New Vision - Austin

I had everything ready for this post before the phone call. I'd even saved the draft copy on the blogsite. Vi was a special family friend. With her husband, a crusty old many with a heart of gold, she babysat our girls when they were small. More than babysat, she loved them.

Vi delighted in dancing as a younger woman. But she has walked with difficulty and pain all the years I have known her. I wonder if she's dancing now?

I cried a bit this afternoon, rather glad for a load of firewood that needed stacking -- something to occupy me while my mind savoured special memories. I hope I can share a tribute at her funeral, or better yet, have one of my daughters share a tribute.

Vi never accomplished the things our world labels as greatness. A stay-at-home wife and mother, she fostored more than 100 children. She called them her kids. They called her "Mom." It's a little word, but it speaks volumes. We came on the scene in later years, but she still had measureless love to give to young children. She never accomplised the things our world thinks are great, but is there a better investment anywhere, than in loving children? I can't measure her impact on our family, and I've met only a few of the children she fostered. But I have a hunch there is a lineup in heaven, waiting to welcome her, thanking her, celebrating a life that has earned God's applause.

Vi needed a Giant Print Bible years ago, but found the bulk and weight almost too much to handle. She delighted in pictures of our grandchildren, although we never know how much she could actually see. I wonder what she sees today?

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Yellow crocuses will be blooming any day in our flower beds, although the snow has not yet given up. Daffodils will follow them very shortly. I can turn from this computer screen and watch birds in a pair of blue-spruce that now reach 30 feet high, though I carried them home in small pots and planted them many years ago. A pair of robins nest in one of those trees most years. A soft maple spreads branches with buds just beginning to swell. Pale blue seeps through the thin cloud cover. Jet contrails often etch that sky, although none show at the moment. In the past week I have seen and hugged every one of my grandchildren, one of them still scabbed from a recent bout with chicken-pox. Vision -- eyesight -- do any of us grasp the wonder, the blessing?

Years of progressive vision loss force the imagination to try to wrestle with the possibilities of blindness -- try to prepare emotionally. But I have too much vision still to enter fully into the mind of the blind. Recent improvements have given hope. So what insights can I bring to the story of someone like Bartimeous of biblical note?

When the prospect of pending blindness has been pushed back -- not fully removed, but somehow bathed in light and coloured with hope, maybe that's a good time to wrestle with Bartimeous' story. This is a poem I've worked at off and on for years. When hope began to rise a bit stronger, I was finally able to bring something new to it.

How does someone born blind even imagine the colours of a rainbow? How many times have most of us looked, marveled a little bit, but gone on as if it was less than a true wonder?

Can you imagine a life of blindness -- interrupted by the first sight ever -- the face of Jesus? I wonder if our first glimpse of eternity will be something like that?

Bartimeous

Blindness -- they call it a curse.

But they don't hear a bird's song like I do.

They scarcely know the whisper of wind in the treetops;

the soft kiss of a summer shower.

Ah, there is much in their world that I cannot see.

Yet they, with eyes wide open rush blindly through.

Blindness -- they call it a curse.

Much I've missed. Much they take for granted.

I've never gazed on an infant's face,

never seen the veins in a fallen leaf,

the blush of a flower.

But can they plumb the depths of the smell of an orange blossom?

Can they number the nestlings from the chirps

where that sparrow nests -- just over there?

I hear the whisper of a falling leaf.

I know the footfall of each who makes this village their home.

Blindness -- they call it a curse -- God's judgment.

But is God so petty?

He gave other senses, more alive than any around me.

Were this His curse would He have so blessed in other ways?

Many the ills He's been blamed for.

Those who too often tip the bottle or roll the dice

rage at God when hunger draws cries from their little ones.

Are they, who rob the very children God has blessed them with

less cursed than me?

Blindness -- they call it a curse.

It leaves a man almost helpless in this world;

begging a crust

that these stumbling feet should find their dark pathway for one more day.

But -- there is a teacher, a wonder-worker some say.

Impossible, the things He's done.

Lepers clean? Cripples walking?

Dare I believe it so?

Even -- hard to imagine -- Nay, I will not speak it.

What kind of world to we live in, if the dead get up and walk?

What world when cripples dance and deaf men hear?

When the dumb speak?

What kind of world do we live in

when the leper is made fresh and clean as a child?

What can even a blind beggar depend on

if the graves give up their dead?

The priest who "blesses" me each morning with a kick,

reminding me of God's "righteous judgment,"

has no use for such a world.

He scorns this healer; scorns to share alms with me,

yet willingly shares his hatred.

His world I understand.

His the message of all my years.

But this healer? Who is He?

Dare I hope for His touch?

A crowd approaches.

I hear the noise, smell the dust.

And. . .

I hear the Name.

His -- Name.

From the shadows I've cried all my years,

begged a few coins while avoiding tramping feet.

But today let me come before Him.

For that I'll dare anything.

What will it mean?

What are the colours of a rainbow?

He calls?

Truly?

For me?

Knees in the dirt? For once if feels. . . right.

"Lord,

that I might receive my sight."

Copyright Brian C. Austin

Does God Love Me? - Meyer

Recently, a popular radio host (http://www.thedrewmarshallshow.ca/) challenged his audience with the questions: “Why do you believe in God?” and “Have you ever had a legitimate personal encounter with Him?”

Last time when I posted on this blog, I attempted to answer the question: “Is there a God?” http://twgauthors.blogspot.com/2010_09_01_archive.html
Now, it gets personal.

Have I had a legitimate personal encounter with God?
Yes.
Do I know, beyond a shadow of doubt, that God loves me?
Yes.
Can I prove it?
No.
And… I hesitate to try… because I open myself up to possible ridicule.
And… I desperately do want to try… on the off chance that someone who has never tasted of this sweet, precious love might be drawn a step closer to this dear wonderful friend of mine.
So here goes.

It hasn’t been one personal encounter. It has been many. Many little moments, small breathes of God’s love, that have slowly melted away the ice of doubt in my mind and in my heart.
And the best way that I can explain this love relationship with God is by comparing it to our human relationships. God himself does this in the Bible. In Galatians 4:6, we read: “Because you are sons, God sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, the Spirit who calls out, ‘Abba, Father.’”
There are also many references to us as being God’s bride. In Isaiah 62:5, it says that “…as a bridegroom rejoices over his bride, so will your God rejoice over you.”

I can’t prove to you – or even begin to explain – my husband’s love.
I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he loves me.
Why am I so convinced?
Nothing I could explain in a few minutes… or a few years.
It’s been a thousand – perhaps a million – little things that have gradually melted away any doubt in my mind and in my heart.
When my husband asked me to marry him, I was very fearful because of my parents’ bad marriage. John said to me: “I can’t prove my love to you. You’ll just have to trust me.” Years later, walking out under the stars, I heard an echo of his words in my heart, God saying, “I can’t prove my love to you, Dorene. You’ll just have to trust me.”

And by its very definition, this is a personal encounter that we are talking about. What is meaningful to me will very likely not be meaningful to you. If I were to tell you that I feel loved and special because my husband shot an elastic band at me while I was deep in thought composing this post, you’d say I was crazy!! If I told you that he bought me a dozen roses, you might feel slightly more convinced. But some would still remain skeptical.

If I told you that God showed his love to me by splashing a rainbow across the sky, you might have all sorts of protests and legitimate questions. If I told that He quietly spoke into my heart – and that I answered back! – you might wish to declare me certifiably insane. Hearing voices, no less!

But it’s the only way I can begin to give you a glimpse of why I know that God loves me. Please just remember it’s only a glimpse and it’s God speaking to me. He won’t speak to you in the same voice, the same tone and quite possibly, not even the same language. See, this is the truly marvelous and miraculous part – God, through His Holy Spirit, doesn’t have to use a telephone or an email or write our names in the sand. He can speak to us even if we are in the dark, without Internet access, or out in the middle of the bush. He knows our language, our culture and all of those one-liners and inside jokes that only special friends know. He can speak directly into the innermost part of our being in a voice that doesn’t even need words. Yes, He doesn't even need words! Sometimes, when I’m trying to relate an experience I’ve had with God, I’ve struggled to put in words the message that I’ve received from Him. Without getting too sci-fi on you, I think the best way I could describe it is more of a thought transfer. It's his spirit speaking to my spirit and sometimes words are unnecessary.

Okay, here’s my example. It’s not my biggest or “bestest” – it’s just one little example – that meant the world to me.
I was really stressed out about my family this past summer. I don’t want to go into all the details. Suffice it to say, I was worried.
I saw a rainbow.
Uh-huh. Okay. Thank you, Lord; that’s a beautiful rainbow.
I know it is a sign of God’s promise. And to me personally, it is a reminder that God has everything under control, that He loves me. I believe in the words of Romans 8:28 that “…in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”
I don’t remember the exact sequence of events but I do remember that we were traveling in different areas between provinces and in all types of weather from cloudy to clear blue skies. And it seemed, everywhere we went… oh, there’s another rainbow… oh, look, another rainbow! And not just those little half faded ones but full color bows touching down on the horizon and stretching across the whole sky.
And my response…
Okay, I get it (big sigh).
Yeah. Okay, I got it. I got it! (exasperation).
Alright already! (just a bit ticked off).
Okay, (smile). I really got it this time (let’s take a picture, kids).

Thank you, Lord. I know you love me. I know you love my kids and grandkids.
I know I can trust you.
I love you, too.

Dorene Meyer
http://www.dorenemeyer.com/

Author of The Little Ones and Jasmine
Now in book stores across Canada
Distributed by Word Alive Press http://www.wordalivepress.ca/.
Available online and as ebook on Amazon http://www.amazon.com/ (key in title of book and publisher: Word Alive Press).

Standing in a Rainbow - M. Laycock

The lake spread out before us, calm and serene under a blue sky. High banks rimmed with evergreen and poplar trees hemmed us in, with imposing mountains looming in the background. As our large houseboat puttered along we smiled at one another. What could be more relaxing than this?

Then the wind picked up. The lake became a bit disturbed. My son-in-law, Rick, put down his fishing rod and hurried to the bow to tell us a storm was coming. I looked back to see white caps rising on the water and swaths of rain pounding down on the trees on both banks behind us. Rick said something about beaching but before we could find a spot the storm was upon us. It was too late to turn into the wind, so we ran with it, my husband white-knuckling the steering wheel as he tried to keep the boat straight. Waves grew as the storm's blast increased. Water started coming up over the bow. We rode the storm for the next hour until it passed over, glad to finally find a sheltered cove in which to beach once the wind had died down.

As the men secured the tie-downs I stepped out onto the lower deck and gasped. A vibrant double rainbow arched across the sky. Then we noticed the end of the smaller bow was right there before us, on the small beach. Rick leaped over the railing and ran toward it but when he got closer he could no longer see the bright glow of colour. We directed him until he was standing in the exact spot where the rainbow ended. Thrilled with such an unusual opportunity he raised his hands and hooted as we snapped pictures.

"God's promise," someone said in a soft voice and I remembered. God has promised to keep us safe, promised to bless us and even delight us, if we will but delight in Him.

How much we would delight His heart if we would run to him as Rick ran to the end of that rainbow. He wants to shower us with His blessings. All we have to do is be there to receive them. But too often we don't take time to talk to him, don't listen for His voice, don't even read the love letter He sent us. We stand at a distance and stare when we could be right in the middle of the blessing, discovering his goodness like the treasure at the end of a rainbow.

The Psalmist David wrote - "They feast on the abundance of your house; you give them drink from your river of delights. For with you is the fountain of life; in your light we see light." (Psalm 36:8& 9).

May we all find ourselves there.