Davalynn Spencer's Blog, page 11
August 27, 2023
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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August 20, 2023
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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August 13, 2023
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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August 6, 2023
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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July 30, 2023
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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July 23, 2023
Part 2 of 3 – Grief: Sorrow Shared
Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
This post first appeared July 24, 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.
We all meet grief at some point in our lives. There is no right, better, or perfect way to grieve, but sharing our experiences with others can help us in our own journey. For Part 1 of this 3-part series, click here.
Part 2
During the years of my husband’s paralysis and traumatic-brain injury issues, it became more and more difficult for me to attend funerals, so I stopped.
I stopped because if I fell apart I wouldn’t be able to carry all of me to the car without dropping something.
It wasn’t the grief of the families that bothered me. It was the freedom of their loved one who had passed into the presence of Jesus. It was the liberation that person had finally experienced. The severing of painful and unbearable earthly shackles that I … resented.
That’s hard to confess. It took me a long time to even realize what it was.
I grieved because the husband I’d known was gone yet wasn’t. I grieved when I visited his facility and he didn’t know me. I grieved anew when COVID quarantines took even the visits away.
Isolation dominated my grief, because there were only certain people I wanted to share it with, and General Public was not one of them.
Fellow members of a small-group Bible study had come to the out-of-town hospital on the (very late) night of my husband’s accident. They were there, and that was what I needed—their presence.
They knew I didn’t need answers, explanations, or platitudes.
Those who were close to me carried my pain. They didn’t give me advice, try to explain why, or tell me what I should do— though a retired nurse and mother of many told me to rest because I was going to need it. She was right.
As days rolled into months and years, another friend often called from out-of-state, let me cry the ugly cry, and then prayed for me over the phone.
One of the most comforting things spoken to me was, “I understand.” I rarely needed more than that. It somehow helped redistribute the burden without requiring me to respond graciously.
I wanted to melt into the floor unnoticed. Disappear into a pew at church and not talk. Not share. Not have to smile and nod. I wanted the music to carry me on the voices of other worshippers as I offered my own sacrifice: a broken heart.
But everyone is not like me. Grief is too personal for generalities.
For some people, it is easier to share with strangers. They find help in grief counseling or in groups found at Hospice, nursing homes, or churches.
As time passed, I discovered the double edge of a familiar scripture. “Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ,” says Galatians 6:2. It cuts both ways.
That mandate also applies to those who are doing the suffering. Even as we grieve, we can look outside ourselves and find others we can help. People all around us are in need and in pain, but we may never know it unless we ask God to show us.
We don’t have to bombard others (please don’t). Be sensitive. Find out what they need by asking someone else if necessary. Pour into their lives anonymously. Pray for them.
That is sorrow shared.
One message I received from a friend was signed, “Lifting you up.” She had no idea what those words meant to me.
It turned out that I was not forgotten after all. Even in spite of my self-inflicted solitude.
~
Grief is too personal for generalities.
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If you are someone who finds healing in groups, check with local churches, hospitals, Hospice, and nursing homes. You may also find comfort through the following links:
https://www.griefrecoverymethod.com/our-programs/support-groups
https://hospicefoundation.org/Grief-(1)/Support-Groups
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July 16, 2023
Part 1 of 3 – Grief: The Intimacy of Suffering
Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
This post first appeared July 17, 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.
Everyone faces grief at some point in their life. There is no right, better, or perfect way to deal with it. We just deal with it in our own way.
But there are many little broken bits that we share in common with others, and we often find comfort in sharing those fragments.
In the years since my husband’s lingering disability and death, I have been asked about grieving. Starting with today’s blog post, I will share in a three-part series what I have learned along the way. Much of it may be familiar to you. Some of it you may find unusual or unbelievable. But hopefully in the fragments—the pieces of brokenness—you will find encouragement.
Part 1
I wanted it to be over.
Let me rephrase that:
I REALLY wanted it to be OVER!
I was tired of hurting and just plain tired.
But – (Don’t you love the buts in life?) – the painful, lonely days were days I had to go through. Part of the process.
I remember falling to my knees in my living room one evening, my heart bleeding out through my eyes and dripping into my hands.
And in that surreal moment of knowing Jesus was near, I felt His breath on my hair.
“Really?” someone asked me later. “Did you really feel His breath on your hair?”
Yes.
Which is more real – the physical, limited world in which I exist or the realm of His soul-peace in which I live?
During those earliest days of suffering, I experienced His nearness in ways I had not known before I was alone.
It is the aloneness we kick against, that valley I didn’t want to walk—no, wait—I didn’t walk it. I crawled.
There is no shortcut. I had to go through the valley of shadow without the flesh-and-blood companion I’d once had.
I know, I know—I wasn’t really alone, you say. But in the valley, I felt alone … except for that staff of the Shepherd I kept bumping up against in the dark, that breath on my hair.
Everything was so different and I didn’t like it. But still the Shepherd set a place for me at the table. He fed me when I didn’t want to eat. Especially not with my enemies lurking nearby—
Fear
Longing
Depression
Craving for human touch
The ugly cry that wrecks your voice
Yet, the valley was where I discovered the intimacy of suffering—that precious gift found only there.
So I waited.
I wait for the Lord,
My soul waits.
And in His word do I hope.
My soul waits for the Lord
More than those who watch for the morning …
Psalm 130:5
Grief isn’t something you get over; it’s something you get through.
Like a valley.
~
Grief isn't something we get over, it's something we get through.
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July 9, 2023
Are We There Yet?
Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Are we there yet?
Have you ever heard that question roll out from the back seat of your car during a family vacation?
Or have you asked it yourself in the middle of a long and tedious road trip? It’s just so hard to be patient when the journey seems never-ending.
But the journey isn’t always on a road. Sometimes it’s our job, the work we do, or the race we run—the pressing on. It’s not easy. We have to want it badly enough that we’ll give the pursuit all we’ve got.
We might not be where we want to be yet, but we will be because God is faithful.
God promised He would never abandon us but would always give us the strength we need.
That means we’re not in this alone.
I press on to reach the end of the race
and receive the heavenly prize
for which God, through Christ Jesus, is calling us.
~
We're not in this alone.
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Josiah Hanacker doesn’t give up, especially where his family is concerned. ~The Wrangler’s Woman
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Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
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July 2, 2023
Out of the Stump
Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Last month, a tree in our young orchard was snapped off accidentally about six inches above ground level. Distressing, to say the least, and costly as well. It had to be replaced.
My husband dug up the stump and tossed it aside to make room for a new tree. A couple of weeks later, instead of throwing it away, he put the stump and its root ball in a bucket and added water to see what would happen.
The dried-out stump just sat there in the bucket looking mutilated, forlorn, and forgotten.
But appearances can be deceiving.
Several days later, it sprouted.
The resurrected stump reminded me of how often I mistakenly think defeat is the end. That failure is final and everything is too late.
This may be true in certain cases such as a missed field-goal attempt that would put one football team ahead of the other before the game’s end.
But I believe in most situations, this sentiment is not true. And more often than that, I believe it is one of our enemy’s greatest weapons.
Satan may not succeed in tempting us away from godly living, but he’s very good at disabling us with doubt and discouragement. We shut down, become ineffective, and often fall to depression.
How do we counter the attack?
We need to get ourselves in the right place with the necessary nutrients. We need the spiritual counterparts of what the tree stump needed: soil, water, and light.
When we get around God’s people and get into God’s word, we start healing and growing.
The Bible tells us to let our roots go down deep into the soil of God’s marvelous love. Jesus said He is the Light of the world and that those who believe in Him will have rivers of living water flowing from within them.
The prophet Isaiah encouraged the people of Israel that Messiah would come from King David’s lineage. “Out of the stump of David’s family will grow a shoot— yes, a new Branch bearing fruit from the old root” (Isaiah 11:1).
Even ancient Job knew all was not lost: “For there is hope for a tree, If it is cut down, that it will sprout again, And that its tender shoots will not cease” (Job 14:7).
No, failure is not final – unless we’re talking about eternity and failure to trust Jesus. How many chances do we get to choose Him before we die? If we keep waiting and we hit eternity without Him, it will be too late. Failure to take God at His word is one final and fatal mistake that has no do-over.
So let’s do it now.
No do-over
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June 25, 2023
It’s All About Trust
Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
People often ask how much of myself I put into my books. The question is straightforward, but most answers are ambiguous. The view we see of ourselves from the inside out is different from the view others see from the outside in.
When I wrote Book 2 of the Cañon City Chronicles, Straight to My Heart, I included a struggle in the heroine’s life that was similar to one of my own: Trust.
Trusting the Lord with my eternal soul has always been easier than trusting Him with other things like my children, my career, or my family’s health.
I know God is perfectly capable of taking care of me and those I love, so why do I fret? Why can’t I let go of worry?
I believe it has to do with choice on two levels:
The choice to let God work things outThe choice to rely on Him to carry me through the result—regardless of what it is.Like Livvy, the lead female character in my book, I have the options of trust or anxiety. I can depend on the one who created the delicate columbine that thrives in the rugged Rocky Mountains, or I can fall back on my own understanding.
When I look at it that way, there really is no contest. My comprehension and perspective are limited. I’m much better off uncurling my fingers and letting God take over—even when His plan doesn’t exactly match up with mine.
After all, He really does know what He’s doing.
What do you struggle with when it comes to trusting God? How do you let go? I’d love to hear from you in the comments below.
~
Trust in the LORD with all your heart
and lean not on your own understanding;
Proverbs 3:5
It's all about trust
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Trusting God with her eternal soul had been easy for Livvy. She had been raised to take Him at His word, and she believed what He said about salvation. It all made sense to her—God’s gift of love and salvation in Jesus. But trusting Him with her heart where Whit Hutton was concerned? For some reason, that was harder. ~Straight to My Heart
Inspirational
Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
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