The heavens declare the glory of God . . . (Psalm 19:1a)
You’ll see it in the skies – the sun, the stars, the clouds, deep into the huge expanse reaching far beyond our sight.
It’s there. His glory!
You’ll hear these heavenly elements speak. Day and night, they are declaring, speaking. And as they speak, they teach us, revealing knowledge, making God known to us, reviving our souls. His voice is heard and He is made known in every corner of the earth, reaching every land, every tribe, every language. No place is hidden from His voice – from His glory. Whenever and wherever you see the skies, you see God’s glory.
It’s there. His glory!
Father, I look up because I want to see your glory. Open my eyes to every aspect of your creation that I see when I look up. Open my ears to hear your glory. Let me hear your Word speaking to me. Day or night. Light or dark. I join the heavens in praising you.
“Though you walk in the midst of trouble,” God says:
My purpose will stand, and I will do all that I please. . . I summon a bird . . . or a man to fulfill my purpose. What I have said, that will I bring about. What I have planned, that will I do. It is my purpose that prevails. My word goes out and achieves the purpose for which I sent it. Though you walk in the midst of trouble, I will preserve your life; I will save you; I will fulfill my purpose for you. (Is.46)
We all have been walking in this “midst of trouble” since early Spring 2020, and probably well before.
He says He will “fulfill” his “purpose” for us. What is His purpose for me? For you? His Word has gone forth and He is speaking to us through His own creation. Are you listening? I am. And I am strengthened in faith as I contemplate.
Especially throughout the tumult of 2020, in the midst of all the pain and frustration, agony and isolation, more photos were posted on social media than ever before. Photos. Of nature. Of sunrises and sunsets, beautiful birds, spring flowers pushing up through the cold soil, budding bushes, flowering trees. Super moons. The tumultuous year changed seasons. Summer brought photos of green fields, late evening sunsets, and bountiful fruit and vegetable harvests. Autumn’s beauty yet surpassed our expectations with its changing leaves of abundant color and “Frost on the Punkin.” The beautiful Northern Lights. We entered yet another winter. It began with our own “Christmas Star,” followed by ice-covered trees, weighted with heavy wet snow.
All of nature. God’s own creation.
I enjoyed the photos on social media throughout the last year(s) and especially these last months, didn’t you? In the “midst” of divisions over political candidates and policies, wearing or not wearing masks, and taking or not taking the controversial Covid Vaccine, I, nonetheless, have sensed a unity among those of us, the people of His creation, who have discovered or recognized or cherished these elements of nature more than ever before. And that unity – the common love of nature – is brought about because of our God.
What is His purpose we read about in Isaiah 46?
This spring, I sat at my old table by the window, facing the storm-battered Maple beside our Michigan home. I looked up at its small budded leaves, which increased in both size and depth of green each day. I observed both male and female Baltimore and Orchard Orioles. Woodpeckers, Chickadees, Goldfinches, Cardinals, Blue Jays, Robins. Mourning Doves. Rose Breasted Grosbeaks. Varied species, each illustrating our varied circle of human community. Each beautiful in God’s eyes. Each placed here with purpose.
In Michigan, we delighted in the resurgence and arrival of the birds that had months ago left the cold for the warmth of the south. Now they have returned, and we are listening to their song, amazed by their color, enraptured with their beauty.
What is His purpose?
I look further, to the patio and into what we call Matt’s little woods. I have planted a few bulbs, such as the daffodils or tulips, that surround the edge of the growth of small maples, but I didn’t plant the Umbrellas and May Flowers, the Adder’s Tongues and Blood Roots, or the Cowslips that carpet the floor of the spring woods. They were planted by their creator, and they rise to Him.
What is the purpose?
I remember my walk through the woods a few days ago. Morels camouflaged amidst the dried leaves carried over from fall.
What is the purpose?
Yellow forsythia. Crab apple. Flowering bushes and towering trees that appeared dead through the long winter have budded in renaissance.
What is the purpose?
Could it be that the purpose of the great beauty of Spring, the most noticeably striking in years, one which has captured our every physical sense, is poured upon us as a reminder from our God that He has not forsaken us as we walk through the midst of trouble. He is the same yesterday, today, and forever. It is He who has created everything good. It is He who has created the beautiful nature we see and enjoy. It is He who has created the depths of the deep waters and the waves in the Great Lakes surrounding our state and in the oceans surrounding our country. No person or entity can control those bodies of water – not a scientist – not a country – not a leader or ruler.
My word goes out and achieves the purpose
for which I sent it.
~ The Lord God
I believe that He sent that Word out all those years ago, in the beginning, speaking into being these elements of nature, knowing that their display in this anomalous Spring of 2021 would bring joy to our lives – at a time we would need it most. I believe that His purpose for us is to be encouraged, to know that He is God, that He is in control, and that we can trust Him. His presence revealed in nature reassures us of His promise – that He will never forsake us.
Did He summon that bird that delights us or that budding element of nature to fulfill His purpose. I think so. Take it personal. Listen to Him speaking. Let your heart be renewed in the knowledge of His faithfulness. Yesterday, today, and forever.
My parents bought their 80-acre Butler Township Farm in 1952 from Elizabeth Ramsdell. Her husband, Ray Ramsdell had passed the year before, and Elizabeth did not want to keep up the farm herself. After selling the farm on land contract to my parents, she moved to a huge home on Washington Street with her sister, another widow or perhaps an unmarried woman. I simply remember them as “elderly” and looking back, I find they were younger than I am now!
I remember going with my mother every month to make the farm payment to Mrs. Ramsdell. The Washington Street house was a typical late 19th century, Victorian home. While Mother had tea with the ladies in the parlor, I was allowed to close the 10 foot pocket doors on two sides of the grand foyer and let my imagination run wild on each step of the massive open stairway and landings to the huge, probably unused, upstairs. Closed doorways throughout the wide hallways held stories I could only imagine, hopefully saved for another day. For about an hour a month, I visited airplanes and railroad cars, hospitals and hotels, and mansions and palaces.
I had looked at photos and articles in the brochures, pamphlets, and travel guides of the park, considering which sites Ron and I might want to see. Much to my distress, one article had a photo of a bat, which I immediately covered up by folding the corner of the paper over it.
I usually rode the school bus home, but when I needed to stay for 7th grade cheerleading practice, Mom picked me up after she got out of work at 3:30. The inside of the car was toasty from having been in the sun on the warm fall day. Mom greeted me with a hug and a smile, but she was tired from working in the shop, so we did little talking. Instead, the car became a cozy setting for reading. I pulled out Little Women and read all the way home – and continued reading after she pulled in the drive and went into the house to start supper.
I read – and I dreamed – about Jo. When Mom called me in for supper, my mind was still spinning, trying to concoct a plan for a writing area for myself – like the attic in which Jo wrote – the one on the cover of my book. During those days, I began to clear out a small loft in our “woodshed,” packed with broken fishing poles and worn window screens and coated with 60 years of grime. But cold weather soon arrived, and my plans were thwarted.
Dreams of writing and publishing were pushed to the back of my mind, and replaced with high school years and marriage and children and summer vacations and golden retrievers and music and home décor and . . . many beautiful and wonderful experiences, until one day, the laptop making it so much easier to get those ideas in print, the dream materialized. And now it’s a reality! Instead of an attic, my private writing space is a Michigan porch or a Florida Lanai. It’s a “Kathi” space instead of a “Jo” space!
So, I invite you – to read my writing – to browse my website and social media pages – to step into the shelter of my scripts and to discover commonalities between us. I invite you to purchase my published books and look for upcoming publications this year!
May God bless and speak to our hearts!
When Life Roars, Jesus Whispers
When Kathi Waligora faced the worst day of her life, she didn’t know that many more days would crash down on her in the weeks that followed. She cried out to God as her life roared; in reply, the gentle whisper of Jesus gave her peace, comfort, and hope to continue forward.
You’ll connect to Kathi within each chapter of When Life Roars Jesus Whispers, finding God’s Whispers of Truth, Grace, Faith, Mercy, Comfort, Hope, and Promise. Then you’ll apply these whispers to your own life through personal introspection at the end of each chapter.
When Life Roars, Jesus Whispers
Revised Edition
5.5″ x 8.5″ 258 pp.
Email me to inquire about quantity discounts of 10+ books: kathiwaligora@gmail.com
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$15.99 plus shipping cost $3.75
We stepped through the steel doors of the jail. I couldn’t imagine my daughter in this place . . . No façade remained of the candy-coated lives we had lived for so many years, and I doubted that any façade would ever cover us again. We, too, were a ‘rough group of broken people’ ~ just the kind of people Jesus loves . . . and through the toughest times, we discovered favor of God as if we had always fully recognized it.
(An excerpt from: When Life Roars, Jesus Whispers)
Recent Reviews:
“A powerful story that encourages our confidence in Christ when our own stories go off the rails.”
Bill Crowder, Bible Teacher and Author
“This book was hard to put down. It is a book of loss, despair, HOPE and whispers. It gave me strength. It gave me chills and even tears. In the end, it left me with HOPE.”
“I read the book in one day! When Life Roars, Jesus Whispers is a wonderfully written book filled with heart-wrenching events, heart-warming love and heart-lifting promises of hope!”
” . . . powerful, poignant . . .”
“This is an amazing book that I could not put down! Kathi, thank you for your courage and candor as you shared your heartbreak, struggles, and victory in the light of God’s Word!”
“Very touching story! I cried and I rejoiced! This is a story that can encourage and give hope!”
“I have to say that When Life Roars Jesus Whispers by Kathi Waligora is the best I have read . . . easy to read and love the devotions at the end of each chapter. Each chapter brought [me] back to the promises of God . . . very helpful , encouraging, and God centered. Thank you Kathi for opening your heart to the world and pointing us back to what matters – that Jesus understands and is with us throughout everything.”
Shh! Listen to His Whispers! is the new Bible Study that complements When Life Roars, Jesus Whispers but stands alone as an individual or group six-week study. In this Bible Study, you’ll learn how Kathi began to listen to the whispers in God’s Word, and how you can hear those whispers, as well. Learn where the storms of life come from and where you can seek shelter. In your individual study – or together with others – you’ll learn to recognize storm warnings and discover how to speak life for yourself, your friends, your families who stand in the paths of these storms.
You’ll love this sturdy, beautifully-covered book with heavy pages – perfect to write upon.
Shh! Listen to His Whispers!
8.5″ X 11″
71 pages
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Recent Reviews:
“This Bible Study enriched my life!”
~ Mary Jo
~~ ~~
“Kathi, You have an amazing gift . . . helping people to listen for God’s whispers.”
~ Evelyn
~~ ~~
“This study made me realize my hope in all circumstances.”
~ Eileen
~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~
Email me to inquire about quantity discounts of 10+ books: kathiwaligora@gmail.com
“. . . even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.”
Psalm 139: 10
Privacy – It’s a “big deal” today and it always has been in this country – America.
Give me my privacy.
I have a constitutional right to privacy.
It’s a private matter.
None of your business.
privacyisawesome.com puts it this way: “Privacy means you can be yourself. You can express ideas without fear of being discriminated against or unjustly punished. It’s your life without pausing to think who’s watching: party hard, open up to a friend, organize a revolution, hang out with whoever you want–privacy keeps you safe. It’s a core principle in any free society.”
I think we all like our privacy.
But nothing is hidden from my God. He knows it all. I read about it in Psalm 139. How He knit me in my mother’s womb–how He has searched me and knows me–how He knows when I sit and when I rise. He knows my thoughts. He even knows what I’m going to say before I say it! And I must say, I agree with the Psalmist that “Such knowledge is too wonderful me, too lofty for me to attain.” It’s difficult to understand how and why a God would care so much.
No matter where I go, He is there. Up to the heavens–down into the depths–to the far side of the sea. The darkness doesn’t hide me from Him.
Do I feel threatened? Do I feel invaded?
Not by my God.
Because in His ever presence, He does something amazing. He hems me in. He is behind me and He is before me. And while He’s ever present, He lays His hand upon me. His hand guides me and holds me. I feel so safe in His ever presence.
~ ~ Hem me in, O Lord; hold me fast. ~~
Psalm 139: 5 “You hem me in –behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me.”
I observed in awe as my mother delicately washed each tiny glass cup and placed it to dry on the clean towel beside the kitchen sink. In my little eyes, the washing of the communion glasses seemed as sacred as the partaking. I could hardly wait until I was old enough to partake – “old enough to understand,” my mother and daddy said. So in reverence, I watched the washing of the tiny glass cups and the silver servers in which they were later placed. I observed her carefully pour the grape juice into each cup, break the unsalted crackers to a smaller silver plate, and place spotless white starched linen cloths over each. It was the first Sunday of the month: Communion Sunday at our small country church.
“This do in remembrance of me” the Pastor said, quoting from the King James Version.
In my early years, I learned more about this sacrament, in which I partook, and later, I became more discerning of His body, realizing more about honoring and recognizing His body, as well as His blood.
“For whenever you eat this break and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes,” He said.
Proclaiming means “openly declaring.”
I partake not to be forgiven but to “declare” that I am forgiven!
I partake, not to be healed but to “declare” that I am healed!
There is power in declaration! I am proclaiming to the powers of darkness that the Lord’s death has shaken loose everything they are trying to put on me. Jesus died for me (the past); I am proclaiming His death (the present) “until he comes” (the future). We learn in 1 Samuel 7:9 that the burnt offering of the lamb was like a sweet aroma to God. I suspect that communion, too, is a sweet aroma to God, as we remember the burnt offering of the Lamb of God, the Lord Jesus.
My husband Ron and I often take communion at home, sometimes sitting in the midst of God’s peaceful natural creation of trees and birds and breeze on our back porch or sometimes facing the powerful surroundings of God’s creation at the beach. I select special small vintage glasses for our tiny portions of wine, and I place matza unleavened flatbread on a small plate or platter, one that is memorable or has special significance to us. The matza bread, like the crackers used in the church of my childhood, are pierced and striped as Jesus’ body was. The burn marks on the bread (or crackers) represent the full fire of God’s wrath which fell upon Jesus and are a reminder of the burnt offering – the Lamb, the Lord Jesus. Of course, the wine, which He tells us to drink in remembrance of Him, is the new covenant in His blood. This reminds us that without the shedding of blood, there is no forgiveness. Ron and I always read from Isaiah 53, from the Psalms, from Luke 22, or from 1 Corinthians 11. We praise the Father and we thank Him. We partake.
The Holy Communion (the Lord’s Supper)
is not about you or me;
it is about Jesus.
Although it is blessed to partake in Communion with the body of believers, you can partake outside the church, as well – with your spouse, with your friend, or by yourself. It is your time of remembrance – of Him.
May God bless you as you partake in Holy Communion. You don’t need to wait until Sunday!
Further Reading: 1 Cor. 11:23-29; Samuel 7:9; Isaiah 53:4-6; Hebrews 9:22
During this season of Lent, some of us are trying to get more time alone with God – or to make more time with God. As I’ve shared before, I don’t find it easy to do so. My excuse is probably a lifetime of multitasking. Reading and watching TV at the same time. Using my bluetooth to talk on the phone while doing dishes or completing household tasks. Writing while watching the children play. Always something – rather two or three somethings going on. Not sure how or why it came about – how I got this way. I observe others quietly reading for hours at time, napping on the back porch in the summertime, leisurely humming while fixing dinner. I covet that contentedness.
So today, I’ve madethe effort to be alone with my Father, to read His Word, and to listen as He speaks to me. The lesson I learned today was a bit about family love, a lot about compassion, and a reminder about the importance of occasional solitude. Here’s what His Holy Spirit taught me today:
I call him John the Baptist. I’m sure Jesus just called him John – His cousin, John. A cousin like none other, I assume, for while both babies were yet in their mother’s wombs, cousin John leaped noticeably when he heard the voice of Mary, his mother’s cousin, whom John’s mother Elizabeth referred to as “the mother of my Lord.” Mary responded to this honor by singing and glorifying the Lord God. Both baby boys heard their mothers’ voices magnifying God. Both baby boys were sent from God for specific purposes. John’s father was Zechariah. But Jesus’ father was Almighty God. A beautiful familial bond was set. The baby boys were born just months apart.
John the Baptist “prepared the way for the Lord,” baptizing people in the name of the Lord, whose “sandals I am not worthy to untie,” John said. Unlike those people John called to baptism, Jesus went to John for baptism.
Shortly after Jesus was baptized, John was imprisoned for his message. Scholars believe it was about 15 months later that John was then beheaded. When the Lord Jesus heard this news, He was undoubtedly grief-stricken: “When Jesus heard what had happened, he withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place.”
Have you ever done this? In grief or in sorrow or in exhaustion, you’ve withdrawn to a place of solitude. Jesus did. But the Bible tells us that when he had arrived at the place of solitude, he discovered that He wasn’t really alone at all. A large crowd of people had followed him, along the shore. They were desperate for Him. I understand. Do you? I’ve been desperate for Him in the past. And I am desperate for Him now, as I write. a desperation I’ve had for over five years now. I do understand. And so does Jesus. I know this because of His response to the people who interrupted His desired solitude.
The Bible tells us that when Jesus saw this large crowd, he had compassion on them and healed their sick. Then he fed them by multiplying five loaves of bread and two fish. That’s my Jesus,!. That’s your Jesus, beloved! Compassionate. Loving. Healer. Bread of Life.
After He met the needs of the people, He again sought solitude, this time succeeding. He went up on a mountainside. To pray, the Bible says.
To pray. I let those two words “sink in” to my desperate, multitasking mind today.
I don’t know how long He was alone in prayer, but I assume it was through the evening and most of the night. We read that along toward morning, He went out, on the lake, walking on the water during a storm, to meet, comfort, and teach His disciples who were in a water-drenched boat, tossing to and fro, thinking they were going to die. That’s my Jesus! That’s your Jesus. Teacher. Comforter. Savior. The Great I Am! The Son of God!
And it didn’t end. His ministry didn’t end when He was crucified. He’s still compassionate. He still comforts me. He’s still loving and healing. My teacher. My Savior. The Great I Am! The Son of God. The Bread of Life. That’s my Jesus. That’s your Jesus.
He’s the one who becomes family.
He’s the one who is compassionate.
And He’s the one who teaches me that occasionally I need to get to a place of solitude ~ to pray.
I was pleased that Kaylee was sound asleep. She had seen me cry enough this last year, each time, hugging me, “Are you missing Grandpa and Grandma Nutt?” she would ask.
“Yes, honey,” I’d answer, thankful to receive and return the hug, but forcing the smile. Her tenderness brought me back. Her smile always gave me focus. And strength.
But now, as I left her sleeping, I could feel the tears welling up. These tears – tears from missing someone so desperately, knowing you’ll never see her again in your life time – don’t well up in the eyes. They build in a pressure beginning at both sides of the top of your neck, spreading behind your ears, instantly to the sides of the bridge of your nose, then flooding your eyes and overflowing down your face.
“Nana, will you sing to me?” Kaylee had asked, just a few minutes earlier.
It had become our nightly ritual. Kneeling beside her bed, rubbing her back or stroking her cheek, singing her to sleep. My repertoire usually consisted of “Go Tell Aunt Tabby,” “Bye-Baby Bunting,” and my made up song for Kaylee:
Sweet dreams, my Kaylee Joy;
Sweet dreams to you.
Dream about butterflies,
Dream about baby dolls,
Dream about teddy bears too.
And each night, after several made up verses, my soft singing turned to quiet humming; and eventually diminished, as I left the room and walked down the hall. She was contented and asleep.
But this night, as I knelt by her bed and had sung several verses of Kaylee’s made up song, I quietly hummed two notes – the fifth and the third notes of a chord – and those two tones immediately took me back in time. . .
. . . to my mother’s arms.
She was holding me. I felt the warmth of her arms. I looked into her face. I could see my chubby little arm reaching up to her soft cheek. She was humming the song to me – the same two tones. I was tiny – perhaps a few months – perhaps a year. In all my memories, I’ve never felt so small. I remembered being a baby! It was so peaceful but oh so brief! Nearly as soon as the memory had come, it was gone! I was back in the present! Back in reality!
As I left Kaylee’s room that night, the other tones, the melody of the song, came to mind, and the words came a bit later. This time, I wasn’t taken back in time but I sat in the dimly lit living room, closed my eyes, and allowed myself to picture and hear my mother singing – the little chorus I hadn’t heard in years:
When you pray, will you pray for me For I need His love and His care When you pray, will you pray for me Will you whisper my name in your prayer.
At the close of the day, when I kneel to pray I will remember you You need help every day, this is why I pray And I will remember you.
When I pray, I will pray for you For you need His love and His care When I pray, I will pray for you I will whisper your name in my prayer.
Tonight, Mama, when I pray, I will whisper your name in my prayer:
Thank you, Jesus, for my Mama, who held me and sang to me and prayed for me. And thank you, Jesus, for the wonderful memory .
Sometimes you just can’t do anything other than to pray and wait.
Things just haven’t felt right. Praying doesn’t come as easy. Peace isn’t immediate, especially in the dark of night.
It may be due to isolation. To deaths – more than usual – of friends and acquaintances. To serious illness of close ones. It’s always concern for my Luke. It may be hearing, “I miss you, Nana,” from a thousand miles away.
Whatever the reason, things just haven’t felt right.
But God . . .
One author writes that to understand those two words is to understand the gospel. “But God” appears hundreds of times in the Bible. The phrase always represents God’s intervention, His salvation, His mercy, His grace.
But God . . .
My relationship with Him does not depend upon how I feel, how many prayers I say or how often. I needn’t carry guilt when “things just don’t seem right.” What matters to my Father is where I dwell. With Him. In His shelter – His secret place. It matters that I lean in to Him, in His shadow. That I praise in prayer and that I listen.
And sometimes, like today, the peace comes, the words come, the comfort is given, in the quiet breeze of His secret place.
Further reading: Psalm 91:1,2; 1 Corinthians 2: 9-11
T
