God Always Has a Purpose

When I was a little girl, about six or so, my father had an accident at work. He was a Marine Engineer and worked on the engines of tugboats. He had been cleaning a part of an engine, and the rag in his hand got pulled into the machine. It also pulled his finger into the machine.

I didn't know this at the time; all I knew was that a suitcase had been packed for me, and my aunt was coming to pick me up to spend the night. I didn't mind that, my Aunt Flossie's and Uncle Poppy's house was my favorite place to be.

When I returned home, my father had a large bandage on the middle finger of his left hand. But the bandage wasn't as long as his finger had been. He had lost almost half of that finger to the machine.

I can still see my dad, after all the bandages were off, and the finger healed, sitting and holding a plastic ball. He would squeeze it over and over again. I didn't understand it then, but I do now.

This month, I had surgery on the very same finger of the very same hand as my dad. I, too, am doing hand exercises to regain my strength. I want to be able to do the things I love to do without asking for help. My dad was consistent with his exercises because he wanted to be able to play the guitar again. That hand was the hand he used to fret the chords.

Having tried three times to learn to play the guitar  (and been interrupted each time by a different hand surgery), I don't know how he learned to make those chords with half his finger missing. I had trouble with them, and I have a whole finger! But he did, and he kept on playing his guitar for the rest of his life. The exercises, for both him and me, bring pain. Daddy knew, as well as I, that with the pain would come healing, strength, and flexibility. It is a price that must be paid for something better.

In this life, we often face painful situations. Some we know are coming, like my surgery. Some we don't expect, like a machine chopping off part of my dad's finger. Either way, if we know and trust the Lord Jesus, we can rest in the fact that there is a greater purpose for our pain.  

At some point, in the midst of our pain, or even later in life, we share with someone else in a painful situation to encourage them, strengthen them, and help them move further along the road to wellness. For me, remembering my father's journey more than sixty years ago has helped encourage me to be faithful in my exercises.  

We never know when the Lord is planning to use something that has happened to us to bring forth great things in others. But we can always know His heart for us is love. Eternally, His heart will be love for us. He is now, and He will always be, working "all things together for good to them that love God" (Romans 8:28).

"To whom God would make known what is the riches of the glory of this mystery among the Gentiles: which is Christ in you, the hope of glory:"

Colossians 1:27

Friday Photos

This picture was taken at the Grand Hotel in Point Clear, Alabama.  I think what I liked most about it was the contrast between the blue water and the clean, white feathers of the duck.

 

Only God and People...

(I received the final clearance from my surgeon, and I am "cleared without restrictions" on my hand! So, I am back on the keyboard.  I will have to admit that a couple of keystrokes remind me I had hand surgery two weeks ago!)

I'd like to share with you an experience I had with Ellie a few days ago that sent my morning on a downward turn.

I was sitting in my chair in the room where I write. Each morning, I sit in that chair, drink my coffee, eat breakfast, read the Bible, and plan my day.  

Ellie, as usual, was sitting in her bed in front of the window, watching the world go by. I had only had one sip of coffee (which is not sufficient to wake me up) when Ellie, staring out the window, became a Tasmanian devil! She was barking and twisting and turning in reaction to whatever was outside the window. (Most likely, a cat.) Then she headed off to the Living Room to watch the movement of the offending animal from the window in there.  

In the midst of her demon possession, she knocked over the table by my chair. My coffee cup was emptied onto the top of the table, causing a sea of coffee, in which the sand impression of Sparrow's pawprint sat. (Sparrow was our previous beagle, which we had for 13 years.) 

In her quick departure, Ellie also caused the table to tilt slightly, so that the sea of coffee now cascaded into a basket by my chair, where I kept a blanket and various items.  The blanket, my blood pressure cuff, and my guitar workbooks were now splattered with coffee.

I headed to the Living Room with purpose.  Ellie was looking out the window, presumably for the demon that seemed to have possessed her. I expressed my displeasure with her actions very plainly to her.  I don't know that I have ever spoken to Ellie in that manner before.

I returned to my chair to clean up the spilled coffee. After I cleaned up the mess on, around, and underneath the table, I went looking for Ellie.

She wasn't sitting in her bed in front of the window (the scene of the crime).  She wasn't with Glen.  She wasn't in the Den, her second favorite spot to sit and hang out.  I found her stretched out on the Living Room floor, looking extremely pitiful.  I took her to the room where the incident occurred (which I affectionately call "the Mountain Room"), and I actually had to carry her.  I set her in my lap and tried to convince her that I wasn't going to kill her.  After a while, I went to the kitchen to replace my spilled coffee, and as is her usual protocol, she followed me. I made her do some commands she learned as a puppy as an excuse to give her a treat.  Then she followed me back to the Mountain Room, climbed into her bed, and took a nap. Too much excitement for one morning, I guess.

Meanwhile, I sat in my chair, looking at the world outside the window, reminding myself of one of my favorite sayings,

"Only God and people are eternal; everything else is just stuff."

I guess by "people," I mean dogs, too.  Ellie is much more important than anything she might have damaged during her escapade.  Even more important than Sparrow's pawprint. (I know Sparrow would heartily agree with that.) She is a living, breathing creature with thoughts and feelings, and...life.  Everything else on that table was stuff.

After her nap, Ellie continued to act sad, and I wanted to remedy that. I wanted to reassure her just how much she was loved. Ellie has a habit: if she wants to play tug-of-war with us, she brings one of her toys and lays it at our feet.  This is the invitation for us to chase her and play the game she loves so much. I asked her to bring me a toy, and she didn't respond.  I tried again, and again, no response. 

Then I decided to try a different tactic.  I went to the Den, grabbed her favorite toy —a stuffed mallard —and went into the Mountain Room, where I dropped it at her feet. She looked up at me in what I interpreted to be disbelief.  She knew exactly what I was saying to her with that toy, and we had a nice game of tug-of-war, after which she sat in my lap for a long while.

This experience with Ellie taught me several things.  First, creatures, human and otherwise, are often much more sensitive than we imagine, and we do well to seek the Lord's guidance in our interactions with them.

Next, it reinforces to me that even when our Lord needs to correct us about something in our lives, He does it out of love for us.  He is in the process of conforming us to the image of His dear Son, and sometimes that "conforming" isn't exactly comforting to us.  But it is always for our best. Just as Ellie needed correction, I sometimes need correction too.

Most importantly, this reminded me that when the Lord does have to correct us or redirect us, His heart never changes toward us.  He is always abundant, pure, love toward us.  He is always for us. And He is showing us that each moment, if we open our eyes to see and believe. Ellie thought the offer of a game was too good to be true (Yes, I know I am assuming what she is thinking, but it works for me here), but it wasn't.  I absolutely wanted to play with her, just as our heavenly Father desires fellowship with us. 

"My son, despise not the chastening of the Lord, neither be weary of His correction: For whom the Lord loveth He correcteth; even as a father the son in whom he delighteth."

Proverbs 3:11,12

Friday Photos - The First of Hundreds

 I will never forget this tree, or this photo.  The photo was taken on October 20, 2014, at 6:02 pm.

We were at the end of the first day of the first backpacking hike.  We had already climbed to the summit of Mt. LeConte (6593) feet on the Alum Cave Trail and crossed the Boulevard Trail to where it ended at the Appalachian Trail.  

This was our first white blaze.  If we hadn't been running out of light, or running out of energy (and still had 0.5 mile to our shelter) I would have kissed that blaze!

The first of hundreds.