​asking his mom what that “big black thing is racing across the ground”. It took her a minute, but she finally figured out what he was asking. The shadow of the plane was off to our right, and as we drew closer and closer to the ground, it grew larger and larger by the second, coming closer to us.  When the plane's wheels touched the runway, the shadow was no longer visible, as it had become one with the plane.

For someone who doesn’t credit herself with a lot of deep thinking, I had quite a philosophical discussion going on in my head.  Was God the plane, or was God the shadow?  Was God the constant, and I was the one always racing to keep up and discover the path that He has for me, striving to be right where He designed me to be? Or was God the shadow constantly running after me, no matter how many times I went off the path that He would have chosen for me? 

Regardless of which scenario I chose, I ultimately realized that when the two pieces come together, there is a sense of peace. And harmony, for a musical thinker like myself :-)  It’s a good feeling to enjoy where you are, the people you are with, and the environment that surrounds you. It took our small group a few meetings to adjust to one another and find our rhythm, but now it’s like walking into a group of old friends and picking up right where we left off.  Invaluable in good times, as well as those times when you need a friend. Or maybe seven friends. 

I have the opportunity to socialize with many people at church.  I think I’m supposed to be working, but there’s never a shortage of laughter in the arenas I get to be a part of, and even though it’s just once a week, we bring a lot to the lives of each other.  The wisdom that comes from the back row of the choir, whether you request it or not, is truly inspiring. And the banter back and forth in the handbell room is nothing short of a hoot.  The wide age range in both places makes it even better.  I see all of my groupies talking to each other, hanging out by the coffee, responding to my weekly emails, and making plans to do a variety of activities. This is what a church family is supposed to look like.  

HOWEVER … all of that to say this.  I receive a lot of comments from people who don’t attend events because they don’t feel like they fit in or don’t know anyone. Taking the first step is always awkward. I preach this to my 10 and 11-year-olds at school daily. People need people.  Old or young. The number of people I’ve met in church by turning around in my pew and telling them they need to join the choir is pretty impressive. Steve never knows what to do with me, but it always turns out well, LOL!  And a lot of them do choose to sit behind us again. Even if it’s just a simple “Good Morning! Are you going to go grab a doughnut?” Don’t hesitate to say the words.  It could be the difference between someone walking out the side door and talking to no one, or someone making connections in the coffee line and joining the choir.

Happily connected to you!

In His Name, Renee

times, I was beaten down and exhausted, and let things slide and fall off my “to-do list.” Caregivers know this cycle and often feel defeated and guilty. I tried and often failed to give myself grace that matched the grace given to me by my own family. It is ok not to do things perfectly amidst the thousand-decision days that feel like life and death, but it took me until sometime last year to understand that—even a little bit.

What kept me going and (mostly) buoyant? I am not sure of all the ingredients of this, but my practice of gratitude was one of the main ones. I still start each day this way. I am grateful for the profound love that I had from Jerry and my mom, Terry. I am grateful that I have friends who care and check in on me. I am grateful for the help of the doctors and nurses, and orderlies during the many hospital visits. I am grateful for hospice care. I am grateful for my beautiful church family who hugged us all up and loved us all the time. I am grateful for the immensity of a God who holds my hands and my heart throughout the difficult days. I am grateful for the abundance in my life. I am grateful for the new love that has come my way. 

It has been a time for me to hibernate and process grief, but I hope I will soon be able to move forward and be a source of help and empathy for those who will suffer loss. Grief is tough, but its brokenness has met its match. As Christians, we take our tattered edges and turn to care for each other. In this, there is enduring hope.

In His Name, Deborah

His attempt to get your attention and to get you to listen to something important, and to learn it deeply. I’m going through one of those times. And right now, the message is all about the gift of God’s grace. 

Grace meant little to me when I was younger. I would have described it as a word used to illustrate a general smoothness or finesse, something very controlled and efficient. Like a graceful ice skater. I had no real understanding of what it was to extend grace to another person or to experience it. I also didn’t grow up in any church, so the concept of God’s grace never really reached my ears until … well, pretty recently. I feel pretty well familiar with God’s forgiveness (and I’m endlessly grateful for it), but the gift of grace is a relatively new concept to me. And lately, I’ve felt overwhelmed by the message, even pelted by it in a comedic way, like a million snowballs suddenly hitting me from all directions. *splat* “YOU ALREADY HAVE IT, DALTON!!! *splat* ARE YOU LISTENING?!? *splat, splat* STOP *splat* WORRYING ABOUT IT *splat* AND JUST OPEN THE GIFT!!!” says God as He hurls an impossible flurry of metaphoric snowballs.


I’ll share with you a couple of the larger snowballs that have hit me lately. I’ll start with Hebrews 4:16. “Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.” 

Approaching with confidence - that’s the tough part for me. I genuinely struggle with feeling worthy of this gift. At this point, thanks to the flurry of snowballs, I understand academically that it doesn’t matter whether I feel worthy or not, or if I feel anything at all — the gift remains patiently waiting for me all the same. But to receive it confidently … that’s difficult. 

But then I recently came across a way of looking at this concept that I really liked. This analogy doesn’t emphasize the divinely desired confidence spoken of in Hebrews 4:16, but it does make it easier to relate to how God wants us to approach His gift of grace  and it was a rather timely thing to read as well. The author reflects on the way children approach trick-or-treating: 
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​That really resonated with me. It must be tough (and rather lonely) to be God with so many hesitant and needlessly self-defeating children like me who find all kinds of ways to convince ourselves that we don’t deserve to receive the candy because our costume looks bad or some other stupid reason. The Bible is pretty clear - He doesn’t care how our costumes look, He just wants to hand out a Snickers. Not sure which passage that is exactly, probably from the Book of Treats or something. But the point is that He already paid for them, He bought them specifically for us, and we need only to knock on His door and receive them. Like His Grace. 

And perhaps I was primed to hear this message from that author because of a sermon we heard at our very own church just a couple of weeks ago from our wonderful guest pastor, Howard Jones. Howard gave a poignant sermon and delivered it with precision. He said many things worth repeating (a theme he repeated, repetitively, and with good effect), but at one point, Howard hit me right in the ear with another considerable snowball by using another holiday phenomenon to illustrate the lesson that God seems to be trying to teach me right now. Howard said the following, verbatim (I know, because I transcribed this myself):
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Amen. Thanks, Howard. You’ve got quite an arm. And I think Howard would agree that it bears repeating Hebrews 4:16:

“Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.” 

In His grace,
Dalton

I love the entire psalm, where David bounces between confidence that the Lord will give him victory and shelter in the near future and fearful pleading that the Lord would actually keep him safe in the present moment. I relate to that bouncing back and forth between confidence and fear. But the conclusion seems to find a solid place to stand. Courage and trust, not in one specific victory, but in the God who brings the victory.

“I remain confident of this:”
 At the end of my swirl of thoughts and desires and fears, this is the anchor I can hold onto.

“I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.”
Notice how David does not end with, “And my enemies will fall before me and I will have victory over them.” He started there, but he concludes with, “My God is good and He is faithful”. Not in an abstract way, not in a distant ‘heavenly promise’ way. He is good here and now. He is faithful in this current life. Even if the future is uncertain, even if the present is discouraging, God’s good hand will be on my current, real, right now life.

“Wait for the Lord”
When I am waiting for something (for example, my dinner in the oven, my Amazon package, or my mom’s return call), I am not striving or rushing, but going about my business, simply keeping watch expectantly. I can’t make any miraculous changes in my circumstances. But I can expect that the Lord is already moving. I can watch for His goodness.

“Be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.”
You know that when the Bible says something twice, it’s important. This time, David drew it out with more description, which feels like he’s taken my hand and said, “Look at my eyes, did you hear what I just said?” 
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Be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord. (I’ve repeated it three times, so you know I think it’s important!)

In His Name,
Naomi:)