“This one’s for Colin.” My daughter mumbled through the candy in her mouth and thrust a tightly gripped root beer lollipop my way. “That’s nice of you,” I bragged and pulled her free hand through the crowded halls at church to make our way towards her brother’s classroom.
I stuck my head in the door of room E-103 and motioned for my son to come. He appeared with his own small candy bag and held out one yellow, sour Skittle for his sister. I smiled at his generosity and applauded myself for teaching my children to share with each other. No one was forced to save candy for the other.
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15 When the servant of the man of God got up and went out early the next morning, an army with horses and chariots had surrounded the city. “Oh no, my lord! What shall we do?” the servant asked.
16 “Don’t be afraid,” the prophet answered. “Those who are with us are more than those who are with them.”
17 And Elisha prayed, “Open his eyes, LORD, so that he may see.” Then the LORD opened the servant’s eyes, and he looked and saw the hills full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha. 2 Kings 6:15-17 (NIV)
My husband and I were just talking about this portion of Scripture.
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This past year has been one of loss, hardship and uncertainty for our family. During this season, I have learned to yield, to trust, to seek and to find. I have learned to have hope in the face of adversity. The dictionary defines “hope” as a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen. Over the last year, there were many days where I felt hopeless. I was looking at my life through foggy lenses, unable to see beyond my circumstances into the promises of the Lord for my life, and that of my family. I had lost my sense of expectancy.
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Although I know that I wrote how important winter is in our lives a month or so back, I sure look forward to the springtime emerging.
I see glimmers of hope in the green grass that has recently sprung out of the ground in Arkansas. I know this post is relative to where you live, and some of you are still experiencing the tundra like-conditions of the winter, but please know that green grass and daffodils are on their way!
While I usually just find the closest cave and hibernate in the winter, this winter has been very different. I think I finally realized that I can survive winters and that I am not an animal.
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This last month has been challenging.
My son, Samuel, has been sick. Terribly sick. He’s finally been diagnosed with Celiac Disease, but we’re also seeing other specialists to determine any other underlying causes.
My heart hurts.
But this devotional isn’t about sickness. Rather, it’s about joy.
Yes, joy.
I’ve discovered that in the deepest and hardest places of life, there can be profound joy. Here’s the secret: it’s not from one’s self — it comes only from our gracious Father above.
I felt it.
My days of washing dishes and changing diapers and correcting papers and being a normal every day mom will return.
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Scars. Most of us have them. Physical ones. Emotional ones. Some minor. Some painfully deep. They serve as reminders of our past wounds and can hold the ability to stir up powerful emotions. Bitterness. Anger. Regret.
Take my simple scars. On each of my ears I bear the evidence of multiple piercings. Those tiny outer marks cannot even begin to hint at the massive inner scars I accumulated during that rebellious season of my life. I am not saying having my ears pierced over and over again was a sin. But they do serve as a reminder of a time when I had turned my back fully on God.
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My grandmother changed my life. Not by teaching me to crochet, although she did do that. Not by showing me how to can fig preserves or roll up cinnamon rolls, but she did that, too.
My life wasn’t changed when she taught me the value of saving pie tins, bits of fabric scraps, Cool Whip cups, the bags from the outside of the newspaper, milk jugs, or even butter tub lids. Grandmother helped to change my life with three little words.
Use me Lord.
For as long as I can remember, my grandmother got up every morning and uttered those three words to God.
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photo © 2010 Courtney Carmody | more info (via: Wylio)This week, I have been purposeful in reminding myself of who I am. There are many things that I DO that I have allowed to become such a part of me, that I sometimes lose my way.
It is true. I wear many hats. I am wife, mother, sister, friend, administrator, blogger, counselor, cook, dishwasher, laundress, housekeeper, caregiver.
And the list goes on.
I interact with people on a daily basis who ask me what I do. And I can give any number of answers to this question. Why is it that no one ever asks me “who I am”?
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