Michele Huey's Blog: God, Me, and a Cup of Tea, page 32
June 15, 2019
My Father’s Lap
In the shadow of thy wings I will take refuge, till the storms of destruction pass by. – Psalm 57:1 (RSV)
When I was growing up, there was only one place where I could escape my mother’s wrath—my father’s lap. I was an impulsive child, and my mother wasn’t blessed with patience, so when our wills clashed, sparks flew.
Mom was the firestorm; Dad the quiet stream. I loved them both, but it was to Dad I turned when I needed a listening ear or when I just needed cuddled. Curled up in his lap, resting my head on his shoulder, feeling his arms around me, was the safest place in the world.
Fast forward forty years. I am now a mother, still a bit impulsive, fiery when I get going. My husband is like my father—a soothing balm to my blistering heat. One of my children has impulsively done something that could cast a dark shadow over the future. I am so furious, I shake. I feel heat radiating from my face.
“How could you do this?” I shout. “When we get home, you will tell your father what you’ve done.”
But the scene doesn’t turn out as I expect. There, curled up in my husband’s lap, is our errant, remorseful child.
Fast forward eight more years. I am now a grandmother. As my family has multiplied, so have my love and concern. I pray for my children and grandchildren every day, but still I worry. I am at the age where I realize how fragile life really is and how dangerous a place the world is. I have much more to lose now.
As I sit in the family room, my head rests on the wing of the love seat where I’m curled up. Eyes closed, I imagine myself sitting in my heavenly Father’s lap, resting my head on His shoulder, feeling His arms around me.
I speak no words, but peace, like a placid stream, gently seeps into my soul. I am in the safest place in the world.
Abba, Father, thank You for Your unconditional love. Amen.
Read and reflect on Psalm 57
From God, Me & a Cup of Tea for the Seasons: 101 devotional readings to savor during your time with God, Copyright © 2018 by Michele Huey
June 8, 2019
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
Eighty years ago private landowners in Swain County, NC, 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 – ?”
We visited The Road to Nowhere several years ago during our camping trip to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, 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 that wound 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.
[image error]The Road to Nowhere, Swain County, NC
Read and reflect on Lamentations 3:19–26
From God, Me & a Cup of Tea: 101 devotional readings to savor during your time with God, © 2017 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.
June 1, 2019
To the Hilt (Graduation Thoughts)
“I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” —Jesus, as quoted in John 10:10 (NIV)
“Wherever you are, be all there. Live to the hilt every situation you believe to be the will of God.” —Jim Elliott
When I read this quote by the late missionary Jim Elliott, it made me think: What does it mean to “live to the hilt”?
The hilt, the handle of a sword, is the only part visible when the blade is plunged in all the way. “To the hilt,” then, means giving something your all—one hundred percent, no reserve.
To me, living to the hilt means three things.
First, living to the hilt means exploring every God-given dream and pursuing the vision.
When I was in high school, I dreamed of becoming a writer. My life’s path led to teaching, which still remains a passion of mine, but the dream of writing never died. Twenty-three years after I graduated from college, I published my first pieces—a couple of devotionals in The Upper Room and a personal experience story in Guideposts. I’ve now published three novels and four books of devotional readings, and have another novel in the works.
The road hasn’t been easy. The learning curve can be steep, and it’s ongoing. When you reach one level, you find there’s another to master.
But when God gives you a dream, you must work to make it a reality. What you are is God’s gift to you. What you make of yourself is your gift to God. Remember the parable of the talents? Only the two who used what they were given received the commendation of “Well done, good and faithful servant!”
So discover, develop, and dispense your God-given gifts. Pursue the vision.
Second, living life to the hilt means doing—giving—your best, every moment, every breath. “Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might” (Ecclesiastes 9:10). “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart” (Colossians 3:23).
All your might. All your heart. Nothing held back.
And don’t let fear hold you back. Fear doesn’t come from God. What Paul wrote to the young pastor Timothy is still true today: “God has not given you a spirit of fear or timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline” (2 Timothy 1:7). He has filled you with His Holy Spirit. Remember, God is for you—He’s your biggest cheerleader. And if God is for you, then who or what can succeed against you? (Romans 8:31)
So, go on, give it your best shot. Give it your all.
Third, living to the hilt means looking forward, not back.
Too often, we play the “if only” game, weaving a web of regret—and getting tangled in it. Don’t waste time and expend energy on what could have been. Use the past to build the future. Learn from your mistakes and move on.
So what if things didn’t turn out the way you planned—the way you wanted? God, ultimately, is in control. He knows what He’s doing. Forget what’s behind and reach forward to what’s ahead. Press on toward your God-given goal (Philippians 3:13–14).
Jesus came to give us life in all its fullness. That means living full, living abundantly, living to the hilt.
Remember the words of Abraham Lincoln: “In the end, it’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years.”
Thank You, God, for giving me a dream and showing me the way to make it come true. Amen.
Read and reflect on Matthew 25:14–30
From God, Me & a Cup of Tea: 101 devotional readings to savor during your time with God, © 2017 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.
May 25, 2019
Two Rocks Don’t Make a Duck
September 23, 2013
My God is my rock. – Psalm 18:2 (NIV)
When my husband and I visited the Acadia National Park Visitors Center, informational placards lined the uphill walkway from the parking lot to the building. Of course, I had to read them all. Not only because I needed to catch my breath from climbing the hundred-plus steps, either. Maybe it’s the teacher in me. Or my insatiable curiosity. Or both.
Since Dean’s impatience at my frequent stops was starting to show (and it was only the beginning of the day), I took pictures of the placards so I could read them later in the evening when he was asleep in his recliner.
But the cairns intrigued me, and I took my sweet time at each of them.
A cairn is a stone structure built to point the way on a trail. Although cairns come in various shapes and sizes, the ones at Acadia were no more than 18 inches high and were built with four or six large stones: two or four large, square ones on the bottom with one large, rectangular stone spanning them, and a smaller, triangular-shaped one on top, with the tip pointing the direction of the trail.
“Cairns are carefully built and placed to point the way,” one placard read. “When trail blazes are hidden by fog or snow, cairns are essential,” said another.
Another placard warned of tampering with the cairns: “Do not build new cairns or add to existing cairns – you may confuse or endanger hikers.”
Back at the camper, I googled “cairns” to find out more about them. Trail marks in North America, I learned, are often called “ducks” or “duckies” because the point of the top rock resembles a duck’s beak. “The expression ‘two rocks don’t make a duck’ reminds hikers that just one rock resting on another could be the result of accident or nature rather than intentional trail marking.” (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cairn)
Like a path in the woods, the trail of life can be confusing at times, too. The fog of indecision, the snow of fear about the results of our choices may hide the direction we are to go. Sometimes all the paths look good – or bad.
Right now I’m wrestling with a decision of whether or not to proceed with the project of publishing a third book of meditations – compilations of this column. Since I self-publish, the cost upfront comes out of my pocket. I’ve started two or three times to put the book together since my last compilation came out in 2002. But each time I backed out because of finances.
“If you need wisdom, ask our generous God, and He will give it to you,” the Bible tells us in James 1:5 (NLT).
And again: “Trust in the LORD with all your heart; do not depend on your own understanding. Seek His will in all you do, and He will show you which path to take” (Proverbs 3:5, 6 NLT).
God’s cairns are there for the asking. But sometimes we don’t recognize them because, like me, we don’t know what they are.
But when we do, we see that He’s placed them at every point we need direction. We just need eyes to see the duck.
Give me the spiritual sight to see and recognize the cairns You’ve placed along my life’s path, O Lord. Amen.
Read and reflect on Exodus 13:21–22
From God, Me & a Cup of Tea: 101 devotional readings to savor during your time with God, © 2017 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.
May 18, 2019
Treks and Trails
He will not let your foot slip – He who watches over you will not sleep. – Psalm 121:3
To celebrate our fortieth anniversary, DH and I took a two-week camping trip through the Northeast. Starting with the Finger Lakes region in New York, we drove through the Adirondacks, the Green Mountains in Vermont, the White Mountains in New Hampshire, and then up the coast of Maine to Acadia National Park.
When we weren’t on the road, I’d planned for our vacation to be a time of resting and recharging.
I should have known better than to think Dean would be content to sit around relaxing. Every day he was anxious to be out the door as soon as breakfast was over. We put 450 exploring miles on our truck and I don’t know how many on our feet.
The first trail we hiked was the ¾-mile Gorge Trail in New York’s Taughannock State Park – a level, gravel-topped track that ran parallel to the Taughannock Creek and led to the 215-foot waterfall of the same name.
“I can do this!” I thought as I stepped along, stopping to read every placard along the trail, feeling proud of myself because I was really pretty much out of shape.
The next trek was up the one-mile paved road to the summit of Mount Defiance in Ticonderoga, New York. We’d spent the day exploring the fort, and all I could think of was getting back to the camper and propping up my aching feet. But when we got to the road to the summit, the gates were closed.
[image error]Celebrating the climb
“I can do this!” I told Dean when he said we’d have to walk. Somehow I got my second wind. And third . . . and fourth . . . it took 36 minutes to reach the summit – 25 walking minutes and 11 stopping minutes for me to catch my breath. There were places where we ascended a foot with each step. But the view at the top was worth every gasp.
When we reached Acadia National Park in Maine, 120 miles of trails ranging in difficulty from “very easy” to “strenuous” wound through Mount Desert (pronounced “dessert”) Island. The walking wasn’t easy. The coastline is rocky, the mountains granite, and the trails comprised of roots and rocks to step over, between, on (and trip on) – and boulders to climb.
[image error]Rocky, root-embedded trails of Acadia National Park
The Ship Harbor Trail was rated easy. Right. We stopped on the way back to the campground to buy a box of Epsom salts.
“I need hiking shoes,” I told Dean while my feet were soaking. “These sneakers are for walking nut hiking.”
The Beech Mountain Trail, the last one we hiked, looked easy at first – soft, smooth, brown forest floor. Then we came to a marker. The left trail was .4 mile; the right was .7 mile. Since we were pressed for time, I chose the shorter trail.
But shorter doesn’t mean easier or quicker. The smooth forest floor soon changed to roots, rocks, and boulders.
“I can do this!” I said, when still another boulder presented itself. Envisioning the view from the top kept me stepping along, as well as Dean’s hand sometimes dragging me along. “I’ve come this far . . .”
It took us 50 minutes to reach the summit and 30 minutes to walk the .7 mile trail down off the mountain.
All the trails we hiked weren’t so challenging. There were sections that wound through pine trees along a soft forest floor, where I didn’t need Dean’s hand for balance or support – or to drag me over the places I didn’t think I could traverse.
The trails of life are the same: they range in difficulty from very easy to strenuous to “I don’t think I can make it!”
But we can make it. It just takes a vision of the view from the top, a hand to help us along, and lots of “second winds.”
[image error]I made it to the top!
Birch Mountain, Acadia National Park, Sept. 26, 2013
Thank you, Lord, for Your guiding hand that gives me balance, support, strength – and pulls me through the tough places when I don’t think I could take one more step. Amen.
Read and reflect on Psalm 121.
From God, Me & a Cup of Tea: 101 devotional readings to savor during your time with God, © 2017 Michele Huey.
May 12, 2019
Mama’s Hankie
Mama’s Hankie
I wasn’t always tattered,
I wasn’t always torn.
I didn’t always look so limp,
So tired and forlorn.
Once my threads were crisper,
My colors seemed to glow.
But I was harsh against a face
When tears would start to flow.
So I traded in my beauty
For softer threads of years,
So I could fit into your hand
And gather all your tears.
So treasure all these careworn threads,
In time they’ll fall apart.
And take with you the tenderness
And love that’s in my heart.
Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting,
but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.
– Proverbs 31:30
May 11, 2019
First Corinthians 13 for Mothers
Though I may speak the jargon of professors, doctors, and ministers, if I can’t speak so that my own children understand me, then all I do is make educated noise.
Even if I was known as a scholar or a person with mountain-moving faith, unless my children could truly say, “Mommy loves me!”, then I am nothing.
And although I save Campbell’s labels for missions, distribute food boxes to the needy, make a dish for a funeral dinner, give used clothing to the local homeless shelter; even though I carry a signed organ donor card, if I don’t lovingly look to the needs of my own children, all other good works will profit me nothing.
I need to be patient with their immature thinking, stupid mistakes, and know-it-all attitudes; and show kindness in the face of whining, arguing, and pouting. I need to love them as they are, not as I expect them to be. I cannot envy the parent whose child is a better scholar, musician, or athlete than I perceive my child to be. Yet neither should I vaunt my own child’s successes, for to do so would put the burden of proof on my child, who will strive to live up to my sometimes unrealistic expectations, and perhaps never feel good enough.
I should not be rude to my children, even in my own home, where I long to let my hair down, not snap at them when I’m feeling tired or pressured. I need to give them the same respect I give others and be considerate of their feelings, their privacy, their possessions, and even (shudder) their rooms!
I should not keep a tally of my children’s wrongs, and then triumphantly flourish it at a time when it’s convenient for me. To gently show them when and why they are wrong is more effective than harsh punishment that doesn’t fit the crime and serves only to crush their spirits. Insisting my way is the only way will stiffen their resistance, but teaching them right from wrong by example and praying for discernment may someday lead to rejoicing when my children follow the truth.
With God’s help I will never give up believing in them, knowing that He who created them has a wonderful plan for their lives and will complete what He started. Even when they respond to the pull of the world, I will rest on the promise that God’s Word never returns void. They cannot stray so far that my love and prayers cannot follow.
Genuine love outlasts parental sermons that they quickly forget. Even if I could understand insurance policies and all the legalese in which they are written, what good would it do my children if I had no love for them?
I must remember that I, too, was once a child. What wisdom and knowledge I have now were acquired with painful experience.
I must remember that God alone knows their hearts. I see only the outward appearance and assume way too much. Someday God’s plan for each of their lives will unfold like a beautiful flower, and I will understand the trials that seem so hard to get through now.
Faith, hope, and love are the foundation blocks upon which I build my relationship with my children. But the strongest, most enduring block of all is love.
MORE TEA: Read and meditate on 1 Corinthians 13.
From God, Me & a Cup of Tea for the Seasons © 2018 Michele Huey.
May 4, 2019
Support System
So encourage each other and build each other up. –1 Thessalonians 5:11 NLT
In the same way, prayer is essential in this ongoing warfare. Pray hard and long. Pray for your brothers and sisters. Keep your eyes open. Keep each other’s spirits up so that no one falls behind or drops out. –Ephesians 6:18 MSG
Wednesday morning found me plopped in my cozy chair for my quiet time. But I was too worn and weary to focus on praying or reading my devotional materials. The weekend had been busy, but a good busy. I’d spoken at a ladies luncheon Saturday, conducted the worship service at the church where I’m the lay pastor and delivered the sermon on Sunday, and officiated a funeral on Monday. I’d come home after the funeral and took a three-hour nap, which left no time for any other work.
Tuesday I did the usual “miscellaneous Monday” items on my schedule, which took up the entire day. By Wednesday I was, as my grandmother used to say, “all pooped up.”
How on earth was I going to complete four devotionals for a quarterly magazine due that day? I hadn’t a clue what to write. I’d read the assigned Scriptures and studied the commentary notes, but nothing jumped out at me.
“These are the worst Scriptures they’ve ever given me,” I complained to my husband.
I was also dealing with the post-speaking spiritual warfare I usually encounter after speaking engagements.
Add to that lower back and hip pain that had progressively gotten worse over the winter. I’d hoped the arrival of warmer, dryer weather would alleviate the constant ache, but it only worsened. It didn’t matter what I did—stretches, short walks, water aerobics, alternating sitting and standing—I was hobbling and hurting all day long. OTC pain relievers help some, but I have to watch what I take so it doesn’t interfere with my blood pressure medicine.
Growing old ain’t fun.
So there I sat with a heating pad on my back, without the slightest inkling of motivation.
But … it was Wednesday, the weekly prayer day for the Punxsutawney Christian Women’s Conference planning team, of which I’m a member. We’ve gotten close over the 10 years we’ve worked together and now support each other in prayer. Every Wednesday we email our prayer needs to each other.
So I emailed my precious sisters-in-Christ: “Sorry for bothering you so much. This is the time the adversary attacks most viciously—after speaking engagements and sermons, and I delivered three over the weekend. Too weary to fight the battle or even put on my armor.”
To which Margaret replied: “That’s okay. We will cover you with our prayers. Now just rest assured that you are loved, and the ONE who loves you never gets tired.”
Thursday morning I emailed them:
“Your prayers made all the difference yesterday. In the morning I was weary and worn, wondering how I would meet my deadline. I wanted to stay plopped in my cozy chair all day. I had no idea what I was going write on the assigned Scriptures. I faced the day drained mentally, physically, and emotionally.
“This morning I re-read what I emailed you. ‘Was that only yesterday?’ I thought.
“Not only did I meet my deadline of four devotionals (and was amazed at how they came together!), but I took a short walk around the garden after lunch and made a pastoral visit to the hospital in the evening. Where did the energy come from? Your prayers!”
And now that I think of it, my back didn’t bother me at all Wednesday night.
Just like a bridge needs a support system for it to hold up and do what it was designed to do, so do we.
How about you? Do you have a support system?
Thank you, Lord, for those who help us over, under, around, and through each day with their faithful prayers. Amen.
Read and reflect on Ecclesiastes 4:9–12.
Harmony Grove Ladies Day Out 2019
Here are a few of the pictures from our wonderful Ladies Day Out on Saturday, April 27, 2019. For more pictures, click here.
[image error]
[image error]Pictured are, in front, from left, Darlene Shields, Huey, Myrna Orr and Wanda Chambers; and in back, from left, are Mary Lou Rolls, Wayne Orr, Donna Fisher and Ernie Fisher.
[image error]
Here’s the article published May 4, 2019 in the Indiana Gazette, written by Michelle Raymond:
Ladies Day Out event held
The sixth annual Ladies Day Out, hosted by the Harmony Grove Lutheran Church Women Growing in Faith Ladies Ministry, was held April 27 at the Keystone Sportsmen’s Club in Creekside.
Gazette religion columnist Michele Huey was the guest speaker, with the topic “God’s Recipe Box” and theme verse, “He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion” (Philippians 1:6).
There were 126 women who attended from all over the area. Huey’s speech consisted of two parts: “God’s Recipe for YOU,” which addressed the uniqueness of each one of us and that we are still recipes in making (Philippians 1:6), and “God’s Recipe for Peace — All Stressed Up,” which discussed the fact that the stress of life affects us all, but God has given us a way to deal with it (Philippians 4:6-7).
Huey, who has been the speaker for all six luncheons, introduced the speech with talking about the recipe books she has and why each has a special meaning for her. She also will be the speaker for next year’s event, scheduled for Saturday, April 25.
April 27, 2019
Lessons from the Sea Turtle
[image error]
Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God. –Psalm 42:5 (NIV)
When my husband and I visited the Coastal Discovery Museum on Hilton Head Island, I became fascinated with sea turtles.
I learned that Mama Sea Turtle lays her eggs—as many as 120 at a time—in a nest she digs on a sandy beach, far enough away from the shoreline that the tides won’t reach it, yet close enough for the baby turtles to make their way to their ocean home once they’ve hatched and climbed out of the nest.
Sixty days after they’re laid, the eggs hatch, and the hatchlings make their way to the shoreline. Thirty to 35 years later, females will return to the beaches where they hatched to lay their own eggs.
The baby turtles’ lives are fraught with danger—mostly from predators on land and in the sea—but the period they are most vulnerable is when they make their trek from the nest to the shoreline.
Once they’ve hatched, the little turtles head for the brightest horizon. Hence during hatching season the lights on beachfront buildings are turned off and residents close their window blinds at night so the hatchlings don’t head for the wrong light.
Not only are they exposed to predators on their dash to the sea, but also they’re in danger of dehydration from the sun. Many don’t make it.
Yet helping them get from nest to surf is not in the best interest of the turtles. Although it’s a time fraught with danger, it’s necessary for the young turtles to make the trek themselves.
The crawl to the ocean allows them to wake up—remember they are only hours old. Alertness, mobility, and strength increase as they move.
The trek is also an important part of a complicated process whereby their surroundings are imprinted on the brains of the baby turtles, so the females will return to the very beaches where they hatched to lay their own eggs.
I liken the hatchlings’ crawl to the ocean to the times in our lives when we, too, have to muddle through. Let’s take a lesson from the sea turtle.
First, head for the right light. Many false lights clamor for our attention, but only one Light is the right one that will lead us to our eternal home. “I am the light of the world,” Jesus said. “Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life” (John 8:12).
Second, know the trek is necessary. The trial will make you stronger. It will refine you: “For you, O God, have tested us; you refined us like silver” (Psalm 66:10). It will develop perseverance and maturity: “The testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything” (James 1:3–4).
Also, trials purify your faith: “These (trials) have come so that your faith—of even greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may be proved genuine” (1 Peter 1:7).
And finally, the trials impress upon us that our lives are not random wanderings. We were made in God’s image (Genesis 1:26–27)—thus we bear His imprint. “He has set eternity in the hearts of men” (Ecclesiastes 3:11). After our sojourning, which will include many times of trial, we’ll find our way to home—and our Creator—again.
Thank you, Jesus, for being the Light that guides me through the muddling times and to home. Amen.
Read and reflect on Psalm 42.
From God, Me & a Cup of Tea: 101 devotional readings to savor during your time with God © 2017 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.
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