Dear Hurting One

p1000164.jpgDear Hurting One, God hears and sees what you’re going through.

Brilliant sunshine or dark storm, the Lord is near. Springtime or winter, He’s within reach of your tiniest whisper or loudest prayer.

His love is deep and devoted. His kindness is beyond measure. His grace knows no end. His mercy is greater than the Grand Canyon’s steep walls that loom thousands of feet above those who hike its valley floors.

Can you see God’s mercy surrounding you like high canyon walls?

Please don’t give up. Uncertainty is often followed by clarity, sickness by health, depression by contentment, loss by new discoveries.

Don’t let despair enter your heart. It wants to swallow you like a tiny stone swallowed up by ocean waves. Call upon the Lord and praise Him for the good things in your life. Surrender what you cannot control to Him in prayer and receive a peace that defies logic (Phil. 4:7).

Dear Hurting One, God’s love for you is many times greater than the love of a mother for her precious child.

Can you think about a small child sitting in her loving mother’s lap? Such a child rests her head against her mother and is without fear or dread. Rest in the love of the Lord just like that child.

God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea–Psalm 46:1-2

Life Doesn’t Come with a Cut and Paste Button

Photo, Pamela Koefoed ©

Twenty years ago, I wanted a cut and paste button on my living history. If only such a thing existed. I would’ve recreated my childhood, deleted certain details, and added events that my children could proudly tell to their friends. My rewritten version would exclude the times I fled for my life, and include a mother I could trust, and the knowledge of her love.

Time has passed and I’m older now, and I’m thrilled with the power of choice. I can have grey hair if I want, since I don’t, I color it brown. I smooth out fine lines on my face with special creams, and exercise to keep my middle age bloom from blossoming into something resembling a beach ball under my shirt. I can select which speaking invitations to accept, or work to do, or friends to keep, or what I’ll eat for breakfast. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t erase or rewrite past history. It’s done. It’s past. It’s fact.

The years have brought change in me. Now, I review the past with that certain wisdom found only in those with grey hair, covered or not, and I’m content with what was given me and at peace with the events of the first twelve drama filled years of my life.

When I reflect on the past, I no longer wish for a cut and paste button to clear away the difficult to explain parts of my childhood, because they remind me that miracles really happen, that future challenges will be overcome, and that I have a Heavenly Father who cherishes me.

From everything I’ve experienced, I get it. I totally understand.

He loves me.