Davalynn Spencer's Blog, page 18
March 20, 2022
What Do I Smell Like to God?
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
If someone came up to me and said I smelled, my reaction would depend upon what they said I smelled like. Cinnamon rolls? Fresh flowers? Bacon grease, dirty socks?
People care about how they smell, and because of that, smell is big business. Air fresheners, scented candles, perfumes, and even aroma therapy are proof.
As an author, I want to fill my stories with sensory detail, particularly smell, since it is the most connective of the senses. What memories surface when you read the following words?
Hospitals.
Bakery.
Tire shop.
School cafeteria.
The smell of diesel takes me back to our cross-country travels when we rodeoed all summer. And at the pungent scent of wet leaves, I’m a child again in my father’s California walnut orchard.
Considering the variety of smells in creation, God must appreciate the power of scent. Our olfactory nerves trigger memory quicker than visual reminders, so it is no wonder He gave specific instructions in the Old Testament for the mixing and burning of incense. Even today, frankincense and spices are used in some church services as a form of worship.
The psalmist David wrote: Let my prayer be set before You as incense, the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice (Psalm 141:2).
In Revelation 8:1-3 we read: “Then another angel, having a golden censer, came and stood at the altar. And he was given much incense, that he should offer it with the prayers of all the saints upon the golden altar which was before the throne. And the smoke of the incense, with the prayers of the saints, ascended before God from the angel’s hand.”
In the same way we take on the smell of smoke from a campfire or a hint of fragrance from a heavy-handed perfume wearer, I wonder if we take on the scent of worship when we offer praise to God.
Do I ever smell like worship? Or do I give off a distasteful odor of complaint? I wonder – what do I smell like to God?
~
What do I smell like to God?
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The cheese wedges hadn’t looked bad, they just smelled like the inside of Ty’s boots after a long day gathering cattle.
And by the look on Ronnie Fare’s pretty face, that’s what she thought of his answer to her question about what to call them.
How was he supposed to know? He tried out another idea. “Fried-cheese chip?”
She rolled her eyes.
Guess not.
But he did know she hoped he’d like it. Her anticipation was a dead giveaway, and for a split second, he weighed the cost of a bald-faced lie to keep from hurting her feelings. A scary proposition no matter how he viewed it, and a whole lot like his aunt Gert’s friend insisting he try gefilte fish when he was ten years old. But this time the taste overrode the smell. No lie necessary.
The fancy cheese was good enough that he had three more and chased them with the pink juice. “Not what I was expecting, I admit, but it’s good.” ~”Taste and See” from the Barbour collection, Always a Wedding Planner.
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March 13, 2022
It’s Time for Daylight-Saving Time
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
This morning (Sunday) clocks were turned ahead from 1 a.m. to 2 a.m. for the commencement of Daylight-Saving Time. Personally, I wasn’t awake to spring ahead and lost those precious sixty minutes of sleep between 6 a.m. and 7 a.m.
I think this manual flipping of the clock’s hands or digital readout should be called Daylight-Losing Time. We’re not saving one single second, but we’re losing several spent resetting our clock radios, stove clocks, and watches that don’t flip automatically.
International travelers probably are used to this artificial measuring of time. When crossing the International Dateline from west to east, they lose an entire day.
When I was a child, my father told me if a person kept traveling long enough in that direction, he would disappear completely. Dad’s sense of humor, I suppose.
It matched his tale that marshmallows were made from horse slobber scraped from the animal’s lips and rolled into little flat-ended balls. And macaroni was made by forcing donut holes through dry spaghetti.
At least he never told me the Easter Bunny and America’s Santa Claus were real. I didn’t have to unbelieve such things when I grew up—other than the bit about marshmallows and macaroni.
But as far as Daylight-Saving Time goes, the best story I’ve heard about that phenomenon was allegedly told by a wise and ancient American Indian. Native American, we would say today. Regardless, he knew what he was talking about when he said,
“Only the government would believe
that you could cut a foot off the top of a blanket,
sew it to the bottom, and have a longer blanket.”
Hmm.
Happy Daylight-Saving time, everyone. I’m not sure where it’s being saved, but if you have a great story, I’d love to hear it in the comments below.
~
Daylight-Losing Time
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Morning slid over the ranch like warm butter. Josiah climbed to the wagon seat and flicked the reins. The mare tossed her head as if she disapproved of the errand, and the act drew a nervous chuckle from Josiah’s throat. Pop hadn’t quirked a whisker last night when he heard Josiah’s plan. Said he’d give up his room and sleep in the barn if it helped. A harebrained idea for sure, but Josiah was short on time and options, and every minute he delayed was a minute gone.
In full light of day, it seemed a fool’s errand. Less than a hundred people lived in Ford Junction, and precious few were women. How many of them looked to hire out as a ranch cook, housekeeper, and—? He snorted. Couldn’t say “mother,” but that was exactly what he needed for his children. Jess, in particular. But he’d not jump hog-blind into matrimony. Besides, he’d never convince any gal alive to marry him today. No, he had a better chance at hiring one for the summer. For room and board, of course. And, since he was short on funds now, a gentled three-year-old come fall. ~The Wrangler’s Woman
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March 6, 2022
The Lord Is Our Shelter
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
The morning I opened my Bible to Psalm 57, I had just read a social media post from a young woman in a war-torn country.
She recounted miracles and unexplained accounts of things happening that should not have – but for the power of prayer.
She thanked believers around the world who were praying for her countrymen and begged that they would continue. For God could do the impossible and save the weak and defenseless from the oppressor.
I thought of the innocents who suffer not only from military attacks but from social conflicts and the brutal assaults of hunger, poverty, and human trafficking. The oppressor dons many different coats, some as deceptively plain as depression, discouragement, and hopelessness.
Regardless of our battle, the Lord is our shelter in uncertain times.
“I will cry out to God Most High,” Psalm 57:2 says. The words were originally penned by a man who fled from one that was an associate, close in family and profession. One who should have been an ally.
The psalmist then writes of God sending out His mercy and truth, and in the next breath, he bemoans his dangerous situation.
Again, praise follows, with more description of danger.
Back and forth the psalm goes, from praise to fear to praise. But it ends in exaltation of God: “Let Your glory be above all the earth.”
This psalm shows me the entwining of cries for help with cries of confidence, the braiding of praise and petition.
I see that it is not a faithless heart that expresses fear to God Almighty. I don’t have to couch my petitions in pretty language but can cry out my guts before my Creator.
This week, and in the weeks to come, may we lift our loved ones and the suffering ones we don’t know to our faithful God and King. The Lord of heaven’s armies sends His warriors where mere humans would fall.
Be merciful to me, O God,
be merciful to me!
For my soul trusts in You;
and in the shadow of Your wings
I will make my refuge,
until these calamities have passed by
Psalm 57:1
~
In the shadow of Your wings.
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Another crash rattled the windows. The hair on Laura’s arms tingled with electricity, and she glanced at the clock. The red 3:00 winked and disappeared. The refrigerator’s background hum cut out.
“Great. No power.”
She tugged on her tennis shoes. “That last one was close, Chica. No pause between the strike and the thunder.”
From the living room, she scanned the valley. A blue bolt struck the pasture, and she flinched. Momentarily blinded, she fell to her knees, certain the strike had split her house apart as well as her eardrums.
“Send Your angels to protect us, Lord!” Or calm them down if that’s what was dancing across the valley!
Another slash of light, but this time two seconds passed before the thunderclap. The storm was moving.
Shaken but in one piece, she went to the kitchen for the doggy treats she’d left on the counter, determined to extricate her new guard dog from its hiding place.
“Come on, Chica bonita.” On her knees beside the bed, she held the tidbit close to the puppy. “Want a treat?”
The quivering dog raised its ears and stuck its nose forward.
“Come on, honey. It’s okay. God’s rearranging his furniture.”
As unexpected as the lightning, her heart panged at the explanation. Mama’d always said that during the most frightening thunderstorms when Laura was a child. ~The Miracle Tree Available in audio!
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February 27, 2022
Could You Repeat the Question, Please?
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
If God asked you a question, what would it be?
“God doesn’t need to ask me a question,” you say. “He already knows everything about me.”
True, He does know everything about you, but God is relational. He asks questions of those He loves.
In the Garden of Eden when Adam didn’t show up for the evening stroll, God asked, “Where are you?” Could God not see the man He created hiding among the trees? (Genesis 3:9)
After the prophet Elijah fled to Mt. Horeb in suicidal desperation, God asked, “What are you doing here?” Was Elijah’s discouraged heart beyond God’s notice? (1Kings 19:9,13)
When a blind beggar cried out for mercy, Jesus asked, “What do you want me to do for you?” Was it not obvious to Jesus that the man wanted to be healed? (Mark 10:51)
I believe the Lord asks these same questions of us today because we are the ones who need to hear the answers.
Where are you? Is God waiting for you in the cool of the evening or the quiet pre-dawn to talk with you, listen to your concerns, warm you with His presence as you worship Him? Have you missed that appointment often enough that God is whispering, “Where are you?” What are you doing here? Have you run away from something the Lord called you to do? Have you thrown up your hands in disgust or discouragement and quit? Are you in the wrong place at the wrong time, wondering how you ended up in a cave, how you got so off track? What do you want me to do for you? Jesus said we miss out on a lot because we don’t ask. What is it exactly that you need from Him? Can you pinpoint it? Are you willing to ask, or are you afraid He won’t come through with an answer?An all-knowing God who asks us questions is a personal God who cares about relationship. The answers may seem obvious at first glance, but if we look deeper, do we really know where we are, what we’re doing, and what we want from God?
What is He asking you?
~
Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation?
Job 38:4
Could you repeat the question, please?
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At the next block, Cale made a right turn. “My horse in the alley behind the barber shop. If you don’t want to walk down there, you can wait here, and I’ll bring your satchel.”
“I can walk,” Ella said tightly.
He stopped and faced her determined chin. Her stiff shoulders.
“That’s not what I meant.” His neck itched. “I know you can walk. And a fine job you do of it too.”
She raised her head to look him in the eye and crossed her arms into a barricade.
“I mean, you’re hardly limping at all today.”
Her head tipped to the side, but her eyes never left his.
His collar band tightened. “Not that you limp, mind you.”
One small foot began to tap.
“You do real well for someone who . . . who . . .”
The paper sack crinkled in her hand. “For someone who’s a cripple?”
Tarnation, he was digging himself deep. “No. That’s not what I was going to say.” He pulled his hat off and ran his sleeve across his brow. “You know I don’t see you like that. I mean . . . what I’m trying to say is—”
“Yes?”
“Well, if you were a horse, I wouldn’t put you down.”
~
What did a lady say to a man who compared her to a horse? A lame horse, at that.
If Cale hadn’t said he had her camera, Ella would leave him there at the alley’s entrance and march straight back to the studio. After pushing him off the curb.
“On second thought, I’ll wait here,” she told him.
He moved toward her. She moved back. A perfect dance step if they were dancing. But the only fancy footwork at the moment was Cale Hutton attempting to remove his boot from his mouth.
“Ella, please.”
He’d used her given name. “Do you have my camera or don’t you, Mr. Hutton?”
His jaw locked and his eyes dulled.
She straightened her spine and held his gaze. She might be maimed, but she refused to be pathetic.
He finally turned and strode down the alley.
Tears threatened. She pressed her fists into her eyes, crumpling the paper bag in the process, and drew a deep breath. He hadn’t actually called her a cripple. That was Mabel’s line, so oft repeated that no one could forget it. Especially Ella.
Why had she planted the insidious barb into their conversation when he was simply attempting to be . . . what? Generous? Kind? Sympathetic? She didn’t want his sympathy. ~A Change of Scenery
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February 20, 2022
Under Construction: “Always Before Me” – devotions for women
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
In recent months, I’ve had a few requests for copies of my out-of-print devotional book for women, Always Before Me. So remodeling has begun. Additions are framed in, and an open house is set for this spring.
The original book had 30 daily devotional thoughts, scriptures, and prayers, but we’re looking at adding 70 more in the new release. Many of the new inspirations will be taken from this blog. It’s hard to believe that I’ve been writing it for 14 years.
If you read my blog and have a favorite post or two that you’d like to see in my updated devotional book, please let me know. Comment below or drop me an email via davalynn@davalynnspencer.com. If your favorite devotional is included in the new book, I’ll send you a signed copy.
And if these posts have been an encouragement to you, tell your friends and family. They can sign up to receive the blog every Sunday evening by using the sign-up box to the right of this post. (My newsletter and free-book option is just above it.)
Thank you for reading and sharing God’s faithfulness with those around you.
~
I have set the Lord always before me;
because He is at my right hand,
I shall not be moved.
Psalm 16:8
May all that you read be uplifting.
Always Before Me
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Elaine J. Keifer – Congratulations! Your name was selected in a random drawing from last week’s post commentors to win a signed copy of my novel, An Improper Proposal!
~
In answer to her growling stomach, Laura made a cheese, lettuce, and tomato sandwich, sliced an apple, and took the meal and her Bible out to the front swing. As she ate, she thumbed through Isaiah for a verse she’d once read about eagles and wings.
The falling sun spotlighted lesser hills with a bright yellow wash and sent long shadows across Hawthorne pastures. In minutes it slipped away, and the land lay down with a sigh, at rest in the shadowless dusk.
A breeze kicked up and a hushed, breathy sound rasped against the mulberry leaves. Soon the whisper swelled and spread to the roof. Heaven opened and rain fell over the house like a veil, soaking the pastures and trees. Her cows stood unbothered in the downpour.
Setting her Bible aside, she rose and leaned against the railing, then stretched her hands beyond the eaves. Lightning struck across the valley and thunder quickly followed. Two miles away, at most.
She peered through the grainy dusk, finding the spot where the ancient tree stood anchoring that corner of her land. Anchoring her soul. And with a hint of hope, she walked to the end of the porch and down the steps into the rain.
“I think I get it, God.”
Closing her eyes, she opened her arms wide like the hawk, lifted her face, and let her tears mingle with the rain. ~The Miracle Tree “Captivated from the first chapter.” -Goodreads review
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February 13, 2022
Share the Love
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Romantic love is celebrated on Valentine’s Day, February 14, in North America and in many countries around the *world. With unclear *origins, a great deal has been written about the observance.
However, there is much more to love, and other languages, particularly Greek, have different terms for various kinds of love.
Today I am letting love speak for itself through a few famous and not-so-famous quotes. And you are invited to “share the love” as well.
Comment below with your favorite word on love and be entered in a drawing for a signed copy of my best-selling novel, An Improper Proposal.
Love Quotes:
In human beings,
love is a quality, a high-prized virtue:
in God, love is His identity.
-Brennan Manning
Now hope does not disappoint,
because the love of God
has been poured out
in our hearts by the Holy Spirit
who was given to us.
Romans 5:5
In loving me, You made me lovable.
–St. Augustine (fifth century)
God so loved the world
that He gave.
-Jesus
Love is not affectionate feeling,
but a steady wish for the loved person’s ultimate good
as far as it can be obtained.
-C.S. Lewis
Greater love has no man than this –
that a man would lay down his life
for his friends.
-Jesus
Darkness cannot drive out darkness:
only light can do that.
Hate cannot drive out hate:
only love can do that.
-Martin Luther King Jr.
The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference.
The opposite of art is not ugliness, it’s indifference.
The opposite of faith is not heresy, it’s indifference.
And the opposite of life is not death, it’s indifference.
-Elie Wiesel
Let your roots go down deep
into the soil of God’s marvelous love.
Ephesians. 3:17
Do not waste time bothering whether
you “love” your neighbor; act as if you did.
As soon as we do this, we find one of the great secrets.
When you are behaving as if you loved someone
you will presently come to love him.
-C.S. Lewis
You have not chosen me;
I have chosen you.
-Jesus
All you need is love.
But a little chocolate
now and then doesn’t hurt.
-Charlie Brown
Share the love.
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*Valentine’s Day Around the World
History of *Valentine’s Day
Cade raked through his memory for the exact wording of Mae Ann’s proposition:
If I do not appeal to you, we can live as man and wife in name only.
Appeal to him? Lord have mercy on his stubborn soul. No woman had ever appealed to him like Mae Ann. But he sure enough hadn’t told her in so many words.
He looked down at his feet and wiggled his toes in the soft comfort of his moccasins, recalling other aspects of their agreement. Something about sending her away if he wasn’t satisfied with her help. A groan rolled up from his chest and he let it out on the cool air.
He was a coward. That was all there was to it. He’d given his heart to Alexandra, and she’d tossed it aside as soon as a better option came along. Now he was afraid to make the same mistake again.
A second groan followed the first. Life had become more than just cows and grass and rustlers since Mae Ann came, but what if she wasn’t willing to return his affection?
Confound it all, he’d rather face a rattler bare-handed than be rejected by another woman.
But she’d brought his moccasins.
He plowed through his hair, digging deep for a clear thought as the sun slipped behind the mountains. If he didn’t tell her how he felt, he might lose his mind. And what good was a heart without a mind to follow it? ~An Improper Proposal
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February 6, 2022
How Small a Whisper
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
The man named Job spent a great deal of time observing God through His handiwork and had some interesting things to say about the Creator.
In chapter 26 of his ancient book, we find one of Job’s lists of God’s amazing deeds and attributes (vs 6-13) followed by Job’s understandable awe:
“These are the mere edges of His ways,
and how small a whisper we hear of Him!
But the thunder of His power, who can understand?”
Job 26:14
The “edges of His ways” suggests that we see just the fringe of what God can do. When we marvel over a beautiful sunrise, how much greater a spectacle can He produce?
When we read of the spectrum between His whisper and the “thunder of His power,” we catch a glimpse of strength under control. Might that is managed. Greatness that is gentle.
I’m glad God whispers. What if He spoke to us by the “thunder of His power”?
The prophet Elijah (I Kings 19:9-18) experienced that thunder in crushing wind, a frightful earthquake, and consuming fire. But then came the whisper – a sound he could approach – and he knew it was God.
So why so you suppose God merely whispers to us? Could it be because He is that close?
God wants us to approach Him, so He whispers. That whisper requires that we turn off the noise. Stop talking, fine-tune our hearing, and listen for His voice.
Maybe we’ll hear it in the next sunrise. Or in the falling snow, or in a sleeping baby’s sigh.
Thank God for His intimacy. He knows us, He hears us. He is that close.
So close that if we wait, we might feel His breath on our hair and His whisper in our heart.
~
How small a whisper.
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Elizabeth wrapped her arms around herself to keep from breaking apart and tipped her head back, standing soul-naked in the night.
“Oh, God.” Her voice squeezed up and floated out to the countless stars. “Oh, God, help me. I’ve deceived others and myself as well.”
A light breeze brushed against her, and with it came the aroma of someone’s supper—evidence of home and family and togetherness. All the things she longed for that seemed as far from her reach as the sparkling Dipper.
Slowly, another essence whispered through the cupola. Nearly unnoticeable at first, it grew with soothing warmth, washing over her bare soul, her past mistakes.
Come, Thou fount…
Not her mother’s voice this time, but her own—small and thin and bleeding. “Oh, to grace how great a debtor, daily I’m constrained to be.”
The words came with new meaning, not just words to a song, but words for her life. Unexpected and full of peace.
“Praise the mount! I’m fixed upon it. Mount of Thy redeeming love.” ~An Unexpected Redemption Winner of the American Fiction Awards
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January 30, 2022
The Cat Who Came In From the Cold … for a while
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Imagine my surprise when I walked into my attached garage one morning and found the remains of the mini-blinds on the only window in there.
I didn’t know cats could do such damage.
Apparently, they can. Especially if they are feral and resent the ONE time you blocked their exit after they came in the previous night to eat-and-run.
This particular cat is a pretty little tortie (tortoise-shell markings) who showed up last summer with three kittens. We trapped mama and her babies, changed mama’s mind about having more babies in the future, and found homes for the friendly not-yet-feral kitties.
Mama came back here. I call her Annie. She shows up in the morning and evening for breakfast and dinner, but the rest of the time she is very independent. I can’t touch her, can’t even get close to her. But she “talks” to me and likes to hang around when I’m outside.
At first, I fed her near the blue spruce where she hid from the heat. Over the months, I moved the food dish closer to the garage, and eventually inside the garage and up on top of the dryer.
Next, I started working with her on the kitty door (the raccoons figured it out on their own, but that’s another story). Now she comes and goes when she pleases.
When I blocked her exit, she took her frustration out on the mini blinds, didn’t eat a bite, and sat up by the window “yelling” at me every time I entered the garage.
I was hoping she would see what great accommodations I offer: Unlimited food and water, warmth when it’s cold or snowy, and two soft beds from which to choose, both up high with unobstructed views.
Coyotes lurk in the area. Sub-zero temperatures make for brittle winter nights. Rain is wet and wind is tiring. Always hiding gets old.
I wanted her to realize what a great thing it would be to become my cat. My garage and its easy access could be cat heaven, right?
Wrong. The exit is no longer blocked, but she doesn’t spend the nights or cold days inside.
I’ve done everything I can to convince her of my affection other than become a cat myself. How else can I explain to her that I like her and want her to have a better life?
But it’s her choice.
Some people – er, cats – just don’t get it, do they?
~
I am the door.
If anyone enters by Me, he will be saved,
and will go in and out and find pasture.
John 10:9
They just don't get it, do they?
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Storm clouds rolled off the mountains, flirting with the rangeland. Clay unsaddled Duster, left the gelding in the barn, and brought the milk cow in as well.
The stallion had worn a path around the inside of the round pen, and Clay slipped through the poles, a cotton lead behind his back. Voice low, he moved toward the center, unhurried but confident. “You want out of here, don’t ya boy?”
Head up, tail flicking, the bay pranced the perimeter, nostrils flaring, one ear swiveling toward Clay and the other toward a sassy white mare a pasture length away. Thunder rolled in the distance.
“Got a big box stall for you and that gal you got your eye on.”
The stallion blew and tossed his head, made another trip around the corral but in a tighter circle, closer to the center.
Clay waited, murmuring low and steady, showing the horse there was nothing to fear.
A couple more trips, and it stopped beside him, eyeballing him, flicking those ears.
Clay held out his empty hand. “Come on, fella. Let’s get in out of the rain. It’s fixin’ to cut loose here any minute.” He slid his hand along the bay’s neck, and its skin quivered at his touch. He stepped closer, his tone easy and calm as he clipped the lead on the headstall, leaving plenty of slack.
Another head-toss but no fight, for there was no constraint. Within minutes, the stallion followed Clay through the gate and into the barn.
After settling the horse in the biggest stall with hay and water in opposite corners, Clay screwed his hat down and picked up two more leads. The smell of rain hung heavy, and thunder growled closer as the storm crawled toward the ranch … ~An Impossible Price, winner of the American Fiction Awards for best Western novel.
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January 23, 2022
A Reminder that God is There
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
The doorbell rang.
When I answered it, a friendly young man greeted me from a company I have done business with for several years.
After leaving his delivery, he mentioned the deer in my driveway and yard. He had encountered several on the roads in town, as does everyone who lives here, but he hadn’t been close to one.
For some reason, “my” deer gave him pause and we chatted for several minutes about how beautiful they were.
He turned back down the walkway and just as he got to his van said, “I needed to see animals today.”
His comment was one of the strangest I’ve heard.
Why did he need to see animals?
What had his day been like?
Was he battling discouragement? Disappointment, depression?
Did he live so detached from nature that he had forgotten there is more to life than earbuds, downloads, computerized schedules, and delivery routes?
Something about the wildlife touched him and he recognized its affect.
We never know what is going on in someone else’s life – what struggles they face, whether despair dogs their steps. Do they need a reminder that God is there and cares about them? Do they need a reminder that God even exists?
Our choice of words, decision to smile, or determination to look them in the eye and not be in a hurry could make a big difference.
It doesn’t take much to lift someone’s spirit. Let’s not overlook any opportunity.
Even if it’s merely observing one of God’s amazing creatures in our yard.
For You, LORD, have made me glad through Your work;
I will triumph in the works of Your hands.
Psalm 92:4 NKJV
~
The doorbell rang.
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“Please be seated.” The pastor met Haskell’s eye and tipped his head in acknowledgment. A small russet-haired woman delayed seating herself and looked toward the back where he stood. Her shy smile pinned him to the wall as certain as a sharp shooter’s trigger finger.
The man to his right grunted and slapped his hat against his leg. Haskell hadn’t met him, but something about him felt familiar. His slight frame, an impatient air bordering on disrespect. Haskell ran his hand through his hair and cut a side glance. A smirk curled the younger’s man’s lip. Had he thought Martha smiled at him?
Maybe she had. The idea sobered Haskell and he pushed his shoulders back, straightened his stance.
“What is faith?” The preacher’s voice reached all the way to the back of the cramped room, louder than Haskell had heard him before.
“Some say it’s trust. Others say it’s hogwash.”
Several parishioners tsked and others snickered at the remark. In the few sermons Haskell had heard, the preachers hadn’t used such common language. Maybe he’d been missing out all these years.
“Doesn’t matter what some folks say. It matters what God says. And he’s told us in the letter to the Romans that faith is the essence of what we hope for and evidence of what we can’t see.”
Haskell’s attention homed in on the preacher.
“Faith is knowing. It’s banking on what God tells us. It’s proof of the invisible—like Him. We don’t see God Himself, but we can see His handiwork around us and His love in our families and neighbors. We know He’s with us.” ~ Romancing the Widow
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January 16, 2022
Just Add Water
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
At Christmas I became the hesitant owner of a Paperwhite Narcissus Bulb Kit – Ziva. Hesitant because things looked pretty barren in that mostly empty box. However, it was worth trying if success meant the heady perfume I associate with narcissi.
According to the Growing Instructions, I was to “place the media disc into the pot and add warm water” – between 2 and 2 ½ cups for the media disc to expand.
Let me tell you, media disc is not what it sounds like. This was not a DVD or CD, but a 1-inch-thick, hard-packed dry piece of something that looked like dirt but wasn’t.
I wish I had photographed it before and after. I placed the disc in the pot, added water, turned around to do something else, and turned back around to see the five-inch pot full of … *media.
Full, as in over the top. Nearly miraculous. I felt like someone had sneaked up behind me when I wasn’t looking and filled the pot.
For many of you, this kit procedure is a common occurrence. You’ve done this every year for decades. For me, however it was a new experience.
Next, I planted the bulbs, left the tops showing, put the pot in a cool place (the back bedroom) for ten days and let it root. After ten days, I moved it to the dining room and watered it with the rest of my plants.
Five days later, I took the picture on the left. Three days after that, I took the picture on the right. By next week, it may reach the ceiling.
The point is, I just added water.
It doesn’t get much easier than that.
The phrase “just add water” has been used for years as a selling point for packaged mixes, soups, and other “instant” foods. But seeing this sudden transformation helped me realize the same can be said of us.
When we “just add water” that Jesus offers, our dry dormant selves expand and grow into what they were created to be.
And if we continue to add His water of Life, we’ll bloom into perfume-bearing believers that will bless others.
Sweet!
~
But those who drink the water I give
will never be thirsty again.
It becomes a fresh, bubbling spring within them,
giving them eternal life.”
John 4:14 NLT
Now he uses us to spread the knowledge of Christ everywhere,
like a sweet perfume.
2 Corinthians 2:14
Just add water.
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That evening, Ella sank into the copper tub until her shoulders slipped beneath the silky water and her bobbed hair teased its surface. She had not expected such luxury so far from Denver, particularly the Hotel Denton’s running cold and hot water. Steam coated the gilded mirror on the wall next to the tub, obscuring her reflected image and confirming her over-indulgence.
She toed the lever, sighing as warmth swirled beneath her legs and back. After a day of stumbling around boulders at Grape Creek and tripping on loose, flaky rock the locals called shale, she wanted nothing more than to stay in the tub all night.
Her leg ached. Her heart ached. All of her ached, but the heat was helping—exactly what she’d heard about the Hot Springs Hotel. Evidently people came from far and wide for the springs’ curative powers. But if she wanted to take the waters there, she’d have to hire a hack or entrust herself to an unknown local automobile driver.
Her shudder sent ripples dancing across the water. ~A Change of Scenery
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For more about the narcissi, click on this fragrance link.
*media 2. the intervening substance through which impressions are conveyed to the senses or a force that acts on objects at a distance; the substance in which an organism lives or is cultured.
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