His Mountain Song

My family and I are hiking along a mountain trail.  They are excited and happy, but I struggle with dark feelings of failure over my son's decision to live apart from God.  The sun shines, the trees seem to clap their hands and the meadow grasses bend to sing their song.  But I cling to depression.

We set up camp, then climb a ridge to discover what is on the other side.  the trail is backbreaking  We are tired and thirsty, but still we climb upwards and discover a lake of shining waters hidden in the folds of the tree clad mountains.

We drink deeply, catch frogs and admire dragon flies.  But it seems my Lord is trying to tell me something.  I cannot quite make out what it is. 

I leave my family and cross to the other side of the lake.  I walk along the lake's edge, where I meet a mother ewe and her lamb slaking their thirst in the cold glacial waters.  

Suddenly my  Shepherd is there.  His eyes shine with love.  He sees my bitter self-inflicted wounds, my sadness and hurt.  With gentle hands, He tenderly touches my pain and I begin to learn His beautiful mountain song.

--His Mountain Song, copyright ©1981 by Eva J. Gibson

Would you like to read more?  This is an excerpt from a manuscript written long ago.  I am considering re-writing it as an allegory to submit to a publisher.  What do you think?

God's Grace Note

Earlier this week when I was cleaning out my old office I found a book I didn’t know I had. As I turned it in my hands I read these words on the back: “Based on the actual experience of Christian Reger during World War 11.”  The prisoners are inspired by a mysterious encounter with a light no darkness can extinguish..."

I opened the book and was caught by words of the main character.    “ . . . Grace sometimes comes to us in small things.” 

I couldn’t read any further; Somehow I knew those words were God’s grace note to me. Then a verse: “And He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness." (2 Corinthians 12:9 NKJV).

Today God played His love notes to me in new ways: A silly blue Jay perched on a branch in the birch tree tried to imitate a tree frog’s croak; a wild Queen Anne’s Lace displayed her tall majestic beauty as she caught the breeze and waved her fronds high above my head. The pungent smell of the cedar in the yard tickled my nose, and the small green cross  growing on the limb of a fir was caught in the lowering sun for a moment of glory.

These golden moments were God’s grace notes revealed to me in the small  things,  and I was both refreshed and blessed.   

Psalm 43:3-4 (Amplified): Oh send out Your light and Your truth; let them lead me, let them bring me to Your holy hill and to Your dwelling. Then will I go to the altar of God, to God my exceeding joy; yes, with the lyre will I praise You, O God, my God!

To Laugh with the Lord

Weariness tainted my week. The deconstruction going on across the street from my home has filled our days and ears from seven in the morning, until the early evening hours.   

In our little forested area, the unaccustomed noise rumbled from bulldozers, dump trucks and graters to bounce into our home and smash against the trunks of the fir trees. The continual beep, beep, beep jangled and stretched my nerves to the breaking point. There were even times when I felt the entire house tremble, as heavy equipment slammed hard against the monstrous asphalt and gravel mountain they had created.

Even though I tried to spend some quiet time with the Lord, I felt totally distracted.

“It isn’t that I don’t want to spend time with You,” I wailed to my heavenly Father. “It just that I can’t keep my mind focused the way my heart longs to. ” I reached for my devotional book and turned the pages. “Lord, I’m trying,” I whispered, as I found the day’s date: July 25th.

The very first sentence captured me: As you listen to birds calling to one another hear also my love-call to you. Startled, I read it again even as the trucks slammed and grunted, screaming their everlasting, “Beep, beep, beep.”  

As you listen to birds calling to one another, hear also my love-call to you?!

It was so unexpected.  I stopped (I could feel God smiling) and then I laughed out loud as recognition of God’s humor bubbled up inside me. “You have some mighty big birds, God,” I gasped, “and oh, how I love your sense of humor. What joy there is to laugh with You!"

“I praise You for Your creativity, Your joy and Your love for me. You are my strength--everything I need and I delight in You!”

Do not grieve, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.  ~Nehemiah 8:10

One Step at a Time

Run . . . endure . . . agonize . . . persevere. The race track stretches before me and I have to run. It's a command--run with patience the race set before you. Except it isn't ahead of me. It's all around me and I feel like I've been running for a long, long time. And not just running. I've soared. I've stumbled. I've fallen. Most of all, I've plodded-one step at a time.

A memory--I'm nine years old and my brothers and I have a job picking strawberries at the neighbor's place a mile down the road and then another quarter or so after the crossroads. Having to walk to get there doesn't matter. At least not at first. The morning was cool and there's a certain excitement as we talked about the money we'd earn. The neighbor said he'd pay us twenty-five cents for every carrier we picked and we could hardly wait. Except the sun shone hot and the day stretched long. At 2 o'clock I stuffed a single dollar into my pocket and headed home.

The details of that walk are vivid. The boys took off ahead and I plodded along alone. A long stretch of road bordered by fields, meant sunshine all the way. A huge oak alongside the road offered a slight reprieve, and then more sunshine and a wooded area where sheep grazed. I fixed my eyes on the dense shade cast by the fir trees and trudged on.

More sunshine, but I kept going until the cool shade of the trees along our driveway welcomed me. My knees trembled by this time, and my face felt like it was on fire. I opened the door and stepped inside. My eye caught my reflection in the mirror in the front room. I couldn't tell where the red strawberry juice around my mouth ended and the sunburn on my cheeks began. But I had made it. I stepped into the kitchen. I was home.

But I'm not home yet.

Last winter my husband was hospitalized with a massive stroke. As I stood at his side I knew he was close to his heavenly home. And I--I was the one God had chosen to communicate His Word to the man I loved for so many years. I had been chosen to be with him on his last lap home; unable to speak or swallow, he still heard my voice. Every night, restless, weary yet unable to rest, he tossed and turned, fighting the sheets, the blankets, the bed rails; struggling against those things of earth that surrounded him.

 

That's when my Shepherd guided me to the 23rd Psalm. I leaned close and began to read aloud: The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters-there was a sudden quietness. Bud's restlessness ceased. I continued reading; together we walked in the paths of righteousness, even into the valley of the shadows and then the banquet table in the wilderness.

I continued on: Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life. A deep sigh, his eyes closed. And I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever. My husband slept knowing the arms of His Lord were around him.

Several days later I saw my husband home to be with His Father in his forever home in Heaven. A part of me wanted to go there with him, but within my spirit was the deep conviction that my Shepherd had work yet for me to do: family to serve, people to love and books to write.

Sometimes I run toward the goal.  Some days, I find myself plodding along, one step at a time. But I'm not alone.  My Lord is there with me.

Heaven Bound

These are the words I read to my beloved husband, just before he flew away to heaven.  It is a paraphrase from the Song of Solomon.  Here I sense the beauty of God's immense Love for us, I feel the Lord's great joy as He leaps and runs to meet Bud, to hug him and to lead him into heaven. 

Our Lord comes

Look! here He comes, 
leaping across the mountains, bounding over the hills.

Our Lord speaks to us.

He is like a gazelle or a young stag!

Look! He stands behind our wall gazing through the windows,

Peering through the glass.

Our Lord speaks  to you:

"Arise my darling son, my precious boy and come with me

"See! Your winter is past; 
the rains are over and gone.

"Flowers appear on the earth; 
the seasons of singing has come.

"The cooing of doves is heard in the land whence I come.

"The fig trees forms its early fruit; 
the blossoming vines spread their fragrance.

"Arise, come, my darling son, my beautiful one.

"Come with me!" 

~ A Paraphrase by Eva J. Gibson 

To see Bud's Memory Book, please visit Peake Funeral Chapel.