Winter in the Midwest Region is a fickle thing. One day you find yourself in a Polar Vortex surrounded by six inches of snow. Then two days later your coat and boots are traded in for a zip-up hoodie and Chucks.
Today, as I sit at the kitchen table sipping a hazelnut cappuccino, the landscape peering in the patio door is grayscale, spotted with patchy fog. I had really wanted to go for a walk with hopes of snapping a pic splattered in a cheerful color, but this was not that day. Everything looks bleak. I strain hoping to catch a glimpse of something, anything life-giving and worthy of a snapshot.
The longer I stare, my eyes refocus through the lens of this past summer when the yard was alive with vibrant colors of lemon yellow, lime green, apple red, and tangerine orange. Grandkids darted about the yard, chasing butterflies, catching lightning bugs, and feeding our adopted squirrel. Hubby threw juicy burgers on the grill, while I shucked corn and sliced ruby-red watermelon. The whole outdoors seemed to be throwing a party and we were invited to attend.
As the shadows of this scene play out in my mind, I smile. Just the memories of summer’s celebration bring a piece of hope and joy.
Memories are the gift God gives us to help carry us through the seasons of life cloaked in shadow. Just this week, I found myself fighting doubts about the direction of my life, partnered with the fears of my future. In the past, this has been a debilitating combination. But rather than dwell on the gloominess of my thoughts, I gave myself permission, Permission to dwell on the faithfulness of God that had been woven throughout my life.
My mind drifted back to the early years of my childhood. I could hear words of encouragement and affirmation spoken over me by key influencers in my life. Classrooms that echoed with the chatter of children became Petri dishes where my God-given gifts and callings were identified and grown. The evidence of His faithfulness continued to flow through my teen years, college days, newly married, parenting years, and on. With each memory, hope sprang up in my heart like a tender root at the first sign of Spring.
It was then I remembered the story of the children of Israel from Joshua 4. After they crossed the Jordan River, they were told to construct an altar of stones in order to remember the miracle that God had worked.
Then Joshua said to the Israelites, “In the future, your children will ask, ‘What do these stones mean?’ Then you can tell them, ‘This is where the Israelites crossed the Jordan on dry ground.’ For the Lord, your God dried up the river right before your eyes, and he kept it dry until you were all across, just as he did at the Red Sea when he dried it up until we had all crossed over. He did this so all the nations of the earth might know that the Lord’s hand is powerful, and so you might fear the Lord your God forever.”
Joshua 4:21-24 (NLT)
Inspired by this story, I needed my own “altar of remembrance”. One that would stand as a testament to the faithfulness of God. With creative juices flowing, I grabbed remnants of fabric and began to tear them into strips. Each memory that had brightened my day, was scribbled onto a fabric strip, then tied to jute rope and hung above my window.
As much as I love sunny days and colorful landscapes, I know that growth will not come without winter seasons. And when the days seem long and uncertainty sets in, I will glance at my “Altar” and find hope.
Samuel then took a large stone and placed it between the towns of Mizpah and Jeshanah. He named it Ebenezer (which means “the stone of help”), for he said, “Up to this point the Lord has helped us!”
1 Samuel 7:12 (NLT)
When was the last time you allowed your mind to retrace the steps of God’s steadfast love in your life? Hopefully, even now, the stories are popping up in your heart. What kind of Ebenezer* could you construct to brighten your heart when days seem dreary?
*Brown-Driver-Briggs’ Definition
Ebenezer = “stone of help”, a memorial stone erected by Samuel to mark where God helped Israel to defeat the Philistines – north of Jerusalem
6 Responses
awesome words thank you for helping me see the light in my darkness…
Oh Connie, I am so grateful if you found a piece of encouragement in these words. I am lifting you and the family up in prayer.