Chris Loehmer Kincaid's Blog, page 33

Answered Prayer

And we are confident that he hears us whenever we ask for anything that pleases him. And since we know he hears us when we make our requests, we also know that he will give us what we ask for. (1 John 5:14-15, New Living Translation)

Over the last few years, I have been praying nightly more fervently than ever. Between everything going on throughout the world and within my personal life, I don’t know where to begin or where to end when I send up my prayers to God when I go to bed each night. Usually, I fall asleep before I’ve asked for half of what I want.  

I tell you, you can pray for anything, and if you believe that you’ve received it, it will be yours. (Mark 11:24, New Living Translation)

And each day, as I’m assaulted by more bad news, or body aches, or whatever it might be, I wonder if God even listens to my prayers. I know that He answers them in His own time and own way and that He knows what’s best for me and everyone else. But, still, God, can’t You just, once in a while, send me a sign? Fix something that is broken in my life? Or that is messed up in the world?

I know that God doesn’t work that way. And I’m ashamed of myself when I have so little faith. But, still, God, maybe just one little miracle?

“Keep on asking, and you will receive what you ask for. Keep on seeking, and you will find. Keep on knocking, and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks, receives. Everyone who seeks, finds. And to everyone who knocks, the door will be opened.” (Matthew 7:7-8, New Living Translation)

Three weeks ago, just like that, He not only answered one of my most passionate prayers, He sent an outright miracle. It’s not mine to share here, but trust me, God has got this. And He will answer your prayers when you least expect it.

L ORD , God, I can not thank You enough for answered prayer. There are no words that come close to saying how thankful I am that You opened this door. Amen. 

 

Getting Out There While We Can

This past week was once again unseasonably warm for us.

 It’s hard not to want to get outside and do what you can to take advantage of the weather. We still have the rest of February, as well as all of March and April to get through, and those are usually the snowiest months.

But as long as we can, we’ll get out and enjoy the warm temps and sunshine.

Sunday afternoon, my daughter and I took her pups for a walk along this section of the Wisconsin River, which we all know as Grandfather Falls. 

I’ve hiked this trail many times over the years, but I think this is the only time I trekked it in the winter.

A great place no matter time of year it is.

Is COVID Still Out There?

   Go, my people, enter your rooms and shut the doors behind you; hide yourselves for a little while until his wrath has passed by. (Isaiah 26:20, New International Version)

I woke up Tuesday morning with a sore throat. It mostly felt dry so I thought it was just from our bedroom’s humidifier acting up. By the end of the day, I was feeling more fatigued than usual and a little congested.

It hit me the next morning. At least I had Wednesday and Thursday off from work. And even though I woke up on Friday still coughing, aching and feverish, I thought I’d try making it to work, after, however, taking a COVID test.

When our nurse at work tested me, she said I sounded horrible (she wasn’t lying), and that I had to take the day off no matter what the test showed.

Which didn’t matter in the end, because I did come back positive for COVID.

I know? What? I have no idea where I got it from this time. I’m feeling fine today and get to leave quarantine tomorrow. But still, feeling like a leper makes a person feel like – emotional and mental crap on top of the already physical crap.

With COVID on my brain the last two days, I started reading through the journal I started writing three years ago in March of 2020 when the pandemic started treating us all like extras in an apocalyptic movie. While reading it, I came across the above Bible verse that I had discovered at the time.

It was a horrible couple of years. Man, reading what I wrote during that time, I sure sounded like I was losing my mind. I guess that’s why we journal, coz looking back our memories tell us something different.

Anyway, we did lock ourselves in our rooms, or at least our houses and apartments, for a solid two years. It wasn’t pretty, but we got through. And apparently, since that stupid virus is still roaming around out there, we still are fighting our way through it.  

L ORD , we’ll never understand Your ways or why You let bad things happen to us and the world around us. Help us to remember, though, that no matter what is going on around us, You will always be watching over us. Amen.

Popping up in the morning

 

One morning earlier this week, I rolled over in bed and looked at the clock. 2:22 stared at me. I’d been tossing and turning for hours, and it still wasn’t time to get up? I felt like a piece of bread, stuck in the toaster, burning to a crisp and unable to escape. 

Hence, a bad night’s sleep is like a burnt piece of toast. You’re stuck in the toaster, turning black, maybe even smoking, unable to get comfortable, fighting the sheets and the blankets – aka, the heating coils. Yes, you’re hot. No, now you’re cold. There are noises in your head or are they real? Is that the smoke detector? And will that smell ever leave your nose? 

A good night’s sleep, however, is like that perfectly golden-brown piece of toast. You’ve been in bed – the toaster – for the exact right amount of time. You haven’t had to move because you are totally comfortable and the perfect temperature. The only sound is the steady, gentle hum of those heating coils. And the smell? Heavenly, soothing, like a memory from childhood. Mom in the kitchen buttering your breakfast, as she sips her beautifully brewed cup of coffee. 

You pop out of bed – or the toaster – warm and crisp on the outside, strong enough to do battle with the day, while warm and soft on the inside, happy to be alive.

Okay, or maybe not. However you slept last night, I wish you a wonderful day.

What was lost is found

“Or suppose a woman who has ten silver coins loses one of them—what does she do? She lights a lamp, sweeps her house, and looks carefully everywhere until she finds it. When she finds it, she calls her friends and neighbors together, and says to them, ‘I am so happy I found the coin I lost. Let us celebrate!’ In the same way, I tell you, the angels of God rejoice over one sinner who repents.” (Luke 15:8-10, Good News Translation)

I’ve had this cross for a long time. Hubby gave it to me many, many years ago, and over those many years, I’ve managed to lose it several times. I wear it 24/7, so I’ve broken the chain a few times and a few other times the cross has pulled free from its chain.

I spent last weekend at my daughter’s house. There was a crisis going on in the family, which I’m not at liberty to share, but even without any information, I’m sure you can understand that I was stressed.

When I woke up Saturday morning, I thought the clasp on the necklace felt different, but I never bothered to check for the cross. By Sunday morning, I finally realized that the cross was gone.

As I’ve already mentioned, I’ve lost this cross before and it has always turned up. And this time, by the time I noticed its absence, I didn’t think that sweeping the house and searching for it was worthwhile. We had thoroughly vacuumed my daughter’s house Saturday morning, so I knew it was possible that my cross was now in the trash.

Monday morning, I was still at her house, when one of her roommates set my cross on my laptop while I was typing something.  

“Is this yours? I found it on the bathroom floor,” he told me.

“Yes, it is,” I answered. Because, even though I was rejoicing in my heart, I remain stoic around others. “Thank you so much.”

L ORD , thank You for everything You do for me. From the huge answers to prayers to the most minor acts of Your Grace. I don’t deserve to be called Your child, yet I am thankful beyond words that You have indeed saved me and hold me in Your loving arms. Amen.  

A Stop at the High Ground

             I feel like I’m way behind on blog posts this year already. It’s only the first of February, and I have no idea where 2023 has gone. And yet, I’m still blogging about places I went last fall.

            In October, after coming home from Kenya, I took off one weekend to visit my friend in Minnesota. I’ve been there a few times a year since she moved there, and I know I’ve traveled highway 10 through Neillsville before. I’ve seen the signs for this place but never took the time to stop. Until this time.

            From their website:

            The Highground Veterans Memorial Park, located four miles west of Neillsville, started as the Wisconsin Vietnam Veterans Memorial Project in 1984. It has grown to a 155-acre Park that includes a museum, a gift shop, pavilions, picnic areas and four miles of hiking trails. The private facility, which receives no ongoing federal or state funding, is supported by donations and grants. The Park is free to the public and open 24/7/365. Today, The Highground is the largest manned Veterans Park in the nation.

            I wish I would have spent more time there. I’ll definitely go back again, hopefully in the summer when the gardens are in bloom.

            A beautiful place with a beautiful purpose. Let us never forget the service our veterans gave our country.

All gave some, and some gave all. 
Click this link for more information. 

I promise . . .

I know. It’s been three months and seven days since I returned from my last trip to Kenya. I promise this will be the last blog post about it.

 

I wanted to share some pictures from The Hub mall in Karen. We went there our last Saturday in Africa; I needed to buy some nuts and treats to take home.

On the back side of the mall there are beautiful gardens surrounding a pond.

Since I was there last, they installed a bouncy house and a climbing wall, along with a zip line over the pond.

On Sunday, our very last day in Kenya, our host Marta took us and her two boys to a park outside of Kikuyu.

It’s called Leilani Gardens and has space for outdoor weddings and other events.

Parks like this always seem out of place in the dust and clutter of the cities of Kenya or the desert-like landscape of the Rift Valley.

There is a name for this grass by the way. We called it lumpy grass.

Speaking of lumpy, I never did tell you about how on our first full day in Kenya, I missed the last step going downstairs for breakfast.

This was my foot the second day.

And five days later. No, I didn’t bother going to the doctor or getting an x-ray. It finally stopped hurting and my full mobility returned around Christmas.

It was another eventful trip. And though I hated the thought of flying into Chicago at the end of it, it’s still always nice to get my feet – broken or not – on home soil.  

Searching

  When Jesus’ parents saw him, they were astonished. His mother said to him, “Son, why did you do this to us? Your father and I were very worried about you and have been looking for you.”

 Jesus said to them, “Why were you looking for me? Didn’t you know that I must be in my Father’s house?” But they did not understand the meaning of what he said. (Luke 2:48-50, New Century Version)

The story of Jesus’ birth is covered only in the book of Luke. He grows quickly from that Baby in the manager to a twelve-year-old Boy.

I’m sure He was the ideal Son, never giving His parents any grief. Yet, there stood Mary and Joseph at the Temple in Jerusalem, worried sick that Jesus had disappeared on them several days before. Then, they finally found Him conversing with the rabbis there.

“Why were you looking for me? Didn’t you know that I must be in my Father’s house?”

These are the earliest recorded words that Jesus speaks in the Bible. At first glance, they seem a little sassy. His parents have been franking searching for Him, and Mary reprimands Him when they find Him.

But at only twelve years old, He’s already speaking to us.

It shouldn’t be so hard for anyone to find Jesus and the peace and salvation He offers. Many people search for happiness in all the wrong places. Instead, all we need to do is turn to God and His Word. The answers to our questions are right there in the Bible – our Father’s House.

Thank You, Jesus, for coming to this earth as an innocent Baby and showing us the way to our Heavenly Father and to salvation. Amen.

The Beach, Mombasa and the Trip Home

Back to my last trip to Kenya. Yes, I know it was over three months ago, but I just want to keep reliving it, especially with all the cloudy days of winter that we have left here in Wisconsin. 
I've shared a lot of pictures and stories from our four day stay at Diani Beach. 
 But how is it possible to not continue to imagine this beach with its blue water and that blue sky above and wish you were there. 
One of the big forms of transportation along the coast was the Tuk-tuk. These little motorbike cabs which motored up and down all the streets, with the nicest young men driving them. But after those four days, Friday morning it was time to head back to Nairobi. 

Unfortunately, the airport which we flew into on Monday closed for repairs two days later, forcing us to fly out of Mombasa. The airline loaded us into a coach bus at the airport and drove us the hour and a half to the Mombasa airport. Not a bad ride, but I anticipated what was coming. 
The city of Mombasa is mostly on an island, and though there are several bridges, I knew we'd have to take the ferry across the channel at one point. The picture below isn't from this trip, but is one which my daughter took when she boarded a pedestrian ferry in Mombasa in 2010. This is the kind of vessel you picture making news headlines when it sinks from being over loaded and over half of the passengers drown. 

I'm so thankful that our coach bus drove into a large vehicle ferry operated by the Likoni Ferry Service.  

And the crossing was so smooth, it didn't even feel like we were moving. 

Once back on land and in the city, I caught a few pictures out the bus's windows. 

Coz I'll take pictures of everything I can. 

Once we got to the airport, we unfortunately had a several hour wait for our plane to board. Time we would have rather spent on the beach. But there's always next time...
Okay, but I did find this blurb on Wikepedia: On April 29, 1994, the MV Mtongwe ferry bound for the mainland capsized just 40 meters from port, killing 272 of the 400 people on board.

Shredded

    But he was wounded for the wrong we did; he was crushed for the evil we did. The punishment, which made us well, was given to him, and we are healed because of his wounds. (Isaiah 53:5, New Century Version)
Every January, Hubby shreds a box full of our old financial statements. There probably is nothing in any of those papers which would compromise our finances, but sometimes I am still paranoid about that kind of stuff. I need to ask myself why there is still so much paper in this day and age of electronic records. But that's not today's story. 
I have all these papers, but I need more than to discard them in the trash or recycling. I'm compelled to shred them. 
Just like we should shred our sins. 
Which got me thinking. (And I hope I'm too graphic.) Maybe it wasn't enough for Jesus to die on that cross to take away our sins. Perhaps when the Roman soldiers were whipping Him and tearing His flesh, our sins were also being ripped and torn. 
Think about all the sins you commit every day. Ask for God's forgiveness, then rip those sins out of your life and start fresh. 
Lord, God, thank You for sending Your Son to suffer at the hands of the Romans and die on that cross so that we could be cleansed from our suffering. Amen.