Davalynn Spencer's Blog, page 23
April 25, 2021
God Gives Rest
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Years ago when my rodeo-clown/bullfighter husband and I followed the circuit, we spent most of our summers on the road getting from one rodeo to the next.
Headed north through Colorado one day on our way to Montana, we listened to the recording of a pastor talking about common-sense matters of life.
“There are three parts in a waking day,” he said. “Morning, afternoon, and evening.”
Okay. Not exactly new information, but I’d play along for another mile or so.
“Work two of those, not three,” he said.
That was new.
“Work morning and afternoon or afternoon and evening. Don’t work all three.”
But who can get everything done in such a short period of time?
“Work two, not three.”
Can’t I sneak in a little extra record-keeping in the evening before I go to bed.
“Work two, not three.”
If I start really early and work through to just after dark, I can finally get caught up.
“Work two, not three.”
Sometimes I heeded the advice. Sometimes I didn’t.
Today, years and miles later, I still hear the faint whisper: “Work two, not three.”
Yes, there are often deadlines. In fact, they are an ongoing part of my life as an author. But if I make good use of my time, I can make those deadlines without ending up dead at the end of the waking day.
There is something to be said for rest that isn’t sleep. It’s deep relaxation. Letting go. Trusting that God will help me accomplish what I need to accomplish.
Dawn to dusk has long been the farmer’s clock, and often those who work the land and care for livestock begin their day way before dawn even thinks about cracking. But if they can take a serious chunk of time during their waking day to do something besides their regular work, it could become a health benefit for them.
When I sign off of my computer before dark, my eyes thank me. My brain thanks me. So does my back.
I have found that if I follow the pastor’s advice and “work two, not three,” I am less stressful and carry fewer aches and pains. If I take one of those three segments of the waking day and rest from my work with a walk, a good book, or doing something completely different from my job, I tend to enjoy life more. I tend to notice the people around me more, those who may need my attention.
Working two, not three, is becoming a habit that I want to cultivate even more. I encourage you to join me in the challenge. After all, scripture tells us:
It is useless for you to work so hard
from early morning until late at night,
anxiously working for food to eat;
for God gives rest to his loved ones.
(Psalm 127:2)
Work two, not three.
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Ella took a deep breath and slowly released it, then took another and knelt to the task.
Mended tears and tatted edges . . . wounds healed over and beautified . . . O Lord, make it so.
The three long gashes closed easily, and the dog gave little resistance other than a whimper now and then. Helen cooed continually to him, rubbing his head and leaning close while Ella drew the edges together with her grandmother’s needle.
She knotted and snipped the final thread with dainty silver scissors and leaned back on her heels, arching her back and neck. “Do you have any alcohol?”
Helen gaped.
Ella laughed. “For the dog. To disinfect his wounds, not for me.”
The woman clapped her mouth shut and pushed out of the chair with a grunt. “I knew that.”
Returning from the dining room, she handed over a dusty whiskey bottle, half full. Ella drizzled a small stream along each seam, dabbing with a clean cloth as she went. Then she corked the bottle, set it on the chair, and straightened, sore from kneeling but grateful for her newfound strength. A month ago, she would not have survived the afternoon.
She gathered the bloody rags. “Where do you want these?”
Helen bustled over, took the rags, and dropped them in the basin. “Go lie down, rest yourself. I’ll take care of supper and whatever else the men need, short of dressing out a smelly old bear.”
Ella laid a hand on her friend’s arm. “I can’t lie down. Not until I check on Cale.”
Helen’s gray eyes glimmered, and she blinked rapidly. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to that boy. I hope he knows it.” ~A Change of Scenery
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April 18, 2021
Try Again
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Have you ever stood at the edge of the sea or a large lake and listened to waves lap against the shore? Or cradled yourself in a gently rocking boat, relaxing as you drifted with the breeze?
How about making your way to shore after a long and discouraging night of fishing that netted you nothing?
Peter, a professional fisherman in first-century Palestine, had likely experienced the first two scenarios, but we know for certain he was quite familiar with the last one.
Imagine his irritation when, after an unsuccessful night at work, he is told by a carpenter he had just met to push his boat out into the deep and let down his nets for a catch.
Try again, the man said.
Been there, done that, Peter replied. I’m a fisherman, you’re not, he might have thought. But he pushed out anyway. What did he have to lose at the suggestion of a carpenter-turned-itinerate teacher?
A whole boatload of fish. (Luke 5:1-11)
A similar scenario took place three years later. Peter and his pals had been fishing all night with no success. At dawn, someone shouted from the shore, “Cast your net from the right side of the boat and you’ll find some.” Try again.
I’m guessing those words sounded pretty familiar to Peter. He and his friends obeyed, and they caught more fish than they could pull into the boat. (John 21:1-14)
Twice when Peter-the-fisherman failed at his profession, Jesus was there to say, “Try again.”
These two incidents serve as bookends for the intersection of Peter’s life with Jesus. Fish bookends. Peter understood fish.
When I’m frustrated and want to quit, Jesus often says to me, “Try again.”
When I want to give up and walk away, He whispers, “Try again.”
When temptation arrives in the guise of quitting, His quiet “try again” helps me recognize it as the enemy of obedience.
The next time the Lord encourages me to “try again” with something at which I have failed, I want to listen and obey more quickly.
Without whining.
~
Quitting is the enemy of obeying
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Cale slipped through the corral poles and unlatched the north gate, then waved his hat and hollered at the ponies till they lit out. Doc’s graceful lope carried him ahead of the others. The gelding had a soft spot for that whip of a woman, the way he ate from Ella’s fingers almost dainty like. Doc’d be good to her if Cale could get her on him.
Combing a hand through his hair, he considered the other horses that were brought up. The boys’ old mare, Barlow, might be a fair choice. Wouldn’t spook if you lit her tail afire. Easygoing.
And why was he wasting his time considering a gentle mount for a woman who made it clear she didn’t ride?
He scoffed. A lie as plain as snow on Pikes Peak.
He resituated his hat, irritated that Ella Canaday drew his thoughts like a barn cat to cream. He savvied fear and figured she was fightin’ her head. But he also knew firsthand that a good spill called for gettin’ back in the saddle. His pa had been there for him when he was a youngster. Tossed Cale back up on the horse that had tossed him to begin with. There was nothing for it but to ride again, his pa insisted. And he’d been right. ~A Change of Scenery
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April 11, 2021
Do You Doubt It?
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
A couple thousand years ago in Jerusalem, a man named Thomas got the short end of the experiential stick.
Or did he?
As one of the twelve closest friends of Jesus, he spent three years hanging out with God-as-man. He saw miracles. He saw compassion. He saw the impossible become possible.
Thomas saw so much that he wouldn’t believe the crucified Jesus had risen from the dead until he saw the scars of crucifixion and touched them. (Does that make you want to pull your hand back just thinking about it?)
So why wasn’t Thomas with the others when Jesus showed up and proved His resurrection?
All the guys were hanging out. You know, hiding. Safety in numbers and all that. I don’t think there was anything super religious going on when all of a sudden, Jesus was just there.
But Thomas wasn’t.
Where was he?
What was he doing?
Was he thinking about the puzzling words Jesus had spoken to him at the Passover meal a few days before?
It had been a fairly typical family supper: one guy left early (the group’s treasurer, of course). Jesus told another one that he would turn traitor, not just once, but three times. Then He told them all that He was going away but they couldn’t go with Him. However, He said, they knew the way there.
That was too much for Thomas.
“We don’t know where you’re going,” he said, “so how can we know the way?” (John 14:5)
Pause here for a moment and think about Thomas. Where was he seated at the low table? How frustrated must he have been? Was his question rhetorical or literal? Personally, I think it was literal.
“I am the way,” Jesus said.
He elaborated in His typically deep-yet-simple style: “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father but by me.”
Jesus was going to the Father – God the Father, Jehovah, Yahweh. And if Thomas (and the others) wanted to get there too, Jesus was the way to do it.
The second time Jesus joined the group after His resurrection, Thomas was there. Jesus offered His doubting disciple His hands and His side, saying “Put your finger here … Don’t be faithless any longer. Believe!” (John 20:26-29)
Jesus made an extra effort to reach His troubled, questioning follower. He cared that much, and He still does – for each of us.
We don’t know much about Thomas. Apparently, he didn’t have a lot to say. But to him—someone who would be labeled The Doubter—God-as-man had spoken some of the most life-changing words ever recorded.
Do you think Thomas ever forgot?
I doubt it.
~
Do you doubt it?
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Cale and his horse turned for town. Ella turned for the footbridge.
She clutched her hat as she crossed the wooden slats, water rushing below her like her past—the same, yet somehow changed in the passing. Last to arrive at the touring cars, she climbed into the back of the one with her clothes, other costumes, and Slim, and quickly checked her satchel for the sewing kit. Relieved at finding it still tucked inside, she fell against the seat back, tired, spent, and happier than she’d been in a very long time. A short-lived happiness, with departure pending, but happiness nonetheless.
The driver chugged the engine to life, and the car lurched forward.
“That was quite a ride you made today.” Slim hung his hat on his knee and flung his arm across the back of the seat.
Ella turned her head away. Sweaty didn’t begin to describe Slim’s condition or aroma. She took a long deep breath of fresher air before facing him. “Thank you. But I’m sure you could have done the same.”
A snorty huff. “I doubt it. Mr. Hutton wasn’t about to let me ride his horse, and I wasn’t about to ride Mabel’s. It was you or nothing, and I think Thorson would’ve had a seizure if you hadn’t stepped up.”
Interesting turn of phrase, in more ways than one, but a topic she didn’t care to discuss. “When do you think we’ll be leaving?”
Slim lowered his arm, a small but welcome blessing. ~A Change of Scenery
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April 4, 2021
He is Risen!
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
We were created to
live forever with God.
Sin interrupted and set us
on a detour to death.
Jesus intervened,
paid for the sin with His life and fixed us.
Now, because of Him,
we get to do what we
were created to do –
Live with Him forever.
A full circle.
Like a crown.
“He is risen from the dead …” (Matthew 28:7)
He is Risen!
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March 28, 2021
The Mob Can Turn
The mob can turn.
A big event was coming to town and everyone was busy preparing, anticipating, hurrying. The Jews called it Passover.
Early in the week, on a dirt-and-stone street, a crowd hailed an itinerant teacher as a king entering the gates of Jerusalem.
He was trending.
“Hosanna!” they yelled, strewing his path with palm branches and their cloaks in a sign of honor. The word means “send help from on high.”
Four days later, they called for His crucifixion.
Screamed for it.
Demanded it.
Got it.
Those who cried “Hosanna!” while waving palm branches and dancing alongside the donkey that carried Jesus didn’t know He was the Christ who came to die, not wage war against Rome.
They didn’t know He was indeed the help from on high.
They didn’t know He was the sacrifice.
Who else but God could snatch mankind from the jaws of judgement and death?
Hosanna …
To be continued …
Then the multitudes who went before
and those who followed cried out, saying:
“Hosanna to the Son of David!
‘Blessed is He who comes in the name of the LORD!’
Hosanna in the highest!”
Matthew 21:9
~
The mob can turn.
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March 21, 2021
Rejoice in Every Good Thing
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
When I lived in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, spring was obvious. Riotous, even, with flowers splashed on the hillsides and new-green grass everywhere. Some of my family still live there, and when they post photos on social media, I can almost smell new life.
Here in Colorado, birdsong alerts me to the season. Visually, it’s still wintery. Nothing is sprouting in my yard, the grass is brown, tree branches are bare, and some days are downright cold.
But not for long.
Spring will arrive. It can’t help itself.
As long as the earth endures, seedtime and harvest,
cold and heat, summer and winter,
day and night will never cease”
Genesis 8:22
Sometimes, the waiting is hard. But if spring is about anything, it’s about hope. And this hope “will not lead to disappointment. For we know how dearly God loves us, because he has given us the Holy Spirit to fill our hearts with his love” (Romans 5:5).
Whenever spring arrives at your home, offer the Lord a blossoming heart full of thankfulness for the good things he has given us.
So you shall rejoice in every good thing
which the Lord your God
has given to you and your house …
Deut. 26:11
~
Rejoice in every good thing.
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No wonder Ella wanted pictures. Cale couldn’t imagine living anywhere else but the Rafter-H, especially in a city like Chicago. “I can show you some pretty places if you’ll ride with me.”
Her skin paled and she tucked her elbows close to her body.
Fear. His gut tightened and he felt again her frailty against his chest that morning in town. Her hammering heart and shallow breaths. “I’ll keep you safe.”
Her lips parted but no sound came out. Just a glance of her dark, wary eyes before she whispered, “I can’t ride.”
Same answer as last night. The ground thinned out beneath him like early spring ice, but he pressed on. “Can’t or won’t?”
A muscle in her jaw tensed.
Coax her, don’t run her off again. “Or we could walk out in the pasture a ways, see where the riders came down from the draw yesterday.”
She turned away from him, smoothed her hand over the mare’s back and rump, and reached for the tail. Every move confirmed familiarity. So what kept her ground-tied? ~A Change of Scenery
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March 14, 2021
My Soul Waits … but not for Daylight Saving Time
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Daylight Saving Time started today. At 2 a.m., to be exact. Were you awake?
Me neither.
I remember once asking my mother about Daylight Wasting Time. Of course she thought it was cute. But my elementary-school brain figured the opposite of saving had to be wasting. Kind of like the opposite of day or night, up and down, in and out, and so on.
Personally, I don’t like the time change from saving to wasting or whatever you call it and back again. Ranchers and farmers don’t need it. The deer in my yard don’t need it. My sleep schedule doesn’t need it.
I want to stand on top of something tall and yell, “Leave us alone! Stop trying to regulate our lives!”
Trains had a whole lot to do with regulation. For some reason, people in the 1800s wanted to know when their train would depart and arrive, so the railroads had to synchronize watches, clocks, and schedules.
I get it.
What I don’t get is Wikipedia’s explanation of the 1918-instituted Daylight Saving Time:
Daylight saving time in the United States is the practice of setting the clock forward by one hour when there is longer daylight during day …
Wait, what? When there is longer daylight during day? When else would there be daylight? That doesn’t even make sense.
Most of us have heard the wisdom of the Indian/Native American/Indigenous fellow credited with saying,
“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.”
I’m with him.
So I’m tugging my blanket up around my shoulders and staying put until I see the sky blush through my window. That’s when I’ll rise to greet the day.
~
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, 6
Daylight Wasting Time?
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“Sleep well?” Helen said without turning. Either she had the hearing of an owl or Ella possessed the grace of an elephant. No doubt the latter.
“Yes, thank you.” Only a partial fib. The hours Ella did sleep had refreshed her enough to lie awake this morning waiting for daylight to reveal what scurrying creatures she’d shared the room with. Dousing a longing for strong Irish tea, she took a mug from the cupboard and filled it with rich, unburnt coffee. The aroma soothed her before the brew reached her lips. ~A Change of Scenery
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March 7, 2021
You Are My Refuge
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Reading one morning from a different version of the Bible, I was caught by new wording of a familiar verse:
You are my refuge and my shield.
Your word is my source of hope.
Psalm 119:114
In my childhood, I had learned the first line as, “You are my hiding place.” Those words were put to music years ago, and Corrie ten Boom’s riveting book from 1971 about faith and forgiveness bears the title, The Hiding Place.
However, the new phrasing sent the meaning deeper into my understanding.
“My refuge and my shield” stirred visions of people over the last twelve months taking refuge in their homes. I thought of the cloth masks worn as shields by thousands, not worn by other thousands.
When we get right down to the bottom layer of life, nothing and no one safeguards us like our Lord. He is our hiding place of refuge. He is our safe place of security and the One who shields us from the viruses of fear, distress, and worry.
And His word, indeed, is our source of hope.
Peace is my most precious commodity, and society doesn’t provide it. I may take precautions against temporary threats, but what of an eternity of days?
The Lord is a refuge to which I can run. His words calm me and offer comfort. Like a child hiding in a tree fort, I feel safe and concealed in Him. Yet unlike the tree fort, He withstands stormy winds and brutal invasions. No one can sneak up on Him. No one catches Him by surprise.
If you are looking for peace these days, give God a try. He is a refuge and shield.
~
Get right down to the bottom layer of life.
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The cotton rope fell from Ella’s hand and she backed away, heart pounding. How had this cowboy stirred such fantasy? Made her long to ride again. To lift her face to the wind and fly on the back of a trustworthy mount.
Tears pricked like nettle and she turned toward the fence. Her soul ached as much as her leg, and the struggle to hide both wounds was nearly more than she could manage. She was trapped, surrounded by the beauty of this vast land of forest and ridge and unearthly blue sky—imprisoned by her failure to cope with her loss.
“Nice work.” The snap clicked and Cale came up beside her, coiling the lead as the mare’s hooves beat a muffled retreat. “What other secrets are you hiding beneath that shiny bobbed hair?” ~A Change of Scenery
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February 28, 2021
Stay On the Path
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
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.
Don’t get sidetracked.
Prov. 4:25-27
Stay on the path. A simple directive. As simple as the one about not eating a certain tree’s fruit in a certain garden.
This passage from the fourth chapter of Proverbs marked the first page of my journal for 2020. I was quite proud of myself for choosing such a beacon for the year ahead.
However, in one important area of my life, I did not heed its warning.
I got off the path and it didn’t go well. Turning around and getting back on track saved me.
In the 1952 Christian classic, Mere Christianity, C.S. Lewis says of progress, “If you are on the wrong road, progress means doing an about-turn and walking back to the right road; and in that case the man who turns back soonest is the most progressive man.”
Turning around and starting over is humbling. It is also wise.
In these first few weeks of 2021, I’ve suffered less important, yet similar, miscalculations. Romans 7:15 reminds me that the things I want to do I don’t, and the things I don’t want to do, I do! There’s a little bit of Fuzzy-Wuzzy-was-a-bear going on in this verse, but I’ve come to understand those words more than ever before.
I think I can boil them down to: “I knew better.”
Getting back on the right path involves accepting the grace offered. It involves learning from mistakes in hopes of not repeating them. It involves paying attention and listening.
God is never in a hurry. That’s a big clue to who’s behind the voice I hear pestering me to do certain things.
“Fix your eyes …. Don’t get sidetracked.”
The safe path might not be easy, but God never promised it would be. He just promised He’d be with us.
“I will never fail you. I will never abandon you.”
Hebrews 13:5
Stay on the path.
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Still Cale did not understand. Confusion clouded his eyes as they darted across Ella’s face, frantically searching.
“I have to go back and make amends with my father,” she said. “If I don’t, he will die a ravaged and lonely man, in spite of his wealth and so-called friends. I have to make him see that he must let go of the pain and loss if he wants to live again.”
“But what if he won’t?” ~A Change of Scenery
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February 21, 2021
The Faithful Witness
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
It’s amazing what one may chance to see
when taking a puppy out to pee.
Now you know why I’m not a poet.
Poetry aside, life rhythms have changed for me over the last few wintry weeks.
One late night as I stood bundled up and shivering in the backyard, I watched my new canine companion with an impatient eye, willing him to take care of business so we could go back inside to the warm woodstove.
Intent on an objective I dearly hoped was also his, I focused on the snowy ground where we stood.
And then I looked up.
Moonrise took my breath in a gasp.
I almost missed it. In my urgency and impatience I almost missed the quiet splendor of the moon rising beyond the trees, a silent observer of our night-time trek.
Psalm 89:37 calls the moon God’s faithful witness. The psalmist speaks of the unending lineage of King David when he says, “Like the moon it shall be established forever, a faithful witness in the skies.”
I see a double-edged meaning in the phrase. Is it a faithful witness who testifies truthfully or one who observes an event? I believe either interpretation is fitting.
I wish I were more observant. When I’m focused on something, I often miss the beauty around me, not only physically, but spiritually as well.
If I’m focused on bad news, I miss the promise of God’s comfort. If I’m focused on what I want that hasn’t happened yet, I miss the peace of His presence.
But if I can look up more often, rather than down, I may be surprised at how He lifts my heart with unexpected beauty.
Even when taking a pup out to pee.
~
I almost missed it.
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The moon lit the yard like near day, exposing Cale’s hidden longings. Hard to admit he wanted his own close table-talks with a woman, one who’d spread a smile in his heart and a quilt on his bed. But a fella didn’t always get what he wanted—or keep it—and he was old enough to know the truth in that. ~A Change of Scenery
The randomly selected winner of last week’s giveaway is Phylis. Please contact me to receive your free signed copy of A Change of Scenery!
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