The Portion of my Inheritance

Autumn time in Michigan is magical!

It almost feels like you can reach out and touch the splendor of the Lord as the multiple color of leaves, each brilliant in it’s own right fall softly all around you, dancing and swaying as it’s makes it’s glorious descend to the ground.

Even as a little child I understood the beauty of fall, the magnificence of the change in all it’s glory. I remember many walks to school spent basking in the moment, still framing the gorgeous landscape of the Lord. I remember clearly the wet, misty mornings, stretching my neck back to look up to see the leaves floating down around me. The ditches lay packed, thick and rich with the vibrant colors as the leaves settled there for their final resting place. It’s memory has stayed with me throughout all these years.

It was usually the job of my sister and I, being the two eldest, to rake the multiple leaves into a pile. We would spend an entire afternoon, hours upon hours raking them into a heaping pile, just to spend a few glorious moments jumping into the pile and scattering the leaves all over the place. And then, we would rake them back up into a pile again and our father would set them ablaze and we would end the day with roasting marshmallows.

I can still smell the smells of fall, and feel the crisp, moist air brushing against my face. The colors are so vivid and beautiful within my minds eye, forever pressed deep within my heart. These are sweet, precious memories to me.

Moving to Texas has been a wonderful adventure and our life here has been blessed. But there has always been a forlorn feeling when autumn rolls around. Even though fall in Texas is beautiful, it cannot match the display of grandeur that we had been accustomed to in our early years.

I made my sister this quilt so it would be a constant reminder of that time so long ago and so far away. A simpler time, carefree and filled with beauty. I named the quilt Scattered Leaves.

(yes, they made a mistake in the text. They said I was from Tennessee)

‘If you walk in My statutes and keep My commandments so as to carry them out, then I shall give you rains in their season, so that the land will yield its produce and the trees of the field will bear their fruit.  Leviticus 26:3-4

I stick close to them, guarding them and watching their every move. I understand that they are treasures, cherished by the ones who love them immensely.

My little ones are always within my eyesight, always within reach of assistance; a much needed hug, the brushing off of grass and debris from a fall, or a prayer lifted up because of bumps and spills.

They bring me such joy in the watching them in their pure, childish play. It is one of my great pleasures in life, to see His tiny children playing and laughing. It just naturally flows out of them, unhindered, and it is beautiful.

They always know that I am there and they see me watching them. My presence in the midst of them makes all the difference in the world. They run and play and delight in the time they have together knowing they are safe. There is no fussing or fighting amongst my bunch because they are always aware of my presence. Hurt feelings, bumped heads, tumbles to the ground are quickly recomposed. Their little eyes look to me each time something happens to see if I saw, and I smile and there is an understanding, and they make the choice in an instance to move on and not is stay in the hurtful moment, and they return to their play.

And isn’t it also like this with our Lord. He is always here with His children, guarding them, and watching over them. We so easily forget that He stands guard over us, always ready to pick us up. Always there to draw us in and pour Himself out onto us. His presence is always with us, and yet we forget.

We are such visual creatures. We go about our lives, living and moving and having our being, unaware that He sees. Each day we live as if He were not here, as if He can not see and we are deceived.

My precious daughter at a very young age loved to play with her barbie dolls. She would sit next to me and play as I went about my daily work. She would dress them, fix their hair and make them talk to each other. Out of the corner of my eye I would often see her look at me to see if I was watching. If I did not look at her she would continue her play. But if I looked at her she would immediately stop, just shut down. In her little mind if I was not looking at her I couldn’t see or hear her!

And I wonder. How different would it be if our Lord opened our spirit eyes and we could really see?

Like the eyes of Elisha’s servant when he feared because of the great army that surrounded the city. Elisha told him, “Do not fear, for those who are with us are more than those who are with them.” And Elisha prayed and asked the Lord to open the eyes of his servant, and what the servant saw changed everything. Where there was an army, surrounding the city with horses and chariots, there instead he saw the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha. 2 Kings 6:16-17

Because the servant was able to see the presence of the Lord’s army, fear and anxiety turned into confidence and peace, all because he could see.

I would imagine that if our earthly eyes could be opened it would make all the difference in the world. All the hurtful moments would only take one glance at His smiling face, and we would let it go. The pain that so many endure would be eased because they would see how quickly He attends to their every need. Fear would diminish because what is there to fear with Jesus standing right there next to you? The harsh words that roll off of our tongue so easily would be hushed because we truly understand that He hears our every word. Our selfish ways would cease in the presence of humility Himself.

We would all be looking to Him and we would be changed.

And it is so, here and now, that we walk by faith, not by sight. And even though our physical eyes can not see Him, He is here! He see’s all and He hears all, and by His grace, He understands all.

And Elisha prayed, and said, “Lord, I pray, open his eyes that he may see.” Then the Lord opened the eyes of the young man, and he saw. 2 Kings 6:17

Summer would finally come and we would push all the furniture against the wall and set the tent up right in the middle of our living room. It was his secret place and he loved little nooks and cubbyholes. It was a get away in our home just for him. Video games were always at the top of his priority list and we would string extension cords across the room to supply the TV and video equipment. Piles of books were stacked inside right beside the make shift bed. I would serve him snacks and drinks and he was a happy camper laid out inside his own little sanctuary. He sometimes had friends over to spend the night and they would sleep in there, but mostly it was just for him, and sometimes for me.

We spent countless hours inside that tent, my son and I. We would talk and he would share his heart and I would share mine. We read books, all kinds of books, and talked about them. We told stories and expressed dreams. We laughed till our stomachs hurt and we also had some tearful moments, but my most favorite of all was our talks about God. We had so many precious moments talking about our Lord within the fabric walls of that tent. Questions, answers, prayer request and just plain lovin on Him by expressing our love for Him.

I have many wonderful memories of our time spent in the tent, but my favorite story is one that truly expresses the heart of my young son and his love for Jesus.

It was customary for my son that when his daddy came home from work each evening, as soon his truck pulled into the driveway he would fly out the front door, race down the side walk and jump into his daddy’s arms. His daddy would catch him and swoop him up and they would hug and laugh all the way inside the house, each expressing the happiness at seeing the other. This was a special time for each of them and they cherished those special times.

On one of our tent talks, my son and I was talking about heaven; what it would look like, and how happy we would feel to be there. We both talked with such excitement at the thought of heaven, when suddenly he looked at me very serious. His eyes searched my face and I could tell that he had something very important to say to me. “Mama, do you think it would be alright with Jesus when I saw Him if I ran and jumped into His arms?”

I could not contain the tears that immediately seeped out of my eyes, my heart overflowing with love, “Oh son, I am sure that would make Him very happy!”

He seemed satisfied with my answer and our talk turned to another direction.

But it left me with a constant nagging question, even now, nearly 20 years later. Do I have that hunger and desire to run and jump into my Savior’s arms? Do I go to Him everyday because it’s just what I have to do because I’m obligated to spend time with Him, bound because I am a christian? Or do I go to Him everyday because I love Him so much that at the beautiful sight of Him my heart desires to run to Him and jump straight into His loving arms?

My son changed the way I think that day. He challenged me to express my love for my Lord with abandon, to yield to my heart without restraint and to give Him my all! To make each approach to Jesus a special time, time that we both would cherish, an opportunity to express my happiness at just being with Him.

I have fallen short most times, but I do have these moments . . . these very special moments. . . .

Jesus replied, “‘You must love the LORD your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind.” Jesus~Matthew 22:37

Her little hand rested on the inside of the door, on the hinge side and I tried to close it. I felt the resistance of the door before I realized what was stopping it.

Huge crocodile tears streamed down her face. A deep crease, light purple in color, and  the blood was gathering just below the surface about to spew out, proving to me that I had inflicted an injury and the pain she must have felt. Her tiny little face was pale and she held her hand close to her heart.

My heart quickened, and pain shot from my heart throughout my whole body. My hands shook uncontrollably as I tried to see the damage that I had caused. My own tears ran down my face as I saw the hurt and pain that she was in.

I held her close, praying and covering her with tender kisses. My apologies ran out of my lips repeatedly pouring out over her and our tears mingled together as they streamed down faces and fell together onto her injured hand.

I could not stand to see her in pain, it hurt me to my core. Even now the thought of it congers up tears and pain.

This was not the first time I have felt this unbearable pain at seeing my beloved hurt, either physically or emotionally, and I am sure it will not be the last.

I hate this feeling, it hurts me so deeply seeing them hurt, having no control whatsoever, just watching. . . helpless. . .

A prayer request came through this morning. A child of God is hurt, pain inflicted. And I asked God why there was so much pain everywhere. The prayer chain has been blowing up of late and broken hearts and broken bodies are scattered 

everywhere. It is almost too much for a person to bear.

But as I lifted this precious one up I realized how grieved our Lord must feel at seeing His children in pain. How it must cut Him, and cause Him great pain.

Jesus demonstrated this when His beloved Lazarus had died and He saw the pain that Martha and Mary endured.

And if it pierces our hearts so deeply, how much more would it pierce the heart of the One who loves us so completely and unconditionally.

It was A. W. Tozer that said, “Only love can grieve.”

As much as our human hearts can love and grieve, I can’t begin to imagine how much our Lord must hurt over our pain, for the greater the love, the deeper the pain. For He is the Father that sees His children hurt, and He heals the brokenhearted, and binds up their wounds. And He tells us this once in Psalm 147:3, then again in Isaiah 61:1 and a third time He tells us in Luke 4:18, and this time it is coming from the sweet lips of Jesus Himself, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon Me, because He has anointed Me to preach the gospel to the poor; He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed.”

So it is in this truth that I lift these up to Him, knowing that He cares more for them than I could ever imagine, knowing that He and I are binding our hearts together on their behalf, knowing that I am giving them to the only One that can heal them, and He has promised to bind up their wounds and to heal their broken hearts. And dear friends, “He will ever be mindful of His covenant,” Ps. 111:5, for “He remembers His covenant forever.” Ps 105:8

He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. Psalm 147:3

Our Lord is so very precious!

His amazing kindness and goodness surrounds us everyday, in everything we do. His tender care of us is always there for us to see, if we would but give Him a chance to reveal His love to us. A love that cares so deeply for every part of our being.

If we would be willing to get to know Him and to spend time with Him, we would see Him everywhere. As you grow to love Him you will learn to recognize Him in every little part of your life. You will grow memories with Him and they will be astounding! If you choose not to spend time with Him you will miss out on the most amazing blessings that your heart could ever imagine.

I have several precious memories with my Lord that I constantly reflect upon. Memories that have grounded me in faith and in His constant love. Memories that have grown me up in Him and have held me steadfast.

This is one of my favorites:

My friend Paula and I have been prayer partners for years. We have shared every part of our hearts with each other through the lifting up to our Lord. Our hearts have been so closely woven together that often times we know that there is a need before it has even been put to voice. It is not unusual for one of us to call the other to find out what is going on because the Lord had put something on our hearts.

My son Kory was up to test for his 2^nd degree black belt. The training and preparations were grueling and extensive. For months he trained several days a week, hours a day for this test. And we were praying.

Testing for a black belt is both physically and mentally exhausting. It is very stressful and overwhelming. There are two parts to this test, the first part is the hardest, it is always on a Friday evening and lasts for several hours. There is a panel of high ranking black belts that watch your every move. Each of them have the right to ask you to do anything at any given moment and you must be prepared for it.

The test always starts with Katas. They begin with the white belt kata and work their way through all the belt levels. There is a 3 strike you’re out rule. No if, ands, or buts, if you miss anything in any kata after 3 times you are asked to leave the mat. You are done.

Kory knew the katas backward and forward. He practiced them constantly but he gave way to the stress during the test and headed straight for disaster. I remember looking at the clock when the katas started and it was around 7. He did the first kata perfect. Second kata went great. Third kata was awesome. But something went wrong on the fourth kata. At one of the turns he turned the wrong way. Now I know that turning the wrong way once is no big deal, I mean if it were up to me I would have let it pass, but they take these things very seriously and it did not go unnoticed.

I saw the face of the head instructor. He saw it and he knew that Kory knew this kata but he could not make an exception for his beloved student.

He asked the group to do the kata again. And Kory turned the wrong way. . . again!

My heart was pounding and all I could think of was; “I need to call Paula and ask her to pray!” But I could not leave my son. I was praying, praying, praying! All the months of training and discipline were about to go down the drain. All his hard work was about to be for nothing!

You could of heard a pin drop in that room when the head instructor asked everyone but Kory to leave the mat. He allowed one upper belt girl to stay. The next few moments moved in slow motion and with every breath that I breathed I offered up desperate prayers.

Finally it was over and he had done it! Everyone was so happy and when the test was over and he had passed the instructor came to us and shook our hand, he said in a relieved voice, “He really had me worried there for a moment, I didn’t think he would make it!”

The first thing I did when I got into our car was to call Paula.

As she answered the phone she immediately said to me, “Peggy! What was going on around 7:00?

I could not believe it! So I told her the story and how I wanted so badly to call her and ask her to pray but couldn’t leave Kory. This is what she said:

“I was cooking dinner around 7 and the Lord told me to stop doing what I was doing and to go pray for Kory.”

She did not know what was going on but she was obedient to the voice of the Lord and prayed for my son. And He heard our cry!

I realize that it may not sound like a big deal to some for him to pass that test. But it was a big deal to Kory and it was to the Lord. He was showing us how much He cared about us, the things that matter to us, the taking care of the details. He was so faithful to our prayers and it grew the faith of every person involved.

“but the very hairs of your head are all numbered.” Jesus~Matthew 10:30