Davalynn Spencer's Blog, page 25
November 2, 2020
Focus
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Tomorrow is November 3, election day in the United States of America.
Most of us who are voting have already done so. But all of us are affected by the turmoil of this year’s political races.
So may I encourage you this week, rather than fret, focus:
Not on the election, but on our Lord.
Not on the candidates, but on our Creator.
Not on the upheaval, but on the One who lifts us above the chaos.
May we center ourselves on a solid foundation, turn off the news and turn on good music, lay down the phone and pick up good literature.
The world will still be revolving tomorrow, regardless of who wins.
Many elections have come and gone, and most have been forgotten. But our peace in Christ will continue to affect us, our families, and our communities.
Let’s focus on Him.
“Be still, and know that I am God!”
Psalm 46:10
“You will keep in perfect peace all who trust in you,
all whose thoughts are fixed on you!”
Isaiah 26:3
“They will have no fear of bad news;
their hearts are steadfast, trusting in the LORD.”
Psalm 112:7
~
Rather than fret, FOCUS.
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CONGRATULATIONS, Joan Larson. You are the randomly drawn winner in last week’s giveaway. Contact me for your free e-book of Mail-order Misfire!
She 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. ~An Unexpected Redemption
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
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(c) 2020 Davalynn Spencer, all rights reserved.
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October 26, 2020
National Pumpkin Day and a Giveaway!
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
I think there is a National Day for just about everything, but I could not pass up the day set aside for pumpkins – that lovable, roundish, grooved member of the gourd family.
Pumpkins may have even made their way into the Old Testament. Some scholars think “Jonah’s gourd” may have been a type of Middle-Eastern pumpkin.
However, in our modern world, the pumpkin and pumpkin-spice flavors take over the food industry this time of year. You can get pumpkin flavored …
Lattes
Cupcakes
Ice cream
Pancakes
Room spray
Candles
Cookies
Coffee creamer
Yogurt
And of course, pie.
If you can add something new to the list, do so in the comments below and I will enter your name in a drawing for a free copy of my e-book, Mail-order Misfire, the Front Range Brides prequel. (The winner will be announced in next week’s blog.)
Happy punkin-hunting!
But before you go, check out the story of the prophet Jonah in the Old Testament. The little book of the same name is tucked between Obadiah and Micah and is only four chapters long. I particularly like the last two verses. Can you guess why? (If you try, I’ll add your name to the drawing – a second time if you also suggest something pumpkin-flavored.)
God spared a lot of people in the story of Jonah—people that the prophet did not like, and thought were evil. People who had nothing to do with God and His ways. Do you think He could do the same today for people we might consider to be “on the other side” from where we stand? What a great season of prayer this could be for us as His children.
~
What a great season of prayer.
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With a cup of coffee and two oatmeal cookies, Etta sat down at the kitchen table to plan what dishes she’d prepare for the meal. Bern’s approval of her mincemeat pie set that item at the top of her list, followed by sweet yams, three loaves of fresh bread, seasoned dressing, and pumpkin pies, thanks to the little sugar pumpkins she’d rescued from the garden before the freeze. However, she was running low on spices, a costly commodity but necessary. With what she’d saved from her earnings, she had enough to splurge on cinnamon and nutmeg with plenty left over for a train ticket to Denver.
She dunked a cookie in her coffee, and her heart sank with it at the prospect of going to Denver, but she refused to return to Independence. With her parents long gone, she had no other choice. She’d certainly not remain in Lockton with her feelings so tied up in Gracie and Bern. Dottie had insisted she stay with her in her little cabin on the outskirts of town, and Etta had promised to do so if the need arose. ~Mail-order Misfire
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October 19, 2020
Are You Hearing From God?
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Are we hearing from God?
We often ask, “How do I know when God is speaking to my heart? How do I know if I’m hearing from Him?”
This is a critical question when we’re seeking His will, and I admit, I’ve missed it. I’ve misread or misheard or haven’t paid attention. But over the years I’ve also learned some valuable tips, and one is voice.
“Voice” is more than sound propelled by breath through the vocal cords. It is the way one speaks – sentence structure, inflection, and word choice. People also use “voice” when they write, revealing recognizable traits such as phraseology, wit, and wordiness or lack thereof.
Author JK Rowling’s “voice” was recognized when she wrote a new series under the pseudonym (pen name) Robert Galbraithe. Some say she was outed by fans. A forensic linguist reportedly verified her authorship via computer.
The point is, there were telling signs in the way Rowling wrote even though she used a different name.
On the flip side, when a writer uses someone else’s words and claims them as his or her own, it’s called plagiarism.
When I taught English composition at the college, I warned my students about plagiarism. Not only is it against school policy, it is also illegal and can land an offender in jail with a heavy fine.
What my students didn’t understand was the identity of their voice. I could easily tell when they lifted an essay from an online site offering to write papers for a fee. Results of such a choice were failure of my class and expulsion from the college.
We learn people’s speech patterns by spending time with them and listening to them talk. We recognize their written words by reading them and getting to know how they word certain phrases. Sometimes the traits are small and easily missed, but they are there, nonetheless.
So it is with God.
Do I spend time with Him, reading what He has to say? Do I talk with Him in prayer and listen? Do I pay attention to His handiwork around me? If I do these things, I become more familiar with Him and I’m more likely to recognize his voice.
God does not contradict Himself. He will not say one thing and do another. We may think He does at times, but it’s our misunderstanding or impatience that muddles the message.
He walked and talked in the garden with Adam and Eve.
He spoke through a flaming bush to Moses.
He whispered on the mountain to Elijah.
David the psalmist and Job the ancient refer to God’s voice as thunder, and a day will come when all the inhabitants of Earth will hear that thunder and the wind of His approach.
Until then, read what He’s already said in His letters to us. Look for Him in the quiet. Find Him in the stillness. He’s waiting to share His voice with you.
~
Even those who cannot speak have a voice.
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Like every sunrise before, it drew him. He dipped his head until his hat brim cut the line where sky met land. And at the moment white light broke the edge, the blister in his soul split open with the sound of her voice.
He’s faithful, Clay. Look at that sunrise, so fresh and perfect. It’s His mercy, brand new every morning.
The pain sent him to his knees, and he clutched at his chest. Lanced by forgotten words, the blister drained through his every pore and ran down his face like acid. ~An Impossible Price
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.Want a free book? Sign up for my Newsletter!
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October 12, 2020
The Farmer Knows Just What to Do
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Today is National Farmers Day.
My dad was a farmer. So was his father before him. And so were many other people at that time.
Today, not so much.
In 1862, President Lincoln established the U.S. Department of Agriculture which he dubbed “the people’s department.” It was pretty important then since 90 percent of Americans were farmers.
In the 1880s, 49 percent of the United States’ working population was engaged in agriculture.
More than a hundred years later, that number has dropped to about 2 percent.
I’m glad farmers get a day of recognition. Without them, there wouldn’t be much on the shelves at the grocery store.
However, there is more to the farming life than growing food.
When I was about ten years old, my farmer dad taught me how to drive a tractor.
“Stand up on the brake if you don’t have enough strength to push it down,” he said.
(Translation: persevere)
He also taught me how to use that tractor to plow.
“Keep your row straight by staring at a point in the distance rather than looking back over your shoulder.”
(Translation: watch where you’re going not where you’ve been)
As you might imagine, both pieces of advice also apply pretty well elsewhere.
Farming has benefitted from scientific breakthroughs over the years, but it is rooted in faith, says Lisa Foust Prater of Successful Farmer magazine. I happen to agree with her. Check out the link for more than twenty inspiring scriptures related to farming.
Farmers plant their crops, water them, tend them, and await germination. Then they await the harvest. It is a waiting game, something we don’t think much of when it comes to our personal investments, whether agricultural or emotional.
I’ve learned a lot from farmers (like taking care of chores rather than sleeping in), but I’m sure I have a lot more to learn.
Let’s thank God for these hard-working people today, whether they raise wheat, vegetables, or livestock. We need them.
The farmer knows just what to do,
for God has given him understanding.
… The Lord of Heaven’s Armies is a
wonderful teacher and he gives
the farmer great wisdom.
Isaiah 28:26, 29 NLT
The farmer knows just what to do.
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In audio and e-book.
The next morning Eli dumped soft-chew food in Goldie’s barn dish, climbed onto the quad, and drove to the west side to move sprinklers. One at a time he hooked them to the quad and pulled them through access gates into neighboring pastures, then set them to run for six hours. He’d move them again around noon.
Subtle but certain, the soft green hills around his valley acreage were fading, and without water the pastures would dry up as well. Then he’d have to buy more hay and his cow-calf pairs would eat him out of business.
Water meant life. ~ The Miracle Tree
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.Want a free book? Sign up for my Newsletter!
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https://www.pbs.org/ktca/farmhouses/r...
https://www.pbs.org/ktca/farmhouses/s...
https://www.nal.usda.gov/topics/linco...
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History...
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October 4, 2020
Listen and Learn
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
In my early twenties, I worked briefly for an insurance company in a small Northern Colorado farming community. On my lunch break, I often walked the length of a tree-lined street, past a beautifully maintained Victorian home at the corner. The house was surrounded by well-kept lawns and sidewalks, and an older woman with a white Katharine-Hepburn topknot was usually sweeping those sidewalks.
Her name was Abbie Winnie.
We became friends, and she liked to say we met over her broom.
Abbie invited me to her upstairs apartment in the old Victorian and introduced me to Constant Comment tea – an acquaintance I had not yet made.
Her cozy residence was furnished from bygone years with things she loved, including a small black-and-white framed picture of herself as a child and one of her son. She said he looked nothing like the image that sat atop an antique bureau in her tiny living room. Reconstructive facial surgery had altered his appearance to accommodate travel behind enemy lines during the second World War.
But she didn’t know exactly what he did in his military service. He never told her.
Over hot tea in delicate china cups, I learned important things from Abbie. Like how to find joy in menial tasks, or meet the day with gentle faith, and what it looks like to have trusted the Lord with the smallest challenges as well as the greatest.
She has long since passed from my life, but she resurrects every now and then in my books, sharing her wisdom through a “truth-speaker” character. Her Constant Comment has become one of my favorite teas, and each time I tear open the red-and-black packet, I think of the vibrant little white-haired woman and our “May-December” friendship.
Curiosity prompted me to research the tea and discover that it was so named by its creator, Ruth Campbell Bigelow, because her friends constantly commented on their enjoyment of the spicy-citrus blend.
However, the name also prompts me to consider my own comments – over tea and otherwise. Am I constantly commenting? Jabbering away without listening to what others may want to share.
I hope not.
Abbie Winnie taught me a great deal about friendship all those years ago, and I pray that I will continue to listen and learn.
Recently, I introduced my oldest granddaughter to Abbie’s favorite tea, and I hope it becomes a treasured treat for her as well.
May autumn’s cooler weather find us sharing warmth and a companionable cup with family and friends as well as others we meet along the way who may someday become even closer.
The heart of the godly thinks carefully before speaking.
Proverbs 15:28
~
Continue to listen and learn.
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Maggie dried her hands on her apron and poured them each a cup of tea before taking the other chair. “In all my years, I’ve learned several important lessons through repetition—as if the good Lord knew I’d not catch on the first time. Or the second or third.”
Betsy huffed into her teacup, rippling the surface of the amber chamomile. “I certainly understand that approach. Like training a green-broke colt in a round pen.”
“Well, I don’t know about any of that,” Maggie said, “but I do know that the great majority of the what-ifs I worried about never happened.”
Betsy met her landlady’s steady gaze across the table. The woman had unflappable faith. ~An Unexpected Redemption
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
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September 20, 2020
Get Away with Me
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Perspective is key.
With a change in perspective, we often see a difficult situation differently.
Viewing something from another angle may show us that things aren’t as bad as we thought.
We may recognize a pending answer and not just an overwhelming problem.
We may hear more clearly, especially if we can get away from the clamor.
Jesus said it best:
“Come to me if you’re tired and overwhelmed.”
Eugene H. Peterson paraphrased Jesus’ words in The Message:
“Get away with me.”
This paraphrase is one of my favorites. If you’ve not read it before, please view this verse today with an open heart. But regardless of the Bible version you prefer, let the words of Jesus from Matthew 11:28 sink down into you and permeate your soul.
“Are you tired? Worn out?
Burned out on religion?
Get away with me and you’ll recover your life.
I’ll show you how to take a real rest.
Walk with me
and work with me—
watch how I do it.
Learn the unforced rhythms of grace.
I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you.
Keep company with me and you’ll
learn to live freely and lightly.”
Matthew 11:28
Whether it’s a camping trip, a quick weekend, an early-morning quiet time, or a few stolen minutes sitting on the bathroom floor behind a locked door—get away with Him. Pour out your heart. Listen to His comfort. Take hold of His peace. You’ll come away strengthened and refreshed.
~
Get away with me.
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She 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. ~An Unexpected Redemption
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
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(c) 2020 Davalynn Spencer, all rights reserved.
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September 14, 2020
Exercise Your Free Will
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Every time I pull up to the stoplight at the highway intersection pictured above, I exercise my free will by complying with what the sign says.
The first vehicle to arrive at the light has room to stop on the other side of the tracks. The second vehicle might be able to squeeze in behind the first, but the third will be squarely on the tracks, followed by a line of eager motorists waiting for the light to change.
As you can see, the sign clearly says, “Do not stop on tracks.”
The latent twelve-year-old inside my head always chirps, “Duh!”
However, I see people stop on the tracks all the time.
This is a two-lane road with barricades on either side before the tracks. If a train comes while traffic is waiting, the automatic arms lower across the road. I don’t want to be in the car boxed in by other vehicles and stuck on the tracks, unable to escape the situation.
I don’t want the sign above my box at the cemetery to say, “Died of stupidity.”
Simply put, there is protection in obedience. Yet how many times do our independence-hackles rise against such wisdom? We don’t like the word obedience because we want to make our own choices and we don’t want somebody else telling us what to do.
God in His creative love and wisdom gave us free will. He also gave us advice regarding what works and what doesn’t when it comes to living on this beautiful earth. We exercise our free will by taking His advice or not.
At various times, we all choose “not.”
Author and Bible scholar Dallas Willard writes in Renovation of the Heart, “Certainly the will of a spiritual being [mankind] is the one thing in his creation that God chooses not to override … God will not force it to do what he wants. It has its choice – though it does not have its choice of the consequences of choosing what it wants.”
It’s those consequences that bite us.
The fifteenth chapter of the book of Proverbs has a great deal to say about correction, discipline, prudence, wisdom, and other outdated words, particularly verses 5-12. In fact, the whole book is full of witty sayings about wisdom and decisions.
Let’s exercise our free will by listening to what God has to say and making wise choices.
A mocker resents correction;
He will not consult the wise.
Proverbs 15:12 NIV
Choose today whom you will serve … .
But as for me and my family, we will serve the Lord.
Joshua 24:15 NLT
Protection in obedience.
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Afraid to push any higher than the grass, Mae Ann dragged herself to the nearest bush. Cade scuttled right beside her, shielding her from the rise. He gave her the gun and crept back to the stump for the box of shells. When he returned, he pulled another gun from his belt, holstered it, and tied thin leather thongs from the holster’s tip around his leg. Then he took the first gun and reloaded it.
His features remained hard and cold as he pressed the weapon into her hand. “Don’t be afraid to use it. Follow your instincts. If MacGrath or someone you don’t know shows up and threatens you, wait until they’re closer than the cottonwood is, aim low, and squeeze the trigger. Don’t forget to cock the hammer first.”
“Where are you going?”
His fingers skimmed the hair at her temple as his eyes darkened. “If I’m not back in a half hour, get to Ginger or Cricket—either one—and ride to the house. Deacon may already be headed this way if he heard the rifle shot.”
She gripped his fingers that lay against her head. “Don’t go.”
His eyes grazed her mouth before he touched her lips with his own. “Do as I say. Please.” ~An Improper Proposal
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
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September 7, 2020
God Has Seen the World Tilt Before
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
It’s suddenly September. Well, I guess it’s not exactly suddenly, but it sure feels that way.
Four weeks ago it was light at 6 a.m. in Colorado and the sun set just after 8 p.m.
Today, sunrise was at 6:34 a.m. and the sun will set at 7:19 p.m.
An hour less daylight compared to last month? What happened?
Well, it wasn’t an “overnight” occurrence similar to what people call the success of musicians, artists, and actors who “suddenly” skyrocket to fame. It was something closer to all the years of hard work those creatives put into their craft.
Here in the northern hemisphere, we’ve been losing a little daylight ever since the summer solstice on June 21. But in August we lose daylight at a faster pace – roughly two minutes every day, more than an hour by the end of the month.
There is no way I’m going to try to explain Earth’s tilt, rotation, orbit, etc., but if that sort of thing intrigues you, check out this Science and Technology page for Middle School designed by the Smithsonian Science Education Center.
My point to this drawn-out explanation is – sometimes things sneak up on us.
Or do they?
Were they really there all along, and we just didn’t pay attention?
Most of us have heard the expressions about watching paint dry and grass grow. Neither activity appears to be identifiable to the human eye, but both are measurable and, given enough time, noticeable.
It’s the same way with our spiritual growth – or starvation.
What we feed on – even if it’s in itty-bitty bites – becomes apparent over time. What we fill ourselves with eventually produces a type of fruit, whether fretful or peaceful.
The last several months in our world have seen nations, states, and communities stirred, and the ripples are unsettling to many. But unsettling times have come and gone before our days in the sunlight. And the encouraging thing to remember is, none of them caught God off guard.
We may not understand the mystery of His allowances, but we can count on the mastery of His presence.
Grab hold of Him. He’s there, so close to you that He usually whispers.
Feed on His promises. Read the comfort He has sent us in His word. The books of Psalms and Isaiah are two of my favorites.
And pray.
Pray for your families and loved ones, community leaders, and governmental representatives – whether you voted for them or not. Pray for yourself, incorporating some of the suggestions from last week’s blog post.
Lift up those who risk their lives protecting and rescuing us. Lift up a younger generation that has yet to discover (or remember) the power and presence of God.
And remember, God has seen the world “tilt” before.
He’s got this.
From the rising of the sun unto the going down of the same
the LORD’S name is to be praised.
Psalm 113:3
Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them,
for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.”
Deuteronomy 31:6
~
God has seen the world tilt before.
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Daylight had ducked behind the buildings on the west side of the street, and shadows stretched along the jail, playing tricks on Bern’s eyes. Looked like a woman sat in Wilson’s chair out front of the jail. Asleep, with her chin on her chest.
He stopped his horse at the hitch rail and stepped down. Sure enough, she was sound asleep. More than likely been there all day waiting on him. Just like a woman to make him feel guilty before they even spoke to each other. He pulled his hat off and stepped up on the boardwalk with a heavy boot in hopes he didn’t have to touch her to rouse her.
She obliged him and shot up like a geyser, blinking her brown eyes and tugging at her suit coat. Stark black, the same color as the hat that leaned off to one side. She tried to straighten it and winced, probably from a stiff neck. He knew the feeling.
“Ma’am. Are you Etta Collier from Independence, Missouri?”
She squared up and looked him dead in the eye. “Yes, sir. And you are …?”
Pretty little thing, she was, all trim and put together. No shrinking violet. But appearances could be deceiving.
“I’m Bern Stidham, ma’am. Sheriff over in Lockton, a day’s ride north of here. I apologize for not meeting your train, but a few things came up at the last minute. I’d planned to take a room at the hotel last night and be here to meet you this morning.” He was rambling.
She discreetly gave him a good look-over, hat to boots and back again, pausing at the Peacemaker on his right hip. He wished he’d shaved. ~Mail-order Misfire
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
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August 31, 2020
My Prayers Are Changing
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
I believe few would argue that this metaphorical year of perfect “2020” vision has been anything but.
Yet the Lord is still my Shepherd.
In spite of all the misunderstanding, miscommunication, and misguidedness (Is that even a word?) going on around me, the stream of God’s “God-ness” remains. His presence continues to flow beneath and through my life if I let it.
Sometimes I get in the way and clog the channel with worry and stress and strife.
Peace becomes a highly sought-after and rarely found commodity – in greater demand and shorter supply than toilet paper and hand sanitizer ever were.
This shifting of priorities has shifted my prayers. Simplified them, slowed them from frantic requests to thoughtful consideration.
My prayers are changing, and I frequently find a simple trinity of thought rising from my heart. Maybe it’s a sign for me. An indicator of what matters most – or should – if I allow it.
Beyond thanking Him for all He provides, I pray …
Lord, give me eyes to see, ears to hear, and a heart to understand.
Lord, make me bold with strength in my soul.
Lord, may I be swift to hear, slow to speak, and slow to wrath.
I share these considerations with you this morning, hoping they will usher peace into your life as they have in mine. And perhaps you will find your own simpler prayers resulting in His peace that passes understanding.
~
God's 'God-ness' remains.
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Free!Peeking through her curtains, Gracie let loose a whisper. “Oh Lord, I pray this ain’t lying I’m about to do, but my papa needs a tie that binds his heart up. It’s been hurting for such a long time.”
She smoothed her pillow and quilt, then took all her nine years of knowledge to the kitchen and made biscuits for supper, confident that the Lord heard her prayer. She’d been taught to believe such things since before she could remember. Why, just yesterday the preacher’s words had stirred through her heart, telling her to have faith, to trust God. And she believed those words.
Especially since the preacher was her papa. ~ Mail-order Misfire
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
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August 24, 2020
Resurrection Stories Always Begin in Death
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Just because we are believers doesn’t mean we won’t experience loss and pain. It doesn’t mean that sometimes we won’t have all the answers.
But it does mean that we aren’t alone.
Andy Squyres is a songwriter who grabbed my attention in an interview about one of his songs, “Cherry Blossoms.” (*see links below).
“Resurrection stories always begin in death,” he said.
Wow.
I took a deep breath and thought, “Well, of course. Right?”
His comment seemed obvious, but I’d never thought of it quite that brutally because I always wanted to jump over the pain and go straight to the resurrection. I wanted to skip the getting-dead part.
But that’s not how it works, and Andy was right. There is no resurrection without death.
As an author, I work with death in my stories. There is typically some form of death, whether metaphorical or literal. It can be the death of a loved one or the death of a dream. The death of hopes, plans, or goals. The death of wrong ideas.
The story key is bringing life back in a new dream, a new hope, a different set of ideas and a stronger grip on faith.
In my everyday life, I don’t get to script the scene. When things go horribly wrong and there are no words but only tears, I weep at the feet of Jesus.
I pour out my heart.
And I can sense His presence in His promise. Feel His breath on my hair.
So what do we say when it all goes wrong?
In the aftermath of tragedy through the birth of a song, Andy Squyres said, “The message of the gospel broke through our sadness.”
That message is what Jesus gave a grieving sister when her brother Lazarus died:
I am the resurrection and the life.
He who believes in me will live even though he dies;
and whoever lives and believes in me will never die.
John 11:25-26
Thank God, I have found that to be true.
Thank God.
~
What do we say when it all goes wrong?
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Aware that he was clearly lit by the setting sun, Clay held steady and watched the rider approach. When she rode through the shadow cast by the house, he saw it was Sophie. She looked right at him, like she had at the train station and at church that morning, but instead of stopping, she rode on by and dismounted at the hitch rail.
If his memory served him, that was the same old nag she’d been riding earlier, as well as the first time they met four years ago, and it was just as worn out now as it had been then.
She came around the back of the horse, her left arm curving over its rump, and kept walking toward him until she stopped a couple yards out.
“Hello, Clay.”
Her voice came weary, heavy. Like she’d worked all day plowing a field, but he knew better.
“Sophie. It’s good to see you.” A regular speech-giver he was.
She took a step closer and tipped her head, as if to see better in the fading light. “Are you staying here at Maggie’s?”
“No, I just stopped by to look in on her and ended up staying for dinner and—”
“Look in on her?” Another step. “Is she all right?”
Sophie’s brows worried themselves together, and he fought the urge to smooth them. Brush the loose hair from her temples. Hold her.
He rolled down his sleeves to give his fingers something to do other than what they shouldn’t. “She was resting earlier. I’ve been out here most of the day checking on her mare and tending to the barn. I don’t know if she’s up and around.”
Sophie’s frown eased on its own and she let out a tired sigh.
“Are you staying here?” Depending on her answer, he might take Garrett up on his offer. Then again, that’d be a bad idea.
“Yes. For a day or so. I was in town helping Mrs. Eisner who …”
Her voice trailed off and she looked past him to the pasture, dark now and quiet, and a ragged whisper finished her sentence. “She was with child. Until today after church.”
That was an odd way to put it.
Her breath stuttered and a shaft of falling light caught a single tear trailing her right cheek.
Unchecked pain cut through him, and against his better judgment he closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her. She melted into him as if she had no bones. No strength. A wrenching sob broke loose, and he cradled her head against his chest. ~An Impossible Price
*Andy Squyres interview.
*Cherry Blossom song.
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
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