Category Archives: Faith

Raindrops Are Falling on My Head -By Karla

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College Years

While attending Reinhardt College in the mid-eighties, Donna and I tried to follow Olivia Newton John’s advice of “Let’s get Physical” every Monday and Wednesday. We energetically headed to the gym to begin our aerobic workout routines. I don’t remember us sporting the popular headbands that many wore, but I’m sure some days we had on tanks and oversized shirts that hung off one shoulder, Flash Dance style.

If it wasn’t for the music and the laughter that we shared, I am not certain that we would have enjoyed stepping on and off those individual-sized, wooden boxes.  When our torture ended, we acknowledged the instructor’s advice of not eating or drinking for thirty minutes. Though after anxiously watching the clock for the allotted time, we would head to the Gulf station to get our Coke Icees. All these years later, I still have a vivid memory of us walking there even if it was raining.  We did not rush because of the wetness; instead like we did so often, we broke out into BJ Thomas’ song:

      Raindrops are fallin’ on my head.

But that doesn’t mean my eyes will soon be turnin’ red

Cryin’s not for me

‘Cause I’m never gonna stop the rain by complainin’

Because I’m free

    Nothin’s worryin’ me…

Later on in Life

Over the past thirty years, we have discovered that sometimes the raindrops do seemed more like Niagara Falls, and they have drenched us at times. Like most, Donna and I spent our childhood wishing we were older and more independent. But now that we are here, we desire life to be more carefree like that of our youth.

Yesterday, it poured. I mean cats and dogs!  Some thunder and wind accompanied the buckets that fell.  It was the first day of my spring break. I thought how most people would have been wishing for different weather, but having the bronchitis that I have had, I was content to have a slow start and stay dry for the morning hours. As I watched the storm, I thought how I have grown amidst that storms in my life. I am so thankful for my forest, like Donna wrote about last week, https://smorgasbordofsisterhood.com/plant-yourself/. If not for my forest, I am not sure how successfully I would have navigated myself on my own. My forest stood tall during my various raging gales over the years.

Detours

There are times when the storms so powerful that our paths become repositioned, just as streams naturally detour from mighty rains. We can run in the other direction or sat there and given up. However, I do not think that is what God desires. Instead, He wants us press on, using His mighty hand as our strength and courage. While our circumstances may alter our paths, God will guide up downstream when we allow Him.

Navigation

I am sorry to inform Mr. B J Thomas, but at times my crying eyes surely have turned red when raindrops from the storms of life have fallen on my head. To be completely honestly, there have been things that have worried me deeply. I strive to reach the point in life where I can say, “Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds,” James 1:2.

However, as I listened to the birds chirping so freely this pretty April morning, I believe I have arrived in a place where I can look back on past storms and appreciate the beauty and serenity I gained after walking through.  I can boldly declare that I have experienced the joy that comes in the morning after the weeping that lasted through the nights. (referenced from Psalm 30:5b)

-Karla

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Christ-Centered Home: From Behind -By Karla

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Respect

This past week, a dear friend of mine lost her dad. My friend and much of her family go to the same church as I do. We have grown close over the years. Since I have grown up being allowed to call my parents’ close friends with the title of Mrs. or Mr. preceding their first name. I only addressed Mr. Floyd in this way to show him the proper respect I held for him. He immediately had a special place in my heart for his years of military service and his love for God and his family. He and Mrs. Ruth were married for a little over 64 years! Mr. Floyd was 84, and he was just a joy to visit.

Accidently Observing

At the funeral, I sat by some dear friends toward the back of the chapel. I did not mean to stare during the ceremony, but from behind, I found myself observing the love of a family. A fifteen-year-old son draped his arm around his mother and provided a shoulder for her to lean on. An eight-year-old son looked into the eyes of his dad needing answers to this eternal thing called death. That father comforted the son by kissing him on the top of his head numerous times during the ceremony. I watched a grandson rub his grandmother’s back while she in turn patted her mom, Mr. Floyd’s bride.

A precious young lady sat with the family because she was a beloved adopted-in granddaughter by choice. I smiled when I saw how she was consoled by Mr. Floyd’s grandson as they now shared the same loss of their papa. Another granddaughter, who has struggled from time to time, spoke about her grandfather who always encouraged her to never give up. Sitting close to me was a first-grade great-grandchild, from a second marriage, draw a picture of the casket with the American flag proudly displayed. She added about eight small boxes with squiggly lines inside. See looked up and whispered, “These were all the tissues to wipe everyone’s eyes.”

The Eternal Life of a Christian 

There was sadness last week, but good news as well. Mr. Floyd was a Christian. The family took great comfort in knowing he was out of pain because the Great Physician had healed him completely.

Changes in our Culture

Sadly, I think the number of Godly family matriarchs and patriarchs are dwindling in numbers. It doesn’t take a data analysis to notice the decline in the American family unit. Today’s family often looks different from the ones just a generation back, and there is a drastic contrast to the ones from the 1940’s and 50’s. Today, there are many single-parents, parent and step-parent, young parents living with his/her parent, and grandparents rearing grandchildren homes. As a teacher, I am seeing more and more single grandparents raising one or more grandchildren. I know several situations in which a child lives with the step-parent and new-step-parent, not related at all.  Most recently, we have the newest family unit, the same-sex parents.

The Same God 

The good news is that the same God who helped those more traditional families raise their kids has not changed! He desires to help the current parenting generation. He longs for us to make Him a priority in our families today. I think many more households in the past revered God in such high esteem and knew He was essential to their existence. What is holding us back from incorporating God in our daily family lives? God intended family to support, encourage, and comfort.

I long for a world where God is the center of all families.

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Uncertainty: The Unknown Path -By Donna

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A couple of years ago when Karla was between moves, she needed a place to keep her dogs. So Katie and Lucky came to spend six months at our house. We had large fenced-in kennels on the other side of our lake that we weren’t using, so that was where they made their home. Each day Tucker and I would walk down the dirt road to the pens, release them, and take them for a stroll. Some days it was later than others due to after-school activities. Even if it was dark already, I was going to make sure they saw freedom each day.

Tucker has a spotlight that can shine 300 yards. When we prepared to walk over, I always grabbed it first. Why? Because I quickly learned the difference in the way we each held the light. Tucker shined the light out in front of us to see ahead. He often scanned the woods just to see what he could see. I, on the other hand, shined the light directly at my feet. I needed to see where my shoes were walking. It didn’t matter to me what was up ahead, I was worried about the snake that I might step on or the rock that might turn my ankle. My Mama didn’t call me Grace for nothing!

In uncertain times, I find myself like Tucker and want to know what is up ahead in my life. But when I look at 2 Samuel 22:29 I am reminded that God is my lamp, not my spotlight. “For You are my lamp, O LORD; And the LORD illumines my darkness.” I suppose it’s for many reasons He doesn’t want us to know what is up ahead. Maybe what we would see is scary and is not what we would have hoped. Then we would want to travel another route rather than the path He has chosen for us. But I think the main reason is so that we must rely on faith. By trusting in him, we acknowledge that His plan is best and He will prepare us. All we need is the lamp that guides us one step at a time.

I was sharing this thought with Emily, and she commented, “Oh, I totally understand that concept, focusing on one step at a time. Did I tell you I almost died the other day?”

Now she tends to be dramatic, but also knowing that she is my adventurous one, I cringed. “No, you failed to mention that.”

Trains still run through Rome. She and her friend were on a train trestle above the river, when it unexpectedly came around the corner. They began to run as fast as they could. She kept her eyes on her feet, watching them to make sure they hit each plank, not to slip in between the boards, and fall into the water below. But the moment she looked ahead to see how far it was to safety, she began to stumble.

When I try to look to far ahead, not totally trusting God with each step, I am not allowing Him to be …a lamp to my feet, And a light to my path (Psalm 119:105)

-Donna

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Smiling: Some Things Yellow -By Karla

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I don’t think I have ever reached for a yellow crayon as my first choice to use in coloring. Certainly, you would not find me in a yellow shirt, not my best color!

However, sometime in my adult years, I must have realized what a cheerful hue it is. Maybe my life is a little like Julie Andrew’s “These Are a Few of My Favorite Things”. For there are days filled with moments when the dog does bite and the bee does sting, and I do find myself a feeling a little sad. Perhaps we all need a few of our favorite things, so then we don’t feel so bad! I am realizing that many of mine are yellow.

Little Yellow Duckies

What fun I had in my young years at the cow-smelling country fair deciding on the perfect bobbing little yellow ducky. Slowly while I held my breath, I turned it upside down to see the large number printed on the bottom hoping to get my preselected insignificant trinket which would thrill me for all of thirty minutes.

Fresh Corn on the Cob

Over the years sitting on Nana’s front porch with the mounds of corn transports such a powerful yellow memory to mind. Granddaddy shucking as fast as he could with his wad of Beech-Nut in his cheek. All the grandkids brushing the silky strands off. Nana, Mom, and Aunt Anna, would cut while the yellow juice ran onto their fingers to prepare the dozens of cream-style corn containers.

Peanut M&Ms

I’m not a big candy eater unless it involves chocolate! Peanut M&M’s in the yellow pack brought me such pleasure when I was pregnant with Lindsey. I carefully watched what I ate—except this one indulgence. It never failed; every time I had given in to the temptation I would run into a friend when I had a Coke and my yellow pack! Try as I might, I just don’t think he believed that I only had them rarely.

French’s Yellow Mustard

Come to think of it, I loved yellow mustard during this time of life too. I had never liked hot dogs, until then. Every Thursday night while I was pregnant with her, I greatly desired one drenched in mustard.  Waddled around with my fellow teammates at the bowling alley, I also squirted as much mustard as I could. On Sunday, one could find me making a huge batch of potato salad! I ate it for dinner, but it was not contained to the evening meal. I took it to lunch almost every day, and I think several mornings I had a big spoonful before I left for school!

The Little Yellow House on the Knoll

When we built what I thought was our home, I wanted it to have yellow siding. It was a farm house set on a small knoll overlooking a quaint pond. So many precious memories there. Although that yellow house is not mine any more, I can sit in my little yellow kitchen that has gathered so much family and smiles, and I am content.

First Signs of Spring

Looking out the window at the neighbor’s house this February, I saw some beautiful daffodils that bloomed early this year. I love to se their simple yellow color as the first signs of new life. They seem to bloom outwardly calling the other flowers to wake and spring out of their beds as well.

Sunrises

I believe my most favorite yellow thing is a gift given to me. Living by myself now, I have not spoken to anyone on my 6:50 drive to school. Sometimes, I find myself still a little sleepy or sinusy many days, but when I round a certain curve, I see it. I marvel at the sunrise!

Yes, the yellow things do overshadow the dog bites and bee sting moments of life because He loves us! Just like the Christian song says, “Lord, I’m amazed by You.” “You would paint the morning sky with miracles in mind. My hope will always stand (as) you hold me in your hand.”

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Fasting: Life Is a Song, Sing It! -By Donna

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Our pastor asked the congregation to do a twenty-one day fast to encourage more prayer time. During the three weeks, you choose what you would like to eliminate, and choose something different every seven days. So the first seven days I gave up meat and sweets. It was a piece of cake, no pun intended. The second week I gave up just bread. No problem. Even when I went to Cracker Barrel, and the plate of cornbread and biscuits were set in front of me I wasn’t tempted. It was the first time in my life I have eaten turnip greens without cornbread!

For the third week, it was suggested to choose something that you really love and spend a lot of time doing. The first thing that entered my mind was music. I adore music. From bluegrass to Frank Sinatra to 80’s hair bands, I love it. (Though, I can do without opera and rap!) So this week I am giving up listening to music. I have reached for my car radio dial numerous times. At home, I often click the Pandora app without thinking. I am only on day two, and the struggle is real!

Music

Music has always been a part of my day. I forever have a song playing in my brain. I literally wake up each day with a melody in my head. This morning was “By the Light of the Silvery Moon”. I don’t even know how I know that song! Growing up I listened to records Mama played on the big wooden stereo, hymns in church, and 8 tracks in the car. I took piano lesson and was in chorus for years.

Our family has reunions in the summer. We have cousins and uncles that set up a sound system and play on the front porch while we all lounge in the yard and listen. We enjoy guitars, banjos, spoons and voices.

In college, Karla and I listened to “Delilah’s Love Songs” B98.5 every night as we did our homework. Every afternoon after lunch, we would take turns standing on the bed singing karaoke into our hairbrushes to the Bellamy Brothers or Dolly Parton, to pep us up before class. To this day, we still finish sentences with song lyrics whenever possible.

Music is very powerful. It can take you back to a moment in childhood. I can still hear the tune that Grandmother used to hum in the kitchen. My mind remembers what song was playing when my mama told me Elvis died. I remember the hymn being sung as I walked down the aisle to give my heart to Christ.

Music Memories

Music also gives me vivid memories of when my children were little. I can see Tucker at 18 months strapped in his car seat kicking his little legs, pointing at the radio saying, “three steps, three steps” . He was indicating that he wanted to hear his favorite song by Lynyrd Skynyrd. I can see Travis crawling as fast as he could to the TV when he heard the theme song from Barney. I laugh as I remember Emily in her pig tails dancing around her room, singing to the Spice Girls.

Music can bring a tear to my eye. I’ll never hear “I’ll Fly Away” without picturing my mama’s body lying in the casket that cold February day. When I hear the song, “One More Day” I think about my cousin Tammy, who left this earth too young.

Music is a gift of inspiration. The words to music can be healing to your heart. During a tough time in life, three songs seemed to follow me. They were “Good, Good, Father”, “Tell Your Heart to Beat Again”, and “Just Be Held.” Every time I got in the car and turned on the radio, one would be playing. I don’t believe it was an accident. God was using what I love to remind me He was there. Fasting from music may be strange, but it has made me very thankful for the gift that God has blessed us with since the beginning of time.

.

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Encouragement: Give me a K! -By Karla

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Cheerleader

My mom was my cheerleader! Growing up, I struggled with a reading disability as well as anxieties at times. Mom seemed to always have my back.

Tomboy/Lady

Really, Mom was a tomboy at times. In fact, I can remember in her early forties when she laid in the floor, Indian-leg wrestling my cousin Jimmy. I don’t remember who won, but I would think she probably gave him a run for his money! Mom was tough, but she very much had a lady-side to her as well. She was lovley inside and out.

Encourager

She surely knew how to lift someone when they needed a boost. Instinctively, she could help me find the silver lining in difficult situations and always encouraged me to do my best. Instilling years of Christian values, she helped me always look for the good in others and lend a helping hand. She learned from my grandparents that giving to others was a blessing in return.

Life Without Mom

This week marks the thirteenth year of Mom’s passing. Colon cancer is a painful way to die. It took many nights of prayer asking God to remove the images of her last days from my mind and replace them with sweet pictures of her instead. God is faithful; He did just that. When Mom died, I lost my cheerleader. Truly for a while I felt lost, as if a storm was erupting around me and I was struggling to find my way out.

During this time in my life, I think I was as frightened as the disciples must have been when they were in a boat in the midst of the raging winds and waves. The book of Mark shares that they cried out as Jesus was walking on the water. He replied, “Take heart. It is I. Do not be afraid.” The Bible story stays that He got in the boat with them and the wind ceased. I too cried out to Him, and He came to me calming my heart and mind. In time He helped me move forward learning to be thankful for the memories I had with Mom.

Surrounding Yourself with Christian Sisters

Today, I continue to be thankful that I have my sisters, cousins, and aunt who continue to be my cheerleaders. In addition, there are so many at my church who care for me, including my small group of precious women. I think everybody needs someone in their corner rooting. In our present world, with far too much evil, it is almost a necessity. We all need people, who take the time to lend an ear, give a helping hand, and go the extra mile on occasion. Doing some quick research, I found that there are over four-million children being raised by grandparents, about thirty percent of children are being raised in single-parent homes, and about 400,000 children living in some form of foster care in the U.S.  Gracious! These kids and guardians need a cheerleader!

Be a Cheerleader for Someone

Look around! Pick a parent; pick a kid. Invest a few minutes each week. Send your child’s teacher the money for your child’s ice cream and enough for another child who might enjoy an extra special treat.  Regularly text a youth in your church who is going through a tough time. If you’re better with adults, drop a card in the mail to your neighbor, who is a single mom, or offer to pick up some groceries as you shop yourself. Give an extra smile to your colleague, who looks tired when you pass them in the hallway.

Several years ago, a lady walked up to me when I was in my hometown and I was standing with my sisters. I am sure I had met her when I was a little girl, but did not remember her. She began to tell us about how her dad. She shared about his drinking problem when he was alive in his adult years and how that problem had caused health issues in his later life. I looked at her with sympathy and smiled not really knowing her point, but she then shared one of the sweetest things. “Your mom, well, she would stop by my dad’s house sometimes with dinner and talk with him for a bit before she left. You will never know what that meant to him and to me. She (Mom) was such a kind lady.”

I just stood there amazed, learning of this situation. Smiling, I heard her words about Mom, knowing that she was not just a cheerleader to me, but to many. It made me realize how much our encouragement can mean to others.

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Misunderstanding: Perspective -By Karla

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The Walking Company in the Chattanooga mall is where I buy my shoes since my foot accident several years ago.  The girls had given me a gift card for Christmas, so we decided to go shopping. They enjoy helping me be stylish while aiding my bum-foot.

Shoots Fired

When the noise rang out, the sales woman was in the floor assisting me. Looking up, we saw sparks flying, and a mother hunched over her daughter attempting to shield her. Someone said the word “shooting” as the numerous people outside the stores began running and screaming in chaos. The sales rep, who was assisting me, jumped and joined the other two sales ladies, springing into action. Two workers scurried us toward the back of the store while the other ran and drug  the metal gate  .

Then she frantically flung herself into the stockroom and began crying. By this time, the girls and I had gathered in between mounds of shoeboxes. Holding their hands, I began praying. ”Lord, please, help us. Keep us safe from the shots. God, be with those hurt.” Imagining blood, I added, “I can’t imagine how scared they must be! God, as policemen, ambulances, and first responders enter, protect them–“

Lindsey interrupted softly, “It’s ok. You can join us.” I paused while two of ladies entered into our circle. I continued praying while the other girl bawled in fear.

“Shhh, I hear footsteps. I think we should be quiet,” someone said.

At this time, I crawled to sit with the girl, who was still crying. Her arms were wrapped around her legs, and she had them pulled tightly toward her chest. I did not stop to think if I should ask her for permission to pray with her. I just did. Placing my hand on her kneecap, I asked, “God to give us peace,” reminding us both that God was in our midst.

Rachel whispered, “I think we should move away from this door, Mom. If someone shoots from the mall entrance of this store, we would be in the direct line of a bullet.”

Moving to an interior staircase that lead up to a storage loft, six people sat forming a quick bond during a very scary crisis. I then recalled seeing the sparks and thought a bullet must had ricocheted off something metal.

The workers shared their fears and stories from the shooting incident that occurred outside the mall on Black Friday. Within the next fifteen minutes, officials deemed it safe to move, though we were still unknown of the results. Everyone moved hesitantly.

As we paid for my shoes, we watched people in the corridors. One family, who had older teenagers, reunited by holding each other. Frightened, I thought about how the girls and I could have been in separate stores when horrid happening occurred. The three of us stood there, watching the family hold on to each other, trying to comfort one another.

Honestly, since our legs a bit like Jell-O from the stress, we decided our shopping adventure was over. 

That evening the news shared details: “Fireworks set off inside Hamilton Place Mall; three injured trying to escape”.

The news had a very different perspective than mine. There were more injured.

The three of us were injured. Not physically, but emotionally.

On the way home, we had talked about how scary our morning had been. We realized a newly-found fear we had. How to be anywhere that holds a large number of people or to walk around in open places where you cannot hide. What a difficult decision store workers might have to make: let someone run inside for safety or keep them out in fear they might had been involved or could not secure store fast enough.

While hiding in the stairwell of the storage room, one of the workers called her mom. The mom’s interpretation was clear, “Quit and come home. The mall is just too dangerous!” Her mom was even affected by the situation. 

The stores were injured in their sales yesterday as well. Customers were vacating the mall by the masses. By the time we reached the doors to exit for our car, the stores were nearly empty.

I do not understand the perspective of the teenagers, who thought it might be a good idea to throw fireworks, causing a distraction so they could shoplift.

Some days I do not understand the world in which we live. I strive to remember, “The Lord is  refuse for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble. Those who know your name trust in you, for you, Lord, have never forsaken those who seek you.” Psalms 9:9-10

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Making Decisions: God with Us -By Karla

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In December 1995, mom called. “How are you feeling, darlin’?” She knew that it was the last day of school before Christmas break.

I only had one month left before my daughter Rachel was born. Being busy with the holidays, teaching middle schoolers, and being a wife and a mom, I was tired to say the least. “Mom, honestly, I am beat. I think I could sleep for a week, but I have shopping and several things left to do.” 

                 I was hoping for some sympathy. 

However in Mom’s true form, she helped me get a grip on things. “Well, think how tired Mary must have been riding a donkey for miles. She was about to give birth to Jesus many years ago, Sweetheart.”

 

“Umm, yes, you have a good point.” Quickly, my perspective totally changed, and I didn’t feel much like I needed sympathy anymore.

There’s always something to complain about. What if I had continued to focus on how tired I was? I would have missed out on the last few weeks of Rachel developing or the joy of the Christmas season. In fact, there are bigger “what if’s” that affects so much more!

What if?

What if Mary had said, “I’m too afraid, God; choose someone else please.” Joseph could have said, “This will be too hard, God, everyone will talk, and I will be shunned as well.” The shepherds had a choice: Follow the star? In addition, the Wise Men could have decided to tell King Herod of baby Jesus’ whereabouts? What if the disciples had not gone out into the world sharing the gospel. What if Christ had not said, “Thy will be done.”

The longer I live the more I have seen how all choices affect others: spouses, children, extended family, church, workplace, and community.

From a lowly manger He was born to become the King of all Kings. He made the choice to die on the cross for my wrongdoings. Because of my choice to accept Him as my Savior, He gave His Holy Spirit to guide me. What if, I had not made that choice?

 

Emmanuel, means God with us. The Holy Spirit is with me when I need help making decisions.

What if you haven’t made that choice? Make it today.

Happy birthday, Jesus!

 

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Mary’s Viewpoint: If You Could Be… -By Donna

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“If you could be anyone in history, who would you be?”

I was asked that question when I was about eleven years old. My immediate answer was “Mary”. How cool I thought to be the mother of Jesus, to be chosen by God to have his son. However, my childlike faith could see no deeper.

I am the proud mother of three grown children. Each birth was amazing. Holding and nursing a child produces such a bond between a mother and child. Your desire is to love, teach, and protect them. When they were little, “mama” could fix anything. Sometimes just a Band-aid or a kiss would do the job, but as they got older, the protecting got more difficult.

Seeing your child hurt, whether physically or emotionally is heart-wrenching. I have helplessly observed my child in the hospital roasting from a 105 degree temperature, being x-rayed for a possible broken bone, or falling and scraping his entire face. All the hugs and love I gave could not fix their physical pain. I have watched as a first-love broke her heart in two, a friend betrayed her, or a coach humiliated him. My encouraging words or love could not mend their brokenness at the time.

Mary’s Viewpoint

Recently enjoying a Christmas program, I thought of Mary. Mary, who cradled Jesus in her arms, taught him, loved him, and protected him. I thought of her as she watched her baby boy be tied up and flogged until his skin was an unrecognizable mass of bleeding tissue. The tears she must have shed as he was ridiculed, spit on, and mocked. When the crown of thorns was pressed into his brow and the blood ran down his divine face, how she must have wept. I cannot imagine the pain with which her heart was bursting as she stood at Golgotha watching her son. She was helpless as Jesus was nailed to the cross, forgiving those who were hurting him, and breathing his last breath.

However, as an adult, I would not answer the question with the same eagerness as I did when I was young. Did Mary know what was to come as she nestled baby Jesus close to her bosom. “Mary, Did You Know?”

I doubt the angel that visited Mary so long ago, shared with her that the crucifixion was a part of her baby’s plan. Just as we know not what the future holds for our children. But just like Mary, we know that God is in control. She had to surrender and trust His plan for Jesus, as we must for our own. No matter the pain our precious children endure, God is in control.

-Donna

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Church Family: Autumn -By Karla

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  Fall trees bring me such delight. Each one so different, and yet so pretty. Individually, each tree itself has such variety in its foliage. This fall day I look out my living room window during autumn and study some branches. Seeing the array of colors, reminded me of the people in a church and how they compare.

Fallen Leaves

How sad that some of the leaves had already fallen off the trees. It reminds me of the people who quit  attending worship. I think that sometimes we use the excuse that others have caused us to stray from going to church because of the way they have acted, but the truth is that we are all responsible for our own actions and relationship with God. Those leaves that have fallen off are like the millions who have stopped worshipping in God’s house who will have a lessened showing of the fruits of the spirit. How sadly that affects our world. John 15:5 quotes Jesus saying, “I am the vine, you are the branches. He who abides in Me, and I in him, bears much fruit; for without Me you can do nothing.”

Wilting Leaves

As I continue to gaze still at the trees, there are leaves hanging on but have withered. So many of God’s churches across this land are filled with people taking up space without being truly plugged in and desiring to serve, or perhaps they make their voice heard too loudly in the form of negative nags that produce harm to others. At times, we, who call ourselves a Christian tear down the body of Christ.

Green Leaves

On the limbs many leaves remain green; Christians who continue to thirst for the nourishment. They display such eagerness to learn and grow. This desire to mature pleases God. I believe hopes that everyone craves to draw closer to Him in all of our days.

An Array of Color

I love the leaves in their brilliance! They attract others to Christ with their beauty. I think perhaps these colorful leaves are meant to represent the Christians, who truly carry out the word of God. These are the ones who put others before themselves, giving of their time, money, and talents. “But be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving your own selves.” James 1:22.

When I look up at all the autumn trees together in my yard, I notice the numerous shades. It is amazing to me at how God loves us. He formed us with different strengths as well as various imperfections. It is my belief that He created us with diversity so that we would depend on each other. God’s thriving church houses strive to be filled with an array of talents and servants. In this way, people can depend on each other for support within the church as well as extending its glow outside to welcome others into the fold. What a blessing it is to serve our Lord, who created such beauty and care for His children.

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