Learning to walk

I am writing this having completed the second day of the Camino de Santiago.

I am walking with my 30 year old nephew whose energy and stamina prompt me to attach a disability sticker to my backpack.

Among my challenges:

The altitude makes breathing hard work before a step is taken.The path is a continuous climb followed by a steep decline. Both directions are covered with loose rocks and invitations for injury.

Among my blessings:

The landscape is breathtaking with mountains, fields of grazing cattle, thousand year old buildings, and evidence of hard working families.

Sunshine breaks through clouds giving a panoramic pastoral canvas.

The pilgrims from all over the world embrace each other as fellow travelers. On this walk you eat off a strangers plate as there are no strangers.

Each step stirs me to deepen my awareness of God.

So, I don’t feel capable of either completing this walk or interrupting it. Not pressing on would mean the loss of this encounter with God, His world, and His friends.

This lesson on how to walk was given to me by my nephew today when my energy was bleeding. It brought a smile and a commitment to finish.

How to walk:

Level ground: Put one foot in front of the other; Repeat

Steep incline: Just lift your foot. You won’t have to put it down.

Steep decline: Fall forward and catch yourself; over and over again.

Can you find any application to life?

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Each Step I Take…

The beginning!

The beginning!


I am taking the first steps today for a Pilgrimage in Europe.

My heart is volleying between eager anticipation and a fear that dementia has robbed me of my ability to recognize my own limitations.

I am expecting to gain wisdom from the people I will meet, wonder at God’s creation, supernatural encounters with the Holy Spirit and gratitude for this adventure.

I wonder if I can walk 96 miles? I wonder if I have made the reservations at reasonable distances from each other? I wonder if I can make myself understood? I wonder if I can emotionally leave?

I am travelling with my nephew. In him, I am already getting a picture of
God’s strategy for me. For example, I have made hard copies of our reservations. They took about 30 full sheets of paper. My nephew said, “That will be easy. I have an app that can scan these and put them in a PDF file.”

Then, I wondered if I could carry my backpack the whole distance. My nephew said, “I can easily carry that. I run 10 miles every day with a 30# vest.”

I will be walking with someone for whom technology is intuitive, weight is light and the unknown is exciting.

I will be walking with Someone Who has promised to guide me, carry my burden and take me into encounters that are more than I can ask or think.

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Lay Your Head on Jesus’ Lap

For many years I have looked forward to my friend’s mother coming to visit from India. It has been her rhythm to visit her family here in the States for a few months each summer.

This mother has led a major mission outreach in her native India. Her evangelistic zeal traveled with her as she became the eyes and ears of Jesus to those of us who were blessed by her presence here.

Last year, just before she returned to India, I made an intentional appointment with her because I wanted her to pray for me. She did pray and then said, “Roselyn, you need to learn to lay your head on Jesus’ lap. And when you do, if you fall asleep that is OK.”

Last week it was my privilege to spend time with her on her last day here on earth. Her illness was unexpected and aggressive. She transitioned from a vibrant traveling ambassador for our Lord Jesus Christ to a fragile tent dweller without enough oxygen to speak.

And THEN, as those of us in the hospital room stood stunned, she laid her head on Jesus’ lap and fell asleep. This time she was escorted from her tent into the eternal dwelling that she had long recognized as her home, the very arms of Jesus. As we processed this, we recognized that she died the same way she had lived. She laid her head on Jesus’ lap and fell asleep.

Lord Jesus, may this be a pattern for us that we practice each day with such familiarity that death itself is simply the next step in our journey home.

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I’ve Waited All My Life for This

by Mary Ann Rice

There are special moments in every little child’s life. One of these is the adventure of losing that first tooth and the arrival of a new tooth to replace it.This is both trivial and momentous at the same time.

Last evening, my five year old grandson, who was spending the night with me, leaped to his feet proclaiming, “Grandma, my tooth is loose and I can wiggle it. If it comes out tonight, I can put it in a bottle and leave it under my pillow when I go to bed.”

I heard the excitement in his voice and joined in on the discussion of the final destiny for this tooth and the preparation for the arrival of the new tooth. His excitement grew as he threw his arms high into the air and leaped off the corner of his bed like a cheerleader celebrating winning a championship game.

“Yahoo! I’ve waited all my life for this!” he shouted and continued jumping and raising his arms in acknowledgement of this moment in time.

As I watched, I thought of how Jesus had expressed joy during his life on earth. Even when facing the cross we are told that for the joy set before him he endured knowing his fate was inevitable and his death would give us the promise of eternal life.

Father, help each of us accept the responsibility of living this life rejoicing with the faith and gusto of a small child.

“I’ve waited all my life for this.”

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The” Real Work”

by Shirlee Vandegrift

Recently I wrote an article about the “Real Work.” I admonished the readers to remember the Real Work; PRAYER. In the last several months I was having a tough time praying. In fact I even wondered how important it was.

This is an awful state to be in, especially for a person who volunteers to pray for their church, their pastors, their many hard working servants, the sick and dying, the not sick and the not dying yet and everyone else.

If I was feeling inadequate perhaps there were others who felt the same. Are you another one by any chance?

My solution to the problem may sound trite and too simple. I say, “Pray!” Don’t pray expecting an answer to your plea. We know God has an answer but it may not be close to what you have been asking for. You may even miss the answer if you focus more on your desires than on His.

I had an issue with one of my children and for about 3 years the silence between us was deafening. Hurts, a lot. I knelt at Jesus’ feet many, many times. He surely didn’t seem to be listening. So, I quit. I told Him I was quitting. I told Him I trusted Him. I told Him I was done asking and was going to be satisfied to wait and listen. I told Him I would wait until we were face to face for my answer, if necessary.

Guess what. When I quit asking for my answer, He gave me His. When I do the Real Work as I understand it, God does His. Isn’t it the best?

Comfort yourself in that thought and thank Him often, through prayer.

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Do You Really Want Me to Do This?

I am shopping for a new car. I am giving myself permission to look at a wide variety of prices and styles. I tell myself this may be the last car I will buy so why not get a good one that will last for the 40 more years I will need it.

One of these options has a back up camera that projects to a screen on the dash. When the car is shifted into reverse there are line markers on the screen. All you have to do is steer between these markers and back up.

This is all fine, theoretically, but after test driving this really fun car with a terrifying sticker price, the salesman/passenger instructed me to back it into a very narrow space.

I looked at him and asked, “Do you really want me to do this?”

He calmly assured me that he did as he explained how the back up camera works.

As I backed into this parking space guided only by the lines on the screen my heart was in my throat. I needed faith in this camera and in the man sitting in the passenger seat. If either had failed I could have damaged both the car I was driving and those on either side of this precarious parking space. All of the vehicles in the area were expensive and new.

How does this relate to faith?

As I look at the tight spaces through which I am trying to maneuver my life, I am asking Jesus, “Do you really want me to do this?”

What do I trust?

In whom do I trust?

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The Junk I Don’t Notice

We are in the process of cleaning up our yard and making our neglected landscaping into beds where our bushes and flowers can feel proud. Our plan included the demolition of a small wooden shed that had been patched and reinforced many times and now simply looked sad.

We ordered an extra large dumpster with a contract that we could keep it for 15 days. I was expecting that, in addition to the shed and the obvious junk we have accumulated, this would give me time to go through the house and throw out clutter from there.

This picture, however, is of the dumpster at the end of the first day of this work. I asked my husband to stand next to it so you can get a perspective of the size of the container.

A Whole Lotta Junk!

A Whole Lotta Junk!

Our effort to get this container hauled away as is failed. We are above the fill line and had to hire another truck to come and take the junk off the top. As I look at this picture, I realize I have been relatively unaware of how much junk we have simply become comfortable with.

I wonder what God sees when I ask Him to search my heart, to know my anxious thoughts and take away any hurtful thing in me. The good news is that we have already paid for the dumpster so now that it meets the criteria it can simply be hauled away.

The good news is that Jesus has already paid for the disposal of my junk. I am going to spend some time now asking him to remove that which is useless and ugly in my life so that the fruit of the Spirit can have a happy home.

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Have an Answer Ready

I smile when I remember the spring day that my then five-year-old nephew and I were exploring in our backyard. Recent rain had connected the lawn to the adjacent marsh.I watched as my nephew was drawn to the deeper mud. His eyes lit up and his body was in a lunging posture.

With strong authority I told him that he did not have permission to run any further into the mud. The words had barely left my lips when he took off like an arrow released from a bow. He then slid, face down, along the slippery marsh mess. Then, with lightening speed, he jumped to his feet. He would have been unrecognizable as a silhouette of mud if I hadn’t heard this loud announcement: “I’m sure glad my Mom has Tide with bleach!”

My attempt at discipline had failed. His solution for our problem still makes me smile.

When I disobey, am I confident that the Lover of my Soul is more ready to clean me up than I am to ask?

Do I have an answer ready for anyone who asks for the hope that is within me?

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You Didn’t Sign Up for This

It’s possible to find yourself in a setting that evokes concern for your well-being by those watching your life. When someone comments, “You didn’t sign up for this,” it begs the question, “What did I sign up for?”

Marriage vows are easily repeated.

“In sickness or in health” doesn’t translate on that glowing day to dementia, incontinence, or immobility.

“Till death do us part” doesn’t picture many chapters of being apart because the other is not able to play a part.

But what did I sign up for?

I remember an exercise at a youth conference, decades ago now, where I signed the bottom of a blank page. This was done to symbolize that when we surrender to a relationship with Jesus we say, “Yes” to whatever he writes in the fine print.

Maybe then, in a deeper sense, I did sign up for “this.”

And maybe I wouldn’t change it if I could.

The One whose love for me is deeper than I can grasp has designed a pilgrimage that is forming me into His image. On some days, when the visibility is good, I can see that all my desires have been granted in what He has ordained.

Yes, I did sign up for this; but the bigger deal is that, on the cross, He signed up for me.

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My Heart Melts When…

I listened last night to a mother telling a story about her two children.

The story developed from the experience of dropping these two, ages 4 and 6, off at a neighborhood church for a summer children’s program. Preparation for the event included tears, insistence that a stuffed duck have permission to be toted, a fight between the children regarding the burden of being siblings that have to do everything together.

This mother was stressed from the drama of it all as she pulled into the parking lot to drop her children off. It was then that she saw that which her heart longed to see.

As theses children walked to the entrance, the older child put an arm around the shoulder of the younger and gave assurance that they would be OK together.

“My heart melts when I see them taking care of each other,” says this mother.

I immediately thought of the “Parent Heart” of God.

May He catch us taking care of each other today.

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