Michele Huey's Blog: God, Me, and a Cup of Tea, page 22

Finding Lulu

 “Consider the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?” —Jesus, as quoted in Matthew 6:26 NIV

My son and grandson were riding along a country road one Sunday years ago when they spied a yellow-plumed bird alongside the road—a lone cockatiel, apparently abandoned. When they got home and told Rachael, she made them go back and get it. Never mind that their house was home to two dogs and two cats, not to mention the horse, pony, goat and chickens in the barn.

“How could you leave it there all by itself?” she chastised them.

And so “Lulu’ became a temporary member of the household. Fortunately (for my son, who did not want to add another member to the menagerie), Rachael found someone willing to give Lulu a permanent home.

“Aren’t you afraid it’ll fly away?” I asked when Rachael brought Lulu up for me to see.

“Her wings are clipped,” Rachael explained. “She can’t fly.”

How would she have escaped a predator if she couldn’t wing her way to safety?

The next day Rachael brought Lulu to visit again. “I found a home for her.” One of the teachers at my grandson’s school wanted her.

“But we’re going to keep her for a week.”

I could tell she wanted to keep Lulu. For a brief, shining moment I did, too.

Imagine—going from unwanted to wanted in a day.

Finding Lulu reminded me of an important truth—that God will never abandon us.

“Never will I leave you,” He promises. “Never will I forsake you” (Hebrews 13:5).

“Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of My hands,” God assures us in Isaiah 49:15–16.

There are times you may feel abandoned, alongside a lonely country road or a busy thoroughfare of life. Cars pass you, occupants glance at you. But no one stops. Even God has forsaken you, you think. He doesn’t care.

But you’re wrong. Just because you don’t sense His presence doesn’t mean God isn’t with you. Cling to the promises He gives you in His Word.

“What is the price of two sparrows—one copper coin?” Jesus said. “But not a single sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it. And the very hairs on your head are all numbered.So don’t be afraid; you are more valuable to God than a whole flock of sparrows” (Matthew 10:29–31 NLT).

Repeat to yourself: “I am valuable to God.”

And never forget it.

When I feel as though You’ve abandoned me, Lord, remind me of Your promise: “Surely I am with you always” (Matthew 28:20). Amen.

Read and meditate on Matthew 6:25–26.

From God, Me, & a Cup of Tea: 101 devotional readings to savor during your time with God © 2017 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.

In the Waiting Room

Read and reflect on Psalm 13.

Wait on the LORD; Be of good courage, and He shall strengthen your heart; Wait, I say, on the LORD. —Psalm 27:14 NKJV

The phone rang while my husband and I were having supper. It was our youngest son, David.

“I’m on my way to the hospital,” he said. “I broke my arm playing first base.”

My heart sank. After enduring shoulder surgery and months of physical therapy a year and a half earlier, David, a pitcher, had worked hard to get back in form. The coach for his summer league team had been playing him on first and third bases for the games between his starts, planning to use him on the mound for the must-win games.

Nearly three hours later, David called back. The bone just above the wrist on his left arm—not his pitching arm, thank heaven—was broken clear through and was out of place.

“I have to come back to the hospital tomorrow for surgery to put the bone back in place,” he said. “I might need pins.”

After we hung up, I packed my bag for the next day with plenty of reading material, a crossword puzzle book, bottles of water and juice, and fruit. I knew it would be a long day in the hospital waiting room. There was nothing I could do but wait for the outcome — and worry how we’d replace the income from his summer construction job. Now, instead of playing in the big tournament or putting away money for school, he’d be nursing a broken arm, waiting for it to heal in time for fall ball.

More time is spent in life’s waiting rooms, I think, than on the field of play. Like the psalmist, I often cry, “How long, O LORD? How long? Will you forget me forever?” (Psalm 13:1)

I don’t like being benched in a waiting room, but I’m learning to deal with it. And I’m learning to deal with the disappointment, confusion, frustration, and anger that accompany the waiting. Oh, the emotions aren’t as intense as they once were, but still they pop up, undermining the faith that’s the foundation of my life: “Do you really believe God protects you and those you love? Maybe you didn’t pray enough. Maybe it’s all a lie.”

That’s when I open my Bible and do my faith-strengthening exercises. I like Psalms for low-faith times because the writer plumbs the depths of emotions that we, too, experience. Voicing his anguish and looking for answers that seem too long in coming, he reaches a turning point, where his questions collide head-on with faith: “But I trust in your unfailing love; and my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing to the LORD, for he has been good to me” (Psalm 13:5–6).

Maybe waiting time isn’t wasting time, after all. For the lessons learned in the waiting room and the work God does in us while we wait are much more valuable than the answer we think we should have. For the harder a thing is to attain, the greater will be the triumph.

When the questions are hard and the answers don’t come, when my faith falters and my beliefs grow brittle, remind me, Lord, the waiting room is where faith grows best. Amen.

From God, Me, & a Cup of Tea: 101 devotional readings to savor during your time with God © 2017 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.

Image by Steve Buissinne from Pixabay

Deep Waters

Punxsutawney Area School District swimming pool

Read and reflect on Isaiah 43:1–7.

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you. – Isaiah 43:2 NIV

The first couple of times I jumped off the low diving board at the local swimming pool, I landed on the sloped side near the ladder, so I didn’t think it was a problem that I couldn’t swim.

A teenage girl wants to do the things her friends are doing, right? And I was tired of playing it safe in the shallow water while everyone else was having a blast in the deep end of the pool. Back then I didn’t even know how to tread water. The only thing I knew how to do was the dead man’s float.

“How hard could it be?” I thought as I watched the others splashing off the diving board that long ago summer day. All I had to do was hop off the side so I landed on the slope near the ladder. So I swallowed my trepidation and took my place in line.

My strategy worked twice. The third time, however, I plunged into waters above my head.

I don’t remember how many times I bobbed to the surface, panicked and thrashing, my short life passing before my closed eyes. Then strong arms pulled me to safety. As I sat on the concrete beside the crowded pool, gasping and trembling, a lifelong fear was born.

For five decades, deep water terrified me. My kids all learned to swim, no thanks to me. When we went swimming, I stayed in the shallow water. When we went boating, I made sure I had a life vest strapped on tight.

Then my son, who lived next door, bought an above-ground pool. Hot summer days found me cooling off in sun-warmed water that only came up to my neck. I learned to tread water and to propel myself beneath the surface. I practiced floating and splashed from one side of the pool to the other. As long as I could touch bottom (and my head was above the water), I was fine.

Maybe that long, cold winter six years ago made me stir crazy, because I bought a pass for the indoor pool at the local school and began swimming lessons. By December, I told myself, I’d swim from one end of the pool to the other.

At the end of my second lesson, though, I met that goal, swimming on my back, my instructor beside me every stroke of the way.

“You’re doing fine,” she’d say. “Just a little farther.”

And so I kept going—swimming in 12 feet of water—something I didn’t think I’d do for a long time. But I couldn’t have done it without my instructor there beside me, encouraging me, giving me confidence with her presence.

It’s the same way with my swim through life.

When I must navigate deep waters, I’m not alone. My Instructor is beside me, encouraging me, ready to pull me out should I go under. His presence gives me the confidence I need to push on, just a little farther, stroke by stroke, until I finally reach the other side.

Thank you, Father God, that You never leave me or forsake me—even when I get in over my head. Amen.

Read and reflect on Isaiah 43:1–7.

From God, Me, & a Cup of Tea: 101 devotional readings to savor during your time with God © 2017 Michele Huey. All rights reserved. Used with permission.

Happy Endings

I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and End.  —Revelation 22:13 NIV

“Mom, you’re not reading the ending of that book first, are you?” my daughter asked me one day while I was reading.

“Yes, I am,” I said. “I want to make sure the ending is to my liking. This way I don’t waste time reading something that doesn’t have a happy ending.”

A voracious reader since I could open a book, I can’t remember when I started checking out story endings first. But as an adult, I read the first chapters, and, if the book holds my attention and I just can’t stand the suspense—which is most of the time—I flip to the back and skim the last few pages. I find out if the heroine gets the man she loves, who the villain is, and if the story has a happy conclusion.

Many times I’ve started a book but haven’t finished it because I didn’t like the way it ended. While I can take bittersweet endings, I dislike sad ones. There’s enough trouble in the world. I read to escape from the ugliness of humanity, the dire headlines, the bad news that bombards me all day long.

Even worse than sad endings, though, are “open” endings, where the reader decides how a story concludes. How wishy-washy! I need to feel a sense of closure that the story has come to full circle and is complete. An open ending isn’t really an ending; rather, it’s just a gaping hole where the reader is never satisfied—at least this reader.

Not that I live with my head in the sand or the clouds, and I certainly don’t live a storybook, fairytale life. I’ve got problems too. Reading is my oasis in this desert of bad news. Just for a little while, I can forget the headlines, the heartaches, the dishes, and the dust and immerse myself in something I know will end happily.

There’s another Book I enjoy reading with an ending that fulfills all my expectations, gives me hope, and satisfies my soul: the Bible, God’s Word. Reading it, however, is not an escape from ugly humanity. Instead, I see humanity at its worst. I also see in its time-tested lines the love of the Writer for the ones who rebelled and caused Him and the world so much grief. In the chapter on Calvary, I see God at His best.

But the story doesn’t end at Calvary, or on the first Easter, or on Ascension Day or Pentecost. It doesn’t end with the killing of Stephen or the martyrdom of those first believers. It continues for centuries that stretch into millennia.

And it isn’t a mystery. Rather, the Bible is a love story of a great and merciful God for His sinful, rebellious, obnoxious, selfish, stubborn creation. Penned throughout the saga of mankind are definite clues how this tale will end: The heroine gets the One she loves, the villain is defeated and banished forever, and those who trust in the One who came to save them live happily ever after.

Thank You, Lord, for showing me who the winners are in the drama of man. Thank You for revealing the ending so I may find satisfaction and fulfillment in my life’s story. Amen.

Read and reflect on Revelation 21 & 22.

From God, Me,& a Cup of Tea: 101 devotional readings to savor during your time with God, (c) 2017 Michele Huey.

The Road to Nowhere

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. – Romans 8:28 NIV

Over 80 years ago private landowners in Swain County, North Carolina, were forced to give up their property, which had been in their families for generations, when the government created the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Entire communities had to relocate. Access to ancestral burial grounds was lost when the Fontana Dam was built and the route was submerged beneath the waters of a vast manmade lake.

To appease the people, the government promised to build a road through the park that would give them access to the ancient cemeteries. And so construction on Lakeview Drive began—and halted six miles into the park when environmental issues arose. The promised road ended with a tunnel and has remained that way to this day.

Although eventually the environmental issues were resolved and the feds paid the county $52 million in lieu of finishing the road, the locals, feeling betrayed, renamed Lakeview Drive to “The Road to Nowhere.” A sign was erected: “Welcome to The Road to Nowhere. A Broken Promise. 1943 – ?”

DH and I visited The Road to Nowhere during a camping trip to the Great Smoky Mountains National Parka few years ago, and we walked through the dank, dark tunnel. True, the paved road ended when we emerged on the other side, but I wouldn’t call it “nowhere.” Golden trees framed hiking trails winding through the mountains. True, this wasn’t what was promised, but it is what it is.

Life can be like that. Sometimes the road we’re on doesn’t lead us to where we expect or where we want to go. Sometimes we run into a dead end. Broken promises break our hearts and our trust. We can’t see how we can go on.

But it doesn’t lead to nowhere. All roads lead to somewhere. Just sometimes not where we’d chosen.

The older I get, the more I understand the wisdom of accepting and adapting. And moving on.

I’m not saying it’s easy—giving up those dreams, rebuilding your life after hope has been shattered.

But it can be done—with guts, gumption, grit—and God.

You see, I believe in a God who can transform what’s bad in your life into something good, what’s broken into something usable. A God who can turn your weakness into His strength (2 Corinthians 12:9) and loves you far beyond what you can comprehend (Romans 8:35–39).

He’s always in your corner (Romans 8:31) and wants to bless you exceedingly abundantly above all you can ask or imagine (Ephesians 3:20). He’s a faithful Father who showers you with fresh mercies every morning (Lamentations 3:23) and who doesn’t break promises (2 Timothy 2:13).

So, dear child of God, “do not fear. Do not let not your hands grow weak. The LORD, your God, is in your midst, a warrior who gives great victory. He will rejoice over you with gladness, he will renew you in his love; he will exult over you with loud singing as on the day of a festival” (Zephaniah 3:16–17)

Remember that it’s God who’s in control, no matter what road you find yourself on.

Remind me, Lord, as I walk this uncertain road called life, that every road I walk with You will lead to somewhere wonderful. Amen.

From God, Me, & a Cup of Tea: 101 devotional readings to savor during your time with God © 2017 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.

Happy New Year!

Following the Star

Read and reflect on Matthew 2:1-12.

Once again the star appeared to them, guiding them to Bethlehem. It went ahead of them and stopped over the place where the child was. –Matthew 2:9 NLT

When I was a child, Christmas Eve was a magical time. Perhaps it was the air of excitement and anticipation. Perhaps it was the lights on the Christmas tree, casting a soft glow on the darkened living room throughout the long evenings. Perhaps it was the carols we sang. Perhaps it was the Christmas story itself, with all its mystery and awe.

Maybe that’s what made Christmas Eve so magical: I accepted without reservation the Christmas story in its entirety—from a virgin giving birth to the Son of God in a stable, to angels announcing the birth to lowly shepherds, to a bright star leading the Magi to Jesus. I understood that whatever science or nature could not explain, God could. After all, He is the Creator and set the laws of nature in motion. No doubt poisoned Christmas for me.

These days, however, there are those who would remove the reason for the season, who scoff at the miracles and spoil the magic, who reject that which cannot be explained except by the touch of God.

The Magi, learned men from the East, could have scoffed, too. But they didn’t reject what their own eyes saw—a colossal star with a radiance that shone even during the day. These astronomer-mathematicians recognized the importance of this brilliant star that appeared at the time of Jesus’ birth.

But how did these heathen Gentiles, these nonbelievers, know that a Jewish king was born?

Familiar with the prophecies of Daniel, who was an exile in their land hundreds of years earlier, these wise men who studied the heavens knew the Jews were waiting for a Messiah promised by God Himself, someone who would save them and rule them forever.

They knew the Hebrews considered the constellation Pisces as representing their own nation. The planet Saturn, viewed as a wandering star, represented Jerusalem, their capital city. Jupiter, another “wandering star,” denoted royalty.

When Jupiter and Saturn converged in Pisces three times in two months, the wise men knew something big was about to happen. This astronomic event normally occurred only once every 804 years. Then a few months later, Mars joined Jupiter and Saturn in the constellation.

As they puzzled over the meaning of this, they noted the first time this happened was on the Jewish Day of Atonement. Putting all this together, they reasoned that a Hebrew king was about to be born in Judea.

Then, another amazing event occurred: A brilliant new star appeared in the constellation Aquila (the eagle), brighter than anything they’d ever seen, so intense it could be seen in the daytime. To the wise men, this brilliant new star, actually an exploding star called a nova, was the announcement they were waiting for: The King of the Jews had been born.

A king whose birth even the heavens proclaimed was a king they had to see. So they prepared for the long trip to Bethlehem, where they found the infant king. They didn’t doubt when they found the child not in a palace but in a humble house. They didn’t doubt when they saw how poor His parents were.

They believed what most Jews in that day weren’t even aware of—that this child was both a King and a God. When they presented their costly gifts—gifts denoting royalty—they worshipped Him.

For these astronomical events to come together at the very time Jesus was born, for Gentile magi to recognize the significance of it all, for this star to lead them to the exact location of the child they were seeking can only be explained by the touch of the Divine—God reaching out and making the impossible happen.

The wise men, nonbelievers, believed the miracle in the sky and followed that star until it led them to the Savior.

What about you? Are you following that star?

Jesus, when the wise men saw the star that led to You, they rejoiced with “exceedingly great joy.” Fill me with this joy every day as I follow the star that leads to You. Amen.

NOTE: This Christmas season—this past Monday—Jupiter and Saturn aligned to create the first Christmas star in 800 years.

From God, Me, & a Cup of Tea for the Seasons, (c) 2018 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.

Christmas Blessings

May the God who gave the first gift of Christmas

warm your heart with LOVE,

light your way with HOPE, and

fill your home with JOY

this Christmas and throughout the coming year.

Be blessed, my friends!

Love,

Michele

Why Mistletoe?

We love, because He first loved us. –1 John 4:19 AMP

I had a doozy of a time finding mistletoe one year. Maybe it was because I was looking for it Sunday morning before church so I could use it in my sermon, “The Symbols of Christmas.”

That and I still needed to get a sprig to hang on the ceiling beam between the kitchen and the dining room, which has become a Christmas tradition in our home. Truth be told, rarely does anyone smooch under it. But I still like to hang it up.

How did mistletoe, a symbol of love (which we celebrate on Valentine’s Day), become associated with Christmas?

Legends about this evergreen plant go back to the ancient Druids of Britain, who believed mistletoe had special healing powers and used it in their winter solstice ceremonies. Actually, “mistletoe,” in the Celtic language, means “all heal.”

When Christianity took root, pagan practices and beliefs were condemned, and mistletoe was all but forgotten until the 1800s, when Victorian England revived the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe as a sign of love, romance, and good luck.

When I researched mistletoe, I discovered it’s actually an aerial parasite, having no roots of its own. To survive, mistletoe attaches itself to a tree, from which it gets its nourishment.

Like love.

Love, whether romantic love or brotherly love, doesn’t exist on its own. All love originates from, and gets its nourishment from, agape love—divine love. Agape is the highest form of love, transcending all other types of love. It is the love of God for man—unconditional, unlimited, sacrificial, selfless, giving of itself regardless of circumstances. God’s love is the tree that sustains us—physically, spiritually, emotionally, mentally.

Interestingly, agape (pronounced a-GÁP-ē), can also be pronounced əˈɡāp, which refers to the mouth when it is “wide open with wonder and surprise.”

Such is the love God has for us—it should leave us with mouths wide open in wonder and surprise that the God who created the universe—the King of Kings and Lord of Lords—loved each of us so much He left His throne in heaven to take on human flesh, live a sinless life, and give Himself up as the perfect sacrifice to pay the price for our sins so we could live in heaven with Him forever (see John 3:16).

Such is the love of God.

And like the mistletoe is an evergreen, so God’s love is eternal—it always was and always will be (Psalm 136). It’s unlimited (Psalm 36:5, 108:4). And it is mine.

God’s is the love from which all other love springs and is sustained. We love, you see, because He first loved us (1 John 4:19). And like the mistletoe cannot survive without being attached to the tree, so our love cannot sustain itself. God’s love is the tree that feeds us, gives us life, and enables us to love.

And just like the meaning of mistletoe is “all heal,” God’s love is the healing salve we need for all our wounds—physical, mental, emotional, spiritual.

Wow. All that about a sprig of evergreen we hang up in our homes at Christmastime and for the most part forget about.

A sprig of evergreen that reminds us of the love God has for each one of us—nourishing, life-giving, and eternal.

May each sprig of mistletoe I see this Christmas season, O God, remind me of the love that sent Your Son from heaven to earth so that we may have heaven forever. Amen.

Read and reflect on 1 John 4:7–21.

From God, Me, & a Cup of Tea for the Seasons­, © 2018 Michele Huey. All rights reserved. Used with permission.

Now, THAT’s a Plan!

Many are the plans in the mind of a man, but it is the purpose of the LORD that will be established. – Proverbs 19:21 (RSV)

Now that I’m somewhere between “middle-aged” and “over the hill” (closer to over-the-hill than middle-aged), I look back on my life and view the unexpected—the things that interfered with my plans—quite differently than I did at the time they happened.

My father’s layoff from the steel mill when I was nine led to tough times that taught me resourcefulness and thrift. The broken engagement that shattered my heart when I was 20 freed me for when Mr. Right entered the picture a few months later. (We’ll celebrate our forty-seventh on Dec. 22.) An unexpected pregnancy with child number three altered our dreams for the future.

No, my life certainly has not gone the way I played it in my head when I was growing up. I’d dreamed of traveling the world, free as a bird, but the road I traveled was one of diapers, doctors’ appointments, piano and dance lessons, sporting events, school programs, occasional teaching gigs to help make ends meet, and endless dust, dishes, meals, laundry, forms to complete, and papers that needed my signature.

The road was neither well-paved nor well-marked. There were no signs warning me of a “rough road ahead,” “construction: expect delays,” or that I’d soon be encountering fog, blowing snow, ice, or severe crosswinds.

In the words of Louisa May Alcott in her classic Little Women, “My castle is very different from what I planned, but I would not alter it.” 

Although “into each life some rain must fall; some days must be dark and sad and dreary,” she adds in the closing words of her character, Jo, “I’m far happier than I deserve. … Fritz is getting gray and stout. I’m growing as thin as a shadow, and am thirty. We never shall be rich, and Plumfield may burn up any night, for that incorrigible Tommy Bangs will smoke sweet-fern cigars under the bed-clothes, though he’s set himself afire three times already. But in spite of these unromantic facts, I have nothing to complain of, and never was so jolly in my life.”

I echo her words: “I’m far happier than I deserve. My husband is getting grayer by the day, and I am growing stouter as I edge closer to 70. We’ll never be rich, and everything we’ve spent our lives building can be lost in the blink of an eye. Obnoxious people will plague our paths, anyone can sue us at anytime over anything, and the economy will continue to be as stable as a sputtering firecracker.

But in spite of these unromantic facts, I have nothing, really, to complain about. I have my hubby, wearing out though he may be. I have my three grown children, their loved ones, and nine grandchildren who fill my life with love and joy. And I am truly happy and at peace.

And, most important, I have God, the One who is control of all things at all times (1 Chronicles 29:10–12). His Word is the only road sign I need (Psalm 119:105). For I’ve experienced the truth of Romans 8:28. I’ve conquered fear with Romans 8:31–39. I’ve faced my own inadequacy and seen His adequacy in Isaiah 55:8–9.

And I’ve vanquished insecurity with Jeremiah 29:11, “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.”

Now, that’s a plan!   

As I light the third Advent candle, Father, I am reminded that Your Son came to give me a hope and a future. Help me daily to recognize and yield to Your awesome plan for me. Amen.

Read and reflect on Matthew 1:18–25; Luke 1:26–2:20.

© 2008 by Michele Huey. All rights reserved. Used with permission.