It Will Be Well

The delightfully cool spring air held my face as I gazed out the window of the room where my daughter sleeps. 

The crab apple tree's blooms nestled almost up against the screen, their sweet perfume tucking inside the folds of the lovely stillness of the night. 

Outside, the birds sang their final notes, hushing into the dusk. 

And a peace settled into my heart.

After the busyness of the day, after the troubles and the trials and the testings and the failings and the perseverings and the surrenderings and the whole lump of it all. 

Peace settled there in my heart.

And these words drifted into my mind: "It will be well." 

The words that the Shunnamite woman spoke when her son died, just before Elisha brought him back to life by the power of the Holy Spirit. 

It will be well. 

And I have a quiet knowing in my heart tonight that despite all the fears, all of the disturbances, all of the worries and struggles, it will be well. 

The world in turmoil, devastation--destruction, sorrow, pain, unrest . . . and yet, it will be well. 

Circumstances around us may be closing in, constricting, squeezing the life and breath and hope out of our lungs  . . . and yet, it will be well. 

Uncertainty about the future, worry, fear, distraction . . . and yet, it will be well. 

I read the story about David defeating the great Goliath-giant to my daughter before she went to sleep tonight. 

One tiny stone . . . and all was well. 

One tiny, insignificant stone . . . and the Lord brought down a Giant of fear. 

The problems of the world . . . it will be well . . . for the nations are as a drop in the bucket for our mighty God and even now He is fulfilling His purposes through them, however unaware they may be. 

My circumstances . . . the Psalmist tells me that the Lord will "perfect that which concerns me (Psalm 138:8). . . it will be well. 

Uncertainty about the future . . . 

Many things about tomorrow
I don't seem to understand
But I know who holds tomorrow
And I know who holds my hand.

All will be well.

And in the deepest sense, All IS well. 

All is well . . . because it is well with my soul.

Through difficulty, through uncertainty, through fear, through unrest . . .

Because I know who holds tomorrow . . .

And I know who holds my hand. 

All will not be easy, but all will be well . . . and my great Father never will leave me or forsake me. 

The sky sleeps now and I write . . . my two-year-old softly breathing in her room and my baby laying just a few feet away. 

He will cry out for me tonight and I will hear him and comfort him and lay him back down. 

And all will be well. 

For . . . 

"As a Father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear Him, for He knows our frame He remembers that we are dust." (Psalm 103:13)

And all is well. 

You might find me on these link-ups:

Strangers and Pilgrims on Earth, Inspire Me Monday, The Modest Mom, What Joy is Mine, SDG Gathering, A Mama's Story, Mom's the Word, Rich Faith Rising, Time Warp Wife, Cornerstone Confessions, Mom's Morning Coffee, Motivate and Rejuvenate Mondays, So Much at Home, Raising Homemakers, Hope in Every Season, A Wise Woman Builds Her Home, Woman to Woman Ministries, Whole-Hearted Home, Testimony Tuesday, Tell His Story, A Soft Gentle Voice, My Daily Walk in His Grace, Women With Intention Wednesdays, Messy Marriage, The Charm of Home, Graced Simplicity, Theology Thursdays, Children Are A Blessing, Mittenstate Sheep and Wool, Imparting Grace, Preparedness Mama, A Look at the Book, Essential Thing Devotions, Thought Provoking Thursday, Every Day Jesus, Count My Blessings, Christian Mommy Blogger, Renewed Daily, Soul Survival, Good Morning Mondays, The Weekend Brew, Blessing Counters Link Party, The HomeAcre Hop, Mommy Moments Link Up, Grace and Truth Linkup, Faith Filled Friday, Saturday Soiree Blog Party, Tell It To Me Tuesdays, SHINE Blog Hop, Faith and  Fellowship Blog Hop, Motivate and Rejuvenate Monday Link-Up, A Little R&R Wednesdays. TGI Saturdays Blog Hop. Totally Terrific Tuesday

He Remembers

Children of the heav’nly Father

Safely in His bosom gather;

Nestling bird nor star in Heaven

Such a refuge e’er was given.

--Karolina Sandell-Berg

It was her bedtime.

My little daughter and I climbed the stairs and headed into my room to retrieve the CD player and the hymnal.

Just as we had turned to go into her room next door, we heard my husband pull up, coming home from work. 

"Do you want to say hi to Daddy?" I asked, moving towards the open, screened window high over the driveway where he was getting out of our van. 

Excitedly, my daughter joined me near the window and we called down to him. 

Immediately, my daughter asked, "Daddy, will you help me with the hard puzzle?" and then closely followed that with, "And will you go down the big slide with me?" 

So funny . . . those were the two things that I had told my daughter that her daddy would help her with the next day--his day off. 

She is only two and a half, but these things were on her mind and stuck with her through the day, and she remembered them when she saw her daddy. 

Soon after, the thought came to me, "If a two-year-old can remember a promise given to her, how much more does the Lord remember His promises?"

And how much more does He delight to remember His children when they pray to him in faith, waiting for Him, trusting in him? 

I need to remember this. 

Because if an earthly father can inspire such love and trust and devotion and faith, how much more should I trust my Heavenly Father will hear my prayers and answer them in His faithfulness? 

He will not ignore His child. He hears the prayers of His people. 

He knows. He loves. He will come . . . as a Father to His precious child. 

I have been praying about a situation and the Lord has been silent until now. 

But this incident with my daughter once again reminded me of the Father's love and care. 

And I will trust in His perfect faithfulness . . . 

Until He comes. 

You might find me on these link-ups:

Strangers and Pilgrims on Earth, Inspire Me Monday, The Modest Mom, What Joy is Mine, SDG Gathering, A Mama's Story, Mom's the Word, Rich Faith Rising, Time Warp Wife, Cornerstone Confessions, Mom's Morning Coffee, Motivate and Rejuvenate Mondays, So Much at Home, Raising Homemakers, Hope in Every Season, A Wise Woman Builds Her Home, Woman to Woman Ministries, Whole-Hearted Home, Testimony Tuesday, Tell His Story, A Soft Gentle Voice, My Daily Walk in His Grace, Women With Intention Wednesdays, Messy Marriage, The Charm of Home, Graced Simplicity, Theology Thursdays, Children Are A Blessing, Mittenstate Sheep and Wool, Imparting Grace, Preparedness Mama, A Look at the Book, Essential Thing Devotions, Thought Provoking Thursday, Every Day Jesus, Count My Blessings, Christian Mommy Blogger, Renewed Daily, Soul Survival, Good Morning Mondays, The Weekend Brew, Blessing Counters Link Party, The HomeAcre Hop, Mommy Moments Link Up, Grace and Truth Linkup, Faith Filled Friday, Saturday Soiree Blog Party, Tell It To Me Tuesdays, SHINE Blog Hop, Faith and  Fellowship Blog Hop, Motivate and Rejuvenate Monday Link-Up, A Little R&R Wednesdays. TGI Saturdays Blog Hop. Totally Terrific Tuesday

In the Small Things

My little girl was turning two, so we planned a small birthday celebration. 

I decided on a menu, and my Mama said that she would take care of the cake. 

She helped me a lot this year. The crisis with my eye was just settling down, and I wasn't able to get out very much while it was healing. 

So she thought that it might be nice to order the cake - just something simple, from Stop-and-Shop, one of the local grocery stores. 

We were doing a Winnie-the-Pooh theme. My daughter loves Winnie-the-Pooh, and I thought that the bright colors and cheerful characters would be just right for a 2-year-old's birthday. 

We were excited as we planned out the details. 

About a week before, my Mom went into Stop-and-Shop to ask about ordering a cake. The Winnie-the-Pooh-themed cake was cheerful and sweet for a child's birthday; the colors were bright - and a simple Winnie-the-Pooh plastic centerpiece would be affixed to the middle of the cake, the lady behind the counter explained. But when my Mom learned how much just a small cake would be, we re-thought the decision; my Mom lives on a tight budget and the cake would have been a significant expense for her. 

But then she went back to the bakery department a few days before the birthday. She noticed a couple of plain cakes ready to be transferred to the reduced bakery rack. Then she learned that the Winnie-the-Pooh centerpiece could be bought separately from the cake. 

If she came back the next morning, one of the ladies told her, she could buy a plain cake from the reduced rack and put the centerpiece on it herself. 

So she bought the centerpiece. And then my Mom returned back again. Early in the morning. 

But the cakes weren't on the reduced rack yet. My Mom waited and then finally asked a different woman who was working in the bakery department when they would be going out. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," was the lady's huffy reply. 

"But someone in the bakery department told me that these cakes would be reduced today . . . " my Mom spoke to the woman.

"Well, I don't know who told you that..."

My Mom left the store, downhearted, disappointed by what had transpired. 

She told me that in the car, she brought it to the Lord, asking for forgiveness for being frustrated in her heart with the woman in the bakery department who had answered her brusquely. 

As my Mom drove, she suddenly remembered that there was another Stop-and-Shop nearby--

She entered the store, headed to that Stop-and-Shop's reduced rack, and looked in amazement. 

The brightly colored Winnie-the-Pooh cake sat there - without the centerpiece - and priced just under 10 dollars, in perfect condition. 

Amazed, she picked it up and paid for it, rejoicing and praising the Lord all the way home. 

And when we ate the cake on Sunday, it was deliciously fresh, even though it was a "reduced" cake. 

My little daughter loved it; the centerpiece adorned it beautifully, and again we were reminded that -

Our Lord's hand is in the small things - He works in the minutest details of His children's lives, He answers the simple prayers of our hearts -

Meeting a woman's need -

In His perfect, all-providing way, 

Down to the tiniest detail. 

Because He loves His children.   

You might find me on these link-ups:

Strangers and Pilgrims on Earth, The Modest Mom, What Joy is Mine, Yes They Are All Ours, Missional Call, A Mama's Story, Mom's the Word, Rich Faith Rising, Time Warp Wife, Cornerstone Confessions, Mom's Morning Coffee, So Much at Home, Raising Homemakers, Hope in Every Season, A Wise Woman Builds Her Home, Woman to Woman Ministries, Whole-Hearted Home, A Soft Gentle Voice, My Daily Walk in His Grace, Messy Marriage, My Teacher's Name is Mama, The Charm of Home, Graced Simplicity, Children Are A Blessing, Mittenstate Sheep and Wool, Imparting Grace, Preparedness Mama, A Look at the Book, Essential Thing Devotions, Count My Blessings, Beauty Observed, Christian Mommy Blogger, Renewed Daily, Soul Survival, Good Morning Mondays

In Our Pain + A Giveaway for Ann Voskamp's One Thousand Gifts

(In connection with this post, I'm hosting a giveaway for a new copy of Ann Voskamp's One Thousand Gifts, a memoir-style book about understanding the grace of God in our pain and brokenness. If you already own a copy but would like to give one to someone else as a gift, please still feel free to enter the giveaway... It is a wonderful book, even for hurting unbelievers. Read to the end of this post to find/enter the giveaway.)


You might find me on these link-ups:

Strangers and Pilgrims on Earth, The Modest Mom, What Joy is Mine, Yes They Are All Ours, Missional Call, A Mama's Story, Mom's the Word, Rich Faith Rising, Time Warp Wife, Cornerstone Confessions, Mom's Morning Coffee, So Much at Home, Raising Homemakers, Hope in Every Season, A Wise Woman Builds Her Home, Woman to Woman Ministries, Whole-Hearted Home, A Soft Gentle Voice, My Daily Walk in His Grace, Messy Marriage, My Teacher's Name is Mama, The Charm of Home, Graced Simplicity, Children Are A Blessing, Mittenstate Sheep and Wool, Imparting Grace, Preparedness Mama, A Look at the Book, Essential Thing Devotions, Count My Blessings, Beauty Observed, Christian Mommy Blogger, Renewed Daily, Soul Survival

Neither life nor death shall ever

From the Lord His children sever;

Unto them His grace He showeth,

And their sorrows all He knoweth.

- Karolina W. Sandell-Berg

It all began a few months ago. The eye-watering, the pain; waking me from my sleep at night. 

I was already getting up a few times with my newborn and sometimes with my almost-2-year-old. 

So I hardly noticed the interruption in my sleep. 

It was an annoyance, but I just brushed it aside and attributed it to allergies and sleeplessness. 

But then it began to worsen. 

The pain would linger, so severe at times that I would rock back and forth to deal with it.

And then, just try to go back to sleep. 

It began happening during the daytime, too, until one Sunday morning - I was trying to get everyone ready for church - it just wouldn't go away. 

I tried to make it through that day and the next, but the pain became so severe, that I couldn't function. 

My Mom and my sister had to help with my little ones -

My eye swelled grotesquely and reddened, and when the pain finally became excruciating and unbearable, I called my husband at work to take me to the walk-in emergency center. 

They immediately sent me to another part of the building to see an eye specialist-

My sinuses were also affected and I couldn't stop my nose and eyes from leaking continually with cold-like symptoms. 

I was a mess. And there was nothing that I could do about it. 

The diagnosis was a severe case of "recurrent corneal erosion," and I was relieved at finally knowing what was wrong and being given medication to treat it. 

I joked about how I could to some small degree sympathize with the Apostle Paul with his supposed eye troubles - but the pain was not a joke. 

And I sat that night in my room, my nose leaking, my eye burning and watering, my little ones there with me. My daughter, almost 2, climbed up into the desk chair with one of her books that we read before she goes to sleep. 

As I sat on the floor in severe pain with my 5-month-old, I heard my daughter suddenly begin to recite one of the poems from memory that was in her book -

I hear no voice, 

I feel no touch

I see no glory bright...

And I knew that the next words of the poem followed:

But yet I know 

That God is near 

In darkness as in light-

At that moment, I knew the Lord's nearness to me in my pain - only a light affliction in comparison to what my Savior had suffered-

For the past few days before that, it had been difficult to even think - to take care of my babies - and even my tears were painful -

But the Lord knelt down to me there, in my suffering - in the suffering that He had allowed -  to draw me to Himself - so that I could relate in some small way to the sufferings that He had borne for me. 

That night was the most difficult - The doctor had said that it would take from 12-24 hours for me to have some relief from the pain.

I spent a sleepless night in agony, the dripping from my sinuses making me sick and giving me a terrible headache on top of the extreme pain in my eye. 

But I knew that He was with me...

And I made it through, by His grace. 

Made it to the morning.

And the next day there was some improvement; the severity of the pain faded. 

And His grace washed over me. 

C.S. Lewis says -

"Pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our consciences, but shouts in our pains. It is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world." 

And He knows our sorrows and gives us a measure of what we are able to bear, by His grace. 

He walks with us through them, even when we cannot see Him for the pain. 

Because He is near. 

And because, as the rest of the poem in my daughter's book reads, 

The Father for His little child

Both day and night doth care. 

Giveaway

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My Father's Voice

“Pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our consciences, but shouts in our pains. It is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.”

-C.S. Lewis

Source

Sometimes I still think that I can hear his voice . . . 

Down in the kitchen--gruff and deep,the low tones of a winter's night wrapped in sandpaper.

And I can imagine his heavy-work-worn hands, the scar on his thumb where it was almost lost in a carpentry accident. 

And I can hear him calling me "Fuzz;" his nickname for me because of my frizzy hair and remember the way that he made his coffee midnight-strong in the morning. 

I used to wake up around the same time that he did--5 am--he because he didn't want to "waste the day," and me to be able to pray before I went to school. 

We didn't want to waste the day . . . 

But his Day was wasted and he turned away from the Voice of the Father, the voice that once called him and beckoned the proud heart to Himself. 

The proud heart that broke --

Broke his family and his God and hardened into a molten rock, so thick and deep and stony, and it wouldn't be broken, only used to crush. 

The hearts of the ones who loved him most--

The hearts of the ones who called him husband and daddy--

The hearts of the three little girls who held his hands and sat on his lap, and who craved his love and affection and attention.

The heart of the woman who lived and built her life around his--who always wanted the best for him and forgave the lies over and over and over.  

They almost broke. 

But the Lord uses stones that try to crush to purify and to magnify His grace and mercy through heartache and loss.

We are hard-pressed on every side, yet not crushed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed— always carrying about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our body. (II Corinthians 4:8-10)

The Father of mercy--who causes grief, but will yet show compassion . . . 

And I learned through those days, those years dim with sorrow and mourning and wishing, praying that things could be different, that my Heavenly Father is enough--

That He fills things that are empty with joy--

That He makes rivers from deserts

The wilderness into a road--

And the Valley of Achor into a door of hope. 

Sometimes I still hear his voice, 

But it has grown fainter--

And my Heavenly Father's, stronger--richer--fuller--bright and strong and full of hope and redemption--has grown more beautiful and real to me.  

I can hear my Father's voice. 

A Father to Us

Three little girls and their Mama, their Mama always dressed in plaid. Long plaid skirts down to her calf and those old-penny loafer shoes. So we still like plaid, still wear it whenever we can get our hands on it, because it was a familiar comfort to us, spoke of home, spoke of warmth and her constant presence of love. She baked banana bread in the kitchen, the big kitchen that she wanted because it reminded her of Carolyn Ingalls and Little House on the Prairie. She asked for the hewn boards on the walls, but he said that they were too expensive, so she had to settle for wallpaper. And he bought cigarettes, but she couldn’t have her walls. 

There were walls . . . and the comfort of my Mama, her firm comfort, that never beat around a bush and always said things like they were, in a loving way. There were no half-truths with my Mama, no excuses for behavior, like “I’m too tired,” or “I’m too hungry.” There was grace, but honest grace. Grace without truth is just frosting with no cake, and who wants frosting all the time?

He wanted frosting. He wanted the half-truths and the no-questions-asked, and the license to go, to do what he wanted to and no one to answer to. And he was warm when things went his way and he was steel-cold when they didn’t and when he left he left hurt and he left pain and he twisted the knife so that it cut deep. And when he left . . . so many times. And we scrimped and we saved and we made sacrifices because my Mama was determined to pay the tuition to the Christian school that we attended. And then he came back and it was a little better until the next time.

Until the final blow when all hell broke loose and he didn’t scream and he didn’t storm and there was just silence, icy silence that chilled the bone and left a hollow cavity in the air of unrest. And the knife stuck, stuck and twisted deep and the pain nearly broke us, tore us limb for limb and groping for the agony of the wound. So he left . . . And we would have lost heart, tumbled deep, tumbled far, but the Lord was a light to us, a sure and certain light and the agony of the wound was hushed, not erased, but hushed and there was grace.

He was a Father to us . . . O Lord, my Rock and my Deliverer . . . a strength in times of trouble, the One who held us up and did not leave us destitute. “I have never seen the righteous forsaken, not his children begging for bread . . .” (Psalm 37:25) He was a Father to us, a Father to the fatherless, a defender of widows.

Years ago, before my heart was opened to the understanding, I felt cheated, hurt and forsaken by my father’s lack of caring, lack of involvement in our lives, lack of sacrificial love for my Mama, absence of love for his God. I felt hurt and I felt cheated and I let the wound fester inside my heart, let the grief run into tears of bitter woe. There were times like the day that I wanted him to teach me how to drive, and I knew that he didn’t want to. When I asked him he was reluctant; he wanted to watch the football game, and that was more important to him, more important than teaching his daughter how to drive, than spending time with me. And his reluctance bit into my soul and crushed my spirit. And so many times I felt cheated and crushed. And I looked at the other girls with their daddys who adored them and spent time with them and loved them . . . and felt a hollow ache that couldn’t be filled.

Until the Lord broke through to me, my Baal Perizim, my enlightening, and the lifting of my heart’s heavy load.

The love of the Father, poured into my heart, filling the empty places, flooding the dark places with the light of heaven. I knew, I felt His love and compassion. He filled the empty place and my heart sang for joy. The Lord in His wisdom had allowed me not to “have” an earthly father, so that I would cling to my heavenly One. The pain was softened. The load was lightened and I could reach out my hands to the unseen Father and feel His pleasure and joy. I could sing with all my heart:

Be Thou my Vision, O Lord of my heart
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art
Thou my best Thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.

Be Thou my Wisdom, and Thou my true Word
I ever with Thee and Thou with me, Lord
Thou my great Father, I Thy true son
Thou in me dwelling, and I with Thee one.

My Heavenly Father had filled the void with His sweet presence, with His deep, deep, Father-love and I could cry out to Him in my need and He would never be indifferent or too busy or absent from me. He allowed me not to have something that I ached for so that He could give me something better . . . His peace, His joy, Himself—a Father to the fatherless . . . the love of my heart.