Becoming a Woman of Purpose

My current Bible Study these days is Becoming a Woman of Purpose, by Cynthia Heald. It’s a journey of faith-filled scriptures about loving God and others, waiting on Him with hope, trusting Him when I’m suffering and serving Him with a reverent fear and ultimately, fulfilling His purposes. You would think my favorite chapter would have been the one on embracing suffering and glorifying God in my pain. We Melancholies thrive on emotional adversity because we know first hand it leads to our profit and God’s glory unlike the Sanguine who knows how to lead us to joy and laughter, or the Choleric who teaches us how to work hard or the Phlegmatic who never gets riled and remains peaceful. But no, my favorite chapter so far has been the one on waiting on God. The author cites Psalms to review that remind me of my own turbulent emotions when I can’t control a situation and how God steadies me. She teaches about the promises in God’s word in Genesis that foretell that one day Abraham and Sarah will, indeed, bare a child which they eventually did, but they messed up their lives and the lives of others with their unbelief before they got their promised infant. So what has changed from the days of Abe & Sarah? Nothing. We’re still impatient. This chapter hits home for us in our family right now. We eagerly await our first grandchild who is fashionably late in getting here. This birth is so suspenseful! My techie daughter and son-in-love have put aside all the gender revealing gadgets and I don’t even know the sex of this little one! That’s okay. I found a word from God to base all my hopes on…..Lamentations 3:22, 23. Through the Lord’s mercies we are not consumed. Because His compassions fail not. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness. Today is a brand new day…maybe the baby will be born today.

Comments

My Mom Fought the U.S. Post Office and Won

My mom embarrassed me years ago when she called our small town post office and complained about slow package delivery. I gave the eulogy at mom ’ s memorial service, and I told the mortifying story at the chapel. Respectful laughter filled the room. However, embarrassment doesn ’ t bother you when you ’ re dead in the grave and maybe that ’ s the lesson here today. Mom loved to send packages to me in Arizona. She often mailed pencils, recipe clippings, bars of soap, cereal, odds and ends that were meaningful to her. Mom never understood that her mailings to a hick town in the west take a heck of a lot longer than it does in Chicago. I got umpteen phone calls from her before any shipment arrived and she would ask impatiently: “ Did you get my package yet? ” It was about six years ago when retrieving my mail, Toni, my favorite clerk shouted to me across the room from the front desk, “Your mother called me yesterday. She...

A Memorial Day Reflection

Memorial Day is always noteworthy for me and my girls. Next Thursday marks the third year of missing their father, my husband. So many thoughts run through my mind. The journey of loss takes on various emotions. The strongest feeling, at first, was emptiness. In a split second, I would forget he departed forever. I imagined things I needed to talk to him about when he got back home. My mind is realistic now. He's not coming back. There will be no more times of sitting on the porch swing together on the front deck staring at the moon and the stars. He would tell me all he knew about the majestic night sky. I have so much I wish I could tell him, like the excitement of seeing our oldest grandchild make a decision to follow Jesus and get baptized on Mother's Day! And our little Amy, 11 years old, I wish he could have seen her on stage receiving her induction to the National Honor Society. Our daughters have their own ...

A Veteran's Story

I noticed Bill sitting in our local park where I walk. He glanced my way just as I finished the last exercise walk song on my playlist. He shouted and pointed to my car: “Hey, is that your car with the Nam front license plate? I stepped closer into the veranda where Bill sat on a picnic bench. I noticed his Vietnam Vet cap and instantly I knew why I walked there that day. The Marine Vet served during the 1960’s, the same time span as my husband. Bill talked a lot about the war evoking my emotions from laughter to tears. My South Vietnam front plate often prompts a conversation with a stranger and I’ve learned a deep respect for it over the years. It is my way of listening to a veteran. I enjoyed listening to Bill. He made me laugh in spots but he made me cry as well. Like when he talked about the sandwich lady. “Do you ever eat at the sandwich shop in the gas station down the street...

Choose Joy in the Journey

Search This Blog