Joy fills my heart this morning in being able to lift a loved one cast down. The power is not me of course, I’m just like an electrician. I know where the power lies and how to connect it through prayer. I’m just a simple gal, in dirty overalls, carrying a tool kit (my Bible). Yet through God’s instruction I can help bring light and warmth to some destitute place, coat emotional wires in a balm of heavenly love so they can connect safely once more, and connect others to the power source (Jesus) so His power can flow in and they too can plug into it for all kinds of needs.
When I pass on there will be very little in the way of material goods to leave behind. Instead my legacy to my children is their childhood “electrical training”, each knowing how to plug into that power and receive miracles in time of need (even the non-believers lol!)
My current favourite activity – breathing! After dusty, tropical city air accompanied by a bad cold I’m in rapture enjoying the smell of the delicious, cool, fresh air of home again. No longer sick or jett lagged, life smells sweet!
It’s a long story how we came to be in the old farmhouse in Ireland realizing our dream. We, little nobodies, had helped stage a Christian camp for youngsters. They’d come, some eager, some confused. and some rebellious. We loved them, pulled our hair out at their antics and prayed (oh how we prayed!) Now it was over. They’d returned, tiny flames of love kindling in their hearts, to their domains, leaving a great joy of satisfaction in their wake.
There was just one problem. It was almost Christmas and while we had food aplenty and a roof over our heads, we had no money left, zilch, nothing, and there were children there, mine included. We explained there’d be no presents that year, no tree or decorations. They were such troopers, not a single complaint.
We made our own décor, holly and fir branches from the forest. Silvery yogurt tops, kept from the camp, were cut into snow flakes and suspended from fallen branches dabbed white with left over emulsion. It looked wonderful!
Christmas Eve was still special. We read old Christmas stories by candle light, and I sang my guys to sleep with childhood carols.
I came down to see the two teenage boys who’d helped with the renovations were gone.
“They went to look for a tree.” My eldest whispered. Due to a lot of boggy ground fallen trees were common in the surrounding forest.
Our Texan builder/handyman was heading out too. It was he who first dreamt up the project. His tiny 5ft 6 frame harboring a personality that somehow gave the impression of a 6 footer.
I joined my daughter and the other teenage girl who’d stayed to help clear up the aftermath of the camp etc. We’d almost done when the boys dragged in an enormous tree. I restrained myself from checking for axe marks (their hearts were surely right and the forest was common ground I reasoned.)
They set it up in a bucket which the girls artfully draped and we went about gleaning all the décor we could find, painted fir cones, odd bits of tinsel yogurt top snowflakes. It looked beautiful even without lights.
I was just drifting off to sleep when I was roughly wakened.
“Come on mum. We need you to help wrap.”
Our Texan angel had been to see a friend who owned a small toy factory. He’d been hoping there might be a few “old line” bits and pieces for the kids. But the Irish heart never gives by half and the little van was crammed with toys, enough for several presents for each child and lots left over to pass on to others, there were even fairy lights for the tree.
Imagine the wonder next morning when the children were awoken by Christmas angels (my daughter and friend had raided the prop box) and brought down to the old living room. There they saw a huge tree blazing with lights and an immense pile of presents.
They didn’t think it was Santa. They knew who to thank, and their happy praises sounded all day long. The presents were special because they knew Jesus had sent them and that made His birthday “magic”.
We adults of course didn’t get presents, or did we? The gifts of joy, love, peace and intense gratitude filled our hearts in a way presents never could. Jesus’ love for these precious children and the hearts that had given so freely of time, goods and sleep were more than enough!
My posts have been tending to get increasingly negative. While idealism and compassion are good and some things need to be exposed, this blog was intended as an expression of praise and gratitude. I need to get back to my original precept.
Today I cycled through fuzzy white blossomed air, almost ran over a young squirrel intent on living dangerously and passed a flock of Canada geese complete with goslings all on the way home from the supermarket. Life is good. I count my blessings!
I’m battling frustration this weekend. Spring is coming with the warmest days yet (wonderful for early March!) Daffodils are blooming here and there and there’s an abundance of snow drops, primrose and tiny new buds. The lakes are calling, the sun is calling and I’m fettered inside.
The fun weekend I’d planned with my grandson, while his mum and step dad are away, came tumbling down on Thursday evening when it became clear he was coming down with flu. The usually effective doses of water, fruit and prayer, while ensuring a mild case, didn’t take it away completely.
So, here we are, the third day of him laying on my couch watching DVDs and occasionally playing I pad when his eyes are not sore. Thankfully he’s not suffering too much and is a cheerful little soul. Being nine now I can also nip quickly to the shops round the corner and pick up fruit and whatever he can manage to eat (he has a very sore throat poor thing). But… he does get lonesome and bored sometimes so I’ve spent hours cuddled up watching movies with him. Now I do enjoy the odd movie now and then but I think my eyes are turning square and the sun outside is so very beckoning.
Still, I have one comfort. I too felt flu coming on when I woke Friday morning, but thank God the prayers worked for me and I’ve been fine and healthy (just a little more tired as my body builds up its immunity). When I look longingly out of the window I remind myself at least I’m not stuck on the couch!