Davalynn Spencer's Blog, page 10

Path of Life

By Davalynn Spencer  @davalynnspencer

Of the eighteen novels and novellas I’ve written over the past twelve years, a predominant theme in my characters’ lives has been finding direction. Choosing the right path.

A few of my heroines have known exactly what they wanted and headed straight for it. But most found themselves questioning which road they should take.

I can relate with those women.

I’ve had several junctures in my life where I had to make a critical decision about my direction. Often I’d ask, “Which way, Lord? What is Your will for my life?”

The right answer always came when I stayed consistently in God’s word, soaking in His wisdom and imprinting His promises on my heart.

One of my favorite scriptures is Psalm 16:11 –

You will show me the path of life;
In Your presence is fullness of joy;
At Your right hand are pleasures forevermore.

Another directional favorite is Proverbs 4:25-26 –

Look straight ahead,
and fix your eyes on what lies before you.
Mark out a straight path for your feet;
Stay on the safe path.

I copied that scripture on the inside cover of my journal several years ago, unaware at the time that it was a key to the next few months. If I had looked more at what the Lord had laid before me and less at what was off the path, I would have done better and avoided painful pitfalls.

It was a hard way of proving that God knows what He’s talking about. Yet, in His mercy, He rescued me.

In my upcoming book, A Mistletoe Christmas, both of my main characters ask God for direction at a time in their lives when you’d think they’d know just what to do. They are experienced and seasoned, yet they understand that it is never too early or too late to seek God’s plan and stay on the path of life.

~

Stay on the path of life.
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Coming soon – contemporary cowboy romance

 

“But it’s God’s business, after all,” Dave said, “and it’s His will that matters most, not what I think I want.”

Georgia most definitely agreed with him and had come to that conclusion many times in her life, particularly since her husband had passed.

“It’s a risky thing to say ‘Your will be done.’” Dave spoke to the tree, but when he turned and looked at Georgia, she knew it was a double-edged message meant for her as well as himself.

“Yes, it is,” she answered softly. “It requires trust.” ~A Mistletoe Christmas – sweet contemporary cowboy romance

 

 

 

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Unattractive Brokenness

By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer

Several years ago I covered a local craft show for the newspaper and was captivated by the work of several lapidarists. 

One man displayed not only his beautiful, finished products but also rough stones – common rocks I might have kicked out of the way on a hiking trail. With my untrained eye, I saw no potential in them at all.

When I asked how he recognized a true gem among thousands of plain rocks, he gladly shared his secret: “You can’t tell what it is unless it’s broken.”

The weight of his remark nearly buckled my knees.

“It’s got to be broken or be a rainy day,” he said. When the sun hits the wet or broken rock just right, that’s when one can see what it really is.

For the lapidarist, recognition is only the beginning. The skilled artist will cut, polish, and perhaps engrave the unappealing stone, transforming it into a beautiful work of art.

Such results require the touch of a master’s hand, one who sees what can be.

How often have we felt like broken things tossed aside and ignored by those who pass? How often have we shivered and cringed beneath a relentless, emotional torrent?

When the Master Artisan bends down and picks us up, He knows what we can be and claims us in our raw and unattractive brokenness. He knows our original purpose, and His plan takes into account every kick, assault, and storm. There is nothing He cannot fashion into beauty.

Imagine what would happen if we entrusted our stony hearts to His loving hand.

And you are living stones that God
is building into his spiritual temple.
1 Peter 2:5 NLT

Recognize a true gem.
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~

Today Ella intended to relish every minute, burning the images onto her mind’s eye for review on the long train ride back to Chicago.

Her mood dipped on that note, and she squeezed the mare into a gentle lope, leaving the depressing thought behind. Cale stayed with her, holding Doc back in his long-legged reach. He could well outpace her, but she sensed a race was not the intention, though she wasn’t certain of what his intention was.

She knew only that she trusted him completely and would miss him desperately—the man who had so roughly yanked her from certain injury or death, persistently prodded her to ride again, and subtly charmed her with his cowboy ways. Unrefined but strong, capable but caring, he had patched a hole in her heart whether he knew it or not.

Perhaps Nana had been right all along—life was a collection of mended tears and tatted edges. Wounds healed over and beautified in the process. ~A Change of Scenery

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Stay Connected

Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer

Staying connected today has never been easier, thanks to technology.

And it’s never been harder.

There’s too much going on. In fact there’s so much going on – so much technological noise – that we can miss the more important connections in our lives. Like those with real people.

Staying connected requires extra effort if we don’t want circumstances to pull us away from what we value. 

Reconnecting takes even more effort. And sometimes, pride gets in our way.

The famous parent-child story in Luke 15 shows the effort made on both sides of a negative situation. Pride could have destroyed their relationship, but neither individual allowed that to happen. The son returned to his father; the father ran to his son.

Most of us have someone in our life we need to reconnect with – family members, old friends. God.

Let’s make the effort. It’s so worth it.

Filled with love and compassion … Luke 15:20

~

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Caleb bypassed Main Street and pointed Rooster toward the river. If someone else hadn’t beaten him to it, he’d bed down where he’d spent the previous night.

Campfires flickered in the trees along the bank, and cook smoke made his empty stomach groan. Laughter and happy voices floated downstream.

He grunted, begrudging such people their homeless pleasures. Or maybe they weren’t homeless. Maybe a campsite by the river was home enough if shared with family—like Springer Smith and his folks.

The Son of Man has nowhere to lay His head.

Like a red-hot coal, the phrase scorched Caleb’s thoughts. He didn’t miss the irony of having more in common with Christ now than he had all those months at the parsonage. The Women’s Society hadn’t let him miss many meals.

A moonless night shrouded the river, and he settled for an unfamiliar clearing when he saw that his spot had indeed been taken. He hobbled the horses, tied them together, and looped a lead rope around his saddle horn. At least he’d feel it if someone tried to steal them. Or he’d be trampled to death by his startled mounts.

The open fire warmed his face and feet and offered an odd companionship, another voice to counter that of the river, making him feel not so alone. The remains of his jerked beef teased his stomach into true hunger, and he drank several tin cups of water from the cold river. Glittering stars again filled the sky, reminding him that not many such nights remained before storms gathered against the mighty Rocky Mountains. ~Loving the Horseman – Book 1 of The Cañon City Chronicles.

 

 

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Perspective and Grandparents Day

Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer

I have lived long enough to grow perspective. It’s like looking back after a long walk or drive, and seeing your starting place from a completely different viewpoint.

That kind of perspective comes only with distance, age, or experience.

In my young-adult life, my prayers and favorite Bible verses focused on reminding God what I wanted and thought I needed. They sounded like, “Please, please God, oh please give/let/make/take …”

Years later, through times of deep sadness, I focused on scriptures that strengthened me and encouraged me. A close friend told me to find “handles” in God’s word. Verses I could get ahold of and hang on to.

And now, I’m among people who often say, “If I’d known I was going to live this long, I’d have taken better care of my teeth/weight/finances.” But I’ve also noticed that my prayers and favorite passages have changed. There is more thanking than asking. 

“Your will be done” is voiced more often now and rings with a deep undertone of knowing God will get it right even if it’s not what I wanted.

Perhaps this new understanding is the connection between so many children and their grandparents—between those who are open to suggestions and those who have been there, done that, got the prayer scars on their knees. Those warriors know things. They know that life is often hard, but they’ve come out the other end of the valley. They’ve seen God’s faithfulness, and they are there urging the young ones to “find a handle in God’s word and hang on.”

This is not to say that parents can’t do the same thing, but parents are busy raising those kids. They are in a different time of life, yet blessed are the children whose parents live out their faith day-to-day.

However, so often the faith-talkers are the grandparents. They carry around that growth on their heart called perspective.

September 10 is Grandparents Day in the US. Let’s acknowledge our grandparents for the lives they’ve lived and the wisdom they’ve shared. They’re not perfect, but they have battle scars more valuable than perfection.

If you don’t have grandparents that you can visit or call, find someone to fill in for them. Nursing homes are full of forgotten souls who have lived long, rich lives. Or perhaps you have an aunt, uncle, or neighbor you could honor. And if these people in your life haven’t made the best of choices, find opportunity to tell them you love them and that Jesus loves them even more.

Watch out for perspective. It is a priceless gift that grows when you’re not looking.

~

I remember your genuine faith,
for you share the faith that first
filled your grandmother Lois and your mother, Eunice.
And I know that same faith continues strong in you.
2 Timothy 1:5 

Grow perspective
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Discouraged, Martha sank into the leather chair and faced her sister-in-law. Not long after Livvy and Whit married, Martha had left for school. She’d not had much chance to get to know her brother’s wife, and she steeled herself for an inquisition.

Instead, a kind smile settled in Livvy’s eyes and she said nothing but simply waited, unhurried and unflustered.

Martha sucked in a broken breath. “I have no life.”

The declaration informed Martha herself as well as Livvy. She’d not faced it head-on, but as she sought to explain, she realized the depth of her problem.

“I have no husband, no children, no substance.”

Livvy folded her hands on her apron and looked out the window over Martha’s shoulder. Her yellow hair reminded Martha of her deceased husband, Joseph. They could have been siblings.

“I am not surprised you feel that way.” Livvy took in the same ranch land that Martha had regarded earlier. “When I first moved here, I was running away from the mundane life of a preacher’s daughter entombed in a city. I longed for something else, I just didn’t know what.”

Her gaze shifted to Martha. “Until I saw the ranch and your brother.”

A reactionary huff. “You knew Whit when we were all children.”

“Not the Whit he became as a grown man.”

Martha still considered him an overbearing big brother, though she’d tried to cut him free of that image.

“But it was more than that.” Livvy continued. “I took care of Pop, fed the crew here, tended to the garden and chickens and canning and cooking. I had a sense of purpose and felt needed. Like I belonged.” Her focus returned to the window. “And I had your mother’s encouragement to trust the Lord with my heart and stop trying to figure things out on my own.”

Shame bent over Martha and breathed heavily down her neck. She’d not listened enough to her mother’s counsel. Usually she bristled against it.

“I know you see her differently than I.” Kindness softened Livvy’s laugh. “I certainly don’t view my own mother with the same regard, and for that I confess my sin. It’s often difficult to see a parent’s wisdom when you know their weaknesses so well.”

Martha’s back eased, the tension in her shoulder lessened. Whit had made a good choice for a wife. ~Romancing the Widow, winner of the Will Rogers Gold Medallion for Inspirational Western Romance

 

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Give It a Rest!

Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer

Some of you will remember the not-too-distant past when Labor Day signaled the end of summer and the beginning of school.

Okay, maybe that was longer ago than we care to admit. However, Labor Day still signals the end of summer (even though we technically have about three more weeks), as well as family barbecues and retail-sales events that have us scouring stores, whether brick-and-mortar or online.

Created in 1894, the federal holiday originally celebrated the contributions and achievements of American workers on the first Monday of September, creating a three-day holiday. A good thing. But some of us work harder getting ready to celebrate the day off than we do on a regular day.

Taking a day off is nothing new, and Americans were not the first to call for a break. That honor falls to our loving God. Here are a couple of references to check out:

“Six days you shall labor and do all your work” (Exodus 20:9)

“And on the seventh day God ended His work which He had done, and He rested on the seventh day from all His work which He had done “(Genesis 2:2)

The Bible also speaks to overworking:

“Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy” (Isaiah 55:2).

“Do not wear yourself out to get rich; do not trust your own cleverness” (Proverbs 23:4).

“In vain you rise early and stay up late, toiling for food to eat—for he grants sleep to those he loves” (Psalm 127:2).

However, God does not frown on hard work, and He has a few things to say about that too:

“The one who is unwilling to work shall not eat” (2 Thessalonians 3:10).

“Honor her for all that her hands have done, and let her works bring her praise at the city gate” (Proverbs 31:31). 

“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters” (Colossians 3:23). 

All in all, it seems that God is telling us to keep things in balance. On this coming Sabbath/Sunday/gathering-for-worship weekend, why don’t we give it a rest, giving ourselves a rest as well. And while we’re at it, let’s give God all the credit for blessing us so much.

~

Give it a rest!
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Mary picked up the glass of water on the nightstand and took a drink. “The light grew and as it grew, it flickered. I knew immediately what was happening and could think only of dousing the flames. I grabbed two pails and ran to the pump. The fire was in the corner stall at the back of the barn. I poured several buckets of water over it, but it wouldn’t go out. It spread, as if following a path, and quickly climbed the wall.”

Mary’s breath caught and she closed her eyes against the vision.

Helen touched her arm. “You don’t have to tell me anymore, honey. Just rest for a while. You can tell us later.”

Mary set the glass on the stand and shook her head. “I kept filling the buckets. They got heavier and heavier, and the flames crawled higher and spread across the hay loft. I couldn’t stop it—I couldn’t stop it.”

She fell against the pillows at her back, breathless. “Then Hugh was there, whirling me away from the flames. He wouldn’t let go but backed us away from the barn, and we stood there watching it burn.”

She fought to hold in the sobs.

Helen stood over her and smoothed her hair. “Sleep, child. Give yourself a chance to rest. Everything will be all right. It always is.” ~Hope Is Built  Colorado Book Awards finalist

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God Made Us Porous

Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer

On my flight to a writers’ conference in California, I tossed around the idea that God made us porous. Like sponges.

We absorb and we leak.

Everything we listen to, read, and watch soaks into us in some way and seeps out in another.

As I relaxed on the plane, winging over the Rocky Mountains and on to Santa Barbara, I decided I wanted to be a sponge at the conference. I wanted to soak up every little tidbit rather than worry about pitching (talking) to publishers and agents.

Then I realized how self-centered the sponge idea sounded. Was it really all about me, me, me – out to get all I could?

As He does, the Lord corrected me.

“What does a sponge do when it’s squeezed?” He asked.

Well, it gives. It drips out on whatever is nearby, including the hand that is doing the squeezing.

A squeezed sponge can give drink to the thirsty (think Jesus on the cross and those in nursing and hospice care).

It can cool a fevered body.

Wipe away the dirt.

Cleanse.

“Yes, be a sponge,” the Lord whispered inaudibly to my soul. “Absorb Me. Soak up My words. And when you’re squeezed, I’ll come out.”

Anyone who believes in Me may come and drink!
For the Scriptures declare,
‘Rivers of living water will flow from his heart.’
John 7:38

~

Are you spongy?
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As if sensing Bern’s need, Zeke picked up the pace as he trotted to the edge of town and around back of the church to the cemetery. He slowed along the picket fence and stopped across from one of the newer headstones.

Bern dropped the reins and stepped off, then over the low fence where he took a knee at the bottom of the plot.

Ruth wasn’t there waiting for him, he knew that. She was in glory with others who had gone before. She was with their baby boy.

His lungs squeezed until he thought he might keel over and join them right then and there.

Swiping his hat off, he held it against his chest, pressing on the ache so it didn’t leak out his eyes. “I miss you every day. But I know you’re doin’ better than I am.”

Words choked off, stuck behind a knot in his throat that wouldn’t loosen. He drew a slow, deep breath and listened to the evening settle in.

“There’s a woman here named Etta Collier. A widow who treats Gracie like she’s her own daughter. And she’s good to me too.” His head bowed lower, his voice dropped. “Though she’s not you.”

A breeze sighed across the cemetery and lifted the hair from his brow like Ruth used to do. His forelock, she’d called it, and the memory brought a painful smile.

“I might be loving her, Ruth, but I want you to know she’ll never take your place.”

Crickets started in and the wind kicked up, curling around him and teasing a lavender  scent from the small shrub he’d planted close by.

Zeke whiffled low and lifted his head, eyes and ears turned north at an unfamiliar sound.

Bern rose and put his hat on, broke off a purple sprig, and tucked it in his vest pocket as he cleared the fence. He gathered Zeke’s reins, stepped up, and looked back at the white headstone.

“Kiss the baby for me, darlin’.” – Mail-Order Misfire

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Those Who Wait

Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer

Isaiah 40:31 is a favorite verse for many of us. It speaks of renewing our strength and it gives three metaphorical examples of what that looks like.

Soar high on wings like eagles

Run and not grow weary

Walk and not faint

However, all of these are conditional and the condition is not metaphorical. It is literal and very real: Wait on the Lord.

What does that mean?

            Wait like staff at a restaurant: “What can I get for you today?”

            Wait as in line: “How long is this going to take. HURRY UP!”

            Wait for someone’s arrival: “Did they miss their flight connection?”

No. Wait in this scripture means to tarry, to be patient, to gather yourself in expectancy.

When we do that – trust enough to let go – we will then be able to:

            Soar above stress and conflict (no tethers, just feathers)

            Run our business, our home, our projects without fatigue

            Walk with endurance through our day and away from strife and gossip

Of all the four actions mentioned, it is the waiting that matters most. Waiting is the cause of the effect.

But those who wait on the LORD
shall renew their strength;
they shall mount up with wings like eagles,
they shall run and not be weary,
they shall walk and not faint.
Isaiah 40:31

~

Those who wait renew their strength
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Congratulations to last week’s drawing winner: GISELE OBERRICH

Available as an e-book and an audio book.

Honesty blunted Laura’s expression and she fixed Eli with cold stoicism. “My scars aren’t as brutal as yours, or as life-altering. But they’ve changed me in ways I don’t like.”

The girl had guts, more than he did at the moment. “You haven’t given up.”

She took his hand. “Neither have you.”

He linked his fingers through hers and tugged. She scooted in beneath his arm and leaned against him. The top of her cap rubbed under his chin and her shoulder lay warm against his chest. He’d wager she felt his heart charging the front lines.

A hawk screed above them in a spiraling rise. Once it reached its flight point, it tilted off toward higher ground, its broad wings spread wide against a blue backdrop.

She relaxed, her head back as she watched the bird. “They ride the thermals, you know.”

“Hmm.” He ran his hand over her shoulder, enjoying the softness of her, breathing in her sweet scent. They’d never sat like this as kids. They’d never touched, other than him giving her a hand up or her slugging his arm.

“The heat carries them as it rises.” She sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

“All they do is spread their wings.”

She stiffened and sat up, wonder washing her face. “That’s it!”

“That’s what?” He was quickly losing track of the conversation.

“That’s what I couldn’t figure out.”

“You couldn’t figure out that they spread their wings?”

Something in her retreated, and the mood between them shifted. What had he said?

“Tell me what you mean.”

“It’s nothing.” She tugged her ponytail over her shoulder and combed through it with her fingers. “Something I’ve been thinking about for a few days, that’s all.”

“I’ll listen.”

A door closed in her beautiful brown eyes, and the stoicism returned. “Maybe when I understand it better myself.” ~The Miracle Tree

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Romance Awareness Month – and a Giveaway!

Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer

August is one of my favorite months, and not just because it’s the birth month of two grandsons and a son-in-law. August is Romance Awareness Month and I’m an author of inspirational romance.

I’ve written 17 romances, both historical and contemporary, all with a cowboy of course. Actually, I’ve written a lot more than that, but they’re in a queue awaiting publication.

Currently I’m working on two: this year’s Christmas novella about love the second time around, and Book 6 of The Cañon City Chronicles, due out in 2024.

Romances differ from love stories because a happy ending is guaranteed regardless of the struggles and obstacles along the way.

To me that sounds a lot like God’s story. It’s definitely a romance because it’s all about how much He loves us, fights for us, and will love us forever. I’d call that a happy ending – or beginning, whichever way you want to look at it.

Life is full of unhappy circumstances, so I choose to write stories that leave readers feeling good. Yes, there are obstacles, challenges, and antagonists (bad guys) in my books, but the hero and heroine overcome them. One of my favorite depictions  of this is the movie, Open Range (pictured above).

We need conflict because we need victory – even if it’s someone else’s.

What’s your favorite romance? Is it a book, a movie, or your own marriage? Leave an answer in the comments below and I’ll enter your name in a drawing for a chance to win your choice of a romance novella: The Wrangler’s Woman or Mail-order Misfire.

This is real love—not that we loved God,
but that he loved us and sent his Son
as a sacrifice to take away our sins.
1 John 4:10

~

A happy ending is guaranteed
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Focus on the Promises – Not the Problem

Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer

Most of us are familiar with the story of David and Goliath, but I think we’ve titled it wrong. It should be called King Saul and a Shepherd Boy.

Goliath is not a main character. He’s the main pain, but he’s a secondary character at best. The real action takes place in the hearts of Saul and David.

Saul did not know God well and, therefore, didn’t remember His interventions in the history of his nation. He panicked at the threats of Goliath, the opposing army’s champion.

David did not have Saul’s age, weapons, or experience in battle, but he knew God intimately. He recalled what the Lord had done in other situations and remembered the protective power of God at the fling of a small stone.

That knowledge made all the difference.

Goliath wasn’t anything special. Sure, he was big, ugly, and mean, but so are giants we face today like despair, fear, heartache, and others.

When we call to remembrance the interventions and blessings of God in our lives, that knowledge creates a foundation of faith. Especially if we verbalize it like David did:

“The Lord who rescued me from the claws of the lion and the bear
will rescue me from this Philistine!”
I Samuel 17:37 (NLT)

We can fight forgetfulness by writing a list of all the times God has come to our rescue. Then the next time we face an intimidating giant, we can say with David,

“The Lord who rescued me from _____

will rescue me from _____.”

Fill in the blanks with knowledge and grow in faith.

~

My people are destroyed
for lack of knowledge.
Hosea 4:6

Read the entire story of King Saul, David, and the giant in I Samuel 17:1-58. 

Focus on the promises, not the problem.
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Over the next five miles, Josiah Hanacker chewed on his sister-in-law’s threat. Truth was, parts of her letter nettled him like a cocklebur. His motherless daughter, Jess, sat her horse astride in her brother’s old denims and out-grown boots, her braids stuffed under her hat. Before long she’d be faced with the way of a woman, and Josiah couldn’t help her a lick then. He had three months before Beatrice showed up, and if Jess wasn’t cleaned up like a girl ought to be, he might lose her. The vise around his chest tightened. He’d rather die.

At the border to his property, he pulled up. “Lord, I need Your help. I can’t lose my girl to that ol’ hide.” He glanced apologetically at a sky so close to the color of his children’s eyes that it twisted his heart inside him. As did the thought of a full summer’s work ahead—haying and cutting wood and doctoring cows and every other thing that sucked daylight out of a man.

He took in the wide park dappled with grazing cattle. The cedar barn, the house, and outbuildings tucked up against the hillside on the east. His band of mares must have found themselves a private valley over the first ridge.

Warmth grew in his belly like a fire on the hearth. “Thank You, Lord. You’ve blessed us. I imagine You won’t fail us now.”

He drew a deep breath, and with it came a crazy idea that darted through his mind like a swallow on a bug. It was worth a try. ~The Wrangler’s Woman

 

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Part 3 of 3 – Grief: The Healing Place

Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer

This post first appeared July 31, 2022. Due to the number of people who have contacted me privately regarding their own journey with grief, I offer these words again praying that they bring comfort and encouragement.

Grief breaks into our lives whether we are ready or not. Usually, we are not. But with God’s help, the broken pieces can be fit back together and made stronger. For Part 1 and Part 2 of this series on grief, see July 16, 2023, and July 23, 2023.

Part 3

I love the fact that mourning and morning sound just alike. One expresses sorrow and the other represents a new beginning. Together, they pretty much sum up my condition as I face the future.

Before my husband’s funeral, my pastor told me that mourning is one of the ways we show our love.

I liked that. It gave me permission to let go of my grief.

“Blessed are those who mourn,” Jesus said, “for they will be comforted.

He was right.

That doesn’t mean I don’t miss or love my husband; it means I am comforted.

Over the years, I’ve been asked countless times, “How are you doing?”

What does one say to that?

        “Fine.”

“Okay.”

        “So-so.”

        “All right.”

“Wretched.”

“Wonderful.”

        “Dying on the inside.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Do you truly want to know?”

The real answer came to me one … morning:

“I’m in His hands.”

My reply set some people on their heels. A few agreed, and several looked puzzled. But everyone heard me.

There was nothing better to say and there is no place I’d rather be.

When I’m in His hands, I don’t have to be fine. I don’t have to understand. I don’t have to have answers. I can, like a child, lean back against Him and let go. “Your will be done, not mine.”

“Your will.” Two very powerful words. They ring with surrender.

The first night I was alone, eight winters ago, I curled up on the floor in front of the woodstove. Six inches of snow skirted my house and temperatures hid beneath a 20-degree blanket.

The woodstove was a safe and quiet place.

Fire danced behind the glass of the door and, in time, became a companion of sorts—something warm and alive that I could sit near and watch each evening. Something from which I could draw comfort.

I slept and ate and prayed and wrote before that fire.

I also sang and played my guitar.

One evening I sensed the Lord there, listening. I moved my chair over to make room for Him to join me.

Sound silly?

I didn’t see Him, didn’t hear Him, but I knew he was there.

How many times in my life have I moved something out of the way to make room for Jesus?

How many times in my life should I have done so when I didn’t?

That night in front of the woodstove with the fire glowing through the glass, I sang to Him. Old songs, new songs, most of them quiet and gentle because that was how I felt. It seemed I spent only a little while in His presence, yet when I looked at the clock, two hours had passed.

Is that what eternity will be like?

The space in front of the woodstove became a healing place, and I think that matters to God.

Long before my life was a possibility, He told Moses, “Here is a place by Me” (Exodus 33:21). 

He went on to say that He would cover Moses with His hand. So Moses waited in that place.

No substitute can be found for waiting on the Lord, but it requires trust.

Trust is often just doing the next thing – like the dishes. The laundry. Mowing the yard or stacking firewood. The next thing can be my salvation, taking a step forward, trusting that He will sweep up the pieces if I fall.

There are triggers. Pain sneaks up on me when I’m not looking. But God is the Great Recycler of human wreckage. He knows how to fit the pieces together and make them stronger.

Life goes on, they say, and it does. It just goes on differently.

Jesus goes with us as we move on.

He is with us each day—if we allow Him to get that close—walking with us through the triggers and the pain, whispering His peace as we lie down at night.

And He is there in the morning, waiting for us.

Just like He was in the valley.

~

Life goes on - it just goes on differently.
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Always Before Me                ~ 90 Story Devotions ~

 

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The post Part 3 of 3 – Grief: The Healing Place appeared first on Davalynn Spencer.