My Bible is more likely to be returned to me. Hugo’s Bible had been…Listen to me. I’m speaking as if his Bible is deceased. His Bible is marked up with a highlighter. Mine is full of underlining and margin notes. Both of us are missing special bookmarks that had been gifted to us, notes from a few speeches that we’d given, and other little treasures.

Neither of us anticipated this. Both of us are truly sad over the loss of something so personal and precious to us. Hugo and I have more in common than feeling sad. Somewhere, two people know they stole/took our Bibles. Our names are in there. We’ve both prayed that if the thieves don’t already realize the significance of what they’ve done, they will soon. We pray that our Bibles will be opened and read. Both Hugo and I would gladly share the private thoughts and meaning behind the words we’ve highlighted. For God to use our Bibles to bring about His will is our prayer. We trust Him to take care of His business.

God promises in Isaiah 55:11 (NLT): It is the same with my word. I send it out, and it always produces fruit. It will accomplish all I want it to, and it will prosper everywhere I send it.

I loved the thoughts Hugo added at the bottom of his Facebook post so much:

1. Things happen for a reason.
2. God can take what is meant for bad and create good.
3. Maybe I need to guard my Bible better. It is the precious WORD OF GOD.
4. Someone needed my Bible more than me. Even though I do need it a lot. “I mean—I really need it!”
5. Shayne (Hugo’s wise, but teenaged son) said, “Maybe this is a new start for you. So, refresh and highlight again.”
6. I’m already missing it.
7. Hoping it will be returned.

Hey Hugo!

Thanks for the list. I think I know what’s at the top of your Christmas list. If you can wait that long?

For another Bible saga (an amazing one), scroll down to what Kathy posted on August 23. One Bible’s Journey was written by Jane Smudrick Peacock, and her story speaks to that promise in Isaiah.

One Bible’s Journey

Aug23

by JANE SMUDRICK PEACOCK

“The rain and snow come down from the heavens
and stay on the ground to water the earth. They cause the grain to grow,
producing seed for the farmer and bread for the hungry.

It is the same with my word.
I send it out, and it always produces fruit.
It will accomplish all I want it to,
and it will prosper everywhere I send it.” Isaiah 55:10-11 NLT

The following is a guest author’s story that shows the importance an old Bible can play in a stranger’s life. Underlined passages and written notes in our old Bibles can be meaningful, even life changing, to someone who reads it. We never know just what the Lord will use to bring someone that final step towards salvation. I hope Jane will forgive my adding the above scripture, but this true story is a perfect picture of the unchanging truth of God’s Word.–Kathy Stanford

OVER THE YEARS I HAVE PURCHASED DIFFERENT VERSIONS OF THE BIBLE. WHEN THE LIVING BIBLE CAME OUT, I WANTED ONE BECAUSE OF THE STORYBOOK FASHION IN WHICH IT WAS WRITTEN. I USED THIS BIBLE FOR MANY YEARS, AND FROM TIME TO TIME HAD WRITTEN DOWN CERTAIN MEANINGFUL PHRASES IN IT. I HAD ALSO UNDERLINED NUMEROUS RELEVANT PASSAGES. WHEN MY HUSBAND PURCHASED FOR ME A NEW BIBLE AT CHRISTMAS ONE YEAR, I PUT MY LIVING BIBLE IN THE BOOKCASE, USING IT ONLY AS A REFERENCE. THIS IS THE STORY OF THE JOURNEY OF THIS LIVING BIBLE AND HOW IT BECAME A TESTIMONY FOR GOD’S WORD.

SEVERAL YEARS AGO, MY HUSBAND’S BROTHER IN CHICAGO, ILLINOIS, WAS EXPERIENCING SOME VERY DIFFICULT TIMES IN HIS LIFE, BOTH FINANCIALLY AND EMOTIONALLY. HIS WIFE HAD PASSED AWAY SUDDENLY AND UNEXPECTEDLY AND HE WAS VERY DISTRAUGHT. HE HAD CALLED SEVERAL TIMES, SHARING HIS HOPELESSNESS AND EVEN MENTIONING SUICIDE. BEING A CHRISTIAN, I NATURALLY SUGGESTED THAT HE SEEK COMFORT IN THE LORD. I TOLD HIM THAT WHEN I HAVE EXPERIENCED DIFFICULT SITUATIONS, I ALWAYS HAVE GONE TO MY LORD FOR HELP. I ASKED HIM IF HE HAD A BIBLE TO READ GOD’S WORD. SINCE HE DID NOT HAVE ONE, I ASKED HIM IF HE WOULD LIKE ME TO SEND HIM ONE OF MY OLD ONES. SO I MAILED TO HIM, IN CHICAGO, MY OLD LIVING BIBLE AND THE JOURNEY BEGAN.

SEVERAL MONTHS LATER, MY BROTHER-IN-LAW HAD TO MOVE FROM THE HOME HE SHARED WITH HIS WIFE TO AN APARTMENT. HIS CHILDREN CAME OVER TO HELP HIM MOVE, AND IN THE PROCESS, BOXED UP A LOT OF THINGS TO TAKE TO GOODWILL. APPARENTLY, MY LIVING BIBLE WAS AMONG THOSE BOXED-UP ITEMS, AND ITS JOURNEY CONTINUED.

ABOUT A YEAR LATER, I RECEIVED A PHONE CALL FROM A LADY IN GEORGIA. SHE TOLD ME THAT WHILE SHE WAS VISITING IN NORTH CAROLINA, SHE HAD PURCHASED A BIBLE FROM A SITE ON THE INTERNET. THE LADY ASKED AMAZON.COM TO SHIP THE BOOK TO HER HOME ADDRESS IN GEORGIA. WHEN SHE GOT HOME AFTER HER TRIP, THE BIBLE HAD ALREADY ARRIVED. SHE OPENED THE PACKAGE AND DISCOVERED THAT THE BOOK SHE RECEIVED WAS NOT THE ONE SHE HAD ORDERED. SHE GLANCED THROUGH THE BIBLE AND NOTICED THAT MY NAME AND PHONE NUMBER WERE INSIDE THE COVER, AND GAVE ME A CALL. HOWEVER, IN ORDER TO GET HER MONEY BACK, SHE HAD TO RETURN THE BOOK TO AMAZON.COM. SHE SHARED THAT SHE WAS GOING THOUGH SOME DIFFICULT SITUATIONS AND THAT MY WRITINGS INSIDE THE BOOK AS WELL AS UNDERLINED SCRIPTURES PROVED HELPFUL. SHE AND HER HUSBAND WERE SEPARATED AND CONTEMPLATING A DIVORCE. THE LADY SAID THAT SHE FELT THE NEED TO LET ME KNOW WHERE MY BIBLE WAS AT THIS POINT IN TIME.

HOW MY LIVING BIBLE GOT FROM THE GOODWILL IN CHICAGO TO A SITE ON THE INTERNET WHERE IT WAS LISTED FOR PURCHASE IS A HUGE MYSTERY. AS A RESULT, MY BIBLE’S JOURNEY WAS DESTINED TO CONTINUE.

ANOTHER YEAR OR SO PASSED AND AT 7:00 A.M. ONE MORNING, I RECEIVED A PHONE CALL FROM A LADY IN BALTIMORE, MARYLAND. SHE APOLOGIZED FOR CALLING SO EARLY, BUT THAT SHE JUST COULD NOT WAIT TO TELL ME THAT SHE HAD MY LIVING BIBLE. SHE INFORMED ME THAT THE WORDS I HAD WRITTEN IN IT AND THE UNDERLINED PASSAGES HAD COME TO HER AT A TIME IN HER LIFE WHEN SHE NEEDED THEM MOST. SHE SAID THAT WHAT SHE FOUND IN THIS BIBLE WAS GREATLY HELPFUL AND JUST WHAT SHE NEEDED.

SHE RELATED HER STORY AS FOLLOWS. THE PREVIOUS NIGHT, SHE HAD GONE OVER TO THE HOME OF HER MOTHER WHO WAS VERY, VERY ILL. IT HAD BEEN RAINING STEADILY ALL DAY. AS SHE ARRIVED AT HER MOTHER’S HOUSE, SHE NOTICED A BIBLE LYING ON THE FRONT STEPS IN THE RAIN. THINKING THAT HER MOM HAD ACCIDENTALLY LEFT IT OUTSIDE, SHE PICKED IT UP, TOOK IT INSIDE, AND SHOWED IT TO HER MOTHER. AFTER CONCLUDING THAT THE BOOK WAS NOT HER MOM’S, SHE TOOK IT HOME WITH HER.

AS THE LADY BEGAN TO LOOK THROUGH THE BIBLE, SHE READ SOME OF WHAT WAS WRITTEN INSIDE THE COVERS AND WHAT HAD BEEN UNDERLINED. AMAZINGLY, THE RAIN HAD DONE VERY LITTLE DAMAGE; NO PAGES STUCK TOGETHER, NONE OF THE WRITING WAS ILLEGIBLE, AND THE PAGE WITH MY NAME AND PHONE NUMBER WAS TOTALLY UNTOUCHED BY MOISTURE. FINDING MY NAME AND PHONE NUMBER IN IT, SHE CALLED TO LET ME KNOW WHERE MY BIBLE WAS. SHE ASKED IF SHE COULD KEEP IT FOR A WHILE, BUT THAT SHE WOULD MAIL IT BACK TO ME. SHE WANTED TO COPY SOME OF THE THINGS WRITTEN IN IT AND ALSO UNDERLINE SOME OF THE SAME PASSAGES IN HER OWN BIBLE. I TOLD HER TO KEEP IT IF SHE WANTED. I WAS HAPPY TO KNOW THAT MY BIBLE WAS HELPING SOMEONE.

HOW ON EARTH MY BIBLE GOT FROM AMAZON.COM TO A DOORSTEP IN MARYLAND IS A COMPLETE MYSTERY. UNBELIEVABLY, MY BIBLE’S JOURNEY HAD ONE MORE TRIP TO MAKE.

ANOTHER YEAR OR SO PASSED. AS I WENT TO THE MAILBOX, AS I DO EVERY DAY, THERE WAS A PACKAGE WRAPPED IN BROWN PAPER, WAITING THERE FOR ME. AMAZINGLY, MY LIVING BIBLE HAD COME HOME! ALONG WITH THE BIBLE WAS A BEAUTIFUL LETTER FROM SHARON IN MARYLAND. MY BIBLE HAD COME TO HER AT A DIFFICULT TIME IN HER LIFE AND GAVE HER GREAT COMFORT. FINDING THAT BIBLE AND READING WHAT WAS IN IT AS WELL AS WHAT WAS UNDERLINED HAD FULFILLED A NEED IN HER LIFE WHICH, NOW, WAS GOING GREAT.

I IMMEDIATELY CALLED SHARON AND THE LADY IN GEORGIA. I THANKED SHARON FOR RETURNING MY BIBLE AND THAT I, TOO, RECEIVED A GREAT BLESSING THAT MY LIVING BIBLE HAD TOUCHED AND IMPACTED SOMEONE’S LIFE. I UPDATED THE GEORGIA LADY ON WHERE MY BIBLE HAD BEEN AND THAT IT WAS BACK HOME WITH ME. SHE INFORMED ME THAT HER LIFE WAS GOING GREAT FOR HER ALSO. SHE AND HER HUSBAND HAD RECONCILED AND WERE VERY HAPPY. GOD REALLY DOES WORK IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS!

THE JOURNEY THAT GOD’S WORD CAN TAKE TO BE RECEIVED BY SOMEONE IN NEED IS BOTH UPLIFTING AND INSPIRING. ONE WONDERS WHAT OTHER LIVES DID MY OLD LIVING BIBLE TOUCH ALONG ITS JOURNEY FROM FLORIDA TO ILLINOIS, TO GEORGIA, TO MARYLAND, AND BACK TO FLORIDA. THIS IS A TRUE STORY AND QUITE A TESTIMONIAL TO GOD’S WORD.

2019? Not Over Yet.

May23

I’m a little late jumping onto the “Story Board Train,” and I’m not sure I’ll pay the full fare and stay on board for the entire trip. But, I’m taking an online course, and our first assignment is to do a “Vision Board.”

A vision board is sort of like a story board. It’s a way of taking the priorities I claim verbally, putting them before my eyes daily and giving me an opportunity to record my progress…or lack thereof.

I happen to be more of an auditory person, so I don’t know how much this will impact my life, but until someone comes up with a talking board, a vision board will have to do. Being an auditory person means I notice and respond to most verbal cues better than written instruction and other forms of communication. I suppose if someone sees my board, then reminds me of it, the vision board assignment might be effective in keeping my priorities straight.

We’ll see.

We were to address our physical, personal and spiritual goals and priorities on our board. I did that. In case you aren’t able to see the pictures clearly or read the words beneath them, these are my basic goals: Personal – I plan to meet new people. Physical – I plan to declutter my physical spaces. Spiritual – I plan to study God’s word deeper.

Each week, I’ll write an accomplishment on my board. By the end of 2019, I’ll be a different person.

But here’s the thing. I’ll be a different person at the end of the year with or without a vision board. Different in a positive way? Or different in a negative way?

If I’m a better person in 2020, it will be because I serve better and sin less. Plain and simple. If a “Vision Board” helps to accomplish that, I’m on board for the ’round the world trip!

You, my brothers and sisters, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the flesh; rather, serve one another humbly in love. Galatians 5:13 (NIV).