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From a Whisper to a Roar

Today I came across a short journal entry I’d written one morning years ago:

“I slept well last night, which I so needed, as my body has been fighting an illness. I thought I would feel refreshed this morning but instead, I feel discouraged and depressed. Not because of the illness, I’m sure – although one thing does add to another-  but because of a different, ongoing situation very close to me that doesn’t seem to be getting better in spite of days, weeks, and months of prayer.”

Although written quite some time ago, this could just as easily be my story – or your story – today. Especially today. Ongoing problems, seemingly yet unanswered prayers, weighted and worsened by isolation, COVID fears and lockdowns, loneliness, mandates, and divisions.

Has this happened to you? Is it happening now?

In your weakness, a voice speaks to you, saying,

“God doesn’t hear your prayers. He isn’t answering your prayers. You might as well give up.”

I’ve heard that voice – often. It brings fear – fear of the unknown, fear of the future, fear that God doesn’t care.  I’ve come to recognize that malevolent voice, knowing it is not from God because God doesn’t give me fear. His Word tells me He gives me a spirit of power and of love and of a sound mind. (2 Timothy 1:7) So,  I simply pray,

Thank you Father for the spirit of power and of love and of a sound mind.

In my weakness, however,  it may be difficult to pray. Very difficult! I sometimes forget the words of Scripture, or I’m too exhausted. It is then I simply speak to my Abba Father, pouring out my heart:

Lord, I know you love me and you love my family. We need you. 

When I speak, a single tear fills each eye.

Isaiah 43 19

Abba Father speaks to me through His Word:  “See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?” (Isaiah 43:19)

Yes, I perceive it Lord! Thank you!

Then I go to His Word to read more about the new thing He is doing. I read that He is making a way through this desert and wasteland we are in. He is providing Living water in this barren place so that we might praise Him. We do and we will continue to praise Him! He reminds me that He has chosen me, made me, formed me, and  helps me. He pours that Living Water and His Spirit out on me and on my children and grandchildren. And they will spring up! (Isaiah 43, 44)

I keep opening and reading His Word because I know that faith comes from hearing the message of Christ. And it is faith I need. (Romans 10:17) And the message adds to my continuing prayer today:

Lord, let me remember who I am, whose I am, and the territory that belongs to me. For the loss I and mine have suffered, take back that ground for us. Release the boldness of the Lion of the Tribe of Judah in my prayers – that my prayers will be fierce – that they will rise from a whisper to a roar.

And as my day progresses, my prayers become more fierce, intensifying from whispers to roars, knowing that He is making the way for me and for my loved ones through the desert and the wasteland.

Click here to arrange for me to speak to your group!

Further Reading: 

2 Timothy 1:7

Romans 10:17

Isaiah 43, 44el

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My 2020 Christmas Letter

This is not your typical “Christmas letter.” Instead, I’m opening up, which isn’t always easy for me, sharing  a composition of my thoughts late in this beautiful Christmas season of this dreadful year of 2020.

First, I must clarify – every year is “blessed” – none can truly be “dreadful,” if one is alive to tell about it. But we all know what 2020 has been, and it is not at all pleasant. So, even though as a Christian, I find blessedness in all the Lord has provided and brought us through this year, I also find dreadfulness in the year itself. Why? Because our enemy has twisted and maligned, and – well, Jesus stated it so well in John 10:10, when He told us that our enemy, the thief comes to steal, kill, and destroy. That’s just what the enemy has done this year. Every heartache, trial, illness, death, separation, loneliness, divisiveness, turmoil – all fit in the categories of at least one of those three words: steal, kill, and destroy.

Woe! And whoa! This piece of writing is becoming dreary and seemingly hopeless.

But Jesus . . .

My friend, our Jesus turns this terrible year completely around – totally inside out – from darkness into light – from death to life. It started when He was born, it continued when He saved me, and it’s happening right now. He makes all things new. He is our hope. His promises are true. He is unchanging. He is all faithful. He will never leave us or forsake us. Never. He is with us now – at the end of this dreadful 2020 – in the midst of this beautiful Christmas season.

This is our Jesus.

He came to give us life. LIFE! Not just a sense of “living” but a LIFE abundant! (Also John 10:10) Jesus refers to that life as rich and satisfying (NLT) – as full. NIV).

This is our Jesus.

So at this Christmas time, we can rejoice in singing of Jesus as Immanuel, the Prince of Peace, the Newborn King. We can rejoice in singing of the hope and peace He brings.

Recently, I saw these pictures of the Baby Jesus and as our Savior Jesus, dying for us:

He came for all. He died for all. And He rose from the grave for all. But He is not yours if He is only your Christmas Baby Jesus. He cannot be your peace and hope if you have not trusted Him as your Lord and Savior. This year – this dreadful year – may you realize the fullness of His love for you. May you realize why He truly came.

I’m sure this is a strange Christmas for many. It is different for me, too.

Ron and I were blessed to celebrate Christmas with most of our children and grandchildren in Michigan – early. They all had other plans around the actual “Christmas Day,” so my home was decorated early – and for just a short period of time. It was different. It didn’t seem like Christmas time that early, so I did not deck the house as usual.

Although the nativity was set in a prominent place, the remainder of Nana and Papa’s Michigan home didn’t change much from Thanksgiving to Christmas. Only the lighted church was set up – not the many lighted houses, the tiny ice skating pond the little ones so love, or the snow and mini fences completing the beautiful little village. No wreaths adorned my doors this year; no garlands embellished the fireplace mantles; only one tree was decorated instead of two. I’m not sure why. Was it the mindset of an altered year? Or was it because of an altered mindset?

On a Monday, nearly three weeks before Christmas Day, Ron and I “took down” Christmas and packed it away for another year. We headed south.

Once settled into our southern Florida home, we scouted the local stores in hopes of finding the perfect little Christmas tree and the most meaningful Nativity set. In hopes of establishing a new little tradition of Christmas with just the two of us. Because we must. It is different. Many of you know. More than I. You’ve been alone. Perhaps single. Perhaps divorced. Perhaps widowed. This year, isolated by the evils of a virus. It is different yet. And most often unwelcomed. You try. You bake cookies and place at another’s front door. You send cards and encourage others. You mail packages. Sometimes you cry. You often pray. You find Jesus sufficient. More so than you ever realized. You have found Christmas. 

You have probably learned what I am now discovering. The truth about Jesus. The truth of meeting him in the manger. The truth of looking ahead to His suffering and death and resurrection. The truth of peace and joy – that only He can bring. The truth of knowing why – why He came as a baby. The truth that we sometimes can only learn at the end of a dreadful year.

And it is a blessed understanding. One that needs not a lighted tree or even a beautiful Nativity. One that needs only the Word – the Carol – the Worship.

If Jesus is your Savior, as well as your Christmas baby, you understand. If you are uncertain, click here to read how to make certain – to receive Him as your Christmas gift – as your Savior.

Turn from thoughts and anxieties and pain and fear of the killing, stealing, and destroying brought by the thief – turn to the abundant, full life promised by Jesus!

Join me in the true celebration of Jesus’ birth. Together, we’ll sing,

“Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests.”

And His favor rests on us, His children,

because of our Jesus.

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Treasures from the woodshed.

Daddy and Mama bought the big yellow house when I was 13 months old. Surrounded by red barns, white board fences, chicken coops, and corn cribs, the house sat on 80 acres of fields, pastures, and woods, bordering a creek. They paid $10,000 for it. Grandpa Nutt said they’d never live to see it paid! But he was wrong.

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I’m weary.

I’m weary. You know how it is.

It’s not just one thing. It’s more than one. It’s more than two. It’s one thing upon another. Stacking. Compounding. Until that one more thing, no matter how small, seems just too much.

I’ve been aware of the stacking – the compounding – for quite some time. I’ve dealt with it in the past, and I’ll deal with it again. But for now, I’m weary. It’s like a compounding pile of rocks. Some light. Some heavy.

Today, as I write, my brother in law is in surgery, having a lung transplant. This rock is a heavy one, and it’s been on the compounding pile of rocks for a long time. Its very presence on his stack, and on my sister’s stack, causes it to accumulate in diverse sizes on my own rising pile. It makes me weary.

Facebook and Instagram photos look lovely, but we all know, there’s quite often pain behind the smiles. My family is no different.  I’ve encountered those heaping rocks many times, repeatedly, and have pushed them off, one by one, turning them over to the Lord, trusting those issues to Him. Oftentimes, when I do,  I figuratively wipe my hands and smugly say, Take that, you cursed enemy. By the power of the name of Jesus. But today, those same stones – or rocks, as they’ve become, aren’t moving as easily.  Because I’m weary. 

You understand because it happens to you too. Sometimes it’s a recurring pebble that pops up – with your spouse’s name on it. Sometimes an entire little bag of pebbles – you know, like the bag of marbles we had when we were kids.  Sometimes it’s huge – the loss of a child – or of a parent. It’s the grief that permeates and changes your life forever. It’s your child’s middle-of-the-night fever or her wicked diagnosis. It’s a learning disability or a mental illness. It’s a daughter’s addiction or a son’s waywardness. It’s the pain on your grandchild’s face and the tears in his eyes when his daddy yells and leaves the house. It’s the pain of your daughter’s singleness when she yearns for marriage. The problem burdens not just one in the family; it burdens all. You hurt not only for the burdened one but for each one who suffers – physically, mentally, emotionally. The rocks seem heavier than they once were. And they’re all stuck together. Sometimes they seem cemented. I’m weary from it. And I know you’re weary. I can see it behind your smile.

The enemy throws a lot of political rocks onto my stack, more as the last few years have progressed. My “friends” and community members have called me names – well, not me personally, but in general, along with anyone who has my political view. And I create my own stones on my stack, as well, having zero understanding of  those who view the political issues from a different perspective. It’s all so heavy. And I become weary.

This COVID thing is just  plain weighty in this pile of rocks. The COVID rocks keep appearing in various sizes and weights upon the stack:  Isolation. Sickness. Death. Fear. Hate. Divisiveness. Anger. Exhaustion. Loneliness. Separation. Anxiety. Suicide. Grief. Poverty. Judgment. Depression. This is not a bag of rocks. It’s a truck full of boulders that have become ever present month after month, enveloping our birthdays, anniversaries, celebrations, travel plans, elections, and now our holidays. We boldly and bravely  knock one COVID rock off our pile; another related rock appears. We’ve all become weary from it.

Here’s the thing: 

On the other side of my weariness is Jesus. He’s waiting just like always. He whispers,

Kathi, I will refresh your weary soul and replenish you when you are weak. I will give you pleasant sleep. My Word sustains you. Keep it fresh in your mind. Come to me. I will give you rest.

So today, in my weariness, I go to Jesus, the one who came to give me abundant life. I turn my burdens over to Him. We know He doesn’t bring any of the burdens that are making me weary. But He gladly takes them and brings the victory – some that I see today – some that is yet unseen but promised.  Either way, I have the promised rest,

What about you?  For all of these things we have Jesus. If you’re a Christ follower, go to Him. Place each burden, big or small, light or heavy, on Him. Until your weariness is gone. If you’re yet uncertain if you have Jesus, turn to Him. We needn’t remain weary!

Click here to learn more about following Christ.

Further reading:

Jeremiah 31:25, 26

Isaiah 50:4

Matthew 11:28

John 10:10

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Papa, can I lie in your bed?

He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart:

I put her to bed, as usual. Well, really, with a bit more tenderness, a bit more time–reading, laying, singing, snuggling. But she is still quite unsettled when I leave her bedside, and shortly after, I hear her behind me in the living room.

Quietly.

“Nana, can I lie in your bed?”

“Sure, honey.”

I follow her down the hall. She steps up onto the little white stepping stool and up up up on to the big, soft mattress. And then I see the tears.

“I miss my mommy.”

I wipe her tears.

I lie beside her, cherishing her soft hair rubbing my cheek, breathing in its sweet, innocent scent.

Later, after she is sound asleep, Papa carries Kaylee back to her own bed.

I awaken in the night. My heart aches. I miss her mommy too. And I know a bit of the pain my precious daughter is going through. She shared it with me months ago, shortly after the arrest. Now I know that tonight, she lies on her cot, in her cell,  cold and lonely. My throat makes a foreign noise. I try to hold back the sob, knowing that when it starts, it doesn’t stop for a long time. I pray for her in a whisper – a whisper I know my Papa hears.

Months ago, after the arrest, on the 9th day, we brought her home–from that cell, from that cot–for one night before recovery began. She wanted her own bed– her old bed. The comfort of home.

Now I want the comfort of my Papa’s bed. I want that comfort for my daughter, and for her daughter, Kaylee. I want that comfort for all of us and for all others who are hurting.

I find it. I find it in the Word that is near me!

He gently tends me like a shepherd tends his flock. He gathers me in his arms and carries me close to his heart.

I might be unsettled for awhile, but I know that as I rest in his arms, close to His heart, I’ll find that comfort.

Further Reading: Isaiah 40:11; Psalm 91:1; Matthew 11:28; Romans 10:8

As you read the above post, you might connect. Some of you have or are presently raising your grandchildren. Some of you have or have had a son or daughter incarcerated. Some of you agonize, watching your own little ones unsettled and distressed, often unable to sleep. Take a verse or two and personalize it for yourself. Speak it over and over and over .  . . His Word is powerful. And it’s near you.

If you’d like to read my story about facing our daughter’s addiction and her subsequent arrest, you can order When Life Roars, Jesus Whispers by clicking here. 

Click here to “subscribe” to my blogs while you’re on this site.

And please follow me on my Facebook Writer’s Page: 

https://www.facebook.com/KathiWaligoraAuthorSpeaker

 

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I Remember Mama

Thursday

Yesterday was a tough day.

Last night was agonizing.
I can’t imagine facing a day of my life without her . . .
or a day without sobbing.
This evening is sad – seeing her, my Mama – lifeless and still upon pink satin lining the silver box . I don’t want to see her like this.
I close my eyes and remember her in the kitchen, making her yellow rolls; I remember her tucking me into bed at night; and I remember her dancing down “Main Street” on our first trip to Disney World!
Then I open my eyes and look around the large room of this funeral home, a place I don’t want to be, facing what I don’t want to face,  where earlier, alone, I couldn’t stop crying.
Now the room has taken on a different countenance. Instead of the parlor of death, it has become a playroom, filled with my young grandchildren. Their voices, full of animation, and their healthy little bodies, full of life, make me realize that Mama lives on in me, in my children, and in my grandchildren. As I reflect upon it, I realize that life is truly amazing. My friend, Connie, told me that today. “Life is amazing,” she said, “and we are a part of it.”
And I am a part of it because of my precious Mama. And now I will pass on the tradition of baking the yellow rolls and I will tuck my little ones into bed, and I will dance down Main Street.”
Tomorrow I must say goodbye – I know it’s just her body – that her soul is in heaven and that she will receive a new, vibrant, healthy body, but it’s her old body and her touch and her voice that I will miss. It’s the smell of Ponds Cold Cream and of yellow rolls baking in her oven.
 
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Chapter Seven ~ Whispers of Promise

Heartache is hearing her sentence . . .

Heartache is seeing your beautiful daughter handcuffed and taken to jail . . .
 

Heartache is not being able to hug her . . .

Heartache is answering your grandchildren when they ask if Mom and Dad will be with them for Christmas: “No, honey.”

And Jesus Whispered ~ 
Although the mountains around you are shaken, Kathi, and the hills are broken down, my unfailing love for you will not be shaken, nor will my promise of peace be removed. I am the Lord who has compassion for you and your precious grandchildren.
 
 
 
The evening of the sentencing was especially difficult for all of us. After the children were sound asleep and I had knelt by their beds and prayed, I went back into their bedrooms, checking on them all through the night, whispering one word prayers to the Father: Bless. Comfort. Touch. Heal.  Moving about our home throughout those unsettling nights, I felt the presence of the One who never slumbers or sleeps.
 
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
(An excerpt from When Life Roars, Jesus Whispers ~ Chapter 7 ~ Whispers of Promise)
by Kathi Waligora .
 
 
 
 
 
 
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Chapter Four

Thomas Griffith wrote, “Men fit themselves for hell but it is God [who] fits men for heaven.” For many years, although a  believer, I had seen myself as more fit for hell than for heaven. I was filled with guilt and condemnation. That wrong believing began to change as The Holy Spirit worked a wonder in my broken heart. Though I could do nothing to alter my situation or that of my daughter, God enlightened the eyes of my heart . . . as I listened to his whispers.

And Jesus Whispered ~

I call you ‘mine. I call you “my loved one.” You are the object of my mercy.

I read about it: “For surely, O Lord, you bless the righteous; you surround them with your favor as with a shield.” (Psalm 5:12)

Favor. Undeserved. Unmerited. But it was mine: the Favor of the Father. . . I had spent most of my adult life in condemnation and guilt ~~ never feeling good enough for God’s grace. But now, when I needed it the most, I realized, recognized, and received His amazing grace and His unfailing love for me and for my family. It was an awesome understanding that filled my broken heart. Almighty God had given me His favor.

And Jesus Whispered~

I bless you, Kathi, because you are righteous in Christ Jesus. I have surrounded you with my favor as a shield.

 
(Excerpt from Chapter 4)
Order When Life Roars, Jesus Whispers 
by Kathi Waligora on this site:
 
 
 
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He won’t “unfriend” us!

Do you remember when you first heard of Facebook? I heard some women talking. “Are you friends with her?” they inquired of each other. At first, hearing the term friends in this manner was a foreign idea, but it soon caught on, and shortly, I discovered many new friends on Facebook: people I knew but rarely saw, family and friends with whom now I could connect more frequently, and some people I’d never even met before! I started using and enjoying Facebook – and gaining more friends!

Recently, I discovered that someone – actually, a family member whom I absolutely adore – “unfriended” me on Facebook.  

When I realized it, my feelings were hurt. (I wish I wasn’t so sensitive!) But it hurt me because Facebook was the only connection between us since we don’t live close.

Aren’t we Facebook/Social Media people ridiculously silly? We “friend” and “unfriend” people for so many reasons! I’ve seen a mother and son end their Facebook relationship over political disagreements. (I hope their personal relationship outside Facebook wasn’t affected!)

Some people use Facebook to connect with friends, some for political agenda, some to “air” their feelings – like writing in a journal. We all have our reasons and interests.

Facebook has given the word friend an entire new meaning – one we never considered prior to ten years ago. But  the word friend has been around forever and its true meaning was really established and confirmed by Jesus! 

Throughout the gospels, we find that Jesus used the word friend  in His ministry. He referred to those he taught as friend and used the word in His parables, as well.   He called His followers friend. He even called Judas, His betrayer,  a friend when Judas betrayed Him with a kiss. “Friend, do what you came for,” Jesus said. Imagine! Judas – a friend! It’s a baffling thought. But you see, although Judas didn’t receive Jesus as His Savior, Jesus had nonetheless come to save Judas, just as He came to save us all,  and each one He came to save is His friend. Amazing!

Jesus said that some referred to Him as a “friend of . . . sinners,” and this is where it gets personal. He was  the “friend of sinners,” and He is the “friend of sinners,” and that means  He wants to be a your friend and my friend! When we receive Him as Savior, that amazing, supernatural friendship never ends!

Jesus never unfriends us! Aren’t you glad?

Click here to learn how to become a forever friend of Jesus. 

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That Cute Little Yellow Cup

It was a service for eight: plates with a yellow flower, yellow cups, saucers – you know – a complete set of dishes. My mother bought them for her little kitchen in Florida, their winter home. And she used them for many years.

Ron and Me Florida 1997005
Mom’s table is set with the yellow dishes! (My Mama always wrote on the photos!)

Some years ago, their winter vacations in Florida ended, as neither Mom nor Dad could make the long trip from Michigan any longer. Aging had set in – to the point of being considered “old” or “elderly,”  terms they didn’t like any more than I did. And no one liked the changes those words brought, including the end of an era of Florida vacations and winters – days filled with fishing, relaxing, family and neighborhood dinners, collecting shells and shark’s teeth, and  watching Ole’ Joe, the five foot Blue Heron who pranced the backyard and danced across the roof.Ole Joe001 Ole Joe002 (2)

Suddenly their winters were spent in the warmth of their cozy Michigan living room instead of the sunshine of the Florida outdoors.

Mom and Dad Florida 1999008
My Daddy and Mama during their “Florida” days – before they were considered “old” or “elderly.”             (Aren’t they cute?)

Along with their aging bodies, they had brought a few things back to Michigan from their Florida house, including the yellow dishes. Some time later, when their final winters were spent in a nursing home, I placed the yellow dishes, among other things, in a large sale, saying an ultimate goodbye to those Florida winter days.

Years passed, and their Venice, Florida house came up for sale; Ron and I bought it! We drove down – from Michigan to Venice – with the sole purpose of working on the house – you know – replacing windows and flooring, painting, cleaning, and generally renovating the neglected place.

If you know us, you know that Ron and I are considered coffee “snobs.” (It came about when we opened North Woods Coffee Co. in Coldwater, Michigan.) We love good coffee and we drive miles to find it. My road atlas is marked with notes of good coffee shops along the way – from Michigan to Venice. Of course, we take our favorite coffee maker along with us on vacations! (Doesn’t everyone?)white diner mug

We also, most often, take our own coffee mugs along when we travel – our favorite being a plain white diner mug, in which we served our awesome coffee at North Woods Coffee Co. But on this trip, we were so packed in our small SUV and trailing U-Haul, we had tried to bring only what we would actually “leave” at our new winter home in Venice. We didn’t want to leave our small collection of diner mugs, saved from North Woods Coffee Co., so . . .

. . . after we spent the first night in a Venice motel (the little winter home yet not renovated), we rose early and went directly to the little home, pulled the coffeemaker our of the SUV,and proceeded to make a pot of the hot brew we so loved. I  opened the kitchen cupboard, searching through the hodgepodge of dishes , which had accumulated throughout years of rentals and the vacations of numerous strangers. Searching those neglected shelves, I discovered a vast collection of mugs, some adorned with teddy bears or Christmas greetings, others embellished with the names and logos of nearby realtors and dentists. But behind the odd assortment, my eyes fell upon a cute little abandoned yellow cup: one in which my index finger comfortably slipped through the handle, one which held just the right amount of morning coffee I like to begin with, one that was filled with IMG_2969memories of Florida breakfasts and dinners of our own vacations past, and one which had been “left” in that little Florida kitchen many years before by my Mama and Daddy.

The yellow cup will remain in the Venice house, alone, among other vintage dishes – the ones I had taken from Michigan and had planned to use. It will always be a reminder of days gone by, of sipping morning brew on the lanai or a cup of French press with afternoon dessert.  The yellow cup will often be the first one I use on warm, sunny Florida mornings because, you see, for some reason, my coffee tastes even better in that cute little yellow cup!