I picture myself as a clay Pot, molded by God for His own good purposes. And I've learned that each morning I Need to dump out the selfish dregs that Have collected in my vessel, so that The Spirit of God can refill me to the Brim with just Him. "But we have this treasure in jars of clay..." II Corinthians 4:7 "...be filled with the Spirit..." Ephesians 5:18 |
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Her heartbreak was ongoing.
She didn't know why her son had Chosen to cut himself off from His family. For years she had no contact with him, and Knew about his whereabouts only through a Mutual friend. But she never gave up praying for him. The mom first shared her story with me when She was still in the throes of her grief. But recently, she shared the ending. It was on Thanksgiving Day five years after Her son's departure. He walked into her house and into Her arms with no explanation for why He had been gone. But it didn't matter. The prodigal was home, and the Rejoicing continues to this day.
This poem reminds me of our friend Liz Bookheimer who is having yet another surgery today. I'm praying for her.
It takes effort to trust God's goodness in The fiery times, when we just don't Understand His ways. It takes sacrifice to find a reason to Give thanks. But it's what He asks of us, and if We do the hard work, God Rewards us with true gratitude and Sincere worship. We find that He's in the Furnace with us, and we come out of the Flames purified rather than Destroyed. My friend Gloria is with Jesus,
The uncommon lady who didn't Allow her suffering to hide her Joy in Jesus, The woman in whose footsteps I Want to follow, both in the Way she lived, and in the Way she died. The pastor gave us an assignment for
The week: "Welcome someone into a conversation by Asking this question: 'What's something good going on In your life?'" I tried it out today on the young man who Cleaned our table at the deli where my friend And I ate. His answer? "Nothing special, but something bad Happened recently." "Tell me about it." "My girlfriend was hit by an ambulance and Was badly injured." "Oh, I'm so sorry. I'll pray for her." "Thanks so much. And you can pray for me too." I wrote down both of their names. I gave him two of my tracts and my Blog address as well. He was grateful. He told us the hours he worked and Hoped my friend and I would return. I'm glad I completed the assignment. It's amazing what can result from asking one simple question.
It happens almost every time I
Pray in a group. The requests are such heavy ones that My own struggles seem insignificant. I often hesitate to even share them. But I'm glad God doesn't ask me to Rate my pain on a scale of 1-10. He doesn't ever compare. He knows the depth of each one's Anguish and graciously bears it all. I had forgotten to get my mail until
Night time, and in the dark I could Barely make out the other gal who Was collecting hers too. She was my neighbor. She carries a lot of responsibility at Her job and had just come home From work. We made small talk, but Suddenly, it turned to "big" talk. She had received the results of some Medical tests. They were suspicious, and now She needs to endure more of them. I saw the concern in her eyes. I gave her a hug and told her I would pray. So I won't forget, I hung a heart on my Door knob. Whenever I open the door I lift up a Prayer for my friend. Sometimes a divine appointment is Simply a "chance" encounter in the dark. |
Dorothy Kalb Hsu Seitzinger
Writing poetry has helped me process and express my sorrows and joys, my concerns and blessings. "Life is hard, but God is good!" Archives
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