Sometimes, the darkest part of the morning is just before dawn.
Getting things accomplished isn’t nearly as important as taking time for love.
True love is born of experience, not fairy dust.
The sunset was a splendid display. I wondered if it was showing off for my benefit or if it was often that spectacular. Rarely had I seen such a gorgeous scene; the riotous colors flamed out over the sky in shades that I had no words to describe. Birds sang their last songs of the day before tucking in for the night, and still the darkness hung back. Now, I thought, I understand the word “twilight.” It was created for just this time – in this land.
Yes, He could have. He could let us go through all of our life, bundlin’ us and shelterin’ us from anything and everything that would hurt us. I could do that with my petunias, Josh. I could build a box around them and keep them from the wind and the rain, the crawlers and the bees. What would happen iffen I did that, Josh?” I jest shrugged. The answer was too obvious. “They’d never bear flowers,” said Auntie Lou.
How did it all come about – this miracle of love? She didn’t know. It had come upon her unawares... softly.
How else can we become reconciled, except one individual at a time? This Jesus you seek did not come to address nations. He washed the wounds of lepers. He dined with sinners. He healed all who came to him. One person at a time.
It can make us stronger, more compassionate, more understanding – more like Jesus – if we allow it to. And the more clutter we get rid of in our life here – the more we will be able to enjoy heaven – when we get there. So, pain can have a purpose.
You simply need to trust, take each next step by faith. You will know what is right when the time comes.
I am not afraid of death, Abigail. I am afraid that I might draw back and not be bold in proclaiming the gospel.” He hesitated, then said, “And I am afraid that I might not stand firm. That under the heel of the enemy, in pain, I might deny my Lord.
God is like that, Virginia concluded. He’s always on duty. Moving from one need to another. Always there- for everyone. He’ll get us through this. He has a way.
Without that forgiveness, that peace, no heart is ever happy. There is always an inner struggle. Pain. Only when God has been invited in-to manage one’s life, to direct one’s thinking, to be in control-can one ever get away from all the conflicts inside. We have to stop struggling against His will before we can find real joy.
He did this not only for us, but for everyone who witnessed that day. And for those like you who hear of it. He did this to show that even in the darkest hour, when there is no reason to go forward, no possibility of a better tomorrow, he is there to comfort, to guide, to heal. He brings with him the gift of hope. Impossible, glorious, joyful hope.
When he looked at me, I saw my own soul. His gaze broke through all my assumptions, all my barriers. I was stripped to the very essence of my being. He saw all my lies and my failures and all my sinful ways. And yet he loved me still.
The compass needle tells the truth, Beth, even in a storm. And then one must adjust the rest of one’s circumstances in accordance – even though sometimes it feels amiss. It reminds me that the Bible is like that too. It tells us the truth, and then we must adjust our thinking, our actions, to match.
Why is this important? Because it means the division between God and man has been abolished.
Understanding comes from within, from knowing and trusting in the Lord.
The cake had been done by a lady friend of Mary’s. It was simpler than it would have been had she been given more time; but I was finding more and more beauty in simplicity.
But I refused to mope about for the evening. My little ritual with teacup, familiar chair, and a favorite Dickens story went a long way toward improving my outlook.
Don’t be fooled. Charlie remembers things exactly the way he wants to remember them. I suppose we all do... And then we spend the rest of our lives basing the way we think about our families on what we THOUGHT happened – instead of what really did.