Beverly Varnado's Blog, page 2

When you forget about rainbows

We have days of rain aheadof us here, and we are trying to keep in mind that the rainbow is coming. Metaphorically,when the rain is pouring, it’s also hard to keep in mind that the rainbow iscoming. A song we used to sing often had a line about nothing comparing to thepromise of God. And the rainbow is something that reminds us of God’s promise.Today an archived post on when we forget the rainbows.

We were out of town watching our grandson’s first football game ofthe season. The afternoon had been cloud covered, and storms had rolledthrough areas around us.

Our grandson’s team won,and after congratulations, we headed south to his school to pick him up fromthe bus.

As we followed our GPSinstructions, I realized we were nearing a place which held sad memories forour family. Now, the outcome of the problem that created those sad memories hashad a marvelous resolution, but I still brace myself at the remembrances.

Coming down the road, atwinkling of a rainbow appeared on the horizon. As we neared the sadremembrance place, the rainbow grew larger. Moments later, it was as if someoneturned up the color enhancement button, and from our vantage point, the rainbowseemed to cover the city of Atlanta.

Spectacular.

I’m driving, so all thewhile, I’m saying to Jerry, “Pictures, take pictures. Are you getting this?Keep snapping.” He’s pressing the button on his phone as fast as he can go, butI’m not sure he’s really capturing what I want.

He did.

When I saw the rainbow, I remembered years ago sitting in a plane taking offfor a tour of England. My heart was heavy over a situation, and even though Godhad given me assurances, I still wondered whether God would act. But as wetopped the clouds, a rainbow appeared, and in my spirit, I heard, “Haven’t Ibeen faithful to this promise?” God reminded me that he had indeed neverflooded the whole earth again since he set his " . . .  rainbow inthe clouds”(Genesis 9:13).

As I stared at the rainbow this time, I heard that same question. Yes, God has done more than I could everhave asked or thought. 

In the future, when Ithink of the place I had dreaded, I won't forget the bow in the sky. God has helped meto think of that place of heartache under the arch of His wonder andfaithfulness.

If you’re facing animpossibility and despite God's assurances, you, too, wonderwhether He is hearing your cries, and whether He will reallycome through, take comfort. Say it with me: God is faithful to all hispromises.

(edited repost)

var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-24260977-1']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })();Beverly Varnado's most recent book is In Search of the Painted Bunting, a middle grade historical from Elk Lake Publishing, #1 in new releases in its category. She is also the author of several small town romances from Anaiah Press including her latest, A Season for Everything. All are available at Amazon. To explore the web version of One Ringing Bell, please visit bev-oneringingbell.blogspot.comTo sign up for her newsletter, go to http://eepurl.com/dHNdsX Beverly Varnado copyright 2023

Tea Olives, Heaven, and Mom

Mom and I


Mom, My sister Tammy, and I

AsI walked in my neighborhood last night, the distinctive fragrance of tea olivesfloated in the air and reminded me of a long-ago time. When my daughter was young,I would drop her off in the evening for gymnastics practice at a gym in acounty park near our home. Then when my mom had a fall and came to a rehabfacility here in our town, I would walk through the tea olive filled park tothe facility to see my mother. After she had been here a few months, and could not recover, wediscovered the reason for the fall was terminal cancer. I visited her several times a day, but each evening , I’d movefrom the intoxicating smell of the tea olives to that of the facility, whichwas not necessarily bad, but simply different.

Mymother didn’t want to be there. She wanted to be home. Who wouldn’t feel thatway? But home hadn’t been a possibility for her in quite a while with so manydifficult health issues. I felt helpless in the face of a cruel disease thatwas slowly stealing her life. I’d just sit by her bedside praying, her momentsof lucidness becoming fewer and fewer.

Ona Saturday night in early October, as I was preparing to go to bed, I droppedto my knees and prayed. My mother’s pain seemed excruciating, her quality oflife diminished. I put her in His hands and asked the Lord to heal her or sendhis angels to  take her to be with him. Ithen slid into an empty bed, because Jerry was out of state for a few dayspreaching at a family camp.

Iwent in to see Mom early the next morning and found her unusually alert. Iasked if she wanted applesauce and was surprised when she nodded her head.She’d eaten so little lately. I fed her the sauce and then sat beside her.

Thenshe did something so bizarre. She stared at the ceiling around the perimeter ofthe room. I couldn’t understand what she was seeing. I got up to check if therewas a spider or bug crawling along the top of the wall. I kept saying, “Mom,what is it? What are you looking at?” Unable to speak because of a stroke, shejust continued the wide-eyed staring at what I couldn’t understand. A friendcame in; we visited a little longer, and then my friend and I prepared to leavefor church.

“I’llsee you a little later,” I told Mom. Mom briefly acknowledged me with her eyes andthen resumed her intense study of the room’s periphery. What in this world wasshe looking at? I thought as I walked to my car.

 A pastor friend was filling in for my husbandthat morning and concluded his sermon by saying, “There are some things youcan’t fix, but when God fixes them, they stay fixed.”

Ashis words lingered in my brain, I left with my children after church to havelunch, and we’d just finished when my cell phone rang. It was the hospicerepresentative calling to say my mother had died.

Therewere things about my mother most people didn’t know--difficult private battleswhich she fought with great courage. Now all those terrible battles were over.I knew the last time I’d been in her room, she hadn’t been looking at anythingin this world. She’d been staring at angels--a room full of them that’d beensent to accompany her into the presence of the Living God.

Paulwrote in II Timothy 4:18 of his confidence that the Lord “…will bring me safelyto his heavenly kingdom.” My experience with my mother on the day she diedcemented my confidence in God’s promise of heaven in an even greater way than ever before.

It’sbeen many years since my mom made that trip to heaven. I may go walking againtonight and catch the scent of the tea olives, but I’m just wondering if forme, they are the smell of heaven itself. And our friend was right, I couldn’tfix my mother’s situation, but God has fixed it for all eternity.

Edited Repost  

Beverly Varnado's most recent book is In Search of the Painted Bunting, a middle grade historical from Elk Lake Publishing, #1 in new releases in its category. She is also the author of several small town romances from Anaiah Press including her latest, A Season for Everything. All are available at Amazon. To explore the web version of One Ringing Bell, please visit bev-oneringingbell.blogspot.comTo sign up for her newsletter, go to http://eepurl.com/dHNdsX Beverly Varnado copyright 2023

That One Pin and Twenty-Five Years

InMay I will be celebrating twenty-five years cancer free. If I could, I wouldturn a cartwheel in my backyard. I am so grateful to the Lord for the wonderfulgift of this life he has given me. Below is an updated version of words I wroteyears ago, because that one pin on my first walk is what I still often thinkabout.

Those photos above were taken at my first ever Relay for Life Event. After several surgeriesand many tests, I was celebrating a year cancer-free.

Atmy first relay, we were given sashes, and on them, we attached that year’sRelay for Life survivor pin, which you can see on my sash. As I trekked around the track with my one pin onmy first survivor lap, I searched for other survivors who had multiple pins. Iwanted to find another woman who lived a significant length of time beyond herdiagnosis. When I spotted a metal laden sash, it thrilled my heart. It gave me somuch hope.

Yousee, when I was diagnosed, I had young children, only six and eight years old.Oh, how I wanted to be with them as they grew, to celebrate birthdays, soccervictories, and ballet recitals. I wanted to mend skinned knees and help consolebroken hearts. I wanted to be there for graduations and college decisions and dare I even hope to seegrandchildren. My husband's daughter when we married and our oldest was just beginning her married life and herprofession, and I didn’t want to miss anything the future held for her.

Ialso sensed a call from the Lord to be a writer. But I hadn’t really evengotten started, and I knew it would take time.

Itall seemed a lot to pray for, me with my one pin on my first survivor lap.

ButI did pray. And many others prayed for me. As most survivors will attest, Ilearned to value every day as precious.

Thenext year at Relay for Life, I added another pin on my sash, and the next year,another. Then I was given a sturdier sash to hold my pins.

Andtoday, by the grace of God,  here I am, atwenty-five-year survivor. WhenI again make my lap at Relay for Life this Friday, my sash will be heavy with pins.

Photo credit Michael Prochaska, Oconee Enterprise

In thepicture above from a newspaper article in 2019, you can see my pin laden sash at a Relay for Life Event whereI was speaking. 

As an update, our oldest daughter went on to earn a doctorate and help many as a physical therapist. I have seen grandchildren be born, grow up and had the privilege and joy ofattending football games, ballet recitals, and graduations. Our youngest childrenare now in their thirties, well established in their careers. I praise God, Icelebrated when my son played goalkeeper at the state soccer playoffs in highschool and when our youngest daughter performed in her senior ballet recital. Iwatched the fireworks with joy when our son graduated from the University ofGeorgia, and I cheered when our youngest daughter earned her master’s degreealso from UGA.

Andas far as my writing—since my diagnosis, I have seven books in print, soon tobe eight in the fall, others on my computer. I’ve contributed to twelve bookanthologies, written over one thousand blog posts, countless articles, anddevotions, and even had a screenplay under option. 

Iam thankful I was one of the very first people in this area to benefit fromsentinel node mapping developed at the John Wayne Cancer Institute, which washuge in helping me not to suffer from complications from the big surgery Iunderwent. Some of you may remember John Wayne was the spokesperson for theAmerican Cancer Society for many years.

So,if you’ve just been diagnosed, remember my pin-laden sash. Nothing is impossible.I’ve been through some scary times in the intervening years, but God has beenwith me. I realize there are others who have prayed just as much and are in areal battle. I have a precious friend there now. Let’s draw courage from theLord, and let’s encourage one another.

Iwant to give a huge shout out to @athensbreastclinic, Dr. Cody Gunn who was mysurgeon, and @themoorecenter, Dr. James Moore who was my plastic surgeon at thetime. I will always be grateful for the outstanding medical care I receivedfrom these two extraordinary doctors as well as their staff. Thank you from notonly me, but my entire family.

Andas we make our survivor laps, whether we have many years under our belt or onlyone,  let’s have hope for the future, andlet’s celebrate.

Ifyou have not already donated to the American Cancer Society, you may go to mybio page and find a link which will take you to my American Cancer Society fund.Just put my name in the search field. Thanks, from me and all those who maybenefit from this life-saving research. 

"So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand" (Isaiah 41:10).

var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-24260977-1']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })();Beverly Varnado's most recent book is In Search of the Painted Bunting, a middle grade historical from Elk Lake Publishing, #1 in new releases in its category. She is also the author of several small town romances from Anaiah Press including her latest, A Season for Everything. All are available at Amazon. To explore the web version of One Ringing Bell, please visit bev-oneringingbell.blogspot.comTo sign up for her newsletter, go to http://eepurl.com/dHNdsX Beverly Varnado copyright 2023

When it's time to turn your easel around

Fora while now, I’ve followed a social media account of the prolific Birminghamartist, Miriam McClung. Getting on in years now, she has been painting forseventy-five years. Educated in the south, she also studied at the Art StudentsLeague in New York City and worked at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Herwebsite notes that she then returned to Alabama and painted landscapes of thestate and scenes around Birmingham. She has studied with some of the bestartists in the country.

Atthe age of fifty, she pivoted from the work she had previously done toespecially seeking God’s purposes in her work. Her son curates her account andduring the Lenten season, he posted many of her faith centered works including severalfrom her Stations of the Cross series.

Icould go on and on about how much I love the videos of her talking about herwork, the scenes she painted of her home where she cared for her husband, and one of my favorite paintings which is of her laundryroom. It reminds me of a quote I’ve shared here before from Camille Pissarro, “Blessedare those who see beautiful things in humble places where other people seenothing.”

Butthe painting I want to focus on today was posted a few days ago. It is one shedid while at an Atlanta workshop and is based on John 20:6-7. “Then Simon Petercame along behind him and went straight into the tomb. He saw the strips oflinen lying there, as well as the cloth that had been wrapped around Jesus’ head.The cloth was still lying in its place, separate from the linen.”

Confrontedwith a model which didn’t interest her at the workshop, she decided in herwords to, “turn my easel around and did a pastel of a linen cloth … it remindedme of when Peter went to the tomb.”

Sheturned her easel around and focused on the reminder of Jesus’ resurrection.

Thisimage spoke volumes to me. At the time I saw it, a matter weighed heavily on myheart. It rose up in front of me trying to demand all my attention. But I hadanother choice, I could turn my easel around and instead give my attention tothe mighty work Jesus had done for me. That’s what I did, and that’s what Iintend to keep doing.

Somethink art should just be a pretty picture we buy to match the sofa, but for me,it is so much more. Art tells stories and has the power to change the lives ofothers. Miriam’s work touches me deeply and though I may never meet her, I amso thankful to have the opportunity to get to know her and her work through heraccount and be touched by these exquisite works of art. 

Ifyou’re facing a difficulty which threatens to overwhelm, maybe it’s time you turnedyour metaphorical easel as well and instead give your undivided attention towhat Jesus did through his death and resurrection on your behalf.

Ifyou haven’t seen her work, check Miriam McClung Art on insta. You will beblessed.

var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-24260977-1']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })();Beverly Varnado's most recent book is In Search of the Painted Bunting, a middle grade historical from Elk Lake Publishing, #1 in new releases in its category. She is also the author of several small town romances from Anaiah Press including her latest, A Season for Everything. All are available at Amazon. To explore the web version of One Ringing Bell, please visit bev-oneringingbell.blogspot.comTo sign up for her newsletter, go to http://eepurl.com/dHNdsX Beverly Varnado copyright 2023

When it's time to turn tour easel around

Fora while now, I’ve followed a social media account of the prolific Birminghamartist, Miriam McClung. Getting on in years now, she has been painting forseventy-five years. Educated in the south, she also studied at the Art StudentsLeague in New York City and worked at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Herwebsite notes that she then returned to Alabama and painted landscapes of thestate and scenes around Birmingham. She has studied with some of the bestartists in the country.

Atthe age of fifty, she pivoted from the work she had previously done toespecially seeking God’s purposes in her work. Her son curates her account andduring the Lenten season, he posted many of her faith centered works including severalfrom her Stations of the Cross series.

Icould go on and on about how much I love the videos of her talking about herwork, the scenes she painted of her home where she cared for her husband, and one of my favorite paintings which is of her laundryroom. It reminds me of a quote I’ve shared here before from Camille Pissarro, “Blessedare those who see beautiful things in humble places where other people seenothing.”

Butthe painting I want to focus on today was posted a few days ago. It is one shedid while at an Atlanta workshop and is based on John 20:6-7. “Then Simon Petercame along behind him and went straight into the tomb. He saw the strips oflinen lying there, as well as the cloth that had been wrapped around Jesus’ head.The cloth was still lying in its place, separate from the linen.”

Confrontedwith a model which didn’t interest her at the workshop, she decided in herwords to, “turn my easel around and did a pastel of a linen cloth … it remindedme of when Peter went to the tomb.”

Sheturned her easel around and focused on the reminder of Jesus’ resurrection.

Thisimage spoke volumes to me. At the time I saw it, a matter weighed heavily on myheart. It rose up in front of me trying to demand all my attention. But I hadanother choice, I could turn my easel around and instead give my attention tothe mighty work Jesus had done for me. That’s what I did, and that’s what Iintend to keep doing.

Somethink art should just be a pretty picture we buy to match the sofa, but for me,it is so much more. Art tells stories and has the power to change the lives ofothers. Miriam’s work touches me deeply and though I may never meet her, I amso thankful to have the opportunity to get to know her and her work through heraccount and be touched by these exquisite works of art. 

Ifyou’re facing a difficulty which threatens to overwhelm, maybe it’s time you turnedyour metaphorical easel as well and instead give your undivided attention towhat Jesus did through his death and resurrection on your behalf.

Ifyou haven’t seen her work, check Miriam McClung Art on insta. You will beblessed.

var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-24260977-1']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })();Beverly Varnado's most recent book is In Search of the Painted Bunting, a middle grade historical from Elk Lake Publishing, #1 in new releases in its category. She is also the author of several small town romances from Anaiah Press including her latest, A Season for Everything. All are available at Amazon. To explore the web version of One Ringing Bell, please visit bev-oneringingbell.blogspot.comTo sign up for her newsletter, go to http://eepurl.com/dHNdsX Beverly Varnado copyright 2023

My neighbor's apple tree, Luther, and planting hope

Here in an edited repost, I am sharing one of my favorite messages for Holy Week today. Dear friends, have a blessed Holy Week and Easter. May His presence be especially real to you during this Holy season.My neighbor’s apple tree used to branch over into my yard each spring allowing the people at my house to enjoy the blossoms.
 Later in the year, the deer made nightly excursions to devour apples that hung on its low branches. The tree was planted by the family who first built the house next door. In fact, they called the tree by their daughter's name as her daughter planted it when she was just a little girl. The former neighbors passed many years ago but the memories of the apple tree they planted and the fruit it bore are still with me.
The sixteenth century Protestant Reformer, Martin Luther loved trees. According to one source, “The fresh Spring green of the trees was for him a symbol for the resurrection of the dead. It is said that in the trees he beheld divine grace in earthly life.” The legends about his love for trees are profuse, and around 1944, at a time when so many were looking for hope in the midst of the devastation of the Second World War, someone may have slipped in another one. There are several variations of a quote supposedly spoken by Luther, but one is, “Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant an apple tree today."
Only God knows if Luther actually said this. Whether he did or not, the image it conjures of kneeling in the dirt, and planting a tree during the horrors of war is the very essence of hope.
Holy Week is a time when we think of endings and beginnings. The crucifixion on Friday is a certainty. Jesus knew this. Yet, he planted hope. Because he knew that beyond Friday’s cross was Sunday’s empty tomb.
Amidst so much uncertainty in the world, still today, I’m planting hope. Digging a hole, and putting in a sapling of expectant faith, which I pray, will in time yield a harvest. I’m taking inspiration from the Apostle Paul, “ I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in his holy people, and his incomparably great power for us who believe” Ephesians 1:18.No matter our circumstances, God has called us to hope. I, like Martin Luther, see God’s hand in the blossoms of spring and find mercy in difficult times because of it.
Though she didn’t know it at the time, the little girl next door planted hope for a future neighbor. On this Tuesday of Holy Week, let us all be inspired to do the same.
It is beyond our ability to imagine the harvest that may come from the hope we plant today.

var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-24260977-1']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })();Beverly Varnado's most recent book is In Search of the Painted Bunting, a middle grade historical from Elk Lake Publishing, #1 in new releases in its category. She is also the author of several small town romances from Anaiah Press including her latest, A Season for Everything. All are available at Amazon. To explore the web version of One Ringing Bell, please visit bev-oneringingbell.blogspot.comTo sign up for her newsletter, go to http://eepurl.com/dHNdsX Beverly Varnado copyright 2023

On the other side

Werecently had opportunity to again visit the Wesley Woodland Walk on SaintSimons Island across the road from Christ Church. John Wesley was rector of thechurch’s first congregation back when James Oglethorpe came to settle Georgiaat Fort Frederica. And for that reason, a garden has been developed in the areain Wesley’s memory. I love the way the garden is structured with a cross beingthe centerpiece. As I study the photo, I took from the end of the walkway lookingtoward the cross, dappled light falls across the path. It makes me think maybeJesus entered Jerusalem on a light dappled path amidst palm waving and shoutsof hosanna. And yet, Jesus knew the cross was before him. It was his destiny.It was the reason he came. More than anyone, he knew what was coming.

ThisSunday we will once more celebrate Palm Sunday by singing hosanna, wavingpalms, and remembering the fateful day before his crucifixion when Jesusentered Jerusalem. Upset over the joyful welcome Jesus received, the Phariseesadmonished him to rebuke his disciples for their behavior, but Jesus said, “Itell you, …  if they keep quiet, thestones will cry out” (Luke 19:39).

Thecelebration had to take place. And yet, the crucifixion stood between PalmSunday and Easter Sunday.

Yes,Jesus knew what was coming. But He also knew what was on the other side.

Theapostle Paul wrote it this way, “Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author andperfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross,scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God”(Hebrews 12:2). For the joy set before him, Jesus endured the horror ofcrucifixion so that we may have eternal life. He saw the cross, but more than thathe saw the joy of what would happen after. He saw us.

Aren’twe so grateful to live on the joy side of those moments in history?

Thefolks waving the palms that day in Jerusalem expected a king of a differentsort, but we may celebrate knowing that Jesus is the King of all Kings and Lordof all Lords.

So,let’s not let any rocks cry out for us, let’s grab those palms and shout ourown hosannas. We have much to shout about.

Hosanna!!!

 

 

 

var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-24260977-1']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })();Beverly Varnado's most recent book is In Search of the Painted Bunting, a middle grade historical from Elk Lake Publishing, #1 in new releases in its category. She is also the author of several small town romances from Anaiah Press including her latest, A Season for Everything. All are available at Amazon. To explore the web version of One Ringing Bell, please visit bev-oneringingbell.blogspot.comTo sign up for her newsletter, go to http://eepurl.com/dHNdsX Beverly Varnado copyright 2023

When it seems all the beauty is falling down

I'm reaching into the archives for this post from an April several years ago. It's a reminder of how even the difficult things can be used by God for good. 

Rain moving in,so late yesterday I captured a neighbor’s stunning ornamental cherry tree,because I knew, the forecast deluge would force the blooms from the tree.

Sure enough, in asteady downpour this morning, the ground grows pink from a blanket of petals.

So, I’m talkingto a family member about a fender-bender she was involved in yesterday--the verdict on the ticket amount yet to bedetermined as well as other fallout like insurance rates.

“So much moneygone,” she says. She splits her time between school and a part time job, andnow the money drains away.

Petals fallingdown.

A quote from Ann Voskamp comes to mind,“Can it be that, that which seems to oppose the will of God actually is used ofHim to accomplish the will of God? That which seems evil only seems so becauseof perspective, the way the eyes see the shadows. Above the clouds, light neverstops shining.”

Can it be?

As we look acrosslife at all the petals falling down—the dreams derailed, lives seemingly cutshort, relationships shattered, sicknesses borne, and financial reversals, westudy hard the words in Romans 8:28, “And we know that in all things God worksfor the good of those who love him, who have been called according to hispurpose.”

All things?

All things.

What we know isthat no one was injured in the accident yesterday, and that is worth aninfinite number of ticket amounts. In fact, the cars were barely damaged.Another praise going up.

What we often don’tknow is how God is working behind the scenes in this situation and others, andwe may never know in this life. As we continually offer our prayers, we trust thatwhat God has allowed, God intends to use.

If my neighbor’stree were a fruit bearing cherry tree rather than an ornamental one, what we’dsee next would be tiny cherries forming. Fruit follows the falling petals. So, it isfor us, that if we cling to God, even when it seems all the beauty is fallingdown, we’ll find fruit follows.

The rain peltsthe roof right now, but as one beauty fades, it gives way to another of greenleaves and lush grass made full by the mulch of petals falling down.

Beverly Varnado's most recent book is In Search of the Painted Bunting, a middle grade historical from Elk Lake Publishing, #1 in new releases in its category. She is also the author of several small town romances from Anaiah Press including her latest, A Season for Everything. All are available at Amazon. To explore the web version of One Ringing Bell, please visit bev-oneringingbell.blogspot.comTo sign up for her newsletter, go to http://eepurl.com/dHNdsX Beverly Varnado copyright 2023

The light and your beating heart

Iwaited in the car as Jerry made one more trip inside before we left for churchon a recent Sunday (one of us often must make another trip inside to fetchsomething we forgot before we go anywhere. LOL). I looked down for a moment andmy gaze caught on sunlight dancing around a metal pendant I wore on a longchain. I wondered why the light moved as it did because I was sitting still.But then I realized the pendant moved with every beat of my heart catching theearly morning rays and dispersing them around the filigreed pendant.

I’mnot sure I can explain why I was so moved by that experience, but it may havesomething to do with seeing the effect of my own heart beating and the beautyof the light as it did. And as I pondered the moment, I was reminded of agreater truth.

Aslong as our heart is beating, we can reflect the light of Jesus for others. Nomatter where we go, no matter what we do, we are his people. Sometimes in thenatural, we come across situations where it seems God is far away, but he isn’t.We are still his instrument to reflect the glory of Himself.

Earlyin my career during the ten years I was a buyer, I entered a large showroom atthe top of one of the tallest buildings in New York City. A colleague commentedon the marble floors and wondered about the engineering it took to accommodate theweight in a space that size at that height. The decor was elegant times ten.And the clothes were some of the most sophisticated I had ever seen. When Istepped to the exterior glass walls, the view included the Statue of Libertyand New York Harbor easily seen that morning on a cloudless day. Mysurroundings that day led me to write in my book, Faith in the FashionDistrict, “I had this profound conviction deep in my heart that my lifecould not be wrapped around these outward things but absolutely must becentered on God and His desires for my life.”

Therewas something else about that environment that, despite the amazing view that day, evoked something like sadness inme, as well. God seemed far away, maybe because of such a focus on what was superficial in that place, and yet I realized that I wasthere for a reason to be his person in a place that seemed devoid of hispresence. It was one of my greatest challenges up to that point to keep that inthe fore front of my mind and to pray for those I encountered.

Isuppose that is a continual challenge for all of us to move through this world rememberingthat we are light bearers for him. To do so, we must hold fast to the words ofJesus, “You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot behidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead, theyput it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the sameway, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds andglorify your Father in heaven” (Matthew 5:14-16).

Ina much greater way than the light reflected on my pendant, may His light dancein your life, friend.

 

var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-24260977-1']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })();Beverly Varnado's most recent book is In Search of the Painted Bunting, a middle grade historical from Elk Lake Publishing, #1 in new releases in its category. She is also the author of several small town romances from Anaiah Press including her latest, A Season for Everything. All are available at Amazon. To explore the web version of One Ringing Bell, please visit bev-oneringingbell.blogspot.comTo sign up for her newsletter, go to http://eepurl.com/dHNdsX Beverly Varnado copyright 2023

Words of encouragement if you're in a wilderness

I reached deep into the archives for one of my favorite posts about our time touring the places where Laura Ingalls Wilder lived. She continues to be a big inspiration in my writing, and I hope you enjoy her messages of encouragement as much as I do. 

Laura Ingalls Wilder Home in Mansfield, Missouri

Some time ago, I wrote here about thesummer our family spent zigzagging this country in a borrowed RV.  If you'd like to read more about those adventures just click on the Dream Summer tag at the end of this post. Two of ourfavorite memories from that time is of visiting the Ingalls family homestead inSouth Dakota as well as the Mansfield home in Missouri where Laura IngallsWilder wrote the Little House books.

In doing researchfor another project recently, I came upon a quote from her, which I know I’veread but had forgotten. She wrote, “We had no choice. Sadness was as dangerousas panthers and bears. The wilderness needs your whole attention.”

We face many kindsof wildernesses.

And as we traversethem, we are likely to encounter a plethora of predators.

Change is awilderness for many. Letting go of the familiar to embrace the unknown canleave us feeling as if we’re heading out over a vast prairie without GPS, much asLaura and her family did. It’s scary. We grieve over what we leave behind, andwe tremble over what may lie ahead.

But the wildernessneeds our whole attention, for in it lies our future.

In the presentupheavals are the building blocks of what is yet to be, and if we allowourselves to get stuck in our grief, we will miss them.

Laura knew thewilderness.

She’d lived inuncharted land as a child, and then as an adult, she and her husband, Almanzo,lost almost everything except their land to the stock market crash of 1929--anew kind of wilderness. What would they do with Laura in her sixties andAlmanzo in his seventies? Through her writing, their daughter, Rose WilderLane, became their sole support in a depressed market.

Some think the Great Depression, along with the deaths of her mother and sister, may haveprompted Laura to put down her memories of growing up on the vast prairie.Laura had established herself as a columnist for a local paper in the Ozarkssome years before, but hadn’t written the column in several years. She hopedonce more to make a little money through her writing.

In 1932, Harperand Brothers published, Little House in the Big Woods. Laura was 65 years old. Manymore books in the series followed, and as we often hear, the rest is history.

Laura faced hernew kind of wilderness with the same courage she’d had when teaching alone in aone-room schoolhouse on the prairie far from home. She simply used the giftsand talents she had. As she once wrote, “The real things haven't changed. It isstill best to be honest and truthful; to make the most of what we have; to behappy with simple pleasures; and have courage when things go wrong.”

I heard the callto write long after many are already established in their careers. Often, I’ve wonderedwhy God waited to clarify this for me, because here I am at a point, when someare closing their laptops and planning European vacations, still hard at work.Still feeling I’m just beginning. Still wondering about a breakthrough. Stillpraying as Beth Moore says to be smarter than I am, fearing I’ve lost too manybrain cells to too much anesthetic in too many surgeries, which now take bothhands to count.

I don’t have manyanswers, but what I do have is inspiration. Stories like that of Laura Ingalls Wilderkeep me hoping through rough times and years of not understanding. 

In my own personalwilderness, Laura’s story is one that helps me fight the beast ofdiscouragement.

One more quotefrom Laura, this one from The Long Winter, “Laura felt a warmth inside her. Itwas very small, but it was strong. It was steady, like a tiny light in thedark, and it burned very low but no winds could make it flicker because itwould not give up.”

“Doyou see what this means—all these pioneers who blazed the way, all theseveterans cheering us on? It means we’d better get on with it. Strip down, startrunning—and never quit! No extra spiritual fat, no parasitic sins. Keep youreyes on Jesus, who both began and finished this race we’re in. Study howhe did it. Because he never lost sight of where he was headed—that exhilaratingfinish in and with God—he could put up with anything along the way: Cross,shame, whatever. And now he’s there, in the place of honor, rightalongside God. When you find yourselves flagging in your faith, go over thatstory again, item by item, that long litany of hostility he plowed through. Thatwill shoot adrenaline into your souls!” (Hebrews 12:1-3 The Message).

(Edited repost) 

 

var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-24260977-1']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })();Beverly Varnado's most recent book is In Search of the Painted Bunting, a middle grade historical from Elk Lake Publishing, #1 in new releases in its category. She is also the author of several small town romances from Anaiah Press including her latest, A Season for Everything. All are available at Amazon. To explore the web version of One Ringing Bell, please visit bev-oneringingbell.blogspot.comTo sign up for her newsletter, go to http://eepurl.com/dHNdsX Beverly Varnado copyright 2023