Little Bit's Nest - Blog

To the man in front of me on the plane...

1/30/2020

I can’t tell you how much I appreciated overhearing your conversation. I’m not often an eavesdropper, but I sensed a divine invitation to do so this time. Your boldness in sharing the gospel is inspiring. And the love of God just oozes out of you in a way that spills peace farther out that you probably know. Thank you for being obedient to God’s guidance. You, my brother, have made a difference in my life.

I don’t know if you’re from Dallas or just visiting, but we’d love to have you visit our church if you’re ever so inclined. It’s small and mostly elderly people, but they love God and love others I know they would love to meet you.

You and your story and your boldness have given me hope today and have made the Lope community feel a little more like real family. Blessings to you and yours. Be safe on your travels and keep sharing the light.

20/20

1/30/2020

Morning always brings a new perspective. The shift from darkness to light is significant every single time I watch it happen. Whether it is because I don’t like mornings and so there is always a reason I’m up to see it or whether it is because sunrise is a time when God is able to speak to me more clearly, I don’t know. But sitting up and seeing the dark, night sky change colors and then be bright has tremendous impact on my spirit.

So that’s what I did today. I watched the sun come up on a new life. I chose to get up and see the first morning of this new story that God is writing in me and around me and through me. And, just as he has many times since I’ve been here in Scottsdale, he came and sat with me.

This week has actually been the hardest one I have ever experienced. My life has not been an easy one, most who know me are aware of some pieces of that. But this week I stopped, stepped out of life, and looked at the impact that all the losses have had. I detailed and documented the traumas. I gave a voice to the deepest wounds of my soul. I sat in the pain, allowing the child, the adolescent, and the adult who experienced those things to really acknowledge how much they hurt and how they affected me. As painful as living through those experiences the first time was, doing it again all at once was much harder.

I literally did not think I would survive when it was dark outside. I ranted and raved as I worked on homework, railing against the process and refusing to believe that this much pain could ever be beneficial. These things that happened to me were mostly not anything I could have chosen not to experience. But this week I had the choice to do the work or not. I had to choose to live them again. I had to decide if the pain would cripple me or make me stronger. I had to figure out if my faith that God is working in my present was bigger than the fear that he had abandoned me in my past.

And this week, faith won. God showed up. Sometimes in the presence of people I didn’t know who responded to his thumb in their back to reach out and be his arms around me. Sometimes in the willingness of the only person I did know to listen to my anger without judgement. Sometimes God showed up in a way that I can’t describe that actually allowed me to feel as if he were sitting right beside me, really listening and hearing the anger of the little girl whose understanding of a father who would be able to do that and still love her was lost a long time ago. Instead of just being somewhere beyond the sky, God sat beside me and accepted the shouting and the crying and the darkness and bit by bit the light of Christ engulfed it all.

Today, I am me again. Or maybe I am finally me. And I don’t know exactly who that is, which is its own kind of terrifying. But, I’m also less alone than I have ever been... In many ways, 2020 feels like the start of life. And just as it probably was when my life was actually new, it’s scary but so exciting.

Floating...

2/21/2019

Today I feel a little like I’m spiraling. Have you ever felt that way? Like you’re circling the drain of life and surely you’ll get sucked down soon? That feeling usually hits me when a million little things are going wrong. This time it’s the fridge being broken, the vacuum still needing put together, the floor being sticky EV.ER.Y.WHERE, Grandma being up and down mentally, school seeming more than a little crazy, not knowing how to help my oldest with anything, not knowing how to potty train my youngest, church stuff being always not quite caught up, work stuff never being anywhere near caught up… Guys, I could go on and on. Life is just chaotic.

Can you relate? Surely it’s not just me… At least, I hope it’s not. Days like today are ones that Satan seems to know just which areas to put the pressure on to convince me that I’m not good enough to be doing what I’m doing. I’m not worth the struggle that people are going through to give me the opportunity to follow this call. I won’t ever do anything that will be good enough to make up for how bad I have been. It’s disconcerting how often he manages to step into these days, which are more frequent than ever, and beat me down with lies.

That’s right friends, they are lies. All the worthless talk, all the beatings, all the negativity that is swirling around me and inside me… It’s all from Satan, and he’s good at what he does. He’s good at drudging up the past. He’s good at making the future seem dark. He’s good at convincing me that today is as wasted as I am worthless. But he can’t do this without my consent. He’s the one who’s not that good.

Some days, though, it’s hard to keep that in the forefront of my mind. And I am reminded of how I felt as a child learning to swim. Ever since I can remember I’ve loved the water. But I know that, like most kids, the deep end seemed like a dangerous place to me. Give little me a kiddie pool, a wading pool, or the shallow end of any pool and I was good. Not the deep end, though. No way…

The deep end of life is just as scary. It’s not an easy thing to step into that much of the mess of our lives. But take it from one who can only breathe air, learning to tread water is crucial; learning to doggy paddle is helpful; figuring out you can swim is freeing; but finally grasping the fact that it’s safe to turn over and float is heavenly.

Most of us have been treading water for a long time. Some of us have learned how to doggy paddle if we have to. And I don’t know about you, but I can even swim when necessary. I’m just wondering if maybe now is when we learn the beauty of being able to float so that we can seamlessly transition from doing the work of surviving with the load we have carried forever to pausing to take a breath before diving back in.

Guys, we were made for more than just survival. We weren’t put on earth to figure out how to make sure the floor gets cleaned or the fridge gets fixed. These things are momentary troubles but for some reason we own them as indicators of how worthy we are. If my youngest isn’t potty trained in time, I’m a failure by the world’s standards, but that’s not from God. In every area of life progress is only made through swimming. I have to remember that. But I can’t dismiss the fact that even just treading water keeps me from drowning.

And learning to float is the best. Being able to just lay back and rest for a moment, putting the cares of the world behind me, below me really, is amazingly restorative. When I am able to just trust that God has got me and relax in his love, I end up in a posture that puts me completely, vulnerably turned toward him. As I drift weightlessly above the burdens of this world, I’m totally available to hear truth, even though the mess is what’s holding me up.

Wisdom.

2/16/2019

Have you ever had a time when someone you respected knocked you down a peg… or ten? Something they said struck right at the very core of an existing insecurity and made all the negative things you’ve said about yourself to yourself feel truer than they’ve ever felt.

What is it about that comment or that relationship or that particular day that makes it just sink in and settle into your soul like it belongs there and always has? What does it look like when those that you trust to give wise counsel show their own humanity and do damage instead? How do you know when to listen to them and when to recognize their hurt talking and choose to believe the Truth instead of the words they are saying?

I have a million of these kind of questions after all the time I was able to spend with a number of different types of people this past week. In the middle of a particularly heavy conversation with someone I consider a friend and mentor, it was suggested that I talk too much. Well… Not really suggested… It was stated. And it felt like a slap in the face. Not the good kind of slap that wakes you up and invigorates you, but the kind that leaves fingerprints on your cheek and causes you to question everything about yourself and the relationship you thought you had with the person doing the slapping.

I’ve been struggling with that comment and my relationship with the one who made it ever since it happened. I so badly want to put on a happy face and just be fine, but I can’t get the insecurity to clear. So I struck out this afternoon hunting for some way that I could test the words spoken to me this past week. Looking to the Bible for Truth and a way to discern how much of the comment to take to heart, if any.

Do you know how many verses there are about this kind of thing? A ton. Way more than I expected, really. Psalms and Proverbs are full of them and others are scattered throughout scripture, but where I landed with some sense of recognition of my situation was James. I’ve read James before, even studied it in depth when I was a teenager and quizzing over it. I hadn’t really recognized how much I needed chapter 3 until today.

The beginning of James 3 is automatically interesting. In the first twelve verses, James details the importance of taming the tongue. Just reading this section makes me want to cut my tongue out and actually never speak again… It’s that critical to learn to control it. In these verses the tongue is spoken of as having been set on fire by hell, being a restless evil, and being full of deadly poison. That’s a lot of power in one little body part.

I moved on to the end of chapter 3, which is where I was really challenged to figure out what Truth I should be internalizing. Wisdom has been a big word in my mind lately. I was looking back over some writing that I have done over the years and I was struck by how often I have begged and pleaded with God to give me wisdom. Yet I don’t feel like I have received any. I don’t feel wise. I rarely even feel smart when I’m engaging with the people who make up my inner circle. I have so surrounded myself with people that are way above me (in my mind) that I am constantly doubting and belittling myself. Surely they have more to offer… Surely they don’t need my input…

Matthew Henry got me thinking pretty severely when I went to his commentary on verse 17. Right off the bat he says, “True wisdom is God’s gift. It is not gained by conversing with men, nor by the knowledge of the world.” That hit hard. I place a lot of weight on things that people I trust say. For some reason I give these people power over my spirit that they have no right (and in some cases no desire) to have. Giving anyone that kind of pull over the understanding of my value is a problem. Regardless of how much I trust them, they are human Just. Like. Me.

It’s easy to think that I’m doing something good by surrounding myself with wise people, and in some ways I am. They call me to be something better than I am. They hold me accountable and ask hard questions when needed. But… They are not God, and sometimes they will let me down. So these days I’m working on running everything that goes into my brain, especially from people I trust, through James 3:17.

“The wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, impartial and sincere.” Goodness. That’s a lot of filters. And then I have to stop and wonder if I’m filtering myself appropriately. Having been begging for wisdom, and having a list of what wisdom looks like, am I doing all I can to show that wisdom even when it may not be shown to me? And isn’t that the biggest question? I’m not going to have to answer for things said or done to me, only for my choices and reactions.

So what of the relationships that can be damaged by words? What of the discomfort I’ve been dealing with because of the words of another? Haven’t I caused worse? If I’m honest? And at times haven’t I even done it intentionally? So what right do I have to hold it against someone else who likely has no clue the impact that the words have had? As one who’s been forgiven much, shouldn’t I choose to forgive freely? It’s not a hard question. And I definitely know the answer.

Waiting.

12/24/2018

“You're almost where the waiting ends
Delivering the life within
The answered prayer, Emmanuel
You're almost there
You're almost where the journey ends
Where death will die and life begins
The answered prayer, Emmanuel
You're almost there“

Tonight may not be the actual night that Mary was laboring, but as I am waiting for morning, I can’t help but think about all who are anticipating the new day with me.

Some are waiting in sorrow for tomorrow to be here so that the dark night is over and they have survived another night without a loved one who is no longer with them. Some are waiting anxiously, as excited as their children to wake and experience the excitement of Christmas again. Some are waiting ever so patiently for the obligatory time with family to be over so the abuse of another holiday can be put behind them.

This holiday, as with most, holds complicated emotions for a lot of people. I’ll admit I’m there. It’s a different kind of Christmas this year, and forging new roads isn’t something I enjoy. So, I’m thankful that there is so much beyond Christmas to focus on.

Friends, family, health, safety... The list of things that we have been blessed with could be almost endless if I sat down and really focused. Above all, I’m thankful for the reality of the gift that was offered so many years ago. This tiny baby who gave up deity and came to live with the frailties of humanity in order to offer us the hope of something beyond this life is definitely someone to celebrate, even if life doesn’t seem like it has room for stopping to worship him.

So tonight, I’m holding people in my heart, even though there are few with us this year. I’m praying peace on ones I know who are struggling, praying grace on those who are in a situation they’d rather not be in, praying protection on ones who are not in places where they feel safe. I’m remembering Mary and the God who was with her through her whole waiting period. And I’m realizing that he is still here, with me in mine.

He can be with you in yours, too, friend. Whatever you’re waiting for, all you have to do is ask. Be it good or bad, the waiting is always better with support.

I missed him.

8/9/2018

I woke this morning like many others; slowly and then all at once. 😂 It’s dark in our room, wonderfully so, and I had no idea what time it was. So I rolled over to find Sean, but he was gone. Summer finds us both sleeping in whenever possible, which has not been often this year with a toddler, and so I stretched to find my phone and see what time it was. Just after 7... And suddenly summer was over. I realized that Sean had probably gotten up to go to his day full of meetings, so I rolled over to his side and snuggled into his pillow and went back to sleep.

One of my favorite things to recognize lately is the absence of my husband. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I like it when he’s gone. But I love that there are days when I miss him being around. After spending several years just waiting for him to leave because we were feuding, it’s nice to be finding our feet again and have days when I wish he were around instead of dreading him coming home.

In reading about prayer this week, I have been mulling over several statements that are starting to sink in. The one that most struck me today, especially after my waking realization that I missed my husband was this: “For there is nothing that makes us love a person so much as praying for him or her. When you can once do this sincerely for anyone, you have fitted your soul for the performance of everything that is kind and civil toward that person. This will fill your heart with a generosity and tenderness that will give you a better and sweeter behavior than anything that is called fine breeding and good manners.” —William Law, Total Devotion to God

I definitely see this difference in me, and in our relationship. Sure the work we’ve done has been helpful, but I’m much more loving and gracious on days when I’ve taken the time to dig into God’s word and spend time praying for my husband and for our family and those we love… and those we don’t love. It changes you, prayer. It wrecks you in the best way. I notice when I haven’t stopped to do i. And I’m sure if the people around me knew the days when I hadn’t taken the time to read and pray, they would notice, too.

So… It wouldn’t be wrong to say that I am also starting to recognize the absence of my Savior. The closer I get to him, the more I miss him when we haven’t had time together. I don’t like it when life has gotten in the way of me being able to talk to him, to listen to him, to be with him. Just like I don’t like it when Sean and I don’t have time to connect. The relationships that are the most important to me take the most intentionality, and have the biggest reward for maintaining them well.

They all left.

7/19/2018

Today, I was reading in Mark about Jesus praying in Gethsemane and his subsequent arrest. It’s a story that I have read a million times; one I thought I knew well. But isn’t it just like God to show us something new when we are sincerely seeking him? As I reviewed these verses today and rolled them around in my brain, I kept coming back to verse 40. 'And again He came and found them sleeping, for their eyes were very heavy; and they did not know what to answer Him.’ This is the most relatable verse in the Bible to me right now.

I can just imagine how the disciples were feeling. It’s late. It’s dark. They’re exhausted. Following Jesus, spreading his gospel, then a good meal. They probably had full stomachs and were ready to sleep, I know that’s about what happens to me after dinner and finally getting the kids in bed. Man am I tired. My eyes are usually really heavy, and I don’t know what to say to God. I can barely keep my eyes open, let alone form coherent thoughts.

Jesus went back to pray one more time after this and when he returned they were all sleeping again. I kind of imagine that he rolls his eyes now. "Are you still sleeping and resting?” he says. “It is enough; the hour has come; behold, the Son of Man is being betrayed into the hands of sinners. Get up, let us be going; behold, the one who betrays Me is at hand!" And then Judas. Sigh. That kiss. And after the kiss, the arrest.

Then we see verse 50. Oh, verse 50. “And they all left him, and fled.” They. All. Left. Luke’s telling of this same time period recorded that Jesus commended this group for sticking with him just previous to this. And now… When they really should have stayed, when it really could have made a difference, they left. Matthew Henry’s commentary on this verse really made me think. He points out that Jesus was abused, and they could have protected him. He was accused, they could have stood as witnesses for him. Would it have changed anything? Probably not, hopefully not. But they could have tried! Henry also charges us to not think it strange if we are also so deserted. Why should we expect to be better than Christ.

I’ve been doing my best to not leave anything but the actual recording of my reflections until evening. Starting the day with reading God’s word has been awesome. And then digging deeper throughout the day definitely keeps my mind more focused on things that are pure and praiseworthy. I still find myself with terribly heavy eyes by the end of the night. Some nights it’s all I can do to get my thoughts recorded, but I am loving knowing that I’ve been dwelling on these things all day. I am doing my best to make sure that I am able to stay awake more than I fall asleep. And I am working on being more aware of times when I should be standing for Christ. How many times a day do we miss places that we should be speaking up? And then, I know I’ve touched on this before, but why wouldn’t we be deserted, too? So let me stand for Christ in a bold way, willing to walk alone when necessary to continue proclaiming the word of God until he comes back.

Restless.

7/18/2018

“Those who follow Christ become family—they share the oneness of divine love. This is the primary belonging of all God’s people. Only when we know in heart as well as mind that we are beloved children in the family of God can we look at our lives—whether we are married or single—and see our loneliness for what it truly is. Our hearts are restless and lonely until we leave behind the attempt to find satisfaction in anything other than the Source of our being made visible in Christ through the Spirit.”

Oh, how thankful I am for the family of God. In these times when not even blood is thick enough to keep a family together, I’m so thankful that there is a bond between believers that is strong enough to pull people into community. We have spent the last month traveling, visiting family of various kinds, enjoying the time we have been able to spend with everyone. But I have definitely been aware of a shift in my thinking, especially in the last few weeks. In contemplating loneliness as I go through this week, the paragraph above certainly caught my eye.

I have definitely experienced restless heart syndrome. It’s been a real struggle. I stay busy and keep pushing through it, but only since our District Assembly does it feel as though it is lightening some. I was literally shaking as I handed my District Pastor the paperwork confirming my call to ministry. I fought anxiety all weekend as I stressed about what the next week would look like and how it would be different. Everything that could be taken as an attack was. Every. Single. Thing. I think I described it best when I told my mom that I was waiting for some confirmation that the call wasn’t real, or that I shouldn’t actually be pursuing it.

Her response was classic. It completely embodied everything that I know my mom to be since forever. She basically told me that she was still waiting on her call to be rescinded, too. It’s not a life either one of us would choose. But God hasn’t released her from it, and it doesn’t seem likely that he’ll release me either. And I’m not sure that I want him to, really. The lightness that is settling deep in my soul is too glorious to want to step back from.

Am I still terrified? You better believe it. Would I still take a step back if that’s what God called me to do? Absolutely. I think the key thing for me in this is the end of that paragraph. “Our hearts are restless and lonely until we leave behind the attempt to find satisfaction in anything other than the Source of our being made visible in Christ through the Spirit.” It is so easy to get tied up in the search for satisfaction… for significance… But we aren’t to find our satisfaction in anything other than Christ.

In 2 Corinthians 12:9 it speaks to this, "And He has said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.' Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me." Nothing I do is about me. It’s about what I’m doing for the kingdom. My weakness, my ineptness, my lack of qualifications may well be the point. If I could do it, if I were good at it, what place would Christ have in it? How would it glorify him?

So, I will not boast in what I can do. I will not boast in how I am thriving or even surviving. But I will boast in the power of the cross (Galatians 6:14). I will not rely on my spiritual family, though I love them and am so thankful for them. I will lean hard on the strength of God and do everything in my power to allow him to be glorified through my weakness.

Mundanely Monumental

7/17/2018

This has been a year of monstrous change in my family’s life. Sean and I started the year by attending a marriage intensive at the Focus on the Family Retreat in Branson. I think ten years into a marriage that we didn’t take the time to necessarily start well, it was probably time to do some hard work to help the next ten years be better. It was amazing. We are better together, and better separately. God is good.

Upon returning, we promptly had to deal with real life in a variety of areas. Isn’t that always the case? Spring brought about a lot of changes in several parts of our life. We were thankful for the skills we had learned and often look back and refer back to the things that came home with us. We’re not perfect, but it’s a night and day difference from last year at this time.

We’re now just a few weeks from school starting again, because being in a teacher’s household it really ramps up about two weeks early. And it seems like this summer has flown by. We’ve spent quite a bit of time traveling and thoroughly enjoying being with friends and family. One of the big changes that has come from this summer, though, is me acknowledging and finally accepting God’s call to ministry. We are now gearing up for me to return to school full time so that I can be working toward ordination in the next few years. I don’t yet know what all it’s going to look like, but it’s amazing the relief I feel since finally beginning this process.

One of most important things that I have been trying to do as I notice each place where God has reached down and touched our story is to make sure and document it somehow. On our way home from Branson, we saw a quilt shop on the side of the road. We went in and found a quilt for our bed. It was the mark of our fresh start. Our Ebenezer. And I look back on it often and remember how faithful God was to bring us to that place and lead us through the hard stuff for our good and his glory.

I’ve always been a fan of the old hymns of the faith, and “Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing” certainly fits that category, in my opinion. Honestly, it’s one of my favorites. And the second verse plays through my mind quite frequently lately.
“Here I raise my Ebenezer
Here by Thy great help I've come
And I hope, by Thy good pleasure
Safely to arrive at home”

Ever since we left Branson at the end of our intensive, it has been on repeat in my brain. I’ve finally spent some time looking into the meaning behind it in the last week. It’s certainly an interesting history. In 1 Samuel 5, there is a story recorded about Israel and the Philistines. The Ark had been lost to the Philistines in a battle at Ebenezer. The Ark was in their possession for seven months. Seven long months after that battle. These months were filled with death and destruction. Consequences, really, for the fight they picked with the God of the universe. During this time, they tried to ship it off to other places, who promptly told them where exactly they could keep it. They were finally able to get it moved by sending it, along with a ton of guilt offerings, back out of their possession. But on the way back to Israel it got stopped, for 20 years…

All the time it was missing, Israel mourned. Besides having lost 34,000 men in the battle at Ebenezer, they also lost the Ark of God. Chapter 7 picks up in verse 3 with Samuel telling Israel what they had to do to to return to God. It was a short list, really. And Israel immediately went about doing what God commanded. While they were gathered, the Philistines heard that they were all together and decided to attack again. It seems that Israel had learned their lesson, though. They asked Samuel to continue praying for them, and they went to battle with the Philistines. God answered Samuel’s prayers and thundered with a great thunder. The Philistines were confused and Israel was able to subdue them.

And Samuel placed a stone between Mizpah and Shen and named it Ebenezer, meaning ‘stone of help’, saying, “Thus far, the Lord has helped us.” He marked the moment and they remembered the salvation that had been visited on them. Verse 13 goes on to tell us, “So the Philistines were subdued and they did not come anymore within the border of Israel. And the hand of the LORD was against the Philistines all the days of Samuel.” Their faithfulness was rewarded. Not just in that battle, but for many years. God honored their return to him, and they had a marker that they could look back on for the rest of their days.

Another country tries to attack? Look at that rock! Remember when God was with us then? He will be with us now. There’s a famine in the land? Oh! Look at that stone! God took care of us then, he’ll take care of us now. The same God who showed up for that battle is present at all the battles, and when we choose to intentionally remember not only where we have been but what we’ve been called to, I believe it makes it so much easier to keep walking. Not that it’s easy, I don’t think it will be. But easier.

Just Deserts...

7/16/2018

Loneliness is not a generally desirable state. According to Webster, lonely means affected with, characterized by, or causing a depressing feeling of being alone; lonesome. It doesn’t sound good, does it? Not like something we’d want to be, for sure.

But, why wouldn’t we be lonely? I can’t imagine a lonelier existence than Christ’s. He was removed from the place where he was worshiped and sent to a place where he was hated. He left the presence of his father to be beaten and killed. He traded the beauty of heaven for dusty roads and lonely nights. For us. All the losses he experienced were for our benefit.

And he wasn’t the only one to be lonely. There have been many to go through times of great loneliness in order for us to have the benefit of hearing the gospel. I would imagine that John the Baptist had quite a lonely existence when he was preaching in the desert. I’m sure Paul and Peter went through some pretty dark periods when they were imprisoned. Even the more recent people who we credit for the establishment of our present belief system like John Wesley had pretty lonely stretches in their lives.

It seems that loneliness in this life is a pretty standard thing to deal with, though in studying the life of John the Baptist (and as a lifelong introvert), I’m learning that it’s not always a bad thing. There seem to be different kinds of deserts, and one could make a case that it would do well for me to learn to identify which God has placed me into.

There is the “Desert of Testing,” according to Samuel Whitefield. This kind of desert is one that we would love to move through quickly, but God may have other plans for us. It is not for us to decide when we are through with this desert experience, it is only for us to discern what God is trying to teach us through it. These deserts seem hottest, and driest, and most unbearable. They are uncomfortable in many ways, and rightly so. For, generally, growth doesn’t come from comfort.

We see in Luke 4 where Jesus was in this kind of desert. He was in the wilderness for 40 days and he was hungry and the devil was tempting him. He endured the testing. He made it through to the other side and was better for it. And if the only reason he was in that desert was for me to know that I can also make it through my times of testing, thank God for his endurance. But I’m betting that there was some other stuff going on, too.

Mr. Whitefield also speaks of a “Desert of Communion.” There are several places in the Old Testament where it is recorded that God met Israel in the wilderness. In Hosea 2:14 it says, “Therefore, behold, I will allure her, will bring her into the wilderness and speak comfort to her.” God is talking about calling Israel out into the wilderness to meet him there. Why wouldn’t we want to go to this kind of desert? It may be hot, and dry, and empty, but God is there!

We are blessed to have a really nice in-ground pool in our backyard. It’s beautiful. It has a fountain that we can turn on to hear water tumbling over stone back into the pool. It’s surrounded by rose bushes that (when we’ve taken care of them) produce some amazing blooms. Our backyard is awesome. But we live in Texas. I’m not sure if you’ve ever been to Texas, but it get’s awfully hot there. There are days that are so hot that not even the pool water seems enticing.

We have two kinds of oasis in our backyard. Some days, it is wonderful. The water is cool and refreshing even in the heat of the day. We can splash and play all day and not even notice the time passing. The only way we really know how long we’ve been out there is the level of contented exhaustion we encounter when we finally head in for the night. That’s when we know we’ve really enjoyed ourselves.

There are also days when the backyard teases us. We will be inside trying to stay cool, and completely unable to do so. It’s so hot everywhere that even the air conditioning just doesn’t seem to cut it. Even though the pool beckons, if we go out to try and enjoy it, the water is hot, the sun is blinding, and it is not pleasant. We end up cranky and wishing that we hadn’t even tried to go outside.

I think it’s a matter of there being two ways to look at almost anything. I’m not an eternal optimist... far from it, actually. But I’m not terribly pessimistic, either. I try and look at life with an eternal perspective that makes even a “Desert of Testing” full of possibility. Yes, there are days when I don’t want to go outside, but I’m still thankful to have something so pretty to look at as I go about my day. And the days when I can enjoy the backyard are glorious, no matter how few and far between they are. It’s the same backyard either way.

So, if I’m in a desert time, I can bemoan the fact that I’m hot and tired and gritty from the sand, or I can look around and remember that God is there with me. I can examine the circumstances and try and figure out what I can learn from this time here. And while I’m doing that, I can enjoy the fact that, even though it may seem lonely, I have God. And how often is it just me and God? Not often enough, in my book.