In Spite Of

I lie there snuggled close in the toasty gray of our fuzzy bean bag. I am safe and warm, and I feel the smile of Someone watching close overhead. 

I've looked at a myriad of bright lantern stars twinkling in the heavens and scanned for their patterns. I've lain under blue skies clouded with fluffy abandon and looked for shapes in the whiteness. I've heard thunderstorms pound incessantly and watched lightening scratch a jagged wound across the darkened sky like an angry sword. I've watched the shreds of soft sunlight filter gently through groves of poplar and spruce and stood there with tears filling my eyes. I've woken up like a child on Christmas morning to view the wildly colorful sunrise that my Creator painted in the early morning. (He could have picked brown you know.) 

And I have come to believe in Him soundly. People may call me crazy, or ridiculously optimistic. They may think I am a religious nut or someone gone completely off the deep end. But perhaps if they would see what I have, and understand what I do, they would also believe. 

You see, I have come to know a God in spite of pain. His presence has become more dear to me than any physical or mental strength ever could have been. His love is the kind that walks through any fire and outdoes any darkness. He shows up in the places that no one else can enter and understands the situations no one else can decipher. He is the kind of God who carries His children when they can't stumble forward anymore, and the kind of God who holds His children when the questions outweigh the answers a million to one. He is the One Who follows His prodigal to a thorn bush just to pull him out and gently dress his self-inflicted wounds. I hear Him cry in anguish over His people who walk away when He gave everything for them.

I know He is a God who redeems and restores the most broken of places. You see, He never avoided pain, even though He could have. In fact He walked right into it - on purpose - just because He loved us all. And as I lie in my bean bag memorizing the woolly threads before me, I know that He is here too. Pain is no longer to be avoided, but embraced. I am small and broken, but He is still strong and good. My soul thrills, and my aching brain clears, at the simple thought that He is here. I remember the nail prints in His hands, and understand the paradox of a deep heavy pain meshed with an aching heart of love. And the more pain I see, the more I feel my Saviour's heart. 

Perhaps I am odd. Perhaps I am different, but I have come to know a God who finds us in our dark places. He rejoices over us with singing and reminds us that we are His - always. And I rejoice in my fuzzy little corner, because I have found a God who is good, regardless of circumstances. I have tasted a Presence so true, I wouldn't trade it. I have found a truth so holy, I wouldn't deny it. I have found a love that nothing can uproot or undo. He is mine and I am His. ❤️

The River Still Runs...

A couple days ago, I was standing beside the tiny creek that runs through our property. It comes from somewhere up in the mountain, and during spring it is at its peak for pressure and beauty. I stared at the foaming water for awhile, feeling the sound, and watching the constant eddies swirl and turn. I noticed the jagged and mismatched trees that were left behind after some bull-dozing, and was a little disturbed by their insanity. They seemed to wreck the perfect image of nature before me with their scraggly reaching arms. But a picture came to my mind as I surveyed the scene. I looked at the strewn trees once more, and saw the destruction and ruin we can experience in life. They held a metaphor for the days when questions run deep and the answers are few. They showed the damage of unjust pain and the sheer misery of the things this cursed earth offers. 

Then, I looked down and noticed faith in the river. It danced in and out under the hanging branches, never threatened by their presence. It foamed over rocks and even created shallow pools of stillness along the river's edges. It never stopped and it never diminished. It just kept moving on its course. It had a destination and nothing would stop it. I knew too, that if I were to throw a branch into the moving current it would simply carry it along in a quiet victory. 

Perhaps this is us. When the days look long and things seem senseless, when the sky is dark and there seems to be more rain than blue sky, we simply must offer a tiny mustard seed of faith and see what our Lord does with it. Faith is quiet, but it is true. It can survive the news of another cancer diagnosis. It can live through an unjust and painful childhood. It can handle misunderstandings and mockery, and it can continue walking when the directions are given only a day at a time. Have faith. ❤️

The Jagged Way

I will praise my loving Saviour

Even though my heart is thick with pain,

When I'm walking through a valley

And the sky is ripe with rain.

All I see are thorns and thistles

Prodding in from every side.

Rocks and pebbles jar my pathway

Like the nagging doubts inside.

Joyful thoughts of yester's sunshine

Cloud their way into my gaze.

I remember them with envy

Seeing only darkened haze.

Cups of cheer turn into weeping

I can't hear the words of hope.

All I see is dark foreboding

Stealing every buoyant note.

Yet I lift my hands to silence

Trusting that He still is good.

Knowing that He's always held me,

Even in the deepest flood.

Maybe some day I will reason

All the trials into truth.

Seeing all my Master's purpose

And the beauty it produced.  

                           - C.H.

I May Have Begun to Like Dogs 🙄

I used to struggle with dogs. They seemed to be everyone else's favourite non-human except mine. I mean, I could handle chickens better. At least they stayed in their cages and produced eggs for my morning breakfast. I could be thankful for that, but I struggled mightily every time I walked out our front door cleanly dressed for school to find a muddy, scraggly belly rolled out in front of me for a rub. I mean, really?! Mocha didn't seem to get the fact that I was clean and had places to go. But, me trying to be good-natured and kind like I was supposed to, would begrudgingly find the cleanest spot in all that mud-infested fur and gingerly rub the toe of my shoe across it. After a brief minute, if that, I would retrieve my shoe back to myself and head off on my merry way to school. 

But then, some things changed. When I was in a lot of pain for a few weeks due to my knee injury, I would often find some place to lie completely flat. Since I am an outdoors person, I would pick places like the grassy front lawn, the porch swing, or even the solid deck floor. Then, something interesting happened. The dogs showed up. We have five on our property between all the family members and they would come over to see how I was faring. The first time, the three pups bounced all over me. Tumbling and bumbling completely oblivious to any pain it could be causing. My well-meaning siblings yelled at them, but they just wouldn't leave. Strange to think, since their was no strong attachment on my end. But they were puppies, and blissfully unaware of any rules of etiquette with hurt people. 

As the other two puppies finally listened and made their way over to my siblings, the third and most awkward and clumsy one, Waffles - yes you heard his name right, and no I definitely didn't pick it - climbed right up into the crook of my arm and laid there, belly-up, snuggling against me like an infant. Now I have never held such a hairy, snuffly baby in my life, but really, how can a person resist when a creature seems to think that you are one of the very best humans in the world and they have no other place they'd rather be than with you. I felt a little too much like the cantankerous grumpy Grinch who slowly got melted by acts of love from an innocent young child. Truly, it did melt some of my puppy prejudice and I began to see these wiggling creatures through slightly different eyes. 

Over the next few days, the puppies, my slowly becoming friends, would visit me whenever I chanced to make it a few steps outside the door. I remember one specific incidence where I was sprawled out on the porch steps with my blanket and the three puppies came to pay their respects. I lay there looking miserable and they mirrored the mood excellently. Carefully positioning themselves around me at various angles, they settled down to stare mournfully at me or off into the distance. I felt strangely akin to Job with his three friends sitting solemnly in the dust and misery. 

Now, it has been a few months since this tale happened, but I do believe I like dogs a little more than I used to. To the point that on our first snow day from school, I put on my snow gear and travelled out to the steps for a wild leap into a snow drift. As I landed with a poof of white powder, I felt a whole bunch of wriggling bodies join me in a tornado. And, it was hilarious! I giggled and tried to get them off of me and then we did it again - a couple times - until my knees had all they could handle and we went back to our Job-style positions in the snow bank. I sit and they sit. I think and they must be thinking too. I am silent and they are very still. 

So now, when I come home from school and get out of my red ride, my words go like this, "Hey Swaffles! Hey Oreo! What's up Shadow?" And they bounce around like the most delighted things. Perhaps we shall be friends after all.