Take Away Faith

“Is that you Chuck?”

 We’ve met some great people in our lives, and Bill was one of them. Good-natured and friendly. You could find him at the airport at least once or twice a week. 

 The radio in Bill’s plane had been working intermittently, and he was trying to find the problem. Bill was in a hangar working when he heard a roar of a plane coming inbound. Bill keyed the mic and said, “Aircraft on downwind, this is Stinson N0000Charlie. Do you copy?”
Silence.

Whenever Bill called, we knew it was him because of his distinctive voice., so when he radioed out, Chuck knew it was Bill.

  Chuck was entering the flight pattern and was busy checking for traffic and preparing for landing.

 

 Once again,
“Aircraft on downwind, this is Stinson N0000Charlie…, do you copy?”  

A few seconds went by, and then Chuck answered, “What do you want, Bill?”

 “Who is this?”

Chuck said, “God.”

Longer pause. Then in a sheepish voice, Bill said, “is that you, Chuck?”

Chuck landed, and within the hour, both were at our kitchen table drinking coffee and laughing about “hearing from God.”

Bill said he knew it wasn’t God, but then again, you never know. Maybe his radio frequency reached farther than expected. With God, anything is possible.

God knows your name and hears when you talk to Him. You may not get a quick answer, but He isn’t interested in quick, He is interested in the quality of an ongoing relationship with you, to be a part of your life in a meaningful and personal way.

When my kids were young, and one would cry in the night, I knew which one it was. Today when I get a phone call, and I hear, “Hi, Mom. It’s me…” I know exactly who it is. He or she is my child, and our love relationship has grown over the years, and our bonds have deepened. Each time I hear from one of them, my heart smiles because they thought of me and called. Every once in a while, it’s a distress call, “pray!” or with good news or no news at all; it’s just good to hear their voice.

God’s more like that than we realize. He longs to hear your voice. “Help!” or a thank you or tell Him you love Him. Look in the back of your Bible, and in the concordance, look up verses about God’s faithfulness and love for you. 

Psalms 22:3 says God inhabits the praise of His people. When you don’t know how to pray, start praising. Thank Him for His majesty in creation, let the words flow, continue praising Him for His promises and blessings, for who He is, and as you do, you will feel His presence. Rejoice because He knows your name. He knows your voice.  

A close relationship takes time, honesty, and commitment. Having a one-sided relationship isn’t a relationship. Honesty is a big thing. Be honest… with yourself. God already knows all the “news” in your life. He wants to help you with whatever you need.

Relationships take time. Time spent with Him strengthens and deepens your faith as you spend time together.

The takeaway: God knows your voice. He’s always listening to yours. 

 

I Remember Mama

She wasn’t your typical grandma.

Mama could tell you the best kinds of stories; exciting stories from her childhood about cowboys and Indians and a dog named Flossy.

She did an Indian dance she learned as a kid from one of the North Dakota’s, and even into her eighties, she would do the jig sitting on the kitchen chair and sing the song in the tribal language.

She told me stories of the great depression and raising her ten children as a single parent. The depression was terrible, and for people like her, it was so much harder.

Mama did laundry for the YMCA, baked pies to sell, and ironed clothes to make money. The older kids quit school and got jobs waitressing, and the boys deliver newspapers and did odd jobs when they could.

Eventually, all five of her sons would serve in World War II, and by the grace of God, they all came home, physically in one piece.

Stories of an oversized German Sheppard named Major and how he would follow the twins everywhere, and when it got late, Major would go home without them.

Mama would say, “Major, where are the boys?” He would do a turnabout and out the door and lead her right to them.

It seemed as if the twins were always late getting home, often after dark. To save time, the boys would cut through a thickly wooded lot. Mama kept warning them it was unsafe, but they could take care of themselves. If they would not listen, she’d find another way to get them not to venture into the woods. She tried everything, and now she was desperate.

“There are ghosts in the woods,” she told them.

“Nah, there are no such things as ghosts.” they laughed. “You’ll see. One of these days, you’ll cut through there, and you will see one,” she said.

If they would not listen, she’d find another way to get them not to venture into the woods. She tried everything.

Mama was tough, but she was also funny and fun-loving.

She didn’t have to wait long until they were late again, and it was dark.

Mama was ready. She grabbed a white sheet and ran out the door, headed to the words. She positioned herself by a clump of trees and waited. Then she heard them running in her direction, talking and laughing. She slipped the sheet over her head, and then when they got closer, she stepped out from behind the tree into the moonlight and groaned her best ghostly, “Oooooo.” slowly raising her arms up and down.

Their screams shot around the block. They ran, stumbling and falling over each other, then took off in different directions.

Mama quickly ran back to the house and tossed the sheet. Minutes later, the boys slammed the back door so hard it almost flung off the hinges.

Their voices producing ear-piercing screams, “We saw a ghost!” Both were yelling, each trying to tell their near-death experience.

“You cut through the woods, didn’t you?” mama asked them. “Yes, but we…”

“Didn’t I tell you:?” she asked.

“We’re never going to go into the woods ever again!!” they vowed. Mama smiled.

It was her way of keeping her kids safe, even if she had to “scare them straight.” It worked.

Her life stories and experiences were part of who she was. It made her special. My grandmother raised me, and I think it makes me the best part of who I am today.



God gives us amazing people, and their memory stays with us for a lifetime.



The take-away: Love has creative ways to protect the ones we love. God has his ways, too.

The China Doll

I read a story of a famous evangelist who lived in the 1800s. He traveled the world preaching and would often be gone for months. When he returned from one of those long voyages, he would bring his small daughter a gift.

This time he did not. He told her, “I thought it would be nice if you and I went shopping together, On one condition, I get to choose the gift.”

“Oh, yes papa, that would be wonderful!” She was excited because she didn’t know what it would be!

As soon as they got to the store, she spotted a large apple barrel filled with little finger china dolls. Her eyes lit up. She rushed over to them, and said, look at these!; Oh, papa, this is what I want!”

“Did you forget our agreement that I would choose?” he asked her. “No papa, but what could be better than one of these? Please?” “Alright,’ he told her, ‘if that’s what you want.”

Later that afternoon, he watched her playing on the floor with her new doll. After a while, he called her over to him.

 “Would you like to know what I was going to buy you? What I was going to choose?”

She was so happy with the little doll she had forgotten. “Yes, papa, what was it?”

“Well, do you remember that large china doll you always wanted?” Her eyes got big, and her heart sunk. “Oh, Papa…”

As the story goes, from that time on, whenever he would ask her what she wanted him to bring back for her, she would say, “You choose, Papa.”

It delights a father to give his children good things and how much more our loving Heavenly Father will do for us.

I wonder how many times I have said, “Oh, ABBA, this is what I want, please!”, and when I do, I risk that I may have settled for seconded best instead of His best for me?

God will choose for his children the best things- for them individually.

How I am like that little girl; I am so excited that ABBA Father will choose something special for me and then… I get a glimpse of the trinkets’ the world tells me I need, and what will make me happier. Before I know it, my vision becomes distorted, and I’ve lost focus and purpose of what is important to me.

I read a quote that said, “The minute you settle for less than you deserve, you get less than you settled for.”

I could change it around to, “The minute I settle for less than God has for me, I will get less than settled for.”

Nothing is better for us than God’s best. Allowing God the joy of sharing His blessing upon us is always a smart choice.

The takeaway: You chose, Father.

Praying for Your Enemies

We moved from the city to a small town about seventy miles away to start a flying business.

My husband, Chuck, taught flying and did charter work in the area. We were excited to fit into our new hometown and be an asset to the community. It’s hard starting a new business no matter where you live. 

It’s a lot of work and sacrifices, and some you never considered or imagined. We were the only fixed base operation in town and didn’t have competition, although there were a few local pilots who occasionally would cause us problems.

Even after five years of living there, they considered us as outsiders. No matter how we tried, things didn’t get better. One pilot who rented our planes told us he had lived there for over twenty years, and they still considered him an outsider.

One afternoon, Chuck and a student pilot were pre-flighting the plane to go flying and suddenly he came rushing into the door and said, “There’s been a plane crash, we’re going over there.” He and the student took off in our pickup and headed to where the smoke was coming from. The plane engine seizes up. The pilot tried to make it back to the airport, then realized they wouldn’t make it.  He would have to make a forced landing in an empty field close by.  

The pilot turned the plane to line up with the field to land. He didn’t see the power and telephone poles in the direct line of the turn.  The wing hit the pole close to the fuselage and ruptured the fuel tank, snapping off the poles, stretching the attached wires as the momentum of the plane dragged them behind the plane.  Immediately, it burst into a ball of fire, and black smoke shot upward.

We lived at the airport and from our back door, we could see the smoke and knew it was bad.  When Chuck rushed to the crash site, he was afraid it would be deadly.  Greg and I stood in the bad door, watching the smoke roll skyward. I knew the plane and the men in it.  They were a couple of our adversaries.

I knew I needed to pray, but for a split second, it tempted me to look the other way. God understood my bruised heart and was giving me a chance to ask for a miracle for the men. I took my little son by the hand, and we walked into the living room, and I told him we had to pray for the men in the plane.

We got on our knees and each prayed for the safety of the men. When we finished, I hoped my prayer was good. I remember saying, “The way I feel Lord, I’m not sure if you heard me, but I know you heard Greg. Thank you.”

I know my little son didn’t fully understand the gravity of the situation, but he earnestly prayed.

Chuck got to the site may be five, or ten minutes after it happened. When they reached the field, the plane was a skeleton. The fire was so hot it melted the aluminum and the black smoke worsened.

When Chuck got to the crash, the men had disappeared. At the time of the crash, a man driving on the road next to the field saw the accident, picked the men up, and rushed them to the hospital. It was a miracle they could physically get out of that small plane, let alone walk.

What are the odds? Even more amazing, they weren’t hurt! Again, what are the odds? God’s odds.

I didn’t want those men hurt, or worse, to die, but I did struggle at the moment, to surrender to what I knew God wanted me to do.

I believed God answered Greg’s prayer that day, but I also believe He honored my prayer through my obedience to His word. I passed the test. I was grateful and praised the Lord for His Mercy.


Matthew 5:44
“But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you”


The takeaway: Praying is an attitude of the heart.  Jesus prayed for his enemies.

Looking for Jesus

Leo Tolstoy wrote a beautiful story about a man named Papa Panov.

He was the village shoemaker. His family was grown, and his wife had died. Usually, he was a happy man, but this Christmas Eve, he was sad as he remembered the years when his family was young and together.

Papa opened his Bible and read the Christmas story where Joseph and Mary had to have Jesus in a cowshed. There was nowhere for them to go; all the inns were full. “Oh, dear, oh, dear!” he said. “If only they had come by here, I would have given my bed and covered Mary’s baby with my patchwork quilt to keep him warm.”

He read about the wise men that brought gifts to baby Jesus. Papa Panov was sad. He had nothing to give him.

Then he remembered a perfect tiny pair of leather shoes he had made and were in a box in the closet. “I should give him those.” He sat back down in his easy chair and closed his eyes and quickly had fallen asleep.

He had a dream that someone was in the room with him, “and he knew at once, as one in dreams do, who the person was. It was Jesus.”

As the story moves on, he tells Papa Panov to watch Christmas day as he visits him. “Watch carefully, for I shall not tell you who I am.”

Bells chiming awakened Papa Panov the next morning, for it was Christmas day.

Throughout the day, Papa Panov waits for Jesus, and as the day progresses, he sees the road- sweep and invites him in for hot coffee and get warmed.

Then later, while keeping his eyes open for Jesus, he spots a young mother carrying her baby in the cold. She is on her way to the next village for work as she has no husband to care for them. He invites them in, feeds them, and gives the baby shoes, for she is barefooted.

Later that night, there is still no sign of Jesus.

Villagers are back in their homes, and he sees only beggars in the streets. Papa Panov had made cabbage soup for his dinner, and he ends up sharing his dinner and bread with the beggars.

Long last, the day is over. He feels disappointed, “What if he had missed Him?”

Then he once again felt a presence in his room. He envisioned the road sweeper, the young mother and her baby, and the beggar he had fed that night. “Didn’t you see me, Papa Panov?”

“Who are you?” he called out, bewildered.

Another voice answered him. It was the voice from his dream – the voice of Jesus.

“I was hungry, and you fed me,” he said, “I was naked, and you clothed me. I was cold, and you warmed me. I came to you today in every one of those you helped and welcomed.”

Great peace and happiness seemed to fill the room. He wanted to burst out singing and to laugh and to dance with joy. “So He came after all.” was all he said.

We, too, look for Jesus. Could it be that He comes to us, like Papa Panov, by sending to us those who need Him most?

Watch carefully! Jesus may visit you today.

The takeaway: A simple act of kindness not only blesses those who received them but honors our Lord Jesus.

Harvest Time

We had a visiting pastor at our church one Sunday who shared this story from his childhood.

It was during the depression, and things were hard. His father, a teacher, decided if he could find a job for the summer it would provide some extra money The hard part was he would have to leave his family to do it.

 Every year the family planted a large garden, and this year it would be the same.

As the father planted the seeds, he told the two oldest boys it would be their responsibility to take care of the garden. They were to weed and water it faithfully, and he told the boys their mother was not to help or remind them of their duties. It was all up to them. It excited the boys to think would be the “men” of the house while dad was away.

 “It will be the best garden ever, dad. Don’t worry about us.” Dad smiled and gave them a big hug, and headed down the road.

All went well; for a while. Soon the gardening got a little dull, and the trips to the garden got farther and farther apart.

The summer flew by. One day, a letter came from Dad saying he would be home in a couple of weeks. Everyone was excited. Then the boys thought of the garden. “What are we going to do? “They rushed to the garden to find it worse than they thought. Pulling the weeds showed how puny the plants were. Watering the garden did little to make up for the neglect of the last few months; they knew they had failed. 

The day came; they could see their father walking down the road toward the house. The boys ran down the road to greet their father, and as they walked back to the house, they made a trip to the garden. The boys’ lagged. They felt horrible as their father strolled through the garden. He didn’t say a word, but they could see the disappointment on his face. The boys were ashamed they had let him down. They would never let this happen again.

The next year it was the same. The father planted the garden and gave the exact instructions. “Dad, we won’t let you down this time, honest. You’ll see,” vowed the pair. Dad smiled. That year was different. Every day the two worked, and slowly, they could see the plants were getting larger. They saw the fruit was small and not yet ripe, but it was there. As the plants grew larger and started producing, the boys got excited. “I can’t wait for Dad to come home and see this. He won’t believe it!” “We did it! Dad will be so proud of us,” said the other.

It seemed as if the summer would never end. Finally, the letter came, “I will be home in two weeks.” When that day came, the boys were up early watching for their dad.

Finally, way down the road, they saw a small figure of a man; they took off running. When the boys reached him, they almost knocked him over. They grabbed him and laughing; they dragged him to the garden; it amazed him. Their father looked at the garden in disbelief. It was bursting with healthy plants.

As the boys watch him in silence, the father’s eyes filled with tears and, without a word, turned to them, and opening up his arm, they rushed to him.
It overwhelmed the father with pride. The boys were proud, too; they had not let their father down.

As the pastor finished, he looked across the congregation and asked, “Have you been about our Father’s business? Are you excited about His return, or will you be like my brother and me that first year, not wanting to face him?”

If you don’t know what to do, ask Him. Pray for others to come to Christ, for other Christians under persecution, for our Nation. God will take it from there. The Bible says some plant, some water, some reap. 

John 4:35
“Say not ye, there are yet four months, and then cometh harvest? Behold, I say unto you, Lift up your eyes, and look on the fields; for they are white already to harvest.” It’s harvest time.

The takeaway: Be about the Father’s business, whatever He has given you to do.

Ryan’s Story

We have heard the phrase, “everyone has a story.” Everyone is a story. Experiences in one’s life are layers that have made them who they are. We do not know who they are or what their life has been. However, if we talked with them, I am confident we would be wiser somehow.

My husband had an appointment with a new doctor. As he was filling out papers, an older couple came in, followed by a man in a motorized wheelchair. It was their son. They sat opposite me; soon, the nurse called the gentleman and his wife into the back. I had brought a book I had been reading and had just opened it up. I heard someone ask, “Chuck, “is there was anyone you’d like to know about physical records?” He said,” No.” I raised my hand and called out, “Me.”

My husband is a bit hard hearing. The nurse asked him again, and he said, “No.” Once again. I raised my hand again, waving at the nurse. “Me!.” She looked at me and back at Chuck and laughing and said, “She said, her.”  He turned around, looked at me and laughed, and said, “Oh, yeah.” I couldn’t resist; I said, “After all these years, he will not keep any secrets from me!” Everyone laughed.

The man in the wheelchair motored over toward my chair as Chuck walked back to sit down. He rolled to greet Chuck; with a pulled smile, he held up his left fist for a fist pump. Chuck responded. With a grin on my face, I told the man, “Don’t encourage him!” Everyone in the waiting office was laughing.

Ryan could not speak or smile, but his blue eyes did. What a personality! He motioned, asking our names by pointing to us, then to himself. We introduced ourselves. There was a mat in front of him with letters and numbers. He pointed out his name. RYAN. The nurse came for Chuck; he turned and asked me, “Are you coming?” No, I think I’ll stay here and visit with Ryan,” I said.

I notice at the top of his mat were three circles. I didn’t see the first one, but the other two said, Hope and Faith. I pointed to faith and asked him, “Do you have faith?” Slightly, he nodded his head. Then I spelled out the name of Jesus on his mat. “Do you know Him?” Ryan became excited to tell me his story. He would point to letters with minute hand gestures. He put his arm out and move it up and down.

I started to guessing. Ryan’s smiling eyes told me I wasn’t doing well. Finally, Ryan drew his hand over the board as if to clear it and for me to start over. He pointed out to spell the word A-n-g-e-l. Laughing, I said. “I’m an angel!” Shaking his head and smiling.

I said, “You are an angel? “I could see he was laughing, although no sound came. He was trying so hard. He was trying to sign language. I told Ryan, “You have to help me here.” I felt his a big smile and spelled out more.

About then, his mother came in and said his father was ready, and it was time for him to go to the back. I shared our conversation with his mother and told her I didn’t understand but wanted to know what he was telling me.

She asked him; with sign language, she then translated his message. He’d signed his grandmother and grandfather. And the up and down of his hand were angels. She told me his story.

He had been in a car accident and was in a coma, and when he came out of it, Ryan said he had been to heaven. His mother told me when he saw a picture of grandparents, whom he never saw before, he knew who they were. He had met them in heaven. When his arm and hand were going up and down, he was trying to tell me about the angels; when his hand was going up quickly, then with his palm facing downward, he slowly lowered it, God was telling him he couldn’t stay. He had to go back.  

As I stood listening to his mother, I looked at Ryan; all I could say was,” I believe him.” She said,” I do, too.” I told Ryan,” I am so glad you came back, so I could meet you.” His eyes smiled at me; his mother followed him to the back. And then he paused, looked back at me, then with two fingers, kissed them, and pointed them to me. I did the same. As they left the room, he held up his arm and signed, I love you. His mother called back, “he says he loves you.” (smile) “I love you, too.”

As I watched them, I prayed with all my heart for him and his family. I don’t know if I will ever meet him again, here; I hope so, but I know I will meet him in heaven. His joy and love were something his paralyzed body could not contain or dampen. The joy of the Lord is our strength. I know it is Ryan’s as well.

The takeaway: The joy of the Lord can be our strength when we trust Him.  

Postscript
I never saw Ryan again. One night not too long ago, I heard on the local news of an accident where a drunk driver ran a stop sign, hit a van broadside so hard it threw a man in his wheelchair out of the vehicle, killing him instantly.
His family survived. I never knew Ryan’s last name, but I am sure it was he and his parents. I feel blessed to have known Ryan, even if it was just for an hour. He not only blessed my heart but his passing put a dent in it as well.

 Ryan was special. He had a love and joy that could only come from the Lord.

  

His Name is Terrific!

 Every year our church would put on a Christmas pageant and with a play, costumes, scripture reading, and songs to perform. The kids were always the big attraction.

 Our youngest son, Greg, was to memorize scripture for the Christmas program. He hadn’t informed me of this, so when I ran into his Sunday school teacher in the hallway at church one Sunday, she asked, “How’s Greg coming on his memory verse? I laughed and asked, “What verse?”

Later that day, I asked Greg if he had a note for me from his Sunday school teacher.  
“Oh, yeah, he said, I forgot.”

“Do you remember what it was about?”
“Hmm, something about Jesus.”
“What was it?””I think it was something like.” He’s terrific.”

Terrific wasn’t in there, but for this six-year-old, it worked.

It was Isaiah 9:6
“For UNTO US a child is born, unto us, a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.”

Did you catch it said, “unto YOU (us) a child was born…”?

When a baby is born, a birth announcement made, it will read something like; (un)to Mr. and Mrs. Smith, a baby boy was born. 

This is different.

In Matthew 2 & Luke 2, the Christmas story. Tells us where Jesus is born, who was the king, (about his evil plan), and how the three wise men traveled from the East to Jerusalem, and why.

Luke tells us why Joseph had to go to Bethlehem, the stable, and how the shepherds received the Good News, “For UNTO YOU is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.

The angels declared the Good news to the lowly shepherds in the fields at night.

When the shepherds heard this, they said, “let us now go even unto Bethlehem and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us.”

We know shepherds were not high on the social register, and to be told by angels of Jesus’ birth was impressive to me. 

Shepherds never leave their flocks. They will stay out and protect them – even sleeping with them. But, with news like this, they probably forgot they had sheep!
Jesus changes everything.

The wise men being warned by God in a dream that they should not return to Herod; so they departed for their own country, another way. 

 When I met Jesus, I depart a different way, too. Jesus altered my path and changed my destiny forever.  

 My husband, Chuck, made a manager., and every year we place it beside our Christmas tree. Inside it is a patch of straw, a white remnant of an old sheet, a small white blanket, and then I place a little woolly lamb in it. On the front of the manager’s slats, there is a ribbon hanging and a note that says, “God’s gift to you.” Christmas Eve, I take the little lamb out and put a baby doll in its place.

Trying to grasp the awe the shepherds and the wise men felt that night as they bowed and worshiped a baby- a child-King, God, is impossible, I think.

The Christ child. Lord of lords and King of kings, Savior of the world.

Unto you unto me.

The takeaway: Jesus changes everything.  

A Thanksgiving Turkey

“Therefore, take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? Or, What shall we drink? Or Wherewithal, shall we be clothed? For after all these things do the Gentiles seek; for your heavenly Father knows that ye need all these things.”
Matthew 6:31,32

If you think back, I’m guessing you’ve learned more about God in your time of need than any other time. For it is in those times that God can reveal you Himself in ways He could not otherwise.

When we were trying to build our flying business, the first years were hard. To say money was tight was an understatement – we didn’t have any. Learning to live on faith was a day-to-day way of life. In those adventurous times, God taught us to depend on Him, no matter how things looked. Sometimes it was very hard, and it tested our faith. We learned He always had a plan.

One Thanksgiving was one of those times. As I worked my grocery list, checking the ads for specials, I counted my money; I realized I couldn’t buy a turkey and the trimmings. How could I do both? Then, I had a jolt of inspiration -what if I bought five or six pounds of hamburger, mixed it as meatloaf, used Popsicle sticks as a” bone” to mold the hamburger around, maybe it would look turkey-like. Who was I kidding?. Talk about a desperate mom!
I had a turkey problem!

I bundled up, grabbed my list, and prayed God would make my money stretch, and I headed for the store.
Circling the turkey bins, walking away, checking the fresh produce, and can goods aisles, I made my way back to the turkeys again.
The turkey won. I didn’t want the kids to go to school feeling they had missed out on a Thanksgiving special dinner, even if it just turkey, potatoes, corn, and gravy.

As I bent over the bin to lift a turkey, I heard someone call my name. I looked up, and there stood Chris. Chris was an adorable 19-year-old student pilot, looking every bit the part of “Snoopy, WW1 fighter pilot” with his leather jacket, a white scarf around his neck, and a leather hat on his head. 

I smiled and said, “Hi, Chris, Happy Thanksgiving.” He gave me one of those smiles and said, “I spotted your car in the parking lot and put a turkey in the backseat. Dad and I both get turkeys from work, and we don’t need two of them. See you later.” With a grin and a wave, he was gone!
I was stunned.

I hadn’t prayed for a turkey! I hadn’t even thought to ask for one or for more money; I asked Him to make my money stretch. 

I think it was important for my Heavenly Father that His daughter had a turkey that Thanksgiving. Now, I am not crazy about turkey, but I am crazy about my kids, and so it was important to me, they had a turkey dinner. God is crazy about His kids, too. I think He wanted to remind me He is always there and ready to meet my needs.

The takeaway: God wants to show us what He can do.

Molly’s Garden

I love the idea of planting a garden: all that wonderful greenery, beautiful flowers, and vegetables. So, I give it a whirl from year to year, and every year ends up the same. I looked at my little garden and cringed.

Still, it was early; I told myself, and things could be different this year.
In my “you-can-do-it” pep talk to myself, thoughts of inspiration came to me as I remembered another garden.   

A friend decided she was going to plant a garden. Now, she knew nothing about gardening, but that wouldn’t faze her. Like anything else, she would figure it out as she went along. She is an original can-do girl with a plan.

She bought seeds and tools, a new hose, and she was ready.
But, not leaving anything to chance, she stood in the middle of her worked up the ground and prayed: “Lord, I know you were a carpenter, but I know that you also know how to garden, and I could use Your help.” (Her plan; prayer). With that, she started working.

As the summer went along, her garden was producing like crazy. Some friends stopped by one afternoon and asked her how her garden was doing. She led them into the backyard, and it blew them away. It was beautiful! “Molly, it’s amazing.” They told her.
“Everything’s great, but the potatoes, she told them, I don’t understand it.” Her friends asked her, “What do you mean? The plants look incredible!” “But there are no potatoes on them!”
Her friend said, “They are in the ground.” “No, they’re not!” Molly said, grinning. She thought he was teasing. She wasn’t that gullible!

When he realized she didn’t know, he asked, “Do you have a shovel?”  
She handed him the shovel, and as he pushed the shovel into the ground, he rolled the soil over. It stunned her. There before her eyes, like magic, was a bumper crop of potatoes. She was shocked. Molly stared at the potatoes and then softly said, “I would never have looked for them there!” Her friends laughed and reassured her there were more under the other potato plants.

To the experienced gardener, it wouldn’t have been a surprise. But Molly hadn’t planted a garden before, let alone seen a potato plant before. And that’s what makes the story so funny and cute.  

One morning as I was doing my devotion and prayer time, and it occurred to me that my prayer life was a garden of sorts.
With the seeds of faith, we lift the needs of others and ourselves to the LORD. Watered with more prayer, we continue to pray until the answer comes.

I browsed through my prayer journal and looking back, and I could see some prayers were really old and still unanswered. Why?
I’d prayed according to God’s word and offered the prayers up in faith- believing. I prayed expectantly. (Matthew 21:22)

I was expecting fruit. A sprout of change, something, I saw the barren ground. Molly was disappointed because she believed there were no potatoes. It seemed so many of my prayers had gone unanswered; I felt discouraged. But were they?

It takes about thirty days to grow lettuce or a radish.  It takes ninety to a hundred and twenty days to have a harvest of corn. God grows both, and yet each has its timing. God is at work, no matter how we think, and some fruit we’ll only see at the harvest.

I imagine my prayers like little vines spreading along the ground, over high walls, climbing into dark areas, and climbing the tallest pines. God works across the street and to the far ends of the world through prayer. There is no place which our prayers can’t reach!
We pray; He works; we wait and trust; He continues working, and He brings the harvest!

I believe there is a bumper crop of “hidden” fruit out there. Maybe not as we envisioned it, but as God designed it. Yet, there it is.

Heaven will reveal the real bounty. When we discover the paths our prayer has taken, I think we too will stand amazed and say, I would never have looked there!

The takeaway: Our prayers matter not only for us but for the world. God uses every prayer.

Note: My dear friend Molly has gone to be with the Lord and is in the presence of our Savior. She was a prayer warrior and I believe her prayer- garden has and is continuing to produce today.