Category Archives: Inspirational

Lessons from A Songbird

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I can stand outside and listen to the birds all day long.  I know the distinct sounds of the Red-headed Flicker Woodpecker and the Oregon Junco.  The American Goldfinch, Black-capped Chickadee, Anna’s Hummingbird, and Red-tailed Hawk are on the list as well.  And, surprisingly, the European Starling.  What I once thought of as a winged, scavenging pest, I now count as one of the most melodious birds I’ve heard.

 

The other day while I was walking, I stopped and thanked God for the song of the Chickadee.  It then occurred to me how familiar these bird songs have become to me.

 

“Why can’t I hear your voice so well, Lord?” I quietly asked.

 

Perhaps it is the time I haven’t put in listening and being still.  Times of waiting and not giving up on an answer.  Times of not waiting – of impatience.  Times of thinking I know best.  TImes of not listening, of not being still.
Ashamed.  That is how I felt when I realized that I neglect the One who breathed life into me.  I lose sight of the One who guides my journey.  I can more time seeking the tunes of the song birds than the words of life of my Lord.

 

I want my life to be His words which hold me safely  in the storms of my life and not the melodious tunes of fine feathered friends.  I want to appreciate creation – the beauty, the uniqueness, the awe – but I want to adore the Creator.  I want to know His voice better than that of a Black-capped Chickadee.  The only way for that to happen is to put as much time and effort in listening to and for His voice than I do listening for those bright yellow, red, and other colored flying objects that flit about in my trees.

 

In my shame, I also need to remember that, in so many different ways, He has given us creation for our enjoyment.  As I am still enough to hear the running of the rivers, the crunching of leaves as the doe walks with her fawn, and the songs of His birds, I can easily be reminded of His love which says, “Look at these creatures I have given for your pleasure.  If I have cared for them so well that they spend the day singing praises to Me, won’t I just as much – even more – care for you?”

 

Thank you Lord, for your tenderness toward me.

From my heart - Sherri

What Does God Say To Grief?

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After the winter, God ALWAYS sends the spring. ALWAYS.

We were traveling toward downtown Capitola. Gayle’s Bakery – specifically. The place in town. The place for a great Chocolatine. Ham and Cheese Croissant. Bear Claw. Raspberry and Cream Cheese Danish. All fresh. All scrumptiously delicious. The best you’ll ever taste. I now think I am very hungry…

We (my daughter Tamara and her friend and maid of honor, Ashley) had spent the day before looking at wedding dresses for my daughter, who just happens to be getting married in June to a wonderful guy – my future son in-law. My daughter was driving and Ashley was sitting in the back seat. We were making a pit stop at Gayle’s that morning before going to look at bridesmaids dresses.

As we pulled into the parking lot, my daughter and I were having one of those discussions. You know – the kind where she tells me something and I’m supposed to know about it because she’s told me before. The problem is – I have Parkinson’s disease and quite often, I have been known to forget things. I can blame it on the disease, because besides it being a movement disorder, where we loss of movement plays a major role (among so many other things I won’t go into), a person with PD can also suffer from memory loss. However, the good thing is we may not know memory loss can be an issue because we may not remember we have PD. Wouldn’t that be great for a day!

The bad thing is – everyone around you remembers what they told you (or thinks they do) and you are the one who takes the fall because it’s easy to blame a person with PD, because – not only do they question themselves constantly as to whether they remember the situation correctly or is this is just another time the other person feels a great need to be right?

Anyhow – my daughter had told me something, which I had legitimately forgotten and she wasn’t trying to be right. She put the car into park and knew when I turned my head to the side, I was trying to hide the onset of my eyes watering. Ashley got out and Tamara, my daughter, asked her to give us a few minutes, which she cheerfully agreed to and headed into a shop depicting a Paris theme – a perfect shop for exploring decorating options for the French Country theme my daughter was going for in her wedding.

Tamara turned off the engine. She was frustrated. So was I. This was supposed to be a happy day. A wonderful reason to be going to Gayle’s. To celebrate a glorious, once in a lifetime event. But I had forgotten something. Something important. I might be able to tell you what it was, but I honestly can’t remember what it was…

Now – let me back up a bit.

I have been writing on this blog – specifically targeted re: my journey with Parkinson’s disease – since 2007. I have been writing about my journey of DP, er PD (I’ve often wondered if PD is to blame for dyslexia in later stages!? – comment?) since the ripe old age of 32, when I was misdiagnosed with Lupus.

I have – or so I thought – dealt with the five, or seven, or ten (depending on how quick you want to get through them I suppose and which book of expertise you’re reading on the subject) stages of grief over this not-so-little monster. For the sake of time, here’s a summary (and believe me, this really is condensed):

The Infinite Stages of Grief…

These stages/suggestions were found while conducting a Google search on the stages of grieving. I have compiled the highlights. Some are honestly crazy in terms of how they were worded, but hey – I didn’t come up with them (and my input is italicized).

As I said earlier, there are numerous techniques/stages of grieving. My findings were that the least amount of stages begin with four and after compiling the ones I did find (and there were jumbles more), I ended with a total of 21 stages. Each stage is highlighted and what was said about them is defined below the stage title.

SHOCK & DENIAL –

You may have numbed disbelief and deny the loss. Shock provides protection and may last for weeks. “I’m fine,” is a noted response. Denial is replaced with awareness of possessions left behind after you die. (Someone really did write that.)

PAIN & GUILT -

Shock is replaced by these two emotions (pain and guilt). “It is important to fully experience the pain.” You may have guilt over things you did or didn’t do while you had time before ‘the loss’.

ANGER AND BARGAINING –

Frustration becomes anger and you want to lay the blame for your loss on someone else. Please try to control this.

“Why me?” comes into play. Due to anger issues, the individual is difficult to care for due to rage and envy. “I’ll do anything. Just get me out of this,” they say to God.

DEPRESSION, REFLECTION, LONELINESS –

About the time you’re moving on with your life, you begin to ask ‘Why me?’ In this stage, you realize the magnitude of your loss and get depressed. You isolate yourself. Focus on on the past. Feel empty. Sense despair. Feelings of “I’m so sad.”

THE UPWARD  TURN -

Calmness sets in. You are more organized. Depression begins to disappear. (And this was what stage? The upward turn? Depression is going upward?)

RECONSTRUCTION & WORKING THROUGH -

Your mind starts working again. You seek solutions to problems regardless of (and perhaps because of) your loss. Don’t try to go over it, go through it. (This stage was repeated in two different stage articles.)

ACCEPTANCE &  HOPE -

Learn to accept and deal with reality. You can never return to the “carefree, untroubled YOU that existed before this tragedy, but you will find a way…”. (How encouraging! Not.) Accept the pain. If you cannot accept it, try tolerating it.

“It’s okay.” “You’re gonna make it.” Come to terms and accept your mortality.

ACKNOWLEDGE THE IMPORTANCE AND POWER OF YOUR DIAGNOSIS -

Move through it. (Again, this step was found twice.)

HONOR YOUR GRIEF EVERY DAY -

Set up a sanctuary in-house or in nature so you may open fully to your grief for 10-20 minutes each day. (Say what?!?)

ADDRESS UNFINISHED BUSINESS -

You can address this stage however you like.

CREATE NEW LIVING PATTERNS -

Resolve to get on with your life.

EXPLORE THE DIRECTION AND QUALITY OF YOUR NEW LIFE -

This stage will bring new perspectives, directions and choices.

DON’T PRESSURE YOURSELF TO GET BACK TO NORMAL -

LET YOUR FRIENDS KNOW WHAT YOU WANT AND NEED FROM THEM -

Let them know how they can help. Meals, errands, back rubs, walking partner, checking up on you. Let them know you may be withdrawing during this time. Let them know what they do that is not supportive. Encourage them to educate themselves about what you’re going through. Remind them your grieving will take a long time.

ACKNOWLEDGE THE ANNIVERSARY OF YOUR LOSS -

Do something to commemorate the date. Go easy on yourself. You may still be depressed.

CELEBRATE THE CHANGES AND NEW PERSPECTIVES -

FIND SOMETHING TO DISTRACT YOU FROM YOUR LOSS, ESPECIALLY SOMETHING THAT WILL MAKE YOU LAUGH -

ASK YOURSELF HOW YOU ARE FEELING -

Stop from time to time throughout your day and ask this question. Get in touch with your feelings, not with what your head is telling you. Take a deep breath throughout the day and ask yourself how you are feeling. Then feel the answer. You might discover you’re feeling pretty good.

BREATHE -

There are several ways to breathe, but all require taking a breath from the diaphragm – breathing from the belly. Focus on the breath and let it bring you to the now – where relief is found. For just one moment, focus on your breath.

JOURNAL -

Don’t edit, just write. Words are powerful and will lend to healing.

LAUGH -

Balance your emotions with a ha-ha or hee-hee or a ho-ho. Even if you don’t feel like it. Create the sound of laughter. It raises your vibration. (Is that anything like shaking – as in tremors?)

I don’t think I had a problem with the denial stage. I was actually relieved to have it diagnosed correctly and begin to get some things under control. I also would say I didn’t experience the pain or guilt, unless you count an obsession of bleach to sanitize stuff and inadvertently inhaled too many fumes and fried my dopamine supply. That would be the guilt right there. I journaled and still do. I he-he and ha-ha and leave the ho-ho’s up to Santa. As far as the breathing and asking myself how I’m feeling, well – let me just say – I’ll leave that to someone else to try and please let me know how that goes for you.

And the stage pertaining to honoring your loss and/or letting your friends cater to and pamper you – well – what can I say? Send me a comment and let me know how that goes and how your friends react after you ask if you can give a copy of the scheduled back rubs you have for them to do for you.

What I haven’t mentioned yet, is the stage of anger. I’ve never really gotten upset over my diagnosis,perhaps because – perhaps again – I felt relief more than anything. But what about anger?

Back to the car in front of the French store, across from Gayle’s Bakery. Tamara and I sat in the car as she apologized for making me cry, but the thing was – and I told her so – I wasn’t crying over anything she had said or done. I was sobbing because I was angry. Angry that I had Parkinson’s disease. I didn’t say or think, “Why me?” or anything like that. My anger was focused on what this disease has taken and will only continue to take – the ability to move freely without pain or stiffness, my memory, positive state of mind, and more. I have no desire to be grateful for what it gives – shaking, restless legs, dystonia, dyskinesia, depression, and more.

“I want the old me back,” I cried. “I don’t want the me I am now.”

Tamara cried with me. “I want the old you back too.”

That didn’t really make me feel better (did she not read the stages of grief – the part about doing and saying things to help me?), but I knew what she meant.

I find it consoling that God knows what we need before we even ask. For example, when I got home that day, I turned to a page in a devotional I have and it read (paraphrased):

“Be still in My Presence, while I tell you of My Love for you. There is nothing more powerful than My Love. You are constantly aware of limitations, but there is no limit to My Love. It fills all of space, time, and eternity.

“Now you see through a glass, darkly, but someday you will see Me face-to-face.

Then you will be able to experience fully how wide and long and high and deep is My Love for you. …the knowledge of My loving Presence is so sufficient to carry you through each day.”

The same day, I was doing my regular Bible reading and picked up where I had left off…

“Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today. …the Lord will fight for you: you need only to be still.”

Coincidence? I hardly think so. One begins with ‘be still’ and the other ends with ‘be still’. While I am aware of my limitations, there is no limit to God’s love for me and His comfort and care. While I cannot see what is ahead of me, looking ahead to experiencing God fully will be sufficient to carry me through each day. Therefore, I need not fear. I need not give in to anger or the ugliness it can bring – bitterness and pain.

And then, I need not fear the future. While I am told to be still, I am not told sit and wait – I am to  – stand firm. And He will deliver me. He will fight for me. My part? To be still.

He will bring you through the grieving process. He will deliver you from the pain. The loss.

He will.

He will.

You don’t have to he-he or ha-ha or ho-ho. You don’t have to manipulate your friends or experience be in the moment and experience a breath.

All you have to do… be still.

“We find a place for what we lose.

Although we know that after such a loss

the acute stage of mourning will subside,

we also know that we shall remain inconsolable

and will never find a substitute.

No matter what may fill the gap,

even if it be filled completely,

it nevertheless remains something else”.

— Sigmund Freud (1961)

 

More Like Jesus

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The sky is blue and clear. A few wisps of white clouds scattered here and there but nothing – and I mean nothing – like the other evening when the sky turned dark and clouds hovered low, the wind whipped through the neighborhood, blowing anything loose out of its way – including the roof to the doghouse.  The lightening was so bright it overpowered the street lights and it was as if the thunder was God Himself, reminding His children that He is the great I AM.

 

I know by now, that in every storm of life itself my faith has been deepened.  The clouds overhead threaten rain and hail, sleet and snow.  The wind whips and every loose sting of faith I may have left is blown loose, blowing every loose string of faith,  leaving me crying out for mercy. Lightening strikes and though it threatens to fry us, it never does.  Though the thunder roars, it is music in my ears.

 

I love thunder and lightening. They remind me how small I am – how big my God is.  I love the wind, the fury of its strength.

 

None are pleasant.  All are needful.

 

Winds clean and clear debris and smoke – removing it from where it may not belong.  Lightening clears, cleans – burning what it strikes, leaving a pure path of fertile ground where seeds that were hidden safely underground will break forth and create a fresh, new landscape. Thunder, with its mighty roar, reminds me that God is alive and still in control.  I can stand in the midst of the storms and know – though I am so small and nothing to speak of – the maker of the universe cares for me.

 

We will all face storms in our lives.  Some are greater than others, different degrees for different people.  We are tested for our steadfastness, our faithfulness to endure – to trust that God remains in control and is dependable.  It is through the storms we find if we’ve grown.  If we are growing.  The spring that follows will be proof of that growth.  The spring is evidence that God was there through the harshness of the winter, cleansing us, making us stronger – making us new, readying us for bigger things.

 

Storms are not pleasant, and yet – all are needful and all shall pass.  In the end, we will be more like Him and ultimately – isn’t that what it’s all about?

 

From my heart ~ Sherri

The Incredible Patience of God

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I have learned lessons we experience in life are not purely for our own benefit, but for sharing with others who struggle and need encouragement, support, and wisdom by others who have ‘been there-done that’.

It could be I am not necessarily slow, but rather I am ready to hear what I need to hear when I am ready to hear it.  I am not defiant, not rebellious, but some of us can only learn when we are ready to learn it.  Otherwise, it goes into mind storage in the brain, way in the back with all other stuff labeled, “Keep and go through later.”

How am I intimately familiar with the patience of God ?

I am still here.
I am still breathing.
I am still here.

Days come and go.  I listen.  I hear a voice and respond.  I find I listen to the wrong voice.  Again.  And again.  The incredible patience of God once again, prevails.

All my mistakes.  Poor choices.  Knowing right and doing wrong.

The patience of God shines upon me as tears stream down my face while a repentant heart cries out for mercy and grace, yet again.

Calmly enduring pain and trying situations.  Even-tempered perseverance.  These are the words chosen to insert onto the pages of dictionaries to define a holy word.  A holy act.

Patience.  The incredible – the indescribable patience of God.

Via Old French from Latin: patientia – meaning ‘endurance’ and pati, meaning ‘to suffer’.

A chill encircles me as I give this some thought.

He endures my poor choices so I may learn to make better ones.  He endures with me while making well-known His even-tempered perseverance.  For my benefit.  For my   learning of lessons taught.  He suffers beside me through the error of my selfish ways, through my mistakes so I am able to crawl out of the muck once again.  And again.

Oh how patient, how long-suffering is the Lord my God.  Over me.  Again.  And again.

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is [His] faithfulness.  Lamentations 3:22-23

From my heart -

Sherri

Being Still and Knowing Who God Is

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It is quiet behind our house this time of year.  Many aren’t using the pathway that stretches from one town to another.  It is cold outside and it pierces your flesh, leaving you shivering as you stand and wait.  In the silence I can hear my teeth chatter

So what compels me to stand out in the cold wet of winter?

Nothing.

And everything.

I walk the icy pathway.  Barren trees lift their branches high up into the blue of sky above.  This is Christmas morning.

The white bark of the birch tree that stands tall and erect beside me almost glows as the sun radiates its light on trunk and limbs. And I see utmost beauty.  I stand speechless.  It is a beautiful Christmas morning sight.

I have learned many lessons this past month within the silence of the keyboard.  The rattling of keys has been minimal.  Social conversations via internet sites have not been.  The telephone has been in the hands of another and so one on one conversations via satellites and modern technology of a cell phone have been almost nil.

Through the silence, through barrenness of winter – this dark season of life – God has spoken.  A mere whisper perhaps, but He has been there.

One Who lately seemed so terribly far away, still walks beside me.

In silence.

And it is in silence He is teaching…

The faster I walk, the less I see, the less I hear.

The faster I live, the more I am life-less.

I miss the surprises.

I miss the beauty.

I miss the Creator.

I stand on the path and a man on a bike stops.  He asks what I am taking pictures of.  I tell him salmon in the creek.  A woman stops, repeating the same question.  I tell her Downy Woodpeckers.  They both look – one up into blue and one down, into murky waters.  They smile politely and continue on their way.  They can’t see.  They are hurried into experiencing life and in their hurry, they miss it.

I listen to the sounds of birds who are wintering over and have found sustenance at my bird feeders. Filled with black sunflowers, thistle seeds and suet, they sing with thanksgiving before they  dive down for another bite.

This – all of this – a wonderful gift God has given.  Shamefully, I have often walked dark winter’s path and have not looked up into barren branches as those who often pass me by.  To my regret, I have missed the surprises that are hidden for those who have learned to be still.  For those who have learned who God is.

Merciful Father.  Pouring undeserved kindness and compassion upon the head of one undeserving.

Me.

I stand in the cold, warmed by knowing He is gently leading me back.  Back to a fullness in Him. A fullness that once discovered, once experienced – no other can fill.

I stand there, taking in a deep breath of icy air surrounding my face.  As my lungs fill with a cleansing cold, I see it and it sees me.  There, in high limbs a hawk is perched, watching, observing, following me where I move.

I lift the camera and point in his direction and shoot.  He is annoyed and removes his talons from tightly held limbs and takes off into flight. As I stand in stillness, I watch with held breath.  I want to remember this moment forever.

I want to remember this lesson He teaches me.  How His wings protect and shelter us underneath.  I want to remember in stillness there is sight.  I want to remember the undeserved mercy lavished upon me day after day after day.  The unconditional love, forgiveness of sins, and pounding of nails into human flesh against a splintery tree that once stood atop a hill. Nails meant for me, driven into the hand of Another.

I want to remember to live.  Unhurried.  Full of life.  Full of thankfulness.  Full of gratitude and be a grace extender.  I want to live in stillness, knowing deep in my being just who God is in my life.

Hope-maker.  Fear-taker.  Peace-giver. Grace-coverer.  Stillness-trainer.  Life-sustainer.  Soul-redeemer.  Silence-creator. Day after day after day.

From my heart  ~Sherri

Trusting the Great I AM

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“The Israelites groaned in their slavery and cried out, and their cry for help because of their slavery went up to God. …So God looked on the Israelites and was concerned about them.”

Meanwhile…

“When the Lord saw that Moses had gone over to the burning bush, God called to him from within the bush, ‘Moses! Moses!. …Moses hid his face, because he was afraid to look at God. The Lord said, ‘I have seen the misery of my people… and I am concerned about their suffering. …I am sending you to Pharaoh to bring my people the Israelites out of Egypt.

“But Moses said to God, ‘Who am I, that I should go to Pharaoh…

“Suppose I go and say to them,’The God of your fathers has sent me to you’ and they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ Then what shall I tell them?

“God said… ‘I AM WHO I AM. This is what you are to say…

“The elders of Israel will listen to you. …But I know that the king of Egypt will not let you go unless a mighty hand compels him. So I will… strike the Egyptians with all the wonders that I will perform among them. After that, he will let you go.’

“Moses answered, ‘What if they do not believe me? …Lord, I have never been eloquent… I am slow of speech and tongue.’

“‘…go; I will help you and teach you what to say.’

“‘But Moses said, “O Lord, please send someone else to do it.’

“Then the Lord’s anger burned against Moses and he said, ‘What about Aaron…your brother? I know he can speak well. …He will speak to the Lord for you.

“…When you return to Egypt… say to Pharaoh, ‘This is that the Lord says: Israel is my firstborn son, and I told you, ‘Let my son go, so he may worship me.’”

And so…

“…when [the Israelites] heard that the Lord was concerned about them… they bowed down and worshiped.” ***

So many people – so often – say God doesn’t care. As I was reading through these chapters this morning, God’s concern for us is painted all over the pages. In chapter two, he hears the Israelites cry for freedom.

He hears their cry for release of the oppression put upon them from the Egyptians.

He hears their cry to be free from bondage.

And, He’s concerned.

So – He develops a plan.

Moses, once a prince in a palace, through various and assorted circumstances, becomes a sheep herder in the dry, hot desert. While wandering with these wooly rams and ewes, he comes upon a bush that is on fire. He watches. And he watches. And it doesn’t burn up.

“Dude, this is totally illogical,” he cries out. “Simply illogical.” After all, how often do you see bushes that are burning in the desert and refuse to burn out? It’s not like there’s an overabundance of bushes in the desert to begin with and this specific one drew him nearer.

As Moses approaches, God calls to him. “Moses! Moses!” And Moses says, “Here I am.”

Then God stops him. “Don’t come any closer. Take off your sandals, for the place you are standing is holy ground.” At that moment, Moses hides his face, because he is afraid to look at God.

Then the conversation begins. God has an agenda. He has allowed Moses to live the first forty years as a prince of Pharaoh’s palace; the next forty as a shepherd in the desert; and now, God has called him to be the deliverer, the savior – so to speak – of the Israelites. And what is Moses’ response? I’m a nobody. What if they don’t believe me? Can’t you send someone else to do it?

Uh, no Moses. This is the plan – God is sending you.

Moses finally got his way, but not before ‘…the Lord’s anger burned against Moses.’

Can you imagine going from hearing the voice of God, standing before God and then – experiencing His anger? Like Moses, we so often oppose God’s plan – His will – with our ‘what if(s)’, ‘but(s)’, and our ‘are you sure(s)’, that we end up disobeying, ignoring, and distrusting Him.

If we truly believe that God is who He says he is, “I AM WHO I AM”, that should leave us desiring to obey and be submissive to His will. Seeking to trust Him completely. Seeking to be attentive to what He is saying to us. His “I AM WHO I AM” should be so important to us that we remember Him from generation to generation, as He requested, as “I AM”.

However, we get lax in our relationship with Him and forget just how who He is. Moses was afraid to look at Him. Moses felt inadequate before God, not thinking perhaps that if God called him to a task, surely God would equip him. Even having taken off his shoes after being told he stood on holy ground, Moses couldn’t wrap his mind around the truth that the One he was conversing with was the great “I AM”. The One who hung the stars in the heavens. The One who created every drop of water, every grain of sand. And because of his inability to trust God, God’s anger burned.

Yet – God still used him. He had to have a sidekick – his brother – but God still used him and continued to use him.

Moses went to the elders (as God had commanded), told them what was going to happen and they bowed down and worshiped the Lord. The great “I AM” had seen their misery and heard their cries because of their slavery and now they worshiped the God of their fathers and they had hope restored. A hope of being delivered from the Egyptians.

Did God care? Of course He did. Does He care now, when we are a people so selfish and sinful? Of course He does. He hears our cries – when we voice them. He is concerned when we are oppressed. And – He desires our worship. Most of all – He desires our worship.

So often we rely on signs to tell us of God’s power and God’s worth instead of relying on the fact that He is sovereign and can be trusted. Instead, shouldn’t our response then be – to worship the great “I AM” and to bow low before Him? Surely, it should be.

From my heart,
Sherri

***New International Bible, excerpts taken from the book of Exodus, chapters 2-3.

The Beautiful Struggle

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The season we call Autumn has got to be one of the most beautiful of all four seasons. Foliage dies to the coming of winter, only to produce an array of colors that can leave you speechless. There is irreproducible beauty in the fall of an autumn leaf. Leaves colored in hues of golds and reds, oranges and browns, silently letting go of the branch they spent the summer holding onto and slowly floating to the earth.

I took a walk today to capture some fall color and any bird that beckoned to me photograph it. In my walking, I noticed splashing in the creek below me. I thought it was a duck, but as I kept looking, I could not see anything. I waited.

It happened again and I realized it was a fish. A very large fish. I could see his tail and fins sticking out above the water as he wriggled his way back up river. The closer I looked, I wondered… Could it be? And just then a young man rode by me on his bike and asked if I was taking pictures of salmon.

Um, yes. That’s what I’m doing. I didn’t even know there was salmon in that creek.

I looked closer. As the fish wiggled and wriggled more, I saw his snout with the upturned mouth. Yes, there are salmon in that creek.

I stood almost an hour watching two fish swim upstream and then let the flow of the creek take them back downstream, only to repeat the process over and again. It was amazing – their commitment to get to wherever they were headed so they could lay their eggs.

Sometimes I have places in my life I’d rather be than where I am. I want to always be in the place where I am totally devoted to the Lord. I want to be in the place where He is my beginning and end, the first and the last. However, it can be and has been and at times I know will continue to be – a struggle. I fight my way upstream, sometimes making headway, only (it seems) to be carried back in a mere, unexpected instant by the currents of this life. Carried back downstream to where my shoes sit waiting for my feet. I find it happens because I either rushed ahead of God’s timing, I wanted things my way, I thought God’s way was my way, or I plainly just lost my way.

I can be determined in all of these situations. I can persevere. I can remain committed, only to realize I got it wrong. Somewhere along the way I lost the mark swimming upstream and fought a good fight, but I swam up the wrong creek. Somewhere along the way I made the decision to take the left fork of the creek, only to find it led to stagnant water. How I longed for the true path that led to the fresh water, the running water.

Easier is not necessarily best. Upstream – in the struggle – that is where the true lessons are most likely to be found. Wisdom is found in the experience of the struggle. Determination, perseverance, commitment – they will keep you moving no matter how difficult the struggle. Focusing on the mark God has set before you and ignoring the deceiving forks in the creek will keep you on the true path where the fresh water – the Living Water – can be found.

From my heart,
Sherri

What God Sees

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We were walking up the pathway, Boo and I. Almost to the stairs. Boo suddenly needs to go back. I didn’t know why. Then she enlightened me.

There are weeds I need to pull. I walk over the clover and miss the miracle. Boo is adament about taking a few steps back. Huddled in-between the multiple leaves of rusty-red clover is a delicate, bright yellow flower, smaller than Boo’s little pinky finger. It has five petals. As Boo bends to pick it, she is having a hard time pulling it apart from the plant and as she does, she pulls a petal off. Saddened and not seeing any other little blooms, she continues up the pathway and into the house.

What I saw was a picture of God’s love. Sometimes all we can see in ourselves amounts to a basket filled with weeds. We feel we aren’t appealing, captivating, beautiful to anyone. Then, every once a while, someone sees something special. They see past the weeds. They see value. They see potential. They see the heart. Amidst the weeds. The garbage. The sin.

All I saw was a bunch of weeds that need to be pulled. All Boo saw was the tiny flower tucked in the center. All God sees is what’s in the heart.

“…the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” 1 Samuel 16:7

May you find a miracle today.

From my heart,
Sherri

In God We Trust-ed

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I have a friend that gave to me a new state quarter every time they were released. She also made me the recipient of a brand new shiny gold Washington dollar the year those were released by the U.S. Mint. It is a beautiful coin. Exquisite, really, if you collect coins. It’s quite similar to the Susan B. Anthony dollar.

The day I received those two coins – the newest state quarter and the Washington dollar, we were sitting in North Idaho, eating lunch. It was a beautiful day, full of sunshine and not a cloud in the sky as we sat by the lake right across from her work.

There were three of us there that day and she gave coins to the two of us who had met her for lunch. I looked at the coins in my hand. I was more drawn to the gold than the silver and noticed George on the face of the coin.

“Did you notice he isn’t smiling on the dollar coin?” I asked my two friends.

No, they hadn’t noticed.

They took another bite of lunch while I kept looking at George. Then I looked at George on the quarter. “He’s smiling on the quarter,” I said, bringing my ongoing investigation up to date. “It’s somewhat more of a mischievous smile, but it’s there.”

They hadn’t noticed that, either. I looked back at the gold coin.

“Did you notice they got rid of “In God We Trust” on the face of the coin?”, I asked.

One replied yes. The other, no.

“Get this,” said the friend who gave me the coin, “they’ve put it on the side.”

“That’s stupid,” I commented. “It’ll get rubbed off.”

I thought, ‘Just like we are rubbing God right out of our country.’

We take a little bit of Him out of this and we take a little bit of Him out of that and before we know it, He’ll be completely gone and when we are at the end of our ropes, we’ll cry out to Him – but why should He answer? We didn’t need Him then. We made that more than clear. Why then, should He want us now?

Some days we wake up and feel empty and alone and wonder why. The answer may be simple, really…

One day we chose to rub out our prayers before meals. Embarrassing when we go out to eat. Can’t have that. What will people think? And the next week we rubbed our quiet time out of our mornings. Gotta make this meeting, gotta make that luncheon, gotta do this, gotta do that. And it’s becoming quite easy to justify rubbing church off the calendar because of the songs they’re singing or the pastor’s preaching much too long, or no one says hi or… . Before we know it – we’ll have rubbed God completley out of our lives.

“In God We Trust.”

It’ll get rubbed right off of the sides of those dollars. Just wait and see.

A little here, a little there. To want Him off the coin, He had to have been void in our lives. Before we know it, we’ll have rubbed Him out of everything.

From my heart,

Season of Thanks

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I give thanks, look up into the sky and can’t help but wonder – why would a God so mighty, so pure, so holy – love me?

Me – full of small doubts and large fears, endless mistakes. Yet – You love me still.

I give thanks for love when I’m full of doubts and I’m full of fears and I’ve made endless mistakes and it’s difficult seeing past my limited focus. I give thanks when the storms rage. Growing in grace comes in every season. Winter must come before spring. My life needs the rain as well as the sunshine.

Through heartache and tears, the soil becomes fertile for growth. During the growth process, I find refuge in His care.

Safety in His arms.

Peace resting in Him.

There, under His care and protection, I wait for dark, hovering clouds that boldly threaten storms, flooding, devastation – there I wait with Him.

It is in the sitting at His feet, in the waiting and trusting that my tears are wiped by the palm of His hands. It is in the trust that causes me to be still. It is in the still, quiet wait that teaches me calm.

He says Go, it is safe and I will be with you. And so I go.

Hesitantly, I take a step and as I do, spring awaits. Earth the once stood bare, without life, now stands in royal grandeur, it barrenness turned to beauty.

Where dark once reigned, warmth now resides. Tiny hopes for life, once called buds, are now beautiful blooms with a sweet fragrance that drifts through the garden. Blossoms of bright hues are scattered by Your hand.

Every bird beckons me with its song of magnificence. Each buzzing bee joins in at His orchestrated command.

Tree branches lift their foliage in praise. New life sprouts for all to see. New life fills every nest and together, creation shouts praise to its Creator.

Once I have walked the road of a new spring, it is only a matter of time before the cycle is evident to all and a new season is upon me. Vibrant, healthy life, with the rains of the spring and the warmth of summer, will begin to die again. The cycle now resumes.

Seasons must change, winds must blow, storms must rage. It begins when leaves fall, giving way to the coming winter. Yet it is in their silent death, a beauty I see. Their vibrant colors sing out praise to their Creator. It is in the crunching and smashing, the scrunching and mashing of fallen leaves that once brought shelter from the scorching sun that now bring delight to Your children.


As they are pushed away from their branches above, they clear space for the new life that will follow in step. History will repeat itself once again with the cycle of life. Change comes, though no human eye can see. It is before the silent, unseen miracle I worship You.

You have taken this life, like branches once bare, and breathed the breath of new life into the old and barren. Embraced with grace, chains fell away like dead, dry leaves on a blustery day. Storms of darkness blew with the pelting rains of winter and You held me close. I feared no evil. No storm took me captive. I did not drown.

Again You took me to Spring and have gave to me fragrance as perfume. The stinging, pelting rains of winter did not keep me from You, but drew me close, caused me to wait, to trust, to grow, to bloom.

I have learned from You in hard times. I have found shelter in Your care. I can walk in the darkness, for I have found your comfort and safety in that place.

My God, I give thanks to You now, when thanksgiving comes with ease. When the skies are clear and the sun bathes me in its warmth, I praise You. I give You thanks then, in the season where life gives way to change, and light turns to darkness, having learned that in the cold, in the pain of life, You have held me close. Close is where I want to stay.

This season of celebrated Thanksgiving, I thank You as others do – for joy, being a part of the living, obvious blessings of this holiday. Food, fellowship, memories and more.

Most – I thank You for taking me – soiled, shattered, broken and bruised – me, who only someone You could make new. Once lifeless, in pain, lost, and alone – I praise You, my almighty, all-powerful, omnipotent God, and give you heartfelt thanks. For all you’ve done, for the gift of hope, for restoration, for making me whole again. It is my whole heart that You alone have won.

The flowers of spring that bloom with beauty. The autumn winds, the falling of leaves. The cold chill and storms of winter. The wonder and new life of spring. There is a purpose for everything, for everything a divine and greater reason.

I give thanks now. I will give thanks again. For You have remained so faithful to me. Over and over. Again and again.

From my heart,