Roses!

New rose bush!

Roses Will Bloom Again

by Marsha Henry

I planted a little rose bush

I tended it with care

It's buds began to blossom

Their fragrance filled the air

But when winter came it withered,

The petals drooped and fell to the ground

My heart sank as it faded

But I'd forgotten who had made it

Chorus:

Roses will bloom again

Just wait and see

Don't mourn what might have been

Only God knows how and when that

Roses will bloom again.

The precious Rose of Sharon

Broken and bruised in cruel shame

Stained on the cross of Calvary

So that men might be saved

Oh, Satan cheered as he died

While Mary and the others cried

Then God raised him up from that sleep

And kept a promise only he could keep.

I See the Cross...

...as a place of love and forgiveness. As I kneel there again, Jesus comes and stands beside me with his hand on my shoulder, his tears mingling with mine. Love. Forgiveness.

Yesterday it happened again. The sudden insight, as though a lightbulb went on in my head. All these years, that's what has been happening. A vow made. A stronghold. Unforgiveness.

But as I knelt at the foot of the cross, confessed my sin and felt God's forgiveness, in an instant, it was gone. I was free! Happy! Loved! Forgiven!

And Jesus bent down, looked me in the eye and said, "Arise, my daughter, to walk in newness of life!"

"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they (YOU) may have life, and have it to the full." John 10:10

Confidence

A lovely, sunny Saturday with nothing pressing to do...

I stayed at home and only did what I wanted to all day long! How sweet and refreshing...healing for the soul...

This afternoon I went for a stroll down my quiet, dirt road. As I drank in the fresh, warm air, I sang and talked to God. Later I sat and watched the lovely clouds as the sun was setting.

This is a good time in my life, not always easy, but good. A time to be quiet, to rest, to wait... a time to enjoy days of refreshing with no one else making demands on my time... a time to commune with God and hear His heart for me... a time to trust... to know my future is in His hands and the ones I love are in His hands...

My theme verse for this year:
"Being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." Phil.1:6

He will do it. For me. For you.

Nothing But Trust

"I know that you can do all things; no plan of yours can be thwarted." Job 42:2

This year I'm teaching a Sunday School class of 4-6 year-olds. I'm amazed at how often the lesson speaks so loudly to me and things that I am facing.

This week it's the story of Job. Job did nothing wrong and yet he suffered many things. He didn't understand what was going on and still he chose to trust God. Suffering draws us to God and shows us things that we wouldn't see otherwise. In the end Job said, "My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you."

Turn our hearts to you, O God!

The Way Home

My Dad is nearly 89 years old and is battling dementia. In many ways he talks and acts like a little boy again. He asks the same questions over and over and I find it hard not to become impatient.

Last night I took Dad & Mom to a dinner at Hesston. Hesston is about 50 miles from home and the way seemed very long to Dad. He kept asking where we were going. The road we wanted to take was closed so we had to make a detour. "Are we still going to Hesston," Dad asked, "we are going the wrong direction." I assured him this road would get us there, although I wasn't sure myself where we were at. And it did! We arrived somewhat later than planned but still in time to enjoy a delicious meal. Throughout the meal Dad kept saying, "Don't forget we came with you. Don't forget to take us home." I tried to reassure him that I would not forget.

It was dark as we started on the homeward journey. "Do you know the way home?" Dad asked. "Yes, I do," I replied with confidence, for I felt more sure of the way home than of the way going. "Do you know on which road to turn? Do you know where our driveway is?" he continued questioning. I assured him that I did. And so he settled back to enjoy the ride. But not for long! Once again I heard his voice pipe up from the back seat, "We are a long way from home, do you know the way home? Do you know which is our road?" "Yes, I know and I will take you there," I assured him again. "I'm sure glad you're driving and I'm not, because I have no idea where we are at," was his honest reply. And once again he settled back into his seat.

But the way seemed long and the night was dark and it was hard to feel at rest. Once again he peered into the darkness and saw no familiar landmarks. "Do you know the way home? Are we almost there?" I heard once again. "Yes!" I replied, a trifle less patiently. "Why don't you take a little nap?" I continued. "It will make the way seem shorter." This idea seemed to fly over his head as he continued to peer into the darkness for some clue as to where we were. The questions continued coming and I was relieved to at last pull into the driveway and announce triumphantly, "We're home!" "Yes, now I know where I'm at!" was his glad reply.

I had to think how much I'm like that with God. The way seems long and dark and even though I know God is at the wheel and he knows the way home, I begin to doubt and start to question, "Do you know the way home?" And I cry, "I can't see! I don't know where I'm at! Are you SURE this is the right road??!!" And God so tenderly replies, "Yes, I know the way and I will take you there. Just rest and enjoy the ride. I can see even when you can't." And so I settle back in my seat, but then...I start peering out the window and it looks so dark and nothing looks familiar and I start to fear and cry out, "Where am I? Is this the right road? Aren't we almost there?"

And I wonder...does God ever feel like I do with Dad? Like telling him to quit asking questions and just trust me, I know what I'm doing? I don't know... All I know is how patient and tender and loving He is with me and I'm SO GLAD he knows the way home!

What Does Love Look Like?

I was on my way home after a lovely walk in the park with my sister. Suddenly I remembered that I needed to stop for milk. It was nearly dark as I pulled in the driveway and drove up to the milkhouse. As I jumped out of the car I heard someone calling to me.

The family of 8 was out on the lawn enjoying a bedtime snack. They invited me to join them for peach smoothies and popcorn. Although I wasn't very hungry, I couldn't resist the chance for some good food and fellowship. "Dad" went to make some more smoothies, as I settled myself on an overturned 5-gallon bucket. I reached for a handful of popcorn. Yum...

There was a lovely breeze blowing and the stars were shining as I listened to the chatter of little voices around me. The dog came and sniffed at my feet. It was soon determined that another bowl of popcorn would be in order. Off "Dad" went again, with Frank, his faithful follower, in tow. When they returned the popcorn was soon devoured and then it was off to bed for the little ones.

What peace and quiet...but it was not to be for long. A few minutes later Candy yelled out the back door, "Frank and Ellen are fighting!" And this was the story she told: Frank, in all innocence, wanted to kiss Ellen goodnight and Ellen (for whatever reason) did not want him to! Frank, on the other hand, insisted that he had to kiss her! Hence the fight!

"Mom" and I chuckled as "Dad" hurried off to help make peace.

Later I thought, how often do I resist when someone is trying to show me love? Do I know love when I see it? Am I so stuck on my own ideas of what love looks like that I miss the real thing that is right before my eyes?

Sometimes letting ourselves be loved is harder than loving. I challenge you this week to let the people around love you in whatever way they want.

A Night in the Hospital

At 10:00 I was ready to go to bed. The visitors had all left for the day, Mom and Ann had gone home to their own beds and I had tried to explain to Dad why he had to stay at the hospital. "But you'll take me home, won't you?" he pleaded. "When you're ready to go," I replied, "but for tonight I'll stay here with you."

The nurse came and helped settle him in his bed, I set up my cot, turned off the lights and shut the door. At last I can rest my weary head, I thought, as I climbed into bed.

It was not to be. I had hardly shut my eyes when a nurse came in to do whatever it is they do at all hours of the night. When they left they didn't shut the door. The light shining in made it hard to sleep but I didn't know whether or not they wanted the door open to keep an eye on Dad.

It was not a good plan. At 1:00 a.m. I awoke with a start to find Dad climbing out of bed. He wanted to go see why that light was on. He was trying to tear out all the crazy tubes that he thought he didn't need. My persuasive powers didn't seem to be working so at last I called the nurse. She told him in no uncertain terms that he had to go back to bed. When she left I made sure the door was shut.

At 3:20 I was awakened again, this time to hear the nurse exclaiming and to see Dad standing beside the bed. Somehow he had torn out the IV, taken off the heart monitor, removed the leg thingies that were supposed to help with blood circulation, and more than that disposed of the alarm that would alert the nurse of his movements. Blood was dripping everywhere and he was confused. When the nurse asked where he was going, his reply was, "I don't know." Even with a crew of 3 nurses it took some time for them to get him cleaned up, reinsert the tubes and get him back to bed.

At 6:30 there was a knock on the door and a cheery "Good Morning!" I wanted to burrow under the covers and tell them to go away and leave me alone and ask them HOW a person is supposed to get ANY sleep in this place! This one was doing an EKG and then another came and took his vitals and they wanted to bring him breakfast (which he wasn't interested in, in the least!). At that point I decided it was hopeless to think I'd get any more sleep so I rolled out of bed, combed my hair, smoothed out my wrinkled clothes and prayed for strength to face another day.

Why, you say? Why would you do it? Because of love.