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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.

  • I am sad that we can’t meet with our church family and celebrate the life of our friend who has passed – to hug his family and tell them how we loved him – to sing “The Days of Elijah” while we dance the aisles, as he did – to feel the tears drop down my cheeks as we all sing one final “I’ll Fly Away.”
  • I am sad that my cousins cannot sit with their dying mother at her hospital bed – sad that she cannot feel the comfort only those children can bring – feel the warmth of their cheeks on hers, their wet lashes returning the comfort hers once gave.
  • I am sad that I cannot gather with my extended family at the graveside – to honor and say farewell to a blessed cousin – to hear sweet stories about her – to tell her children and grandchildren how much she meant to me.
  • I am sad that our friends cannot comfort their dying father in the nursing home – cannot wrap his hands in theirs and pray him to glory.

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)

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Only a few days left . . .


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.”

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Mom, It Really Doesn’t Matter

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.

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The Cross Still Stands

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.

Click here to hear the beautiful reminder of what the cross stands for. “It stands to heal and to restore and to comfort those who mourn. . . it stands for hope; it stands for peace; it stands to set the captives free; it’s where the only Son of God reveals love for you and me; It stands to heal and to restore and to comfort those who mourn. . . “

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.

Click here to learn how to become a believer.

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Today I Celebrate Her Birthday.

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.

Mom on Gypsy, her Buckskin

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/

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It is finished.

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.

Click here if you would like to learn how to become a believer.

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So I’m Speaking “Trust” and I’m Praying “Trust”

Trust.

I’m writing this because I need to trust. It’s not easy for me. I want the joy and peace. I want the overflowing hope. It’s just so hard to trust. Some times more than other times.

So I’m speaking Romans 15:13.

I’m praying it for you.

I’m praying it for myself:

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”

May God bless us as we trust.

Contact me through this site or on Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/KathiWaligoraAuthorSpeaker/

 

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Dig Deep!

“Summon your power, O God; show us your strength,
O God, as you have done before. . . Rebuke the beast . . .” (Psalm 68: 28, 30)
Bad news is frightening. The enemy makes me forget the Lord’s faithfulness; the bad news pierces like a knife into my stomach. I’m suddenly nauseous. Discouraged. The outlook is not good. It’s negative. Depressing.
I dig deep into my heart. Dig deep to remember my heritage–to remember the heritage of my family–the heritage that belongs to my children. I dig deep and I find the Word – the Word, which is near me. It is in my heart. It was placed there when the righteousness came by faith.
And once again, I know the strength He gives–the strength not to fear. I remember the strength He has given me before, I remember His faithfulness, and I remember His promise:
 “All your sons will be taught by the Lord . . . great will be your children’s peace. In righteousness you will be established. Tyranny will be far from you; you will have nothing to fear. Terror will be far removed; it will not come near you. If anyone does attack you, it will not be my doing; whoever attacks you will surrender to you. See it is I who created the blacksmith . . . who . . . forges a weapon. . . I have created the destroyer to work havoc; no weapon forged against you will prevail, and you will refute every tongue that accuses you. This is the heritage of the servants of the LORD.” (Isaiah 54: 13-17)
The Word reminds me that because my children have been established in righteousness, they will not experience tyranny and terror, nor will I. The attack is not from God; in fact, any who attacks will have to surrender to us. God created the one who forges the weapon. Their weapons will not prevail. Only what God wants will prevail. I am desperate for Him at this time.
And so I pray, “Summon your power, O God; show us your strength, O God, as you have done before. . . Rebuke the beast . . .”
Further Reading: Romans 10:6,8
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All the more reason to celebrate Advent.

 

advent – “the coming into place, view, or being”

Things are “coming into place” for the Christmas season.

People are decorating. Shopping. Others are simply “trying.” Wreath on Fence

I join those people – the ones simply “trying.”

 Inner turmoil, trials – unknown and unseen by most, are keeping me from “feeling” Christmas – from “feeling” like decorating – from “feeling” like playing Christmas music.

And I am not alone.

The recently widowed friend writes that she is  “trying to get into the Christmas spirit.  I’m just not there this year.”

Another person says she just can’t get in the mood yet for Christmas. Perhaps if it snows, she adds, hopefully.

Hopefully. Hopefully we’ll get in the mood.

All the more reason to celebrate Advent – to consider the hope.

As a believer, I can first celebrate the hope that is in me – Christ, the hope of glory:

God has chosen to make known [to me] the glorious riches of this mystery – the word of God in its fullness – the mystery that has been kept hidden for ages and generations, but is now disclosed to [us] the saints. This mystery is Christ in me – the hope of glory. (Colossians 1: 26, 27)

Once I begin to contemplate Christ in me, the hope of glory – my hopes  rise! Turmoil, trials, loss, lack of snow! – nothing else takes precedence over the birth of Christ “coming into place.”

Believer, it’s all the more reason to celebrate Advent!

If you are not yet a Christian, click here to learn about becoming a believer!

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More and More of You

I don’t really want to take time to write a posting today. I leave for Writer’s Conference in one week. I need to complete final revisions on my manuscript and write a dynamite proposal – both to present to publishers with whom I’ll be meeting. It’s exciting! I’m pumped!

But I DO want to share with you a few thoughts – I think you’ll understand and connect, as I suppose similar “obstructions” occur in your life, as well, interrupting your plans. Is it coincidental? I think not.

  1. I’ve finished my manuscript – am just making final revisions. App. 220 pp.; nearly 62,000 words. I’m remembering the many times I sat down to write, often after weeks of neglect or lack of time to write. I’m remembering the “obstructions” that occurred: a stabbing pain, an injury, fears, depression, writer’s block. Why? Is it coincidental? I think not.
  2. I’m “down to the wire” – a book proposal to complete before the Conference. It seems more overwhelming than most chapters did. “Obstructions”: inner ear dizziness and sickness, a pinched nerve (self diagnosed!), pain, standing instead of sitting, to write. Is it coincidental? I think not.

I think the enemy does not want my book completed – does not want my book published – does not want people to read about the awesome God who loves us; who extends grace, mercy, and comfort in the darkest of times; who favors us; and who fulfills His promises.

And so the fight continues and the Lord God wins. The healing comes and the book will be finished. The Father will be glorified. People will learn of His faithfulness.

Has it happened to you? I think so. When it does, let the fight continue. Our job is to trust in His promises.

Two separate vehicles – two separate days – two separate people (Ron and I) listening to one awesome song on the radio. We come together and share the words of that song with each other and realize that our Father is confirming His presence in our lives – through His Holy Spirit:

We have had enough of getting everything we want

We are weary of living this life just for us

Oh, forgive us all for seeking Your hand and not Your face

Come and empty us, Father, we are desperate in this place

Holy Spirit fill us with Your fire

Give us Your desires

Hold us close to You

Holy Spirit, give us revelation

Your healing visitation

Nothing else will do

We want more and more

And more and more of You.

Is it coincidental that you are reading this post? I think not. I’ll pray for you, my reader, as you continue your fight for His glory. Please pray for me. Click here to listen to this beautiful song, recorded by Selah.

 

Sun in hands