Trust His Heart 

24 02 2016

Grief, questions, uncertainty of our future have pushed their way into our lives in the last several weeks. We have faced several major disappointments in a short time. 

It has been one of the toughest times in my life. I feel like I’m trying to hold up a large slab of rock that just keeps getting heavier. Why must everything happen all at the same time?

“Trust,” my mom says. “Things seem overwhelming right now, but God has a plan we can’t see.” 

Trust. I’ve been lying awake in my bed, thinking about it. And I realize it’s not something that will just happen. I must choose it.

The lyrics of the song, “Trust His Heart” begins to to run through my mind. The phrase “when you don’t understand, when you can’t trace his hand, trust his heart”  repeats itself over and over. 

So I choose to trust. I know it will be a choice I must make daily, perhaps hourly, but the alternative is bitterness and I simply cannot afford to allow its seeds to sprout in my heart. 

In the meantime, I will ask Jesus to get under that slab of rock with me to help support the weight. 

Trust His Heart – Babbie Mason

All things work for our good

Though sometimes we don’t

See how they could

Struggles that break our hearts in two

Sometimes blind us to the truth

Our Father knows what’s best for us

His ways are not our own

So when your pathway grows dim

And you just don’t see him,

Remember your never alone

He sees the master plan

He holds the future in his hand,

So don’t live as those who have no hope,

ALL our hope is found in him.

We see the present clearly

He sees the first and last

And like a tapestry He’s weaving you and me,

To someday be just like him

God is too wise to be mistaken

God is too good to be unkind

So when you don’t understand

When don’t see his plan

When you can’t trace his hand

Trust His Heart

A Whitman’s Sampler

21 12 2015

  We went to listen to the school’s Christmas program on Friday evening. One of the first times I’ve been well enough to go out in a crowd in quite a long while. It was a lovely program. I very much enjoyed myself.

On our way out of the church, we stopped to grab our mail from our church mailbox. Among the cards was a small rectangular box wrapped in red tissue paper. A tag read: Joe & Andrea, Merry Christmas.

When the wrapping was removed, it revealed a Whitman’s Sampler of Premium Assorted Chocolates. 

“Ohh!” I sighed. I love chocolate.

“Babe, you know that’s not good for you!” Joe cautioned. 

I opened the lid anyway, and we both gasped and stared. There was no chocolate, instead the box was full of twenty dollar bills.

We have no idea who the creative and generous giver is. But this gift came with perfect timing, as my medical bills are a bit higher right now.

If you were the anonymous giver, please know we thank you from the bottom of our hearts! 


I Was Normal Three Cats Ago

24 09 2015

My husband loves cats. I’m not such a great fan of them.

When we got married, we agreed on one cat. Then Joe said, “but he’ll get lonely. He needs a companion.” 

So one cat became two cats. 

When the kittens were old enough to leave their mother, we drove home with three. 

I named them Dumb, Dumber, and Dumbest.

One night just as we were falling asleep, we heard a very strange noise. It began right above our room and then faded as it went the length of the trailer. But then it was back above us again. Joe went outside to see what could be on our roof and saw the kittens peering down at him. They had climbed a tree beside the house and leapt onto the roof. He carefully got them down, thinking perhaps they were stuck and came back to bed. A few minutes later we heard them again. 

Joe's shop cat

Joe’s shop cat

“Enough of this!” Joe decided. “I’m gonna fix them!” He went out, got the water hose and sprayed those kittens until they jumped off the roof. 

“Well that’s done,” we thought. But no. The very next night they were back at it. Joe went out with the hose again.

After several nights of this, we finally gave up and now they are as much at home on the roof of our house as anywhere! 

Now they are grown and much to my dismay, two of them have become mothers.  One of their offspring has become Joe’s shop cat.

 Yesterday, I was scraping chipped paint from an old plantation shutter I wanted to paint. The repetition of running the scraper back and forth set off my brain. I could feel that I was pushing it but I really wanted to get it finished. Suddenly I was walking backwards, unable to stop until I hit the porch rail. With my back against it, I jerked as my body slowly bent forward.

One of the matriarchs of our cat family looked up at me and meowed, trying to get my attention. She seemed to sense something was wrong and when I failed to straighten, she leapt to the rail behind me, hooked her claws into the fabric of my dress and attempted to pull me upright. Next she jumped on my back and then to the floor, swatting at the scraper in my hand. About this time I had bent forward far enough that the momentum pulled me to the floor. The cat then, licked at my hand and bit my ear. I crawled to the rail and pulled myself up. Then walked along the rail back to the shutter and continued scraping. The cat curled up beside the door. 

I wouldn’t call her smart, but I guess she isn’t “Dumbest” either.