The Lord is my shepherd; I have all that I need. He lets me rest in green meadows; he leads me beside peaceful streams. He renews my strength. He guides me along right paths, bringing honor to his name. [Psalm 23:2-3 (NLT)]
For I have given rest to the weary and joy to the sorrowing. [Jeremiah 31:25 (NLT)]
A weary body and a sorrowful soul described me Saturday morning. Twice in the last twelve days one family member came perilously close to death while another loved one entered Hospice care. Most of last week was spent in airports, on planes, or at a hospital bedside. Having finally gotten home well past midnight, I crawled out of bed that morning physically and mentally exhausted.
Hoping to clear the cobwebs from my mind, I took a walk in a nearby park. The psalms often speak of water refreshing us but, for me, it is a walk outside. As the butterflies danced in the sunshine, my spirits began to lift. Nevertheless, my mind was churning and I was still trying to solve and control situations that I can neither solve nor control.
Hoping to spot a few canna lilies from the boardwalk, I kept looking over the right railing. An inner voice clearly told me that I’d see something special on the other side. “Forget it,” said another voice, “God isn’t a park ranger guiding you on a nature walk. You’re going to feel like an idiot when nothing’s there!” Indeed, I had to agree. God certainly has better things to do than point out flowers in a park. Something, however, kept nudging me so, feeling rather foolish, I crossed to the opposite railing and looked down. There, right below me, invisible from the other side of the boardwalk, was a family of playful raccoons.
For many, that sighting might not mean much but, for me, those raccoons were a gift from God! They renewed me the way green meadows and peaceful streams refreshed David. They made me realize how my life overflows with blessings. Guiding me to those endearing critters was God’s way of saying “Listen to me and trust me. Trust me to guide your loved ones through this valley. Trust me for all the comfort, guidance and provision you and your family need.”
I don’t normally hear a voice that so clearly directs my actions; Saturday I did. Some might dismiss it as intuition but I think that small voice was the Holy Spirit bringing me a message of comfort and hope. The enemy, however, tried to steal that from me with doubt. Fortunately, I took a few steps in faith and God showed me that I can trust Him and take Him at His word.
The situation of those I love has not changed but, after sighting those masked bandits in the woods, my perspective has. If God can guide me to the other side of the boardwalk for an “Aha!” moment, I will trust that, in His own time and way, He will gently guide my loved ones through their dark valleys to the other side.
I have a love-hate relationship with my camera and its autofocus. An enormous golden silk spider hangs over the boardwalk we take through the mangroves to the beach. Officially the Nephila clavipes, the female of this species is the largest non-tarantula-like spider in North America. This impressive arachnid has spun her giant orb-like web high above the walkway. She often scares tourists when they glance up to see her suspended above their heads. While I managed to get a shot that of spider, I’d hoped to get a few more of others that have spun their webs down closer to the boardwalk. Autofocus, however, was my enemy. Because their webs were nestled in the trees, the camera looked right through the spiders and focused on the large branches and leaves behind them. My camera focused only on the spider when nothing was behind the creature, but it had plenty on which to focus when pointed at the spiders in the mangroves. The ease of having a small point-and-shoot camera that is so easy to use keeps me loving (but occasionally hating) it.
An illustration of a man stooped over with an enormous sack on his back adorned the cover of the church program. The man had a troubled look on his face as if thinking, “I’ve got this all this, now what I am supposed to do with it?” The words “Life does not consist in the abundance of possessions,” were superimposed over the picture.
My doorbell rang and, by the time I got to the door the FedEx man was walking away, having left a large box on the porch. As he backed out of the driveway, I shouted a thanks and brought in my latest order from Amazon.
Devotions of the Heart 