by jphilo | Sep 28, 2009 | Daily Life
For the past month I’ve been in denial about the end of summer and the arrival of fall. But today I can deny it no longer. Over the weekend, the leaves went from green to gold. Overnight the air went from warm to chilly, the breeze from soft to harsh.
In years past, my lips nearly tripped over themselves as a litany of weather complaints tumbled from my lips. But on this fall day, they won’t. How can I complain about the weather in light of what God has done?
Last fall at this time, we were moving my mother from her home to my brother’s, worried about her health, watching her retirement savings take a hit, wondering if her house would sell in a recession economy. This fall, her health and happiness are greatly improved, her retirement income is secure, and her house is sold.
Last fall, when Hiram and I went to Minneapolis for the annual Desiring God Conference, our son was a monk, wrestling with unnamed, untreated PTSD, thinking he was going crazy. This past weekend, we went to the conference as usual. But we skipped an afternoon session so we could celebrate our nephew’s birthday with our whole, healthy and definitely not crazy son, his fiance, and several other family members at my sister’s house.
Last fall, much of A Different Dream for My Child was still in my head, and with all the responsibilities accompanying Mom’s situation, I wondered if it would be written before the publisher’s deadline came and went. This fall, it’s published and being used by God to minister to hurting parents.
Last fall, I would have been complaining about the weather on a day like this. But God has shown me how he takes what is hard, what is painful, what seems cruel, what seems wrong, and uses it for good.
So this fall, I watch with hope when the wind blows and the cold comes. I expect great things. Instead of complaining, I whisper a prayer. Bless hurting families on as you’ve blessed us. Show them how to trust you in bad weather and in good. Amen.
by jphilo | Sep 4, 2009 | Daily Life
I’m not the kind of girl who expects God to work miracles in my life on a regular basis. In fact, I never expected God to work miracles in my life at all. When I was a kid, He didn’t make my sick dad get better. He didn’t convince my parents to get the cardboard vanity (with a complete set a play makeup) which was the only present I wanted the Christmas I was seven.
When I was a teenager, He didn’t make me cute enough to get dates or coordinated enough to avoid teasing in gym class. In college, He didn’t make me a world famous actress. When my son was born, He didn’t instantly heal my son’s physical condition.
However, earlier this week, when I saw a glowing clump of grass during my morning walk, I wondered if it was finally miracle time for Miss Jolene. Was God was in the burning bush business again and asking me to be a modern day Moses? Thankfully I realized the flames were only the sun hitting the feathery tips of the grass before I cut a willow switch and tried part the waters of the little creek down by the bridge.
But all week, the memory of that glowing grass warmed my heart, and I’ve been in the mood for a miracle. In face, I’ve pretty much been expecting one to happen. But God didn’t stop at one miracle. He performed a whole string of them.
On Tuesday, A Different Dream for My Child was released, and my no-frills rellies sent five balloon bouquets.
By Wednesday, I’d sold two cases of books.
On Thursday, the rellies called and said they’d be coming early for our Labor Day reunion because the college-aged cousins couldn’t wait until Saturday to see one another.
Today, the publicist at Discovery House said they submitted Different Dream for both the Christianity Today and ECPA book award nominations in the Christian Living category.
Tonight, my son will arrive for his first Labor Day in seven years. It will be his first reunion as an emotionally and physically, wholly healed young man. Both my kids are bringing their sweeties to the Labor Day for the first time. Last Labor Day, my daughter thought she would be an old maid forever and my son was a monk.
So if the first four items on the list don’t meet your definition of a miracle, I’m thinking this last one just might do the trick for you. It did for me.
Last week, I wasn’t the kind of girl who expected God to work miracles in her life. This week I’m sure He works them every day.
This week, I’m definitely that kind of girl.
