Please let me tell you about my perfect!?!? Christmas

A Christmas past:

Ron and I celebrated Christmas with our family yesterday. Five little ones sat around our small breakfast table; two babies were in their little chairs; and twelve of us sat around my big threshing table. The table was lined with various sizes of clear and blue Ball canning jars, each filled with snow (epsom salts) and tea lights or pine cones and red berries – all on a burlap runner. (Got the idea from Pinterest.) Johnson Bros. “Friendly Village” place settings (a gift from Ron – some years ago) covered the table. The room was filled with tiny white lights on realistic but artificial pine. (One of us is allergic to real pine!) The nativity (collected from our North Woods days) was placed nearby, a ever-present reminder of why we had gathered.

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I prepared a ten-pound boneless beef rib eye roast coated with peppercorns and served with horseradish cream. It was the largest and most tender Christmas roast I’d ever prepared. The potatoes were mashed from those I had dug from my garden late in the fall. Along with the salads and vegetables my girls brought, the dinner was delicious!

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Ron (Papa) prayed; Matilyn, our 13-year-old granddaughter, read the Christmas passage from the Gospel of Luke, and the children (young and old) rejoiced in the gifts that were shared.

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Memories of the day include the “abc” wad of gum I later found stuck on the butter dish, as well as the discovery of the baby crib mattress, taken from a bedroom, which I found in a battered and torn state at the base of the stairway, where two of the children had used it to slide down the stair steps while we adults sat talking in the dining room! Later, when they all went home, shoes and jackets and tiny pieces of toys were left behind, some small gifts remained to be exchanged, and I knew that the day had passed much too fast.

Sounds like the perfect day?

It wasn’t!

The tree was decorated just a few short days before this party! Not every planned recipe was actually prepared and served. I didn’t take the photos I wanted. (Photos of the canning jars, dishes, and rib eye roast are taken from online!) Some of the family were late; some left early. Our family has struggled with outside forces and trials throughout the last three years.

This Christmas day was not a perfect day, but it was a “turning point” day. It was the first time we were all together in a year; our hearts were joined in love for each other and unity in Christ; so I felt very blessed! It was the end of another difficult year and nearly the beginning of a new, victorious year; so I was also thankful!

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I share my “not so perfect” day because I know that many of you, my readers, have similar Christmas days – or similar Decembers – or perhaps similar, difficult last few years, as we have. Our homes do not look like the photos we see on Pinterest, nor do our lives appear similar to the vibrant postings we read on Facebook!

When I awake on Christmas morning, I think of you women who are alone. My heart aches for you. I think of you who are grieving a recent loss, the pangs of which were replayed in every Christmas carol you heard this season. Things are not always as we want them to be. Our plans do not all come to fruition at the very time we choose. But we can rejoice in our Lord and know that He is faithful all the time and know that what He tells us in His word will be accomplished!

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There will be another Christmas in the future – perhaps I’ll get a chance to take some photos. Maybe we’ll have a bit more time to relax with each other as a family. Perhaps you won’t be alone next Christmas. For some of you, another year will buffer the intensity of the grief you now so heavily bear.

Let’s speak and believe the word together – the same words spoken by Elizabeth when she met Mary. Let these words remind us that we are and will continue to be blessed:

“Blessed is she who has believed that what the Lord has said to her will be accomplished.”

(Luke 1:45)

November 19, 2014November 20, 2014

It’s What We Don’t See ~~

We look and we judge. We examine her attitude, the words she speaks, her smile or lack thereof, her appearance, whatever. No, I don’t judge people in that way, I think – you think.

But we often judge her as having it “all together.” Everything’s perfect. She’s so happy. Because we think she has the best life or a flawless body or an awesome marriage or the ideal family or a successful career or oodles of money, we don’t think she needs us or our prayers or our encouragement or our time or our words.

But we’re wrong.

Our unwarranted assessments of perfection sometimes blend with bits of jealousy and bitterness, creating unfair thoughts:

She deserves that.

Well, it’s about time she learns how the other half lives.

Why, in the world, would she say such a thing?

I don’t understand her.

She has nothing to complain about.

But sometimes it’s what we don’t see:

The heart that still grieves long after the flowers have withered.

The husband that spews tiny bits of hate upon her every day.

Growing debt. Insurmountable. Overwhelming.

Income that doesn’t meet the needs.

Doubts and fears by the dozens.

The unfaithfulness.

Unruly children.

Broken Dreams.

Depression.

Loneliness.

Diffidence.

Addiction.

Sickness.

Regret.

Abuse.

Guilt.

Pain.

Lord, let me see her as a vulnerable woman, like myself, needing You, needing healing, needing a friend, needing a shoulder, a hug, and needing a word – a word of love.

Now about your love for one another we do not need to write to you, for you yourselves have been taught by God to love each other.

1 Thessalonians 4:9

May 8, 2014October 3, 2017

A Mother’s prayers – still before God

Three of our grandchildren were living with us.

It was a joyful time, in the midst of a sad time.

Bedtimes were part of the joyful time – a time of quiet talk – a time of prayer – an assurance of love. For Kaylee, the youngest, it included a time of singing. It was a song I had composed, just for her:

Sweet dreams, my Kaylee Joy;

sweet dreams to you.

Dream about rainbows,

dream about sunshine,

dream about teddy bears, too.

And as she fell asleep, my singing changed to humming, and the humming diminished as I tucked her blankie around her and tiptoed out of the room.

It was during one of those times of humming that the memory came.

Just two musical tones of my humming brought the memory – tones of a first, then down to a fifth. (You musicians know what I mean!)

With those two tones, I saw her – my mother.

She was young. Her hair dark, short, parted on the side, and wavy. I was a baby – how old I don’t know, but young enough that I was still in her arms. I looked at her through baby eyes. I saw my chubby forearm and hand. My hand was touching her soft cheek. And she was singing:

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.

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.

I knew the entire song – one I hadn’t heard sung in years, but now I heard only the first of it because, you see, the memory was so short. Perhaps only seconds. But long enough to place me back in my mother’s arms – to remember her holding me, singing to me, loving me.

The memory suddenly poured from my eyes and flowed down my cheeks.

I was glad Kaylee had fallen asleep. I left her bedroom and cherished the ever-so-brief thoughts, thanking God for that special reflection.

And I’ve since thought more about the words to that old hymn. Mama prayed for me. My faith first lived in her (2 Timothy 1:5). And her prayers for me are still worship before the Lord God (Revelation 5:8, 8:4).

When their mothers had gone to be with the Lord, both my friend, Becky, and my cousin, Sherri, shared their feelings of emptiness with me. Besides their normal feelings of grief and loss, they both said, “I feel like my most faithful prayer warrior is gone.”

When my time came, and my mother was gone, I understood. I felt much the same as Becky and Sherri, until I realized that my mother’s prayers were still powerful and alive before God. A golden bowl holds the incense, which are the prayers of the saints, and the smoke of that incense continues to rise before God. I was encouraged and in turn, encouraged Becky and Sherri with that insight from God’s Word.

Let it also encourage you, my friend. Gain strength in that knowledge, my friend. Your mother’s (and/or grandmother’s) prayers are still before the Lord God. The fragrance of those prayers continues to rise up to God, as sweet worship to Him!

And to me, it’s as though she’s still singing,

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.

~~ ~~ ~~

October 26, 2013November 2, 2013

Perils along the Autumn Pathways

Let your eyes look straight ahead, fix your gaze directly before you. Consider the paths for your feet and take only ways that are firm. Do not swerve to the right or the left; keep your foot from evil. Proverbs 4: 25-27

We, Michiganders, believe that nothing is more beautiful than Michigan in autumn. We relish its jumble of colors; we inhale the spices of its drying leaves; we crave its briskness on our faces. And, if possible, we abide in it – every possible moment of every possible day – captivated by its presence, knowing that we possess it only a short time.

~~

Living on a country lot of twenty-some acres, I walk autumn, and I run it, and I occupy it as much as I can in its short season.

Along the way, however, autumn’s striking colors and its fallen leaves camouflage some perils. Dangers often hide below its stunning surface.

For instance, I’ve learned to tread carefully as I walk and jog the lanes throughout our beautiful acreage. Autumn’s veil of color conceals ruts and roots along those trails, and those destructive obstacles are just waiting to trip me and make me fall.

~~

It reminds me of the paths of life that I take, of the times I stumble, of the times I fall, but of the faithfulness of my God, as He lifts me up, brushes me off, and holds me up, once again facing the right direction. It’s only through His Word that I know my way. He tells me to look straight ahead, to fix my gaze directly before me. He tells me to consider the paths that I take and to take only those that are firm.

So I let Him direct me, through His Word, toward His light at the end of my pathway, and I delight in the beauty of the season He’s leading me through right now.

Together Forever

Margie lived in a small, white farmhouse, two miles from the little country church in Butler Township. On Sundays, she, along with her brothers and sisters, sauntered the dry gravel roads to church. The parade of children was led by their stern and proper matriarch, Grandma Locke, who lived with the family, as was the custom with many in the first half of the 20th century.

Wayne, on the other hand, was one of an even larger batch of children. He lived twenty miles away in Ovid Township, in a yet smaller white farmhouse. And on Sunday mornings, in contrast to Margie, Wayne, alone, walked the dry gravel roads (or wet in the rains, or icy in the winter) to meet up with a traveling pastor, who faithfully drove from Ovid township on Sunday mornings and evenings to preach at Dayburg Baptist Church in Butler township.

In and around that quaint little building and its grassy churchyard, Margie and her brothers and sisters met young Wayne. The Locke family took to Wayne, which led to him spending long Sunday afternoons with them at their country home. Later in the day, after the Sunday evening service, Wayne would ride with the pastor back to Ovid Township and walk the short mile home.

Wayne’s friendship developed with the Locke family, and later, with Margie. One summer afternoon, the young couple crossed the creek, and ambled through the woods between the church and the cemetery on the hill. In this woods, Wayne carved their initials, connected by an arrow, into the trunk of a young tree:

W N + M L ↔

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Days passed. Months passed. The young tree reached for the sun above. Occasionally the skies were gray, but the sun always shone again. The tree kept reaching.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

By the time Wayne graduated from Coldwater High School, the United States had entered World War II. He signed up and served overseas for three years. Oh how he missed the little country church and his sweet Margie! Meanwhile, Margie worked in a factory, keeping busy to help the war effort and her family.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

The tree was still growing, and as it grew, the imbedded letters widened – the arrow tightened the connection between the pair of initials.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

The years dragged. The young couple corresponded, and their letters spoke of love and of marriage.

In 1946, Wayne came home, and he and Margie were married at the little country church – just a few hundred yards from that carved tree in the woods.

Soon, they bought a farm near that woods behind the church where they had one day wandered. The creek bordered the farm on the south. The beautiful yellow farmhouse sat on the hill, midway to the northern property line. It was a house Margie had admired since she walked the dusty roads as a child, many years before, and now her dream had come true.

They served the Lord together in the little country church and raised their family in the yellow farmhouse – both just a few hundred yards from that carved tree in the woods.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

The sun often shone in the woods between the church and the cemetery on the hill, but occasionally skies became overcast and gloomy. Oppressive rains darkened the carved letters in the tree. The storms raged. But the sun always came out again and dried the bark of the tree. Then the carved letters laughed and sang in the light of the Son. The tree flourished and praised its Maker. The tree aged but stood strong and solid. The years passed . . .

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

. . . nearly sixty-six years! Then the eyes of Wayne’s old body closed for the last time – never to open again. His soul went up, high above the tree, through the sunlight of the early March morning and into the presence of his Maker; and a month later, on an April day, Margie lay, yearning to follow her beloved Wayne. She raised her aged, purpled forearms toward the heavens, reaching toward the Son – and then she followed him.

Their old bodies are buried together in the cemetery on the hill – just a few hundred yards from that carved tree in the woods!

A tombstone bears their names and the dates of their births and deaths. Between their names, two words are carved in the gray granite: Together Forever.

When a stranger meanders throughout the cemetery and pauses to read those words, he probably smiles and thinks, “How sweet! The old couple is forever buried together here in this little country cemetery.” But when those of us who knew Wayne and Margie read those words, we laugh and sing in light of the Son, knowing that the young couple is Together Forever in heaven!

If you stand high on the cemetery hill and look over the dark green tops of the trees in the woods below, you’ll see an empty space where the carved tree once stood – empty because the tree died, too. But if you look deeper, down through the green, onto the floor of the woods, you’ll find saplings and seedlings, sown from the seeds of the old tree. They’re growing and reaching up toward the sky and the sun. They welcome the spring rains but are frightened of the fierce storms of late summer and winter. They grow taller and stronger in each season, and they praise their Maker as they see the Son after each storm.

And when you stand on that hill, if you are very still, and if a soft breeze is coming from the church yard below, ruffling the tops of the trees throughout the woods, you’re apt to hear a duo of voices whispering, Together Forever. And when you do, you’ll find yourself laughing and singing in the light of the Son.

July 13, 2013May 10, 2024

The beautiful, bountiful, broken cherry tree.

I have come that they might have life, and have it to the full. (John 10:10 NIV)

We were busy that summer, several years ago – so busy that my husband, Ron, didn’t have the time or the opportunity to cut down the dead little cherry tree and chop it into a small pile of firewood for the coming winter.

Not a single leaf had developed on the tree that spring. No blossoms in late spring. No cherries in the summer. The branches were withered and barren. The once beautiful and bountiful domestic cherry tree was lifeless. It must have been the hard winter, we each thought, and we spoke about it occasionally throughout that busy summer. After all, cherry trees have a life span of about 20 years. This tree is already nearly 30 years old.

As winter neared, Ron began cutting wood, but he had his eye on bigger trees, providing mega piles of wood, so he still neglected cutting down the dead little cherry tree in the northeast corner of the yard.

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Winter came. The house was heated from maple, ash, and walnut – not from the wood of the dead little cherry tree. As spring neared, we talked about getting rid of that dead little cherry tree before we got busy on other spring projects.

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Finally spring arrived. As usual, we marveled in the delight of new life outdoors. We started the yard work. When we went to the northeast corner of the yard and saw the little cherry tree, we were in awe! It was no longer dead!

The little tree had budded with leaves.

Shortly thereafter, it burst forth in blossoms.

Then those blossoms turned into cherries, and the tree flourished again!

We had given up on the tree, but it still had life!

New life!

Full life!

You see, Ron and I don’t know much about cherry trees. We had merely looked at it from the outside, unaware of all it had to offer us – unaware of its potential.

Since its dead summer several years ago, that cherry tree has repeatedly produced fruit. In fact, its harvest was so great this summer that the weight of the cherries split a limb off the tree. – further evidence that Ron and I don’t know much about cherry trees.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

It should have been trimmed and pruned. It needed care. We had neglected it.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

The way we cared for that cherry tree is SO unlike the way our Heavenly Father cares for us!

He takes what others perceive as dead – and He brings new life!

He offers full, abundant life to us.

When we open His Word, we find it.

We bud.

We bloom.

We flourish.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

That beautiful, bountiful, broken cherry tree

and the awesome, stirring Word of God

speak to me.

I look at myself.

I look at others.

And in place of dead, withered, and barren, I begin to see life.

May 22, 2013August 15, 2013

Kathi and Ron and Joshua and The Grand Hotel

Shortly before our anniversary, Ron surprised me. He had made arrangements for us to attend an overnight marriage conference (Celebrate your Marriage) at the Grand Hotel on Mackinac Island! Wabba! We hadn’t had special time together, or any time away in well over a year – and never at the Grand Hotel! It sounded great!

The day before our anniversary jaunt, I opened my Bible to the Old Testament book of Joshua where I’ve turned many times in my studies, especially since I read of Joshua, who, facedown in reverence before the Lord, asked,

What message does my Lord have for his servant? (Joshua 5:14).

This has become a question I try to remember to ask God every day.

What message does my Lord have for his servant?

On this day,the message lay boldly before me:

I will begin to exalt you in the eyes of all Israel, so they may know that I am with you . . . (Joshua 3:7).

I didn’t know exactly what it meant for me, but I believed it included and involved my family. And I was excited to see what God was going to do and how He was going to do it! Sometime in the past, beside those words in my Bible, I had written the location of a coordinating passage, which I had underlined in the next chapter:

That day the Lord exalted Joshua in the sight of all Israel . . . (Joshua 4:14).

I knew that day was coming soon.

And so we spent a night in Mackinaw City, went across to the island, and spent another night at the elegant Grand Hotel, laughing through the conference sessions and truly celebrating our marriage. On Monday, after the last session and after an elegant lunch, our time at the Grand Hotel was over, so the horse-driven carriage transported us, clippety-clop, to the dock.

Have you ever had a dream that you are going somewhere, perhaps running away from something, but you seem to be moving in slow motion – getting nowhere? This dream became real as we left Mackinac Island and headed south toward Kalamazoo.

We had allowed ample time to drive to Kalamazoo. (Mapquest shows it as being a 4 1/2 hour trip.) We were excited to meet our Kristen and Josh and the children. Somewhat last minute, Valley Family Church of Kalamazoo had slated Tim Storey for a special healing/miracle service. Kristen and Josh were taking Baby Luke, and we didn’t want to miss it. We wanted to be open to the filling of God’s Holy Spirit. And we were trusting God for continued manifestation of Luke’s healing in this journey our family had been on since his birth in December.

What message does my Lord have for his servant?

So, we left the island on a ferry, of course – Shepler’s Ferry Service – supposedly the smoothest of all. And I suppose it really was the smoothest service, under normal conditions. But you see, a wind was blowing across the Straits of Mackinac on Monday; a storm was brewing. Our little ferry was packed with people carrying boxes of Murdick’s Fudge or handled bags stuffed with souveniers. The interior cabin soon became quite “stuffy.” The little ferry tore across the waters coupling the island and the mitten, the experienced captain darting between the massive Lake Huron waves capped in white. By mid-strait, I was watching those waves through the back end of the ferry, joined by one passenger after another, making their way along the narrow aisle like drunken travelers toward the promising fresh air. Each drop of cold lake water, pelleting our faces, served simply to keep us from losing our elegant lunches to the boat’s rocking bottom!

Once ashore, the wind whipped the awnings covering our awaiting luggage and drove the claim cards from our hands, across the rocks, into the waves, and back toward the island; our keys, although mislabeled “Dan Hutchinson” instead of “Ron Waligora,” did actually open our car doors, and finally we were tucked inside our little Buick Enclave, nauseous and glad to be back on land.

Heading south, the outside temperatures increased a degree with each mile we traveled until we were finally sailing down I-75 in 82 degree weather. Little did we know the southern stretch of the storm lay ahead us.

So as we traveled south on I-75, toward Clare, toward Lansing, and toward Kalamazoo, the sky darkened. Every time we thought we were “driving out of it,” the road curved and we drove deeper into it. The sky rained on us in violent downpours. Time and again, we pulled off the road – onto the medium if we could not decipher an exit – under a gas station overhang if we could. Local power outages resulted; parking lots flooded; and each time we pursued the highway venture, the wind agitated the little Buick and standing water propelled it as though it were a diecast model.

What message does my Lord have for his servant?

He answered:

Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go. (Joshua 1: 9)

Finally I realized that this was not just a spring rainstorm. I thought perhaps the enemy did not want us to attend this evening’s healing / miracle service – did not want us to invite the Holy Spirit to indwell and work within us – did not want us to share in the manifestation of Baby Luke’s healing. So I prayed to our Awesome God, and I rebuked the enemy, and on we went, through the storm, into the sunlight, and on to Kalamazoo, entering the huge church just in time to begin worship with a thousand others.

Consecrate yourselves . . . (Joshua 3:5)

The Lord had been telling me this for quite some time, as He had told Joshua and the Israelites. And the two-hour service was indeed a time of consecration within my own heart and soul. The worship stirred my heart to confession and repentance. Ron and I sat and we stood and we praised and we worshipped in absolute amazement! The Holy Spirit was most obviously in this place. I stood between my husband of 42 years and my son-in-law, Josh, who was holding our little Baby Luke – the child who was teaching us about faith and healing and about the wounds of Jesus and the very reason Jesus had suffered those wounds. I placed my hands on the baby and prayed for him, while Ron prayed for our entire family.

Consecrate yourselves for tomorrow the Lord will do amazing things among you.

I’m not a Joshua. I don’t feel worthy to receive the same message God spoke to Joshua, but I am. I was made worthy by the blood of Jesus. I was recently reminded that I “have more than Joshua did because I have the blood of Jesus, the righteousness of God and the New Testament” (BVOV, May 2013). And quite some time ago, through studying God’s Word, I began to realize the power of Jesus in me, and little by little, I am believing Jesus and understanding what He says – that I, Kathi, who believe in Him shall do great works because Jesus went to the Father and sent the Holy Spirit to indwell me – that I, Kathi, may ask Jesus for anything in His name, and He will do it (John 14:11-14). How awesome is that! I’ve asked Jesus for healing for Baby Luke and for increasing faith in myself that I might see it every step of the way! In His name!

The healing / miracle service was an amazing step in that journey of faith, for we soon learned that . . . tomorrow, the Lord will do amazing things. And He did! On Tuesday! I’ll write about it in my next posting.

April 16, 2013March 18, 2014

“No,” she says. “Send someone else.”

The young wife feels unloved by her new father-in-law.

She is of a different Christian denomination. Of a different family background.

She tries to please.

But she’s rejected.

She’s not good enough.

She is shunned. Her children are shunned. Her heart is broken.

The pain presses in to the depths of her soul.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

It’s years before the healing comes.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

The healing comes through faith – a faith only the size of a mustard seed – so small she didn’t know it was there.

Faith comes from hearing . . . and the message is heard through the word of Christ . . .

She reads. She listens. To the word of Christ. It speaks.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

The Word “penetrates . . . and judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.”

The healing comes through that Word of God – penetrating and judging her thoughts and her attitudes.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

The Word says, “You were taught, with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self . . . to be made new in the attitude of your mind and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness.”

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

The Word says, “Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. Make very effort to keep the unity of the spirit through the bond of peace.”

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

The Word says, “Be imitators of God; be filled with the Spirit.”

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

The Word brings healing and the healing brings love – love between a daughter-in-law and a father.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

The Word says, “Now you are light in the Lord. Live as a child of light . . . goodness, righteousness, and truth.”

No longer does it matter who was right or who was wrong – what had been said or what had been done.

Her soul is free from the pain. In pain’s place is love with its goodness, righteousness, and its truth.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

More years go by. Years of love.

The Word says, “Make the most of every opportunity.”

And at the end, she is chosen for the opportunity.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

It is a cold February day. The father is old. His health is worsening; he is giving up.

God speaks to her. Go, He says. Talk to him about Jesus.

“No,” she says. “Send someone else.”

But again, God says, Go. Talk to him about Jesus.

And so she goes and speaks to the father. And on that cold February day, the Son shines through the window of the father’s hospital room, as he confesses his faith in the Lord Jesus.

And the next day, the family gathers around the father and says, Goodbye,

while Jesus says, Welcome.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

Scripture from NIV:

Romans 10:17

Hebrews 4:12

Ephesians 4:23, 24

Ephesians 4:2, 3

Ephesians 5:1, 8, 9, 16, 18

March 13, 2013April 21, 2015