What God Has Promised

I was thinking this morning about how I so often number my trials instead of my blessings. How quick and easy it is to start making a list of all the things that go wrong but how long it takes to make a list of things for which to be grateful.

One of my friends just lost her sister in law who died unexpectedly. My friend is grieving so much, and my heart breaks for her. When I am in need of comfort, I often think of the hymn, "What God Hath Promised" by Annie Johnson Flint.

God hath not promised skies always blue,
Flower-strewn pathways all our lives through;
God hath not promised sun without rain,
Joy without sorrow, peace without pain.


But God hath promised strength for the day,
Rest for the labor, light for the way,
Grace for the trials, help from above,
Unfailing sympathy, undying love.


God hath not promised we shall not know
Toil and temptation, trouble and woe;
He hath not told us we shall not bear
Many a burden, many a care.


But God hath promised strength for the day,
Rest for the labor, light for the way,
Grace for the trials, help from above,
Unfailing sympathy, undying love.


God hath not promised smooth roads and wide,
Swift, easy travel, needing no guide;
Never a mountain, rocky and steep,
Never a river, turbid and deep.


But God hath promised strength for the day,
Rest for the labor, light for the way,
Grace for the trials, help from above,
Unfailing sympathy, undying love.

You can listen to the modern version of the music here.

While the words of this song are themselves an encouraging reminder, I came across Annie's biography and some other poetry she wrote and realize she, more than anyone, probably struggled to stay positive. She suffered terribly from crippling arthritis, yet her songs are uplifting and encouraging.

Annie Johnson Flint was born on Christmas eve in 1866, at Vineland, NJ. Her mother died when she was three, soon after the birth of her sister. Her father sent the two girls to live with a widow of a Civil War friend, but the woman had few resources and two children of her own. As a result, the Johnson girls were unwelcome and neglected. A neighbor saw the situation and introduced Annie’s father to a Mr. and Mrs. Flint, who had no children and wanted to adopt the two girls. Annie's father was gravely ill and consented, dying about a year later. At the age of eight, Annie came to faith in Jesus Christ. When she was nine, she began to put words together in rhyme and rhythm, and by age twelve she was setting poems to music. As a teenager she wanted to become a concert pianist and composer, but when she was in her early twenties the Flints both died, leaving her without means to continue her education.

Shortly before her adoptive parents’ deaths, Annie started having trouble with arthritis and became unable to play the piano, so she was left with one mode of expression, writing poetry, as a replacement for her musical ambitions. In addition, Annie’s sister was not well and could not help take care of her, and at the age of 23, Annie was unable to continue working and in less than five years she could not even walk. Left without financial support and personal care, she would push a pen through her bent fingers or use her knuckles to strike typewriter keys, though often in great pain, to produce poems for use on greeting cards, on wall hangings, and in magazines. "What God Hath Promised," written in 1919, is one of her best-known poems and she also wrote “He Giveth More Grace.” She died Sept. 8, 1932, at Clifton Springs, NY.

In spite of her immense suffering, Annie’s poems are bubbling over with the joy of life and praise for the love of God. Her life shows that in the midst of suffering, one can still name blessings and gifts. When there is rain, dark storm clouds and pain in my life, can I follow in her footsteps?

Lord, may I rely on your grace to do so.

Gifts: Smooth, Wrinkled, Unfolded

68. The smooth gliding geese float on chinook winds under sunset clouds.

69. The sidewalk and street were smooth and cleared of snow, thanks to the neighbour and the city plow.

70. B's wrinkled shirt emerged from the washer, covered in small, clingy shreds of paper: the remains of a store receipt left in a pocket. It clung to the dark blue plaid flannel like velcro. The gift today? He asked my help. I gave it willingly, used the lint roller to pick off the unwelcome confetti. A team effort. Time together, doing the work of the marriage.

71. The telescope I bought him for Christmas unfolded nicely out of the box. The instructions were tiny but adequate. I assembled. He disposed of the cardboard and plastic wrapping.

72. Bonus: the gift of motivation. B insisted we finish packing away Christmas decor. We worked together. He did the heavy lifting and vacuumed.

73. Reminders all around today that love always triumphs.

Joy Dare: Can you name 1,000 gifts? 

This is "a dare to live fully right where you are." 

I started naming them right here.

Twisted Gifts

Here's a twisted pile of thoughts, the gifts they bring and my best photos of twisted things.

56. I love Saturday mornings. No deadlines. No pressure. Time to sleep in. Cuddle with my warm puppy dog curled up beside me breathing soft.

57. A husband who cleans up after our sick puppy dog.

It's been a busy couple of days with long work hours and evening events Thursday and Friday. 58. Our life group. 59. Invitation to dinner with three other couples. Great food, visiting, laughter, games. However, the past two days have left no free time to blog. Another reason to love Saturday: 60. Time to catch up.

I participate casually in a Facebook group called "Canada's Photo Contest" where a different theme is presented each week. Members post an original photo related to the theme. Then all members can vote for their favourites. Photo with the most votes wins.

Reviewing my nearly 5,000 photos brings so many gifts to mind.Would you like to see my considerations for what to post from my own gallery? This week, the theme is TWISTED.

First, the staircase inside the Arc de Triomphe. Gift 61: Climb the heights on twisting turns with terrific friends, the Shields family

At the Louvre, Gift 62: So much marvellous art collected in one place. Gift 63: The powerful, twisting body of The Rebellious Slave, one of two left unfinished by Michelangelo. The other was The Dying Slave. Gift 64: a sculpture that can capture such exquisite and torturous emotion. Gift 65: Discovering the website for the Louvre with searchable databases of its collections. And the page that revealed some of the artist's soul:

However, non-finito was a recurrent theme with Michelangelo, who played on the opposition between the shine on the smooth, impeccable body of the Dying Slave, and the rough surface of raw marble. In his quest for absolute truth in art, he abandoned a work when he felt he could not attain his ideal. He thus left the marks of his tools (hammers, chisels, rasps, gradines and trepans) clearly visible — living traces of his tireless fight with raw material, which he worked relentlessly in his quest to liberate the figure imprisoned within.

International Monument at Dachau Concentration Camp. Created by Yugoslavian sculptor and holocaust survivor, Nandor Glid. Gift 66: Learning that, given the right circumstance, all persons are capable of unthinkable evil and any person is capable of extraordinary perseverance. Gift 67: It is in darkness that the light shines most bright.

Joy Dare: Can you name 1,000 gifts? 

This is "a dare to live fully right where you are." 

I started naming them (again) right here.

Three Gifts from God's Word

Gift 53: The unforced rhythms of grace:

Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly.
Matthew 11:28-30 MSG

Gift 54: A Quantum Leap to the top of Mazlow's Hierarchy

If your first concern is to look after yourself, you'll never find yourself. But if you forget about yourself and look to me, you'll find both yourself and me.
Matthew 10:39 MSG

Gift 55: A Primer on True Worship

When you come before God, don't turn that into a theatrical production... All these people making a regular show out of their prayers, hoping for stardom! Do you think God sits in a box seat?

Here's what I want you to do: Find a quiet, secluded place so you won't be tempted to role-play before God. Just be there as simply and honestly as you can manage. The focus will shift from you to God, and you will begin to sense his grace.
Matthew 6:5-6 MSG

There's more. Oh, so much more. But the night is late and I have piles to go and need my sleep.

Acceptance

Lethbridge Herald. Photo by David Rossiter.

Is it cold where you are? Or beautiful like my nephew has right now on the beach in Maui? I've got minus 30 coming my way, with wind chills it's minus I-don't-even-want-to-know-how-cold. I accept this. There's no changing it. NO use in complaining. This is life. Where I live.

Why is it so relatively easy to accept the reality of the weather - even extreme conditions - but to still actively resist accepting other realities. Like not accepting that others will disappoint you. Making the choice to NOT forgive because someone behaved differently toward me than I wanted or thought I deserved? Does all discontent and selfishness eventually lead you down that path?

The choice is Resistance. To not change. We dig in our heels. It has to be the way I say it should be or else it's someone else's fault.

What's your bad weather reality in the landscape of your human relationships? If you could simply accept that this is life, where you live, could that make it possible to find peace in the midst of that storm? Or would you rather live with discontent in your heart because it is easier than trying to face an unknown adventure with our ever so comprehensive awareness of how utterly disappointing humanity can be?

Thing is, we know we can't change the weather. Not without cloud seeding airplanes at least. But somehow we still feel deep down - at least I do, on occasion - that we can change or control another person. This is a recipe for frustration.

Let it go. In acceptance lies peace.

Accept that I am the way I am and by the grace of God I will not stay this way. Do it differently tomorrow. Accept that I cannot change my circumstances but I can change my attitude.

Okay. Let me start with this moment. I need more sleep. I always need more sleep. So I am going to bed on time. For once. With my regular pattern, this bedtime should provide 8 hours of sleep.

I can accept that.

Joy in surprising places

Gift 49. Tonight I saw a light bulb go on for a friend. She'd been beating herself up and another friend helped her see it was the voice of the accuser, the enemy, trying to beat her down. It is such a gift to see women helping support each other.

Gift 50. Happiness: my face when I sent an email with statistics on a project long postponed because of workload. What gets measured gets done.

Gift 51. A colleague affirmed what I write here. I share my heart, she takes it tenderly and added to the beauty by her own reading.

Gift 52: The joy of discovering interesting people. Two dear long time friends and one new creative soul during a pre-Christmas visit to Rosebud. He shared a story, ignited our creativity, touched our soul.

Self-Diagnosis and Joy

This is an off day. Sometimes being joyful just isn't what I want to do. I think it's a chemical imbalance. Or, perhaps it is dysthymia. I have been doing some reading on this condition. It was suggested by someone who knows me well as a possible diagnosis. Basically, it's long-term, low grade depression. It often goes for decades before someone seeks treatment.

That's a big "hmmm" for me.

So, I see my doctor in a couple of weeks and I will discuss with him possible treatment plans. In the meantime, I continue to count gifts.

44. It was 4°C or  39.2°F. In other words, beautiful.

45. Changing the light fixtures on our back deck. This is a double gift. a) I have the ability, knowledge and desire to install the fixtures and b) we have the funds and location which make it possible to do quickly without hesitation.

46. An extraordinary measure of God's grace was two phone calls and one Facebook message from women who love me and share a common bond as mothers of similar sons to my own. I asked their advice and they gave me their undivided attention and counsel.

47. Another grace is women who love me who may have daughters or no children at all. I am blessed.

48. I continue to be blessed by our son and his maturity, thought processes, loyalty to friends, ability to memorize, to plan, to create music, to care for those less fortunate. He makes such a delightful contribution to life.

Oh joy, that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to thee.
I trace the rainbow through the rain
and feel the promise is not vain,
that morn shall tearless be.

-George Mattheson

1000 Gifts: Three sounds I hear

I continue to name 1000 Gifts.

41. The roaring of the wind I almost wanted to name as wicked. It is not. It is a gift. After my conversation last night with dear friend, Jackie, I know it can be Healing Wind from the hand of our all powerful God.

John 3:8 The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit.

42. I hear water. Trickling through the humidifier to moisten the dry, winter air that steals moisture from everything in this home. This is a gift: to bring water to dry places, to nourish, to sustain.

43. I hear the soft snuffles of my dog, Bernadette. Aging and ageless in her blindness and blind devotion. She is in pain, nearly deaf and she is still unconditional love.

1000 Gifts: Above, Below, Beside

Yesterday would have been my father's birthday. Jan. 11, 1917. He's been gone since Nov. 22, 2002. It was an incredibly dark day for me, unrelated to my father. However, my Father gave me the sunrise. Again. and Again. His light in my darkness. His mercy is new every morning.

I continue to name 1000 Gifts.

38. A gift above me: my father in heaven, finally knowing my Father in Heaven.
39. A gift below me: A comfortable chaise lounge upon which to sit and meditate and view the view and write the gifts.
40. A gift beside me: my puppy dog, who is not a puppy but a grandma nearing the end of her life. She comforts me with her presence. She adores me with her eyes. She follows me everywhere. I matter to her. She is unconditional love.