Your Wound Is Not Your Identity

Love is patient. Love is kind. Love never fails.

Yesterday felt like a grounding for the day. The clouds seemed to carry an image of prayer, as if heaven was bending low and inviting me to look up again. After church, the presence of Jesus lingered with me in a deep way. The words kept returning: love is patient, love is kind, love is not irritable or rude, and love never fails.

Those words are not just beautiful language for a wedding or a Sunday morning reading. They are the nature of God’s love toward the wounded places in us. His love does not rush the hurting soul. It does not shame the tender place. It does not roll its eyes at the wound that still rises up into today. Love is patient enough to sit with what still aches, and kind enough to call us forward without condemning us for bleeding.

When the Wound Rises Up

Some wounds do not stay neatly tucked away in yesterday. They rise up into today—in our thoughts, our bodies, our relationships, our reactions, and even in the way we pray. A wound can come from a physical injury, a social relationship, a disease or illness, betrayal, rejection, loss, disappointment, or a place in life where we expected comfort but received pain.

When a wound is deep, it can begin to cough up into the present. It can affect how we hear people, how we respond to love, how quickly we protect ourselves, and how easily we expect rejection. It can make us cautious, guarded, defensive, tired, or prayerful in a desperate way. Sometimes the wound becomes so familiar that we start to mistake it for who we are.

But your wound is not your identity. It may explain part of what happened to you, but it does not have the authority to define who you are. Pain may describe an experience, but it is not your name. Illness may describe a season, but it is not your calling. Rejection may describe someone else’s failure to love you well, but it is not the measure of your worth.

The Woman Who Reached Through the Crowd

The woman with the issue of blood had been bleeding for twelve years. For twelve years, her body carried pain. For twelve years, her condition affected her community life, her worship, her relationships, and likely her sense of belonging. She had spent what she had, tried what she knew, and still she was not better. Her wound had become public enough to isolate her and private enough to exhaust her.

Yet somewhere inside her, hope was still alive. Scripture tells us she heard about Jesus and came up behind Him in the crowd. She said, “If I may touch but his clothes, I shall be whole.” Before her hand touched the hem of His garment, faith had already touched her heart. Her body reached outward because her soul had already begun reaching upward.

That detail matters. She did not come with a polished speech. She did not come with proof that she had handled everything perfectly. She came with need, faith, and courage. She reached for the edge, the fringe, the hem—the place that represented covenant and promise. She reached because something in her knew that Jesus carried what her wound could not cancel.

And Jesus did not call her “wound.” He did not call her “unclean.” He did not call her “problem,” “interruption,” or “too much.” He called her daughter. In one word, Jesus restored more than her body. He restored her belonging.

Love Does Not Shame the Wounded

This is where love becomes more than a concept. Love is patient. Love is kind. Love is not irritable or rude. Love never fails. The love of Jesus does not shame us for still needing healing. It does not demand that we pretend the wound never happened. It does not blame us for the places where pain has made us tired.

At the same time, love does not leave us curled around the injury forever. There is a holy tenderness in Jesus that both embraces and frees. It is the kind of love that can hug the wounded heart and still whisper, “Come forward. You are more than this. Get up from the place that tried to name you.”

Sometimes healing begins when we stop blaming, stop judging, and simply look to Jesus—the One who made creation, the One who understands dust and breath, blood and spirit, sorrow and resurrection. My go-to is prayer. Not because prayer ignores reality, but because prayer brings reality into the presence of the One who can redeem it.

Bring the Wound, But Do Not Become the Wound

There is a difference between acknowledging a wound and building an identity around it. Acknowledging says, “This hurt me.” Identity says, “This is who I am now.” Acknowledging brings the pain into the light. Identity can make the pain a permanent address.

Jesus invites us to bring the wound without becoming the wound. Bring the grief. Bring the disappointment. Bring the diagnosis. Bring the relationship that broke something open. Bring the memory that still presses on your chest. Bring the place where you are tired of being brave. But do not hand your whole name over to what hurt you.

You are beloved before you are bruised. You are called before you are confused. You are seen before you are strong. You are daughter. You are son. You are His. And the love that names you is stronger than the wound that tried to define you.

Love Has the Final Word

The woman in the crowd reached for Jesus, and Jesus turned toward her. That is the hope of the gospel for every wounded place in us. We reach, and He responds. We come trembling, and He speaks peace. We bring what has been bleeding, and He calls us by a name deeper than pain.

Love never fails. Not because life never wounds us, but because the love of Jesus is greater than the wound. His love is patient enough to heal slowly, kind enough to draw near, strong enough to restore identity, and faithful enough to keep speaking when pain tries to have the last word.

Prayer: Jesus, I bring You the places in me that still hurt. I bring You the wounds that rise up into today and the names pain tried to give me. Help me receive Your love without blame and without judgment. Teach me to reach again in faith. Remind me that I am not my wound. I am Yours. Let Your love have the final word. Amen.

@2026 Bonnie L. Smith-Davis

Dusting Off the Gift

Remember the gift God gave you, and keep using it so it grows stronger—like a small flame becoming a fire. — 2 Timothy 1:6

What gift has been quietly gathering dust in your life? Maybe it is time to bring it back into the light, place it in God’s hands, and let the music play again.

There it sits, tucked away under the table, quietly gathering dust: my old boom box.

At first glance, it appears to be in great condition. Nothing is cracked, broken, or missing. It still looks capable of doing exactly what it was created to do. And yet, it has not been used in quite a while. Time passes, dust settles, and something once full of sound now sits silent.

Surely, someone could use it. Surely, there is still music in it. Surely, it was not made simply to be stored away and forgotten.

Its volume was impressive. Its tone was clear. It was portable, simple, and dependable. It carried entertainment, information, memories, and joy from one place to another. It was designed to fill a room, accompany a gathering, teach a lesson, or brighten an ordinary day.

But none of those qualities matter much while it sits unused. Its potential remains present, but untapped. Its purpose remains real, but unfulfilled.

Life can be like that. God places gifts within each of us—talents, wisdom, compassion, creativity, encouragement, courage, and faith. Yet sometimes, without even realizing it, we allow those gifts to be tucked away beneath the table of routine, fear, busyness, or discouragement. We may tell ourselves the season has passed, the opportunity is gone, or the gift is not needed. But God does not waste what He has placed within us. What He gives, He gives with purpose.

Sometimes what we call ordinary is actually God-given capacity. Sometimes what we overlook is still valuable in His hands. Sometimes the very thing gathering dust is the very thing He intends to use to bring joy, encouragement, knowledge, comfort, or hope to someone else. Our gifts are not meant only for us; they are often part of how God ministers through us.

Maybe the question is not whether the boom box still works. Maybe the question is whether I am willing to take it out, dust it off, plug it in, and let it do what it was created to do. In the same way, perhaps God is gently inviting us to bring our gifts back into the light, place them in His hands, and trust Him to make them useful again.

And perhaps the same question belongs to us.

What gift have you placed under the table? What part of you has been waiting—still capable, still meaningful, still needed, and still ready to be used for God’s purpose? Maybe today is not a day for shame, but for surrender. Maybe it is not too late. Maybe the dust is not the end of the story.

It may be time to clear away the dust, surrender the gift back to the One who gave it, and let the music play again—not for our own applause, but for His glory.

Prayer

Lord, thank You for the gifts You have placed within me. Forgive me for the times I have allowed fear, busyness, or discouragement to keep them hidden. Help me dust them off, surrender them back to You, and use them in ways that bless others and bring glory to Your name. Amen.

@ 2026 Bonnie L Smith-Davis

Bringing Jesus to the Table: (Embracing Every Moment)

Day One. Observe with Gratitude. Presence of Christ into Daily Life

Shopping on Amazon, ordering groceries online, watching streams of events. Are these ways to put chaotic moments aside? No, rather it is to “bring Jesus to the table” is to make every interaction an opportunity for grace, love, and transformation.

As I was looking for a wreath for our front picture window in a box store recently, I looked up, up, up to spy a humongous Santa looking across the landscape from twenty feet over my head. It was late November. But all around me LCD frosty characters and objects glow with glittery light. So, Where was Thanksgiving?

Somehow, I got the feeling that Jesus would just shake his head with a slight smile and knowing look from behind the Snoopy doghouse and Charlie Brown Christmas pageant.

Vintage Christmas trees selling at a premium cost, bringing back the large bulbs and Norway Pines (artificial of course).

SO, a family friend told me that in his opinion that the Spirit of the Christmas season seems 98% missing. Silently, my hopeful heart cannot accept that. So, what can my hopeful spirit do to start shining the Light?

Why not start sharing ways to shine the Light.

So, I begin with Gratitude: sharing moments to pause before meals, meetings, or decisions to offer thanks.

How could this look like?

Let’s see.

When I wake up, I sometimes have swirling thoughts trying to run rough shod over this brand-new day.

Wiggling my toes, throwing the covers aside, I start doing exercises like leg lifts and arm stretches. This gets my attention away from the parade of ideas.

So, I start looking around the room, sometimes closing my eyes, and visualizing all that is good and beautiful.

My warmth covers in a warm bed in a warm room in a warm house. So grateful. It’s snowing outside, a blizzard. Placing my hand on my husband ‘s shoulder, I felt his breath rising and falling gently. After a difficult series of health issues, it was good to see him resting comfortably.

Observing is key. As I pad down the hallway, my Rascal’s big brown eyes and his waggy long happy tail asked me to pay attention…although seventeen he acts like a pup doing zoomies around the house and yard. So, love the joy he brings into our lives and the lives of others he visits for pet friends at college destress days.

As the day progressed, I prayed that the Spirit would tap my heart whenever the chaotics of the world would invade my attention, causing anger, anxiety or anything else that disturbed my Peace.

Christ whispers to us through the trees, the smiles, the warmth of a nourishing meal, the moment when compassion meets you and you find strength to go on. After all, as Genesis 1:1 said… in the beginning God created. Life. And he lives through us all.

Backseat Rider

By Christine Kaplunas, Guest author

It’s your car. You know how to drive it. You know where you are going. But for whatever reason, someone else is the driver, and you somehow ended up in the backseat.

What’s the first thing you notice? The backseat is kind of…dirty. And stuffy. And you bumped your head on the car just trying to get in. Then you notice how aggressively the driver takes the turns. “Could you turn on the a/c up there?” No one says anything. You lower your window, but the driver suddenly closes it, because it’s making a loud flapping noise. [Um…excuse me, but that’s my window.]

“I’m really hot back here. Can I have some air?” The front passenger turns on the air, but you still can’t feel it. “Would you turn the vents toward me?” Fumbling. Unsuccessfully.

“Oh, it was still on defrost. Sorry.” Finally, you won’t faint.

Does your kid usually have to deal with this when YOU are driving? Did you ever realize the back seat can actually be quite comfortable when the a/c is on? Did you ever notice that pretty blue house on the block? Wow, what a garden! Kids you’ve never seen are playing with a vaguely familiar dog at your neighbor’s house. “I guess I never see this when I’m watching the road.”

Congratulations! You have entered the experience of the “backseat rider.” Your perspective has shifted into solidarity with the people who usually ride in your backseat. Have you made sure the a/c was working when they needed it? Did you fuss at them when they opened the window? And similarly, have you spent any of the last 7 years noticing any of these wonderful things about your neighborhood? Did you notice the trees and the playful dogs and delightful children?

When I started interim pastoral ministry with my current congregation, we created (from scratch!) an after school strings program for 4th and 5th graders at the behest of the local principal. I did so much work to set up and run the program. I taught the students. I did the fundraising. I hired and trained the other program teachers. I spent hours on the phone with administrators. I built support in the denomination and community. I talked with parents and received important tidbits from school teachers. The program wasn’t universally embraced, and there were occasions I went to bat for it. A certain teacher worked quietly and jealousy to convince the school system to withdraw their support for it. It was difficult ascertaining quantitative progress markers. Money came with strings attached, but not the ones that vibrate.

On the other hand, I accepted a lot of help…from everyone. The school district gave us the space and the instruments. The local luthier made repairs. I had volunteers from across my congregation. They checked in students, gave them snacks, dried a few tears, cheer-led their progress from the sidelines, observed teachers (many of the volunteers were retired educators), developed tools for success at every step; the lead teachers and student teachers taught class, identified student progress, helped develop the curriculum, and nurtured the children themselves as they learned violin, viola, and cello. Congregation and community gave donations, memorials, a few bucks here, a $10,000 grant there.

So…long story short, COVID was a major setback. I conducted 14 funerals at my church in 2020 alone. Former volunteers became full time caregivers to family. School returned to session before there was much knowledge of COVID or access to a vaccine, and I was not willing to put my people’s health at risk. My own son spent 2020-2021 in an online-only classroom. I was busy with 100 new ways of being a pastor, and I found online music lessons an exercise in madness. We ended the strings program, but it took time to close it out. I was honestly burning out. I never wanted to be a YouTube pastor, hiding behind a mask like a bandit, editing videos for hours every day, but there I was.

Fast forward to 2023, and my son joined a 5th-8th grade string orchestra through the local Suzuki program. Part of me longed to teach an orchestra again. Part of me was still nursing the grief from before. What happened was weird though: I became a backseat rider.

The conductor was younger than me, still finishing a music education degree. He played percussion, with only the experience of string methods in his degree program. I was shocked when I remembered that, in normal school programs, one teacher alone conducts a whole classroom. My church can’t even get insurance coverage if we don’t keep 4 adults in the room with the children (yes, our insurance requires that 2 non-related adults walk a child to the bathroom).

My first impressions of this “different” string program led me to ask, “Should a parent be in the room as an ‘unrelated adult’ during rehearsal?” “What if a student needs their instrument tuned mid-rehearsal? There’s no one but the conductor if I don’t stay.” “What if a student has a question about bowings and fingerings? This is my specialty!”

At the root of this anxiety was: “Can I backseat-drive this class?” And…” how much can I say before I drive this poor conductor crazy?”

Slowly, I learned something valuable: I learned to just sit there, with all my thoughts and grief and insecurities, and OBSERVE. Out of this practice, I learned:

The conductor is very good at dealing with the ADHD-style disruptions. Why have I always demanded a strictly quiet classroom during rehearsal? He was patient, and the students never *needed* to be yelled at. Have I missed an important lesson for ALL these years?

There’s something important about learning alongside your students; the teaching is mutual. There’s a different sort of respect: the conductor is not an “authoritarian,” but a “authoritative partner” with the orchestra. I’m not sure I’ve ever really tried that when I was the conductor. Most of my own youth conductors were powerful and stern. I feared them, respected them, and learned never to play in the rests. But did my students actually improve when I was strict with them?

As an observational partner, I was welcomed to contribute when students needed a little of my help. But I tried never to make them feel like they couldn’t do something. Tuning strings…let’s do it together. Play through an excerpt…how can we improve this? Then I asked myself: Did I NEED to be needed as a teacher? Did I relish being a “fixer” for every problem? That’s a terrible idea in both teaching and pastoral ministry. Was I ready to learn this difficult lesson?

Could I begin and end a rehearsal with gratitude, rather than anxiety? Maybe we don’t learn everything as well as I’d like. Is it the end of the world though?

Ultimately, riding in the backseat of my own car shifted my perspective and offered me a chance to learn how I might do things differently in the future. Will I conduct another youth orchestra one day? Probably. (I’ve been sucked in many times before.) Will I bring new tools and ideas with me? Most definitely!

Will I occasionally put myself in the back seat in other aspects of my ministry and leadership? 100%.

Rev. Christine Kaplunas serves as the Pastor of Unity Presbyterian Church in Waterloo, Iowa. She plays violin in a string trio with her husband, Daniel, and 12-year-old son, Jacob. She loves new ideas, helping people heal, and Jesus.

A Different Kind of Love

By Christine Kaplunas

_{Author: Rev. Christine Kaplunas serves Unity Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) in Waterloo, Iowa. She loves reading about history, music and plants, but she also really loves her husband, son, and mother. You can hear her play fiddle occasionally with country band Throwback Jack.}

During the Great Depression, Kentucky women rode 120 miles a week through treacherous mountain passes, crossing swollen creeks and navigating steep terrain – all to deliver books to isolated Appalachian communities. These “Pack Horse Librarians” worked under the WPA from 1935-1943, earning just $28 a month (about $495 today).

Nearly 1,000 librarians participated, using their own horses or mules to carry books in makeshift saddlebags. They established small libraries in churches and post offices, repaired damaged books with Christmas cards as bookmarks, and persevered through harsh weather and dangerous conditions.

When their animals died, some librarians would hike 18-mile routes on foot rather than leave communities without access to books. They gained trust in remote areas by reading Bible passages and brought hope through stories to places where roads didn’t exist.

The program ended in 1943, but the Pack Horse Librarians left an incredible legacy of dedication, bringing knowledge and connection to isolated mountain communities during one of America’s darkest times.

Sources: Down Cut Shin Creek: The Pack Horse Librarians of Kentucky, Smithsonian Magazine, Pine Mountain Settlement School documents. This Photo by Unknown Author is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND

I read this italicized history above (I’ve read lots on these women before), and I can tell you exactly why these women braved horrible job conditions for terrible pay:

It’s love.

Maybe it’s not a sort of love you have encountered before. The benefits they received were things like…

1. Educating (through the sacred mystery of time) their younger selves/being the heroes they needed as kids.

2. Literally becoming heroes to the many isolated and mildly-literate people who needed to be able to connect to a changing, connecting world.

3. Delivering hope.

4. Living in a place with more educated neighbors.

The thing that “gets” me about this story is that I think I have to explain it on a molecular level.

Money is a useful currency. I know what it’s like to need it with utmost haste. I know what debt is like. My “denial” of its importance probably relates to my upbringing in a highly charitable family and church community. So I promise I know more than I look…

When Jesus was healing and empowering people, without money, it was love. When people ensure their neighbors don’t starve (despite all the potential poor choices they made to get there), when people educate other people’s children, when they plant trees or gardens for others to enjoy, when they teach the liberating word of God to others, when they ride a horse through hell just to get people access to books…

It’s love. Love is the currency that transcends all currency, because giving it away only multiplies it.

Do something today that values people over profits. Do something for the love of someone else today. Do it for someone close to you or far away. Do a little bit of something every day. Because money can’t go beyond the grave for you or me. But love does.

Log in the Eye

Matthew 22:37-39

³⁷Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’^[^a^] ³⁸This is the first and greatest commandment. ³⁹And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’^[^b

How do you see yourself:

As God sees you?

How do you see others;

As God sees them?

Can you accept that being just who you are at this moment,

with the way that you’re feeling

is fine?

Because that is the way God loves you. Just

As you are.

Are you in your own eyes a fix-it or fixer upper or

Something Beautiful ?

What gives you the log in the eye?

Is this a perception that you see yourself as others do?

Or as you think you must be to achieve your best you?

Does experience through the years make you less acceptable to God

Or more acceptable?

Or are you , just as the story goes, just right. If so, according to whom? Beautiful

The way you are . At this moment . At the present moment. How do you know? Am I

Now more able to accept myself (and others) as I happen to be

Rather than as somebody thought I should be

With a Log in my eye.

The old Tiger and Bobcat

Psalm 104:27-28 These all look to you, to give them their food in due season. When you give it to them, they gather it up; when you open your hand, they are filled with good things.

¹Corinthians 13:4,7 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. ⁷It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Ferocity, not Tenderness and love, usually comes to mind when I think of tigers versus bobcats. But just because beings are different, doesn’t mean love can’t flourish.

Prides of the cat families usually are often thought of as lions but our pride includes a house cat who thinks he’s a lion, a dog and a two legged creatures as the the “daddy cat” or “old tiger” as he calls himself.

yes, in our family’s pride I will share the loving relationship between two different but exceptionally tender and loving beings, one with 2 legs and one with 4, who truly gave their hearts to each other. The old tiger, Roger, has led the pride.. The other is our Blake, the feisty but dear tuxedo kitty named Bobcat for his manner of drinking, who would have been 21 on his next birthday.

God creates all animals for the use of mankind (Genesis 1:28; 9:3), but he expects us to respect and care for those resources, not to abuse them.

A godly perspective on all creation naturally leads to respect for all creatures. Psalm 104:27-28 All (creatures) all look to you, to give them their food in due season. When you give it to them, they gather it up; when you open your hand, they are filled with good things.

This Biblical truth lives to the full with our old tiger and bobcat who lived 19 years with his pride…from the time we got him 10 pounds of feistiness and confidence in his role in life. In charge of his staff.

Blake, a small shorthair cat with an appetite, a big attitude, no claws and big teeth. If he wakes up early, hungry, he will catch the first human out of the bedroom with a set of teeth marks on the ankle which means, feed me, please. He loves food and is constantly in search of it. Also, he loves attention and people. At the humane society he was a greeter cat who came up to meow at everyone who came into the cat room to visit.

His staff came with gentle Buddy, our Cavalier King Charles Spaniel mix dog, whom Blake could command without a hint of a growl or hiss. Blake would prowl into the room, looking right at Buddy, and give a clear, piercing “meow”. Blake “Bobcat” Smith-Davis-Cat would then turn around and, as expected, his brother would immediately get up and follow Blake as directed. He was not the dominant animal with Rascal (another one of our dogs).

Blake always loved fresh hamburger, cat treats, chicken, lap sitting, laser toys, string, and having his tummy-tickled and brushed by girls, specifically. He guards our house, loves to chase small creatures with Rascal and makes us proud, most of the time.

Always determined to find his prey, Blake tried to escape to the outside world now and again. But countless times was chased back inside (and sometimes gently pulled by the ear) by his younger brother Rascal, our self-assured terrier who, even though hard to believe, has even bigger attitude and teeth.

Through the years, the old tiger has always defended and tended his pride as ¹Corinthians 13:4-7 commands us to be. “Love is patient, love is kind …⁷It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”

Roger has gently tended our kitty, especially the last year. Hour by hour, day by day after Blake was diagnosed with kidney and thyroid diseases and blockage in colon. So, Roger persevered to find a way to administer humanely the necessary medications…compounded specially by a pharmacy for Blake…Gently, multiple times a day, he would tenderly seek Blake out in his hiding places and administer medicine to Blake’s ears. Blake seemed to know that his loving friend brought help to him. Never fought the medicine. Roger would talk gently to his kitty with lots of pets and tender strokes.

Despite tiring physical illnesses of his own, Roger would never waver. For example, he would sit patiently and quietly while Blake would slowly bob for water, food and walk away but would return three or four other times while he would attempt to get enough nourishment. His stomach had shrunk a lot with his illnesses, to half his weight and couldn’t take much in.

On Blake’s last day, cleaning up for the kitty who had to be placed in his litter and couldn’t stand up but fell down in exhaustion. Whatever was needed, Roger would be there. We all would be there for our baby boy. Even his brother Rascal, who loved Blake’s food, somehow knew and often checked on his big brother.

Blake would never, ever give up. Blessing us and enjoying life. Loving his tuna and jumping up on the bed with his pride, or onto his throne. The living room window seat, he just wanted to be with those he loved, protect them, and knew that they loved him.

His tiger dad and I protected him and said goodbye holding Blake in his favorite Catnapper lounger with plenty of cuddles and pets from all of his vet Alicen, his family and friends. We will always love you, dear feisty kitty. The old tiger and I will see our beloved Bobcat-angel once again on the Rainbow Bridge

. Yet, somehow, I still sense your presence and hear your soft mee-ow asking for food. Love can lasts furr-ever. So, dear friends..each other despite, or actually because of your beautiful differences. Meow.

You can learn more about Blake, Buddy and Rascal in my book “Tales of Our Boys and Other Critters”.

Tap on the Shoulder

“Can a woman forget her nursing child, that she should have no compassion on the son of her womb?” God declares through the prophet Isaiah. “Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you. Behold, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands” (Isaiah 49:15–16).

Does God tap you on the shoulder? Presenting you with an “uh-huh”? Perhaps I should pay attention to this?

With my drink cup and snacks in my hand, I am about to slide into the right seat of our Odyssey while on our Colorado vacation. My husband Roger, already in the driver’s seat, calls my attention to the hood of our vehicle.

Looking up, I think perhaps a bird or other critter would appear in my sight. But, instead, I notice a book resting on the driver’s side of the hood. The Practice of the Presence of Jesus, by Joni Eareckson Tada.

Puzzled, I reach out for the book and caress its cover for a minute or two. “Hmm. I thought I took you up to our room last night.”

Somehow, last night my tired brain had said enough. Amid the piles of things I gathered to bring in from the car, the book had apparently silently slipped to the ground and a kind stranger had put it on the hood for me to find.

I forget what to do. I just go on autopilot. I plop the pile of stuff on the hotel room table along with my purse, jump into the shower and fall into bed with the cool sheets lulling me to sleep. Losing myself in my thoughts.

But God wants to have that book and taps me on the shoulder… “Hey, Bonnie. Read this page.” I come out of my reverie and take Joni’s book into the car and turn to today’s page. To Know God. Joni, a quadrapelgic due to an accident when she was young, beautifully addresses this day the importance of making Jesus the center of your thoughts, to delight in me and do your most ordinary tasks with an eye to His glory. To Know God. To Focus on Him. Yes. To be present to bring Jesus’ love light to the world around you.

My schedule for the morning had not started as it should, so God brings me back to the present… shining his Light, nudging me in the right direction. What nudges you back to the present…to focus you on your Creator?

What helps me most right now is the daily intention of starting my day PEACED, with a schedule. I work to ingrain this in my daily habits to put PEACE of God first intentionally and focus on HIM.

This means start with Praying (including worship with Bible), exercise my body and mind and animals, do animal care for two aging pets, chow some hopefully healthy food, do Email / communication and Devotion of the Practice of Presence of Jesus. Then dive into my schedule.

It usually starts for me with just bowing in gratitude and guidance to let go to the God that loves me through all my forgetfulness, my humanness, difficult circumstances… and 20 minutes of silent prayer to get in tune with Him. To become aware.

His loving reminder, when you are aware, sometimes is in finding a book on the hood, sometimes a word from a friend, sometimes a playful pup, sometimes breathless mountain walks with a tree hug or beautiful foliage, sometimes, a text or note from a friend. Perhaps, a smile from a stranger or an unexpected “door” opens for you that you do not expect showing you that that you are not alone. Someone is aware of you.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s not easy. Phone calls, house emergencies, family needs, lots get in the way. Sometimes the hardest thing to do is to just forge ahead. Making that list. You look around and see so many projects that are on your plate. Where do you start? You feel frozen. Overwhelmed.

But no matter how often you forget, God loves you so much he will not let you go. Jesus knows you overwhelm…he has been there and has given his life that you may live. And now, the Holy Spirit is tapping you on the shoulder, remembering his child with love. “Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you. Behold, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands” (Isaiah 49:15–16).

Be Still and Know

Storm Cloud Photo by Unknown Author is licensed under CC BY-SA

God’s Loving Hand works in mysterious ways. When do we know that what we are sensing to do is from the Holy Spirit?

The book of 1 John reveals so much of Jesus’ dear apostle and friend. John’s unwavering belief in the Son of God and Jesus’ undeniable complete trust in His Father continues to show God’s beautiful Love to all. Jesus the Christ carries out his human yet divine journey to save human life through resurrection.

Christians believe through study of the Word the deep connection available to imperfect humankind via faith, grace, forgiveness and Love to each other and all other living things in Creation.

So, what brings this to the front today? Grace, forgiveness and Love of my very imperfect self, truth be told.

While watching my dear husband and neighbor bowl at Monday league, I received a call from our worship leader at church where we often do technology for services. Earlier that day I had had back-to-back meetings and was just preparing to get back into what I needed to follow-up on from Sunday.

“The remote for the LCD worship team projector is missing and I have looked everywhere,” she said. “I usually put the remotes on top of the soundboard, I responded. Perhaps, it may have slipped off the top of the board when the rack was moved and onto the floor in back of the soundboard in the closet.” I asked her to call me later on Monday when she had more news.

My imperfect self guiltily remembered the remote was not immediately apparent on the sound board when I went back, still in church clothes, to pick something up at church later Sunday. I wished I could have taken the time to thoroughly search. I had dashed in to pick up something on the way to a planned lunch and my husband was anxiously waiting my return to the car.

I had told my husband at the time, but he seemed to think it would turn up soon and not to worry. (He was right, but for a different reason). I remembered the leader had had the remote in her hand to check for batteries, so…. More reflection brought several scenarios to mind like the one I mentioned that would likely lead to finding it. I prayed about the remote and now this call. I knew God would provide an answer, but somehow felt guilty and impatient.

Completion of a very detailed class paper made time fly by. The paper finally done, I set out to get carry-on filled. Finally, I just had to get some sleep. But, a late evening storm front that went through woke me up. I remembered the remote and said another prayer. Then I remembered I hadn’t heard back from her. I hoped that maybe she had found it and had been as busy as we were.

So, I checked on my 16-year-old dog Rascal, sound asleep on his back on the bed. He was so peaceful. To him, all was well with the world. Mom and dad and his cat brother were here and he was safe. I rubbed his belly and smiled as he leaned in and I thought I need to always be this confident about God taking care of me in my life. I have so much to be grateful for. I drifted off with a roof over my head, a loving husband….so many graces. I relaxed with verses of God’s love for us playing in my head and fell into sleep.

A deep nudge from the Holy Spirit woke me early with a very strong urge to go to my closet and look for my pink coat I had worn at service the day before. It was a peaceful, but very persistent nudge. So, I groggily got up and quietly opened the closet door. I shuffled my clothes and found the coat.

I reached into the closest pocket, nothing there. I cocked my head. A memory started forming, hurrying me along into the next pocket. I felt something metal and rectangular. There it was. Stunned, I realized that it had been there all the time… when I had finished the service, when I went back to look in the sound closet, and when I hung the coat up and said a prayer to find the remote. I was just too busy to notice. To take time to be aware. A couple familiar buttons popped into my eyes as I lifted the object out of my pocket.

I simply stood there. The prayer was answered.

Groggily things came into focus remembering the leader handing me the remote after she had checked for batteries. I had then quickly moved into the next task for the worship day. In reflection, I must have put the remote into my pocket then and forgotten about it. I never have put the remote on my person before, so it never occurred to me to look in my pockets, despite the suggestion it might be there made earlier Monday.

Something shook me out of my reverie and I looked for the darkened bedroom clock flashing 12:00 indicating that power had gone out. I stumbled out into the kitchen looking for my phone to message her but with the power out, my phone was not charged. My computer had automatic backup so I immediately messaged her the remote was found and it would be at church first thing in the morning, and apologized for any inconvenience. She would have it when she checked her messages, so I could do nothing more. I sighed a prayer of gratitude and asked for forgiveness for my assumptions and human error. I put the remote by my purse and smiled.

I pondered the irony of the remote. The remote connector to the LCD is like visually being present, being open to what was there, ready to respond. To clearly listen to signals coming to me from God, Holy Spirit, from my friend and my surroundings and giving God’s love back to them.

I wish to be more present and awake to love and listen to a nudge from the Holy Spirit, whatever form it takes. When I walked into the church to bring the remote, I was given grace and forgiveness by caring friends who know that things happen…we are all human and love each other through things. Drawing closer together in doing so openly with love.

Just a side, if you take time to smile, you will by consequence, be more present and aware of what is going on. Take a few life-giving breaths in and out. To remember to trust in Whose you are and Who loves you more than anyone else.

Will I mess up again? Undoubtedly. But I know who will forgive me. And love me always. And I pray that you, as well, will always grow in understanding, give grace and forgive. Thank you, Jesus. Amen

Hope Arises

Her eyes watch me as I wring the dishrag to wipe the tables off at a community supper. Hope catches my eye. She (not her name) sits still. Quietly Hope raised her spoon to her mouth again, savors the warming sensation of the soup and then takes a sip of lemonade…

After a little while the petite middle-aged woman looks up into my eyes and rises from her chair. She steps forward toward me. Hope reaches out and hugs me, whispering into my ear. “Bless you for all that you do. I just got married a week or so ago and we so appreciate assistance. My new husband is there.” She points to where a quiet man sits apparently deep in thought.

I hug her back and hold on a little. “May God hold you close and give you many blessings” comes flowing from my mouth… This child of God knows that she is being taken care of and is grateful. Open in expressing her gratefulness to others.

Our eyes hold each other for a little and feel God’s love flow between us. The moisture from the cold wet cloth brings me back to the room. Such a giant expression of love for what, at the moment, seems like a small thing. But to Hope it isn’t small.

I pause, letting the rag drip on the floor. It doesn’t matter. I smile at her and feel uplifted in a way I haven’t felt in a long time. God touches us unexpectedly with such tender love.

John 13:34-35 “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. 35 By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”

She turns back to her meal. How can we reach out to others in love. to let God’s beautiful light of love flow through us in the stream of life?