Four years ago a good friend flew from Virginia to attend my husband’s funeral. No one ever completely understands another person’s deepest hurts, but someone who has walked a similar path comes closest to getting it; her “getting it” had occurred when her husband died unexpectedly four years prior to mine.

 

She gave me a copy of the devotions book “Streams in the Desert” (Cowman)—first published in 1925. I began reading it the night of the funeral when I read October 29^th’s offering. The devotions are relatively short which was a definite plus; because I found it difficult that first year to remain focused on any book—with the clear exception of Scripture. Not hard to figure.

 

I remember thinking that some of the book’s readings felt harsh—not mean-spirited, just hard. It was as though they expected way more spiritual maturity of me than what I had left inside to offer.

 

I write in most of my books and this one has been no exception. I don’t read it daily, but when I do, and especially when I mark something; I note the year beside it. Recently I’ve been interested in seeing what I highlighted that first year. Words from November 18, 2011:

 

…the Lord knows what is best for me,

and my surroundings are determined by Him…

 

to strengthen my faith and power

and to draw me into closer communion

with Himself…

 

my soul will prosper…

 

I may be continually confused and troubled

over questions I cannot solve…

 

that I may learn to trust Him completely—

to trust and not be afraid…

 

I will welcome His will…

And finally:

…blessed are you whose faith is “not offended”

by trials unexplained.

 

Wow. “Blessed” when my faith is “not offended” by trials left unexplained; especially by trials I didn’t cause. Blessed when forced to repeatedly confront the undeniable truth of “I don’t know”.

 

It occurs to me now, that every time I have to say, “I don’t know”, concerning God’s reasons, I’m simply acknowledging He is God and I am not. And with that, I am okay.

 

 

“The LORD our God has secrets

 

known to no one.

 

We are not accountable for them,

 

but we and our children

 

are accountable forever

 

for all that he has revealed to us,

 

so that we may obey…

Deuteronomy 29:29

A good friend recently sent me a copy of “One Thousand Gifts”. The gist of the book is about finding joy through practicing gratitude; and I’ve underlined, highlighted, and scribbled comments and questions to God and self all over its pages.

 

I periodically mention to my friend that I’m mulling over something from the book. She said the other day, “I’m glad I gave it to you. See what a blessing a small thing can do? And it creates a backfire blessing in the giver’s soul!”

 

Blessings, like God, truly aren’t limited by anything—they flow effortlessly through time wherever the Spirit takes them…from the past… replaying again through memory…and ultimately coming forward to the present.

 

Years ago we sowed wildflower seeds along our property’s highway frontage; and every spring and summer the reds, oranges, and yellows faithfully reappear—bringing me great joy.

 

Living in the country wasn’t my idea, but I trusted Dan’s wisdom and have loved its peaceful offerings for many years now. A special blessing is the cawing of the crows in the early morning hours quiet. The sound has always reminded me of a favorite childhood book; and over the last few years has come to alert me to God’s presence. It’s downright amazing how frequently the sound precisely punctuates my walking morning prayers at significant moments. I always smile when it happens because I know what I know.

 

Last Saturday a crew of workers finished cleaning up an outside job at my house; then on Monday one of my small dogs discovered an overlooked puddle of paint beside the front steps. Little white paint paw prints padded up those brick steps, walked the wrap-around wood porch to the new wood back steps, and then down to the driveway.

 

I wasn’t happy with GeorgeE when I viewed the proof positive paw prints of her wanderings; but I was even less happy with the young men who’d left the paint there in the first place.

 

What a coincidence that I’m reading a book about finding exhilarating joy through deliberately practicing radical gratitude…particularly in un-joyful moments.

 

As I dialed the contractor, I told myself to “be nice” about this; and immediately a huge group of crows began cawing.

 

Side story: Faith Cora loves my impromptu stories and our current story line involves big crows holding a conclave to discuss naughty baby crows.

 

I’ve never ever heard “my” crows make such a raucous ruckus; it must have been an exceptionally important conclave—since it continued throughout my entire phone conversation. I smiled the entire time; and the porch and steps are now clean—the paint’s all gone.

 

I’m definitely continuing my joy-seeking; Faith Cora and I just sowed a small meadow with 12 lbs of Texas wildflower seeds…

 

…and looking up to heaven,

 

he gave thanks…

Luke 9:16