Christian Author and Speaker
I wrote the following article two years ago, feeling weighted down by a grandson’s ongoing health problems. I’m still shouldering that weight – and yet another – the illness of my son. Sometimes the weight of both is so burdensome, I feel I can’t breathe – I can’t sleep. It’s heavy. But let’s read on . . .
It’s one thing. Or another. You know. For you, it’s a certain situation – a health issue, a break in a relationship – whatever.
I’m always fascinated – and thankful. Women marched – and marched – and marched! Then 100 years ago, women gained the right to vote. And because of them, we women today have not only the right to vote but equal rights overall. Those marching women changed history for all women in our country, positively affecting women in other countries, as well. It was the huge step for women. They stood together with very few men supporting them. They were our early defenders.
As significant as those women were, no one in history has done more for women than Jesus Christ. No one.
He healed them. He healed their loved ones. He listened. He met their needs. And related to my beginning statements about women’s rights, He defended them. He stood for them when no one else did. The greatest barrister ever.
They composed a large segment of His followers. Although they most likely did not yet recognize the fullness of His Deity, they undoubtedly sensed it, as evidenced in the manner they served Him and sat at His feet in worship. They followed the Savior.
One woman, in particular, had been married five times and lived with at least one other man, as well. Not one of those men had yet her needs. She was spiritually thirsty.
Some women grow up recognizing that no man will ever meet her needs, nor does she care. Others, as they mature, sometimes early – sometimes later, come to this realization, grasping the understanding and moving on. We don’t need a man to be happy. We are strong. I am woman. Hear me roar. Yet for others, it’s a difficult, disappointing discovery, especially for those of us who were expecting it, who were enthralled but misled by fairy tales and Hallmark movies, duped by countless social media posts revealing unending smiles and accounts of unlimited ventures of happiness. Reality hits. We most often move forward. In any of these instances, outwardly, our bodies may reveal no signs of dehydration. Yet inwardly, we all are thirsting – not for a man but with a spiritual thirst, unquenched by anything or anyone in this world.
It seems we are born with a thirst for a true relationship, one of unconditional love and acceptance. A true commitment. And why wouldn’t we be? Just as we were separated from our mother’s body when we were born, the world has separated us from our true Father – our Maker – the one who knew us in our mother’s womb and who has loved us since.
My thirst is for Him – the Living Water.
I am that woman at the well to whom Jesus purposely met.
I am that woman He loves unconditionally – no matter my past.
I am that woman who says, “Please, sir, give me some of that water.”
I am that woman who drops my empty bucket and says, “Jesus, I thirst – Quench me. You’re all I need.”
Further Reading: John 4:16-26; 7:37; 8:1-11
On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together, with the doors locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!” John 20:19
“. . . the doors locked for fear . . .”
Are you “locked in your room” so to speak “for fear of” talking to others? Fear of letting them know that you are a believer – a follower of Jesus?
What will they say? Will they laugh? Tease? Make fun of you?
How long have you hidden from others? How many times have you locked yourself in, hiding your Bible, your faith, your Jesus?
“Jesus . . . among them . . .”
He is there in that locked room with you, offering you peace.
He suffered for you.
Died for you.
Resurrected for you.
You’ve seen His hands and His side. Isn’t it time you open the locked door, go out, and show Jesus to others?
He’s sending you. And He’ll give you the peace to go. Unlock the door.
Further reading: John 20:19-28
The New Normal
I don’t like it. And from what I gather, I’m not alone.
I’ve been thinking about it. Someday I’ll go back to the grocery store – without a mask. I’ll get my hair cut and colored. I’ll hug a friend, a neighbor. Or will I? Will it ever be the same? Experts tell us it won’t. It’ll be a new normal.
I haven’t liked the new normals of the past. The empty nest when the kids left home. Life without Mama after she passed. Life without Daddy. I really don’t want a new normal.
Spring was an especially difficult time here in Michigan to isolate. While I waited, I walked around my house. I cooked. I baked. I order groceries. I sent out sympathy cards. I prayed. Oh God. Give me wisdom. I can’t seem to focus without your direction.
I had plenty to do. Spring cleaning. A lifetime of photos to sort – to scan – to organize. A devotional book to write. A Bible Study to promote. But no motivation. It rained. It hailed. Finally the sun shone! I stepped outside. I walked. Worked in the garden. Planted. Breathed in the fresh air. Soaked up the sunshine. I prayed. Oh God. Give me wisdom.
The wisdom is found in the Word. He is the wisdom. I listened. He spoke. I heard “Jesus whispers!”
“Kathi, you are coming to a crossroad. This is where the paths meet. This is where wisdom takes her stand. This is where you take your stand. Wisdom is crying out to you. Stand at these crossroads and look at your past. Ask for the ancient paths, the paths where you have found wisdom before. Ask for the good way. Find it. Walk in that way. It’s where you’ll find rest for your soul.”
Now it’s late summer. Strict isolation has ended yet we are constantly aware of “the virus.” It’s an enemy. It haunts. It taunts. We still don’t know what the future holds.
We are at a crossroad. I have a choice. I determine my new normal. I want to be wise in choosing the path I take out of this time of isolation, social distancing, mask wearing. Of lockdown. Of stay-at-home.
Wisdom is crying out to me. Am I listening? Am I heeding the message?
I look at the past as the Word says. Good decisions. Bad decisions. I’ll be wise to learn from both.
I consider the ancient paths. Hebrews, chapter 11, begins by telling us that the “ancients” were commended for their faith. Then it gives example after example of those who exhibited tremendous faith. This is where I start – in the Word. A bit further, in chapter 13, I read to remember those who spoke the word of God to me – to imitate their faith. So as I consider the past, I ask, Where have I seen wisdom in action? Who displayed wisdom? Who modeled it? I think of those strongholds of the faith – Corrie tenBoom, who hid Jews in her home during the Holocaust and was herself punished in a concentration camp. She walked in “the good way.” I think of missionaries through the centuries. I think of Reverend Lindner, who led me to Christ – who faithfully taught children about Jesus. As I look at the “ancient paths,” I think of countless, wise models of wisdom. Those who have taken the “good way” God tells me to take – as I choose the path at this “crossroad” in my life.
What have I learned during these unprecedented, unwanted months? I’ve been comfortable, but I’ve observed others who are not. I’ve known people with COVID19 who have recovered; and I’ve know some who’ve suffered unbearably from it. I’ve spent days filled with anxiety; I’ve spent days filled with contentment. But most of those days are filled with a sense of uneasiness. None have been “normal.” Families are struggling. Friends have lost their loved ones and cannot have a funeral. Drive-through funeral visitations have become a norm in my community. I remember the days of sitting at a social distance with my own flesh and blood in order to speak for a few minutes. I FaceTimed or Zoomed with my family that live away. I’ve learned that although the expression, “we’re all in this together” is tossed around with the purpose of bringing hope and encouragement, hate is nonetheless sown, as well, and it germinates and produces an ugly poisonous plant. Politics always seem to have the trump card in every discussion, and the rules change as the game progresses. I’m truly not fond of facing a “new normal.”
This time will end. I’m at a crossroad. And you are too. We face a “new normal.” I don’t want to choose the comfortable path that I used to think was the most important thing in this world. I want to have learned from what we’ve been through. I want to reach out – physically and in spirit – to those who are struggling. I want to play by God’s rules. I want the seed I sow to produce a beautiful plant – one that glorifies God. I want to choose the “good way” and walk in it. And as I hear “Jesus whispers,” (the Word of God) I’ll find rest for my soul in that “way.” Rest is what it’s all about. Not the rest I get at night when I sleep. Or the rest I encounter when I sit around the house these days, lacking energy or purpose. But the rest I read about in the Word. The rest He promises. The rest I desire. The rest of my spirit. The rest that brings me peace, knowing everything is well, knowing my future is secure. (I wrote a bit about rest in another recent post in this series: https://kathiwaligora.com/shelter-in-place/)
Your future is before you. Let’s not be overly concerned about finding the “new normal,” but be more concerned about choosing the right path at this crossroad; the “way” – the “good way” – and walking in it.
Further Reading: Proverbs 8:2; Jeremiah 6:16; Hebrews 11; Hebrews 13:7
I have been fearful during some of these days of the COVID19 pandemic and isolation. But today I am not frightened.
I have had a significant amount of anxiety during this COVID19 pandemic. But today, I am not anxious.
Today, I am angry.
I am angry with the thief who is killing and stealing and destroying. I am angry with the demons who serve him and do his dirty work.
And today, I am sad.
None of these things can happen because of the thief. So today I am angry, and today, I am sad.
But like any other day – those of fearfulness, anxiety, anger, happiness, or – like today – sadness, I look to Jesus. And I listen.
He whispers,
“Kathi, don’t let your heart be saddened. Don’t be troubled. I’m preparing everything. I hear you, and I will deliver you all. Now is your time to comfort from afar. I am close to your friends and family in their suffering and loss. I am their comfort. “
So I trust Him: The God of Comfort.
(From Psalm 34, John 14, 2 Corinthians 1)
This newest giveaway is worth $700,000. It’s a beautiful home – Urban Oasis 2019 – and it could be mine! I love everything about it! If only I could win the Sweepstakes! I receive the email reminders. “Don’t miss today’s chance!” it states. “There’s only a few days left.”
I dream. Just as I have every year.
I envision my entire family (20 of us) driving or flying to Minneapolis (or to Whitefish, Montana or to Raleigh, North Carolina) – spending a few weeks of utter bliss vacation. I’m realistic enough to know that we can’t afford to keep the home. We’ll sell it shortly. Meanwhile, the cash award included will pay the taxes; we’ll drive the Mercedes, and enjoy a lavish vacation.
The Dream Homes, Smart Homes, Urban Oasis Homes, Green Homes – I’ve dreamed about them all! Each is striking. Will I want to take a few pieces of furniture or decor before I list the home for sale? Take it back to my Michigan home or my little Florida cottage? To replace an older piece? To remind me of my short-lived extravagance?
Those of you who know me know that I love decorating. I look at the photos, take the “virtual tour” of each home, visualizing my family in each. It’s fun – sort of like reading a book. I’m traveling to South Carolina, Arizona, Florida, and Colorado. I’m imagining a place and a time of rest, of no troubles – no problems, of my family close to my side – all safe and healthy and happy.
And for a time, I have no cares or worries, no concerns about our upside-down nation, no thoughts of my unanswered prayers or of unborn babies dying or of children suffering.
Then I discover that the present sweepstakes has ended. I have not won. So I hope for the future. I look toward the next sweepstakes.
It’s all a bit like life in general. Hopes and dreams. Wanting to live in an unbroken world where all children laugh and play, where all people cherish life, honor each other, and honor God.
But I don’t really have to wait for the next sweepstakes. I only need to wait for Jesus. He will gather me, as He promised. The Bible tells me He has it all planned. Above my greatest dreams. It’s a little bit as though Joanna Gaines has decorated the house – I know I can trust her. I know I will love whatever she designs. God has that and so much more planned for me. I can trust Him. It’s above and beyond winning the sweepstakes or hiring Joanna Gaines.
So I can rest. And I can dream. And I can trust. And I can imagine the unbroken world He promises in His Word. I can visualize my children – all children – laughing and playing. My family close around me. Not a care of a problem or even a bit of anxiety within me. I’m sitting and relaxing. My heart is full, and I’m resting in His promise . . . There’s “only a few days left.”
You don’t allow your child to spend the night at that home. You’re a bit hesitant for several reasons. Your daughter – or son – is upset, angry.
I couldn’t understand why my mother was so strict about certain things. I was the “only” girl who couldn’t go. “Everyone else” was going. It wasn’t until years later I heard about the older sister’s boyfriend sneaking in and out of the back door – about the father’s heavy drinking problem, one which caused a fatal accident.
Trust your instincts, Mom. Trust your common sense. God gave it to you. It really doesn’t matter what others think. At least she’ll be safe.
He’s so sick – the doctor said he’ll be better tomorrow. Others call you a “helicopter parent” or insinuate you worry too much. Childhood illnesses build up immunities, they say.
My brother was sick with symptoms unlike typical childhood illnesses. It was “after hours.” Mom called the doctor, an excellent pediatrician, top in his field.
It doesn’t sound like anything serious,he said. Wait it out.
Hours went by. Mom tried to get her mind off it. She tried to occupy herself with other things – housework, mending. Called the doctor again.
Bring him in first thing in the morning, he said.
Mom couldn’t sleep. She cried with worry. Her mind went places she didn’t want it to go. She called the doctor the third time. Bring him in now. Meet you in ER.
It’s Bright’s Disease, he said. If you hadn’t brought him in, I don’t think he would have made it through the night.
Trust your instincts, Mom. Trust your common sense. God gave it to you. It really doesn’t matter what others think. At least he’ll be safe.
Our eyes are attentive to our screens, taking in every word, every image. Our hearts are breaking as we watch: Notre Dame Cathedral is burning.
French Catholic Newspaper, La Croix, shows the spire’s collapse on its front page, with the headline: La Coeur en cendres (The Heart in Ashes):
And those words, probably inferring the heart of the church, nonetheless describe our feelings: our hearts are in ashes. We are a suffering people, anyway, our hearts shattered by evil in the world: deliberate killings, deliberate abortions, deliberate hate. Cancer, suffering, disease. We wonder how much more our already-broken hearts can take.
But we keep watching the reports of the fire; we keep listening; we keep hoping.
And we find it. Hope in the final photos – the photos taken after the fire is out – the photos showing what remains. The altar remains, and . . .
. . .the cross still stands! Not only does it stand, but it shines. It radiates. It glows. It reminds us that in this world filled with evil, we have hope – the confident expectation of God’s promises.
Let the cross bring you hope today. Hope in the very purpose of this Holy Week. Hope in Jesus Christ alone, the Savior of the World.
When your world feels fallen, hopeless, remember – the Cross still stands! Jesus suffered for you and for me. The altar remains open; His arms are open, waiting for you to turn to Him.
Today is her heavenly birthday.
Happy Birthday, Mama!
When she passed years ago, just one month after Daddy, I thought I might adjust to life without them. Then I saw your Facebook posts and heard your words, spoken as you hugged me at the visitations, written on your cards of sympathy:
“It’s been ten years, and I miss her every day.”
“My dad’s been gone 18 years and I still cry.”
Suddenly I knew. The pain would never go away. It was frightening, overwhelming, to think of living with this dire grief for the rest of my life. I could not go through it alone.
“Jesus wept.” I knew He was weeping for me – with me. I not only accepted the compassion of this Savior, but I pleaded with the Father for it.
Then I started digging. Old photos. Memories. Aprons. Dishes. Walking sticks. Blankets. The sight of his binoculars caused a swelling in my throat; the smell of her Ponds Cold Cream drew flooding memories down my cheeks. How can I ever get past this?
I shared my grief with others. They understood. I was not alone.
Many had grieved. Like me. Looking at them from the outside, I hadn’t realized that their insides had once been heavy and weighted. Like mine. Would I ever appear normal on the outside again, like they did?
I did not find comfort in those common feelings of grief. But I did find comfort in knowing that I grieved much because I had loved much. I had years of memories to carry with me on the lonely, painful path ahead, the path I’m still traveling today. Are the memories worth the pain? Is the pain worth the memories?
I’ve stopped trying to figure it out. I’ve stopped trying to distinguish grief and sorrow from mourning. I’ve stopped trying to figure out what stage of grief I’m passing through. And I’ve stopped feeling guilty or shameful that I’m still grieving after all these years – that others have more reason to grieve than I.
It is what it is. A broken world full of suffering and full of grieving people. Not by God’s design but because of the sin of the first created.
It is what it is. A beautiful life, speckled with pain and grief.
But He is what He is. A beautiful Savior who weeps with us and says, “It won’t be long. I’ll gather you. Let me comfort you until then.”
Until then, Mama, ride your beautiful Buckskin mare down the lanes of the farm. And have a Happy Heavenly Birthday, Mama.
If you haven’t yet, please read my book, When Life Roars, Jesus Whispers. To order, message me through this site or on my FaceBook Writer’s page https://www.facebook.com/KathiWaligoraAuthorSpeaker/
It is finished!
“It is finished. With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.”
He “gave up his spirit.” No one took it from Him. He gave it up.
It is finished!
By the time I read those words in the book of John, Chapter 19, I’ve read of His flogging, the crown of thorns crushed on His head, the mocking of my Lord, the crushing weight of carrying His cross, the humiliating stripping of his clothes, the iron nails pounded through His hands and His feet, the vinegar given at the time of his greatest thirst. Oh how sad those words seem. My heart is breaking.
It is finished.
He gave Himself. For you. For me. He finished the work. He took your place. He took my place. The perfect Lamb of God was crucified between two sinners, sinners like you and sinners like me. So now, how I love those three words. My heart is full.
It is finished.
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