Yearly Archives: 2016

Led by the Light

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An Accidental Country Pastor’s Advent Journey 

Come on an Advent journey and walk the rural roads and snow covered paths with Donna Frischknecht as she shares stories of God’s promises being fulfilled in the most amazing ways and unexpected ways. 

Advent Day 2:

The other night I asked my husband what his favorite Christmas song was. I did put a disclaimer stating it couldn’t have the words “snowman” or “reindeer” in it. He thought for a bit and smiled and said he wasn’t going to tell me because I wouldn’t put it in the category of Christmas, but rather in the season of Epiphany. I insisted he tell me.

Okay. I did bite my tongue and refrained from saying “We Three Kings” didn’t count as a Christmas song. He knew, though, what I was thinking and we both started laughing. He then asked me what my favorite song was. I really couldn’t tell him because I tend to like them all and what usually happens is each year one specific song will tug at my heart more than others, depending on where my heart is at that particular moment.

The song tugging at my heart this year? “O Holy Night.”

I had it playing in my car the other day as I made my way to the store. Now mind you, running to the store here in God’s country is not a quick trip. It’s over the river and through the woods and involves many curves and bends through valleys and hills. I was on my way to the store early in the morning as I had a full day of writing and ministry. I had just moved back home to the area and I was thinking about all the amazing God moments that had already happened in such a short time. How I ran into a pastor colleague of mine in the coffee shop and the warm hug he gave me was just what I needed. How another pastor friend I used to see at the gym years ago, spotted me in the store and told me of several ministries happening that I might get involved with. As we parted he said, “It’s good to have you back. This is definitely God’s mission field and God needs you here.”

And then there was this elderly couple who kept staring at me while in the post office finally came up to me to ask, “Weren’t you the pastor who visited our bee farm years ago?” I was. And I hugged the white-haired, grandmotherly woman with the most amazing blue eyes, tightly, as my way of thanking her for remembering me. As we hugged she said, “It’s good to have you home.”

A short visit to a bee farm so many years ago with people I only saw that one time…who would have thought they would remember?

“O Holy Night” was playing in my car as thought about all these connections being made. I drove. I thought. I listened. I watched. I watched the early morning sun rise up over the mountains, casting a heavenly glow on the frosted ground before. It was then the line that tugged at my heart came.

Led by the light of faith supremely beaming.

Led by the light. I was indeed led by the light so many years ago to come to rural America and make this place my home. It was a light that no one else could see, but I could. And I trusted enough to follow. And once again God’s light led me back home. The light of faith supremely beaming.

The sun rising over the mountains got brighter and as it did my joy grew greater. Yes, I know there will be challenges. There will be uncertainties. There will be struggles, grief, sickness in life. It will not always be rays of light shining of my path. But this I know. When you are led by the light, a light that no one else can see, you know all will be well. For you will find yourself exactly in the place you are supposed to be.

What hymn of faith is tugging at your heart this year?

 

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Led by the light…a country pastor finds her way back home, thanks to the light of faith beaming supremely. May this Advent season you trust God and be led by His light. 

Those in Exile

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An Accidental Country Pastor’s Advent Journey 

Come on an Advent journey and walk the rural roads and snow covered paths with Donna Frischknecht as she shares stories of God’s promises being fulfilled in the most amazing ways and unexpected ways. 

Advent Day 1:

O come, o come Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel, that mourns in lonely exile here, until the Son of God appear.

Advent is a season that begins in a puzzling way for our culture. It begins not with the festive “ho, ho, ho’s” and bright twinkling lights. Advent begins with the dark still hovering over the land, with people yearning to see light.

It’s a season that begins with the invitation for us to listen to the voices of those in exile. To really listen to the mournful voices who cry out to God to be delivered from suffering. The voices who beg to be heard. The voices who simply want to be “home.”

We’re in a season where that ache to be home is very real for so many. The ache could be the desire to be physically home. My sister knows that ache. She and her husband moved to Florida a few weeks ago and are having to live in an extended-stay motel as the completion date of their house has been delayed. Her hope to have been in their new home for Christmas will probably not happen this year.

The joy of beginning a new chapter is not quite what she had envisioned. She had envisioned a glistening Christmas tree standing in her very own living room. But here she is. Right now. Not home. Yet.

Then there is the ache that I think is the more common this time of year. One we know all too well, especially as we get older. The ache to return to the home of one’s childhood. There you can once again smell the warm sugar cookies mom is taking out of the oven. You can see dad teetering on the ladder positioning the faded plastic reindeer just right. You can see the faces of all you love gathered at the dinner table. Their faces are glowing in the light of the candles on the Advent wreath.

We’re in the season of Advent and it’s a time to take note of those who long to be home. It’s time to hear their voices and offer them a listening ear, an understanding heart, the patience of a saint to perhaps listen to a story of Christmas past you have heard many times before. It’s time to offer a tissue to catch the tear from the eye of a friend who longs for a loved one who has gone home.

Advent is about the promise that is coming. The promise that no matter what exile you find yourself in there will be rejoicing again. The light of Christ will break through the darkness.

I know a little a bit about being in exile.

This time last year I was longing to be home again in Vermont. I knew God had a plan for me. I knew God had ministry for me to do back home. I knew it. But God knew I also had some things to learn while away from home. I needed once again to trust in the darkness. I needed to wait for the rejoicing to come. I needed to continue loving God, worshipping God, seeking God, even when it seemed God had checked me off the “nice” list and was making sure I wouldn’t get my Christmas wish list fulfilled.

I was tempted to give up, give in. There were days in which I had to face the reality that perhaps I couldn’t go back home. Then, as it was to the children of Israel so long ago, their time of waiting ended. It was time to go home. God heard in the most unexpected ways and God led me back.

And here I now sit back at my farm table writing, in my role as “an accidental country pastor,” traveling country roads dotted with cows and back to the way of life that those in the little white church I once pastored invited me to be part of—a life filled with an unwavering hope in the future, no matter how dark the days get, because they have seen how God has never let the down.

As we begin our Advent journey, may you remember that God never lets you down either. God always hears the cries of those in exile and leads us back to the place in which we will once again find ourselves rejoicing.

Scripture to Reflect On

Jeremiah 33:14-16

The days are coming, declares the Lord, when I will fulfill the good promise I made to the people of Israel and Judah. In those days and at that time I will make a righteous Branch sprout from David’s line; he will do what is just and right in the land. In those days Judah will be saved and Jerusalem will live in safety. This is the name by which it will be called:  The Lord Our Righteous Savior.

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A candle of hope burns on the sill of my kitchen window. 

An Advent Message: Isaiah 2

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Here’s the Advent wreath I made, featuring greens collected on my early morning walk along the rail trail behind Sofie’s Hill. The first candle of “hope” shines brightly. 

 

 

This Thanksgiving

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Thanksgiving is drawing to a close. The turkey, stuffing and yams (what’s left of them) are sitting in the fridge in Tupperware bowls. The dishwasher is tackling the dishes I rather not tackle. And the pecan and pumpkin pies are waiting to be warmed, sliced and topped with ice cream. The holiday dinner finale, however, will have to wait. I need to do something important. And I need to do it now.

I need to pause, take a look around and fall on my knees in prayerful thanks to God who answered the cry of my heart in the most amazing way. I have to offer my tears of joy to God and recommit my service to Him who has brought me here to the place I am right now. Home. Home in the little red house where cows are my neighbors and Vermont’s Green Mountains are my backyard. Home where those who once knew me “the pastor of the little white church” still remember me as such and who have shown excitement to have me back and who have embraced me with their hugs and blessings on the streets of the village, in the coffee shop, post office and gas station. Home. A place where one’s heart is content and is guaranteed to find strength for the trying days and refuge in life’s storms.

Yes, I am home.

If you asked my husband and I a few months ago if we would be saying a Thanksgiving grace at our farm table with the slight slant due to the old 18th century floors in our house, I would not have believed it. For a few months ago the possibility of returning home seemed to be a “not now, but later” dream as I struggled with leaving a good ministry job. I, admittedly, allowed the security of an income cloud my belief in God who makes all things possible. I had let the expectations of the world—a good job with benefits—dim my talents and passion for serving God beyond a church building. Dare I say, I had, gulp, lost my faith in God and began trusting in my own abilities to make a life worth living. And where did it get me? Nowhere.

But God is patient with us. God doesn’t give up on us. God continues to work in our lives, even when we have taken over the steering wheel. And so in the spring, God ever so gently led me to a retreat for clergy. A gift of sorts to step away and discern the next steps in ministry. Every morning I woke up early to go for a walk. As the mist hovered over the lake and the birds awoke with song, I felt something. I felt a connection to the divine again. And I heard it. I heard God whisper, “You can do all things. Trust me.”

You can do all things. Trust me.

But how will I pay the bills if I move back to Vermont?

Haven’t I provided for you before? You can do all things. Trust me.

But where will I preach and share the amazing promises of a God who never leaves us alone?

I will show you how to reach my children. I will provide the opportunities. You can do all things. Trust me.

But…

“Donna, can we pray for you?”

The offer came from the retreat leaders one afternoon. Perhaps they saw me deep in thought. Perhaps they saw right through my smile and sensed the worry within. Perhaps they could see I, like Jacob, was having one heck of a wrestling match with God.

Whatever they saw, I accepted their offer and told them about the strong pull on my heart to go back home and to become an advocate, a voice, for small rural churches, but I just couldn’t see a clear way back. They gave me a warm, reassuring smile that told me they completely understood where I was at that moment. They had been there once as well. They asked what was on my heart and I shared. I shared with them how I could see myself back home in rural Vermont, serving God, serving His children, but that I didn’t the way to get there. I told them how I wanted to get back to my writing roots and still be a pastor. I told them the ideas I had for cooperative rural ministry where it wasn’t about just one church, but a network of churches serving together. I told them about my ideas for a rural ministry network, offering resources and prayer support. I told them my dreams. Now it was time to turn to God and hear His dreams for me.

We clasped hands, bowed our heads and prayed. We prayed for surrender. We prayed for strength. We prayed for provision. But most of all we prayed for God to use me as God wanted to.

After the “amen” we began to make our way to lunch. It was then one of those prayer angels stopped me before entering the room and reassured me, “You will be home and home just in time for the holidays. I just know it. You will be serving God beautifully. I can see it.”

On the last day of the retreat, each participant was given a stone embossed with the word “Credo” on it. It would be a reminder for us to live out the dreams God had awakened in each us, to realize the responsibility we had to use our talents in glorifying God, to live out our life’s creed and not fall victim to simply making a living, but rather unleashing the life God has planned for us. I carried that stone with me for months, caressing it, holding it, praying with it and tonight it sits on the fireplace mantel surrounded by the gourds I have once again received as a gift from a dear woman from the little white church who has always made sure the pastor’s house looked perfect for the holidays.

Yes, the pecan and pumpkin pies will have to wait to be warmed, sliced and topped with ice cream. For I need to fall on my knees in prayerful thanks to God who heard my cry and who has led me to where I am at this moment. I am home. Surrounded by cows, Green Mountains, gourds and many welcome home hugs.

And so a blessed Thanksgiving to you from me, the girl who once lived in Manhattan and wore cute little heels but who dared to trust God and leave it all behind for the joy and privilege of being an “accidental country pastor.”

 

A Prayer

 Loving God, you see the struggles in our hearts. We want to follow You and trust, but the worry and fear seem stronger and greater than our faith. Forgive us. Increase our faith in You. Help us to let go of all the what if’s. Help us to realize life is too short not to trust You. Help us this very moment to see the impossible can be possible. With you by our sides God let us dare to dream big, dare to stand up and make the world a better place, dare to go against what the world says is living and live with You at the center of our lives. Let us always be thankful and praise You for the wonderful way you lead each one of us to that place of belonging, fulfillment, contentment and joy—to that place we call home. Amen.

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Walking Humbly

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A week ago our country voted for our next president. A week ago there were people (and media) who thought the outcome would be in their favor. There were people who prayed hard for their candidate of choice. There were people who watched and waited. As the watching and waiting continued into the night, people became dazed and confused. They cried and wailed. They rejoiced and danced. A week ago there were people…

I’ve been quiet for a week trying to decide if I should share what’s on my mind. And if so, how best to share the thoughts swirling around trying to find a place to finally settle down and rest.

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A sign at the farm down the road from the Accidental Country Pastor’s Vermont home. No matter who is in office, it will be long four years for we need once again to remember with God there is always sunny side to hope for and work towards.  

You see I am a pastor in rural America, serving God’s children in a place where many feel their voices aren’t heard. I am the kind of pastor who has lived in the big cities and so I have friends who are now heartbroken over the electoral count. I also have friends who are not so heartbroken. I am a pastor who has the ability to listen to both sides and hear what “the other” is saying. I am pastor who often finds herself straddling two worlds. I am a pastor who now puts herself into the heartbroken category. But I put myself there not because of who won or didn’t win the election. I put myself there because of the behavior I’ve seen and words I’ve heard from both those who lament and from those who rejoice.

A week ago there were people…let me emphasize “people.” For that is what we are. We are not winners or losers. We cannot—nor should be—so easily categorized. We are people of a loving and sovereign God who since the beginning of time has been urging us to be better than we often are. And yet in a week’s time, I wonder about who we have become. It seems this election has brought to light a problem I had an inkling was already part of our society. The problem of how we react and treat each other when things don’t go our way. Years ago I heard a pastor say that we don’t have to like one another, but we do have to walk hand in hand with one another. Is our nation capable of grasping the hand of the other?

Since the election I have been thinking a lot about the prophet Micah who said it well when he said, “Do what is right, love mercy and walk humbly with your God.”

Now more than ever we—you and I—are being called to do what is right. We can’t just leave it to others to make our lives better. We need to be part of the bettering of our world. I have often seen complacency in churches that I serve where the work of a brighter future is often left in the hands of the pastor—the church’s elected official of sorts. But it is the work of all people that matters and moves us forward. We can still wake up to a new day and know we can do our part to make it a just world for all. To do so, though, means we place ourselves in the one category that should only exist. The one of brothers and sisters in Christ.

We can choose to love mercy and realize its healing power. For when mercy is either received or extended it removes the scales from our eyes and we begin seeing each other as the brothers and sisters in Christ I just mentioned, the ones who want the same things in life you want. To be heard, to be loved, to be safe and to have your daily bread.

And we can, no, we MUST walk humbly with our God. For the one we are to glorify, the one we are to place our trust in, is God. Human leaders are just that. Human. Flawed and broken…no matter what political party they pledge allegiance to. But God is God, steadfast in love and immovable even though the mountains around us will crumble and fall.

A week ago there were people…

Tired of struggling to make ends meet.

Worried about how to afford healthcare for their family.

Scared about what rights might be taken away.

Frightened about how they and their children will be treated if not white and privileged.

A week ago there were people…those people are still here. Those people are you and me. They are our neighbors and the strangers on the street. They are our brothers and sisters in Christ.

It’s time now for us to do what is right, to love mercy and to keep walking humbly with our God.

For the savior we need is not in Washington D.C.

 

 

 

 

It’s All Good

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It’s November which means everyone on social media is writing about all the things they are grateful for. Now I am not a cynical person and I will admit it is refreshing to see positive affirmations being sent out into the universe rather than gripes. Lord knows we really need hope for our tomorrows. (Need I remind you our nation’s election is just around the corner.) But I will admit I have always (to some extent) wondered why don’t we ever express our gratitude each and every day? Why relegate thanks to the month in which we celebrate a day of giving thanks?

Why can’t we be grateful all the time? Because there really is something to praise God for all the time. There is. I know that for a fact.

I sit here this morning looking out my kitchen window of my little old house in Vermont. Locals call it the oldest house in the hamlet, which brings a big smile to my face because I adore old houses and I am grateful for them even when the plumbing fails and the roof leaks.

I sit here after a long three-year journey of sorts has ended. It was a journey which led me on winding roads to other places, filled with many twists and turns, potholes and challenges, dark times and cloudy days.

Three years ago, I made a decision to leave a place where I knew in my heart was home and where God had originally called me to serve. But temptation to see other places took hold of me. Perhaps there was greener grass and larger pastures that were even better than the grass and pastures in Vermont?

The day my husband and I were leaving Vermont, I remember gazing at the Green Mountains that were quickly becoming little hills fading into the background as the car drove on, and I heard myself say, “I am really going to miss that view.” And I did.

Three years I wrestled with God. I grappled with God. I asked God, where was he in my life?  Silence…so it seemed to my ears that were not ready to listen.  I even wondered if God really wanted me in ministry. Who was I? Why didn’t things work out? And where were the green pastures that were healing balm to my soul and spirit?

Three years of being away from home in foreign places (no, nothing exotic, they were all located in the United States, but still felt foreign to me), and I finally realized I was in way living in exile. And like God’s children who found themselves away from home, they were in exile for reason. They had lessons to learn. They had to learn to put God first. To trust God always. To love and live no matter where life took them. They had to find the joy of the Lord even when they didn’t find green pastures. They had to learn, like I had to learn, to give thanks and be grateful in all circumstances. For God is still our loving God in all circumstances.

It was during this time in my life that a woman from the community who heard about “the new pastor,” came by the church to give me a gift. Now she didn’t know me. She didn’t know my struggles. She didn’t know that I was a Vermonter living in exile. All she knew is she wanted to meet me and give me a gift. There in the package was a coffee mug with the words, “It’s all good” on it. I smiled and realized it was all good—exile or not—because of God who is always with me.

And so my time in “exile” was a turned into a time of growing stronger in faith, learning more about God’s mysterious ways and trusting God—and drinking a lot of coffee from that mug. Little by little, day by day, as I fixed my eyes on God life became beautiful again and I began to see how God was indeed using me and leading me.

Now in this month of November in which we will gather with loved ones in our homes and pause just long enough to think about all we have, I find myself home. Truly home. Not just in my beloved Vermont house with green grass and beautiful pastures that heal my soul and spirit. I find myself at home in a way I have never felt before. I find myself at home with God. Content, renewed, refreshed and committed to singing God’s praises and sharing the good news with all. I find myself knowing now the importance of being grateful in all circumstances and giving thanks each and every day I have breath in which to give thanks. I know the beauty that comes to your life and the life of others around you when you give thanks even when there seems to be nothing to be thankful for. For I am thankful—even now as I look at all the moving boxes that need to be unpacked and wonder why the water pipe is making that strange noise. Yes, it’s all good. God is with me.

What about you? Where are you in your life? Are there greener pastures tempting you? Are there moving boxes to pack or unpack? Are there water pipes making strange noises? Can you be thankful this day and every day?

You can. Because it is indeed all good.

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The Accidental Country Pastor is home again in Vermont. Watch for more writings on all the beautiful God moments in rural America and coming soon video devotions. 

 

 

Show Me the Way

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I wish God would just show me…

the way, the answers, the reasons why things happen the way things happen.

I wish God would just show me.

If you have ever screamed, lamented, whispered or pleaded this sentiment I am here to tell you right now to do something very important. Trust that God is showing you the answers you yearn for. But just don’t trust. COMPLETELY trust God right now in this very moment.

I know it’s not easy at times to do so. Heck, I know it’s not easy many times in our lives to trust God, but trust is the very thing God asks of us. And I have come to believe that a trusting heart is what brings a loving smile onto God’s face. Now who wouldn’t want to make God smile?

Years ago, when graduating seminary and beginning my search for a church to serve, I found myself being courted by two completely different churches in two completely different areas of the country—one rural; the other not rural at all. My heart was set on the not rural at all church. Turns out I wasn’t alone. The church had many applicants to choose from. I made the cut and was in the top five of candidates chosen.

When I finally interviewed at the church something strange happened. I didn’t “feel” it. I just couldn’t see myself there. I fought that feeling as this was the church everyone wanted. What was wrong with me that I wasn’t wanting it? A few days later my bags were packed and I went to the rural church to interview. I went just for the fun of it. Something to do. A new place to see. When I interviewed at that church, something strange happened as well. I felt it. I could see myself there. I fought the feeling as this was a rural church. Who would want to go there?

I wish God would just show me…

I fought all desire to keep pursuing the job that looked good to the world and I did my best to trust God and soon found myself an accidental country pastor who fell in love with a way of life and people that I never knew I could love so much. This isn’t the end of the story.

Just recently I found myself in the area of the other not so rural church that I thought I wanted to be at. I never thought I would be in that vicinity again, but there I was. As I drove, my fingers clenched the steering wheel tightly as I tried to maneuver through traffic that felt like a Daytona racing track. Cars were weaving in and out of the many lanes and trucks zoomed past me. As I got closer to my destination I noticed it was filled with one housing development after another. The developments were given bucolic names such as “Whispering Farms” and “Old Orchard Lanes.” They were anything but bucolic and much to my disappointment there were no farmlands or orchards to see.

It was then I remembered my plea to God to show me the way so many years ago when presented with two different ways of life. I trusted God completely with the way that didn’t make sense. And now years later, God was showing me the beauty of His leading. I was given a glimpse of what my life could have been. God was showing me His plans in making me an accidental country pastor. (Well, not accidental in God’s eyes!) God was giving me a gift to understand better who I really was.

I turned the car around. It was time to head home, back to that way of life I never knew I could love so much.

I wish God would just show me.

May this be the day you put a huge loving smile onto God’s face. May this be the day you completely trust God. For God will show you…the way, the answers, the reasons for why things happen the way they do.

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On the way home to the accidental country pastor’s house. 

 

It’s All How You Look at Things

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The front door squeaked opened and then slammed shut. I, still slumbering at 5 a.m., didn’t think much of it as this was our morning routine. Husband gets up, showers, makes his coffee and then takes Sofie, our bumbling Bernese mountain dog, out for her morning business. I would then go back to slumbering for another hour.

And so the front door squeaked opened and then slammed shut, but that’s where our morning routine went awry. Before I could snuggle deeper into the blankets, something large and furry began nudging at me. I heard whimpering and then it came. A big wet and warm lick. It was Sofie.

“Shouldn’t you be outside with daddy,” I asked, as I petted the top of her head, while making my way out of the bed and fumbling for my glasses and trying to put on my slippers. I’ve always took pride in my ability to multi-task.

My sleep haze began dissipating with each step I took from the bedroom to the kitchen to see what was going on. I tried to ignore the growing concern rumbling along with the hunger in my stomach. Where was my husband? The kitchen light was on. The coffee mug, filled with hot coffee, sat on the counter right next to the now cold toast waiting to be taken out of the toaster. Sofie nudged me again, leading me to the front door. What could have happened? And where the heck was my husband?

The front door squeaked opened and then slammed shut behind me. My glasses, never quite fitting well, slid down my nose making it hard for me to focus in the dark of dawn. I pushed the glasses back up my nose and when I did my husband came into focus. There he stood looking up at the sky. He motioned to come join him and then pointed to the very thing that had him mesmerized. There in sky was the moon with a perfect halo of light surrounding it. It was eerie and beautiful at the same time.  images

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” I whispered. I didn’t know what to make of it, but as I kept staring I felt a comforting hug. No, not from my husband. Rather a divine hug of sorts, reassuring me that God’s love and protection was like that perfect illumined circle, forever surrounding me with light.

The front door squeaked opened and then slammed shut again. A breakfast of cold coffee and toast was eaten and the dark of dawn quickly gave way to light. The day had begun but still I couldn’t get that image of the moon encircled with light off of my mind. In between writing my sermon for Sunday, I decided to do some research and discovered what we saw was a lunar halo—a ring of light around the moon caused by ice crystals in the atmosphere.

Much to my surprise, lunar halos occur more often than I thought. Hmmm…perhaps I needed to listen to my husband and start getting up more at the crack of dawn to see these displays of nature? I then discovered that folk lore says such halos indicate rough weather on its way.

I thought about that some more. How interesting that my reaction to the halo was one of peace and comfort. I didn’t see the halo as a warning of tough times ahead, but rather of a reminder of God’s protection and love surrounding me.

That’s when I began wondering how many farmers of old took the message of the halo as a warning of tough times ahead and worried and batten down the hatches and tried their best to prepare for all the what if’s and the many unknowns? And how many farmers of old looked up at the sky and smiled, preferring to take the message of the halo as a beautiful reassuring hug from God that all would be well no matter what?

Rough weather, tough times—they always come. But God’s love is a never-ending circle surrounding us, getting us through it all.

There was a lunar halo this morning. It was beautiful. It was a like a divine hug reminding me that God is holding me tightly. That’s how I saw it. How would you see it?

 

 

 

 

 

The Junk Drawer

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God spoke to me the other day.

Nope. I wasn’t standing on some mountaintop. Nor was I lying prostrate on the floor. I wasn’t even kneeling in the quiet of a church sanctuary. There were no candles flickering nor Gregorian chanting in the background setting the stage in which to hear the Divine One speak. There was nothing holy going on at all when God spoke to me…in my kitchen, while I was standing in front of the junk drawer.

You know the junk drawer. That drawer filled with items you don’t want to throw away because, hey, you just never know when you might need that lone screw that came from something you have yet to discovered is wobbly and missing a screw. And I wonder if that piece of candy is still good to eat?

God spoke to me the other day. In my kitchen at the junk drawer where squished and hidden in the back corner of the drawer I found a relic from a vacation bible school from years gone by.It was rubber bracelet with the message “Watch for God.”

Every year at vacation bible school, the program chosen for the children gave the option of ordering these bracelets. I was always supportive of spending the extra money on them because the message to watch for God was one I really wanted the children to be constantly reminded of.

The kids loved the bracelets and even after vacation bible school had faded into their memories, I would spot the children out and about on the football field, practicing the latest cheers, kicking a soccer ball, heading to school with backpacks burdening their little backs, wearing their “Watch for God” bracelets. Every now and then a child would see me and pause to wave, pointing at their bracelet before giving me a thumbs up. I would return the thumbs up with a huge smile on my face.

Yes, keep on watching for the God moments are all around. I once believed that. I probably still do. It just seems lately I feel my eyes are out of focused. It seems lately I can’t seem to see how beautiful life can be. I’m not talking about watching for the beauty on the surface of things. I’m talking about how I have forgotten to watch for the beauty in the midst of the ugly. Watch for the answers in the midst of tough questions. Watch for the strength to come in the moments of incredible weakness. Watch for God’s promise to take my measly loaf and fish and multiply them into a fulfilling feast. Watch for God to take hardened hearts and break them open.

Watch…for…God…I slipped the bracelet on my wrist. Thank goodness for junk drawers. For God spoke to me the other day. In  my kitchen. From the junk drawer.

God told me to watch. Watch for greater things are yet to come. img_2727-1