Baby Boy

Baby Boy

Once there was a son who went his own way at 18.Leaving home he rambled from town to town for years.Never finding what he
was searching for.Trouble with the law and many a failed marriages was left in his wake.His brothers and sisters lost touch with
him.He would call from time to time to let them know about his latest adventure or misadventure.They wouldn't hear from him for months on end.
The other kids either lived close by or stayed in close contact with their mother.This young buck didn't have time.The next fortune
or the next folly lay over the following hill.He called his parents to ask for money when he got into a jam.He only contacted them when he wanted
something, and spoke briefly.The money was always wired to his then current location.
His father had given up all hope over him,but momma said,"Baby boy,will find his way home someday."
Home was the last thing on his mind.
When she spoke of her children to others, she mentioned the one that had a good career,another who had a nice wife,the other who was doing many good
things,but when she spoke of the youngest she simply pointed to him in the family portrait and said,"This one is my baby."
Time passed and one winter night he called his sister from Louisiana to tell her about his new job on an oil platform.He had just blown into town there and was ready
to unwind.
"What's happening, sis?"
"Mom's been sick.The doctors said she might not make it through the night.She's been asking for you."
His response is dead silence.He drops the phone, and immediately revs up his engine.Without hesitiation he's off and running before he has time to think.
But in that period of time between darkness and dusk, he has time to think.And that is what he does.Of all he had been given and never gave back.The late nights
his mother had spent worrying over him, he now understood as the walls came closing in on him.
He approached the hospital just as the sun's rays were coming up.The light hurt his eyes.Frantically, he jumped out even before his car had come to a
complete stop.Rushing in he asked the charge nurse where to find her.She directed him by pointing up the hall.But he knew where she was before she
even lifted her hand.He could hear the sobs.His family was already grieving by the time he got to her side.At that moment,a tough grown man
who had learned to face life head on,cried just like a baby for his mother.
Will you be too late when you get the call to come home?

Holy Spirit,
You are like a mother's prayers calling us home.We become bogged down with what we want in this life.While we forget You.Only calling upon You
when we need something.Speaking to You briefly,only to forget You when we get it.As soon as we get out of trouble, we brag to others about how much fun
we are having.All the while your heart is breaking from worrying over us.Will we be too late one day when Your gone? Forgive me for taking You for granite.
Forgive me for all the grief I have given You.Just as a mother holds her baby boy when his heart is breaking,hold me now as mine breaks over what I have done.
Bring the tears I once knew as a child, when I longed for my mother's embrace.
Amen.
By
Lance Gargus

Cast Your Bread Upon The Waters

The man slowly looked up. This was a woman clearly accustomed to the finer things of life. Her coat was new. She looked like she had never missed a meal in her life. His first thought was that she wanted to make fun of him, like so many others had done before.


"Leave me alone," he growled...


To his amazement, the woman continued standing. She was smiling -- her even white teeth displayed in dazzling rows. "Are you hungry?" she asked.


"No," he answered sarcastically. "I've just come from dining with the president. Now go away." The woman's smile became even broader. Suddenly the man felt a gentle hand under his arm.


"What are you doing, lady?" the man asked angrily. "I said to leave me alone.


Just then a policeman came up. "Is there any problem, ma'am?" he asked..


"No problem here, officer," the woman answered. "I'm just trying to get this man to his feet. Will you help me?"


The officer scratched his head. "That's old Jack. He's been a fixture around here for a couple of years. What do you want with him?"


"See that cafeteria over there?" she asked. "I'm going to get him something to eat and get him out of the cold for awhile."


"Are you crazy, lady?" the homeless man resisted. "I don't want to go in there!" Then he felt strong hands grab his other arm and lift him up. "Let me go, officer. I didn't do anything."


"This is a good deal for you, Jack," the officer answered. "Don't blow it."


Finally, and with some difficulty, the woman and the police officer got Jack into the cafeteria and sat him at a table in a remote corner. It was the middle of the morning, so most of the breakfast crowd had already left and the lunch bunch had not yet arrived.The manager strode across the cafeteria and stood by his table.


"What's going on here, officer?" he asked. "What is all this, is this man in trouble?"


"This lady brought this man in here to be fed," the policeman answered.


"Not in here!" the manager replied angrily. "Having a person like that here is bad for business."


Old Jack smiled a toothless grin. "See, lady. I told you so. Now if you'll let me go. I didn't want to come here in the first place."


The woman turned to the cafeteria manager and smiled. "Sir, are you familiar with Eddy and Associates, the banking firm down the street?"


"Of course I am," the manager answered impatiently. "They hold their weekly meetings in one of my banquet rooms."


"And do you make a goodly amount of money providing food at these weekly meetings?"


"What business is that of yours?"


I, sir, am Penelope Eddy, president and CEO of the company."


"Oh."


The woman smiled again. "I thought that might make a difference." She glanced at the cop who was busy stifling a giggle. "Would you like to join us in a cup of coffee and a meal, officer?"


"No thanks, ma'am," the officer replied. "I'm on duty."


"Then, perhaps, a cup of coffee to go?"


"Yes, ma'am. That would be very nice."


The cafeteria manager turned on his heel, "I'll get your coffee for you right away, officer."


The officer watched him walk away. "You certainly put him in his place," he said.


"That was not my intent. Believe it or not, I have a reason for all this."


She sat down at the table across from her amazed dinner guest She stared at him intently. "Jack, do you remember me?"


Old Jack searched her face with his old, rheumy eyes "I think so -- I mean you do look familiar."


"I'm a little older perhaps," she said. "Maybe I've even filled out more than in my younger days when you worked here, and I came through that very door, cold and hungry."


"Ma'am?" the officer said questioningly. He couldn't believe that such a magnificently turned out woman could ever have been hungry.


"I was just out of college," the woman began. "I had come to the city looking for a job, but I couldn't find anything. Finally I was down to my last few cents and had been kicked out of my apartment. I walked the streets for days. It was February and I was cold and nearly starving. I saw this place and walked in on the off chance that I could get something to eat."

Jack lit up with a smile. "Now I remember," he said. "I was behind the serving counter. You came up and asked me if you could work for something to eat. I said that it was against company policy."


"I know," the woman continued. "Then you made me the biggest roast beef sandwich that I had ever seen, gave me a cup of coffee, and told me to go over to a corner table and enjoy it. I was afraid that you would get into trouble.Then, when I looked over, I saw you put the price of my food in the cash register I knew then that everything would be all right."

"So you started your own business?" Old Jack said.


"I got a job that very afternoon. I worked my way up. Eventually I started my own business that, with the help of God, prospered." She opened her purse and pulled out a business card. "When you are finished here, I want you to pay a visit to a Mr. Lyons.He's the personnel director of my company.


I'll go talk to him now and I'm certain he'll find something for you to do around the office." She smiled. "I think he might even find the funds to give you a little advance so that you can buy some clothes and get a place to live until you get on your feet.

If you ever need anything, my door is always opened to you."


There were tears in the old man's eyes. "How can I ever thank you?" he said.


"Don't thank me," the woman answered. "To God goes the glory. Thank Jesus... He led me to you."


Outside the cafeteria, the officer and the woman paused at the entrance before going their separate ways."Thank you for all your help, officer," she said.


"On the contrary, Ms. Eddy," he answered. "Thank you. I saw a miracle today, something that I will never forget. And...And thank you for the coffee."





But, if you have missed knowing my LORD and SAVIOR, JESUS CHRIST, you have missed everything in the world.


Have a Wonderful Day. May God Bless You Always.


And don't forget that when you "cast your bread upon the waters," you never know how it will be returned to you.


God is so big He can cover the whole world with his Love and so small He can curl up inside your heart.

I’m not okay, Lord. But I’m still here.

 “Are you ok?” I don’t know how to respond to a question I’ve been asked at many seasons of my life. Just like this February day caught between the warm rays of the sun and the cold wind that makes me zip my coat up. It is a season in life when you hold grief in one hand and gratitude in another. But, at that moment I feel nothing. Numb to the question; just numb to life in general. 

My response to her is,”Are you ok?” She only tears up and stares at the gravestone. My name written in the middle of the engraving. Our son’s name etched before mine on the marker. Our family’s last name written at the end. Pictures of him on the front of the headstone. I wait longing for the picture to speak to me. 

Just like the day I found him. I ran to my son the same as the prodigal’s father ran to him. My story changes from this familiar parable here. In this story, the son is no longer here. I hold him in my arms on that August day. The only cold that day was the warmth of life gone from my son. “Am I ok?” The only words I can say to God while cradling my son is,” Lord God, if this how You felt when You lost Your Son, we should be ashamed. “

Jus like the time when our son broke his arm. I cried there at the hospital for someone to please help me. “Please help my son.” 

But laying in a ditch with him I shouted the same cry of hopelessness to everyone who passed by and just drove on. “Did they just walk by and just go about their day. Oblivious to the Son of God hanging on a cross by the roadway. Did you feel ok that day God? Or was your hear breaking like mine? Did your tears fall as rain to the ground? Were you angry? Or were you just numb?Did anyone in the courts of heaven ask you if you were ok?”

My mind stumbles to the hollow ground I stood on. Looking at row upon row of someone’s loved ones buried here in this sacred dirt. We both look at each other knowing that we are not ok. 

I drop to the ground on my knees as I did that day I found him. 

I remember stopping again at the chapel at the hospital where I wrestled with my faith as I watched my father’s life slip away slowly. Of the prayer I prayed that day. And I repeat it to my Heavenly Father again this same prayer. 

“I didn’t come with lifted hands today. I’ve come with questions I can’t explain. Jesus, some nights I wrestle with the silence. Some days I barely say Your name. I’ve learned how to smile through the hurting. Learned how to stand when I’m afraid. But standing doesn’t mean I’m strong now. It means I only chose to stay. I don’t have the words you would hoped to hear. I don’t have the faith I used to claim. All I have is this one breath and I bring it just to say. Lord, I’m not okay but I’m still here calling out Your name. Still believing You can still hold me. Even when my strength has walked away. I don’t have the answers. I don’t see the road ahead. But I’m not okay, Lord. But I’m still here weeping at Your Holy feet. 

I’ve watched the seasons change without me. Watched the world just keep moving on while I stayed frozen in a moment. Trying to be brave and strong. Some prayers don’t sound like hallelujahs. Some faith is quiet worn and thin. But even doubt can be a doorway……when You meet me where I am.  

Lord I’m not okay but I’m still here…..still reaching through the pain…still trusting You can see me when I can’t see Hope again. I don’t need perfection….I just need Your nearness now. 

I’m not okay, Lord. But I’m still here on my face needing You here.  

If staying is my offering, then take this trembling heart. If breathing is my only prayer…please meet me where You are. I don’t need the healing yet. I don’t need the end made clear. I just need to know you’re still with me while I’m still here and they are there. 

Lord,I’m not okay but I’m still here….held by unseen Grace still learning that Your mercy doesn’t leave when I’m unsaid. I’ll take one step, I’ll say Your name through every doubt and fear. I’m not okay, Lord. 

And if tomorrow finds me stronger. I’ll remember this one truth….You stayed with me in the breaking and You carried me through…I’m still not okay, Lord but I’m still here and You held me is as I held my son, as my earthly father held me through the long night and whispered to me like I did to my son, as my dad whispered to me….it’s gonna be okay…cause I’m still here….”   

Romans 8:26-27 says that the Spirit helps us in our weakness and intercedes for us with “groanings too deep for words” when we do not know how to pray. God, who searches hearts, understands these deep, wordless cries…..

Two Horses Friendship

There is a field, with two horses in it.



From a distance, each horse looks like any other horse.
But if you stop your car, or are walking by, you will notice something quite amazing. Looking into the eyes of one horse will disclose that he is blind. His owner has chosen not to have him put down, but has made a good home for him.



This alone is amazing.

If you stand nearby and listen, you will hear the sound of a bell. Looking around for the source of
the sound, you will see that it comes from the smaller horse in the field.

Attached to the horse's halter is a small bell.
It lets the blind friend know where the other horse is, so he can follow.



As you stand and watch these two horses, you'll see that the horse with the bell is always checking on the
blind horse, and that the blind horse will listen for the bell and then slowly walk to where the other
horse is, trusting that he will not be led astray.

When the horse with the bell returns to the shelter of the barn each evening, it stops occasionally and
looks back, making sure that the blind friend isn't too far behind to hear the bell.




Like the owners of these two horses, God does not throw us away just because we are not perfect or
because we have problems or challenges.

He watches over us and even brings others into our lives to help us when we are in need.

Sometimes we are the blind horse being guided by the little ringing bell of those who

God places in our lives.

Other times we are the guide horse, helping others to find their way....

Good friends are like that... you may not always see them, but you know they are always there.

Please listen for my bell and I'll listen for yours.

And remember.....be kinder than necessary-everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.

Live simply, Love generously, Care deeply, Speak kindly.... Leave the rest to God.

By James Gargus

The Trouble Tree Story

I hired a carpenter to help me restore an old farmhouse.
He had just finished a rough first day on the job:

a flat tire made him lose an hour of work, his electric saw quit and now his ancient pickup refused to start.

While I drove him home, he sat in stony silence.
On arriving, he invited me to meet his family. As we walked toward the front door, he paused briefly at a small tree, touching the tips of the branches with both hands.
When opening the door he underwent an amazing transformation. His tanned face was wreathed in smiles and he hugged his two small children and gave his wife a kiss.
Afterwards he walked me to the car. We passed the tree and my curiosity got the better of me. I asked him about what I had seen him do earlier.
"Oh, that's my trouble tree," he replied. "I know I can't help having troubles on the job, but one thing for sure, troubles don't belong in the house with my wife and the children. So I just hang them up on the tree every night when I come home.
Then in the morning I pick them up again. Funny thing is," he smiled, " when I come out in the morning to pick 'them up. There isn't nearly as many as I remember hanging up the night before."

Sometimes Things Get Broken

Heavenly Daddy,
"Sometimes things get broken,"my mother says.Yeah,right.My tractor breaks,both mowers break, and there is still stuff to do.
I curse the tractor and the mowers.A car broken as I try to fix it brings on more cursing.These poor dumb inademate words can't tell
anything I'm saying.And I ask for God to bring down curses on all these hunks of iron,the one object truly broken is me.The struggles and trials
that never seem to end.My spirit is broken under the weight of all the demands put on it.Whether actually put on me or self inflicted is
a matter for debate.I don't even know where to start.
Will there ever be a day with no more suffering and no more tears?I have had very few broken bones in my life.What ones I've had broken incapcitate that area
of your area of your of body.A spirit broken incapactates every fiber of your being.Am I beyond fixing?God,I've failed sometimes as a son I should be left for dead.
How do I deal a world that can't be trusted?Self interest has been put first.These weight of doubt bring me to the point of losing hope.Hope is all I have in You.
You didn't leave me, I left you.
Time heals all wounds they say.But healing leaves scar tissue that builds around my heart.It builds walls between you and
I.So easy to walk away,not so easy to stay.
In my brokeness all I can do is crawl to a place I felt safe as a child.In my father's arms.It was the place of my refuge.As I lay down to sleep with my heavy heart,may I be silent enough
to hear the unspoken words that You are near.Take the broken pieces while I sleep and let me love again.Tears,where have you gone from me?
Amen.

Judge Gently

Pray, don't find fault with the man who limps> Or stumbles along the road.> Unless you have worn the shoes he wears> Or struggled beneath his load.> > There may be tacks in his shoes that hurt> Though hidden away from view.> Or the burden he bears placed on your back> Might cause you to stumble too.> > Don't sneer at the man who's down today> Unless you have felt the blow> That caused his fall or felt the shame> That only the fallen know.> > You may be strong but still the blows> That was his if dealt to you> In the selfsame way, at the selfsame time> Might cause you to stagger too.> > Don't be too harsh with the man who sins> Or pelt him with word or stone> Unless you are sure - yea, doubly sure> That you have no sins of your own.> > For you know, perhaps,> If the tempter's voice should whisper as soft to you> As it did to him when he went astray> It might cause you to falter too.> >

Called

 Dad wrote this about feeling too over strict on his children and not understanding enough. A tough tightrope for a father to walk.

Here it is:

He cringed, and cowered in the shadow of his darkened room.

Fearing to venture out from the safety of the protection of the gloom.

He had been disobedient and the penalty he now feared.

As his Father's return from his work drew swiftly near.

This heartrending scene was re-enacted time after time,

Just apathetic battle for attention and affection, his only crime.

He stood at the door of our hearts pleading entrance in.

Hurt, dismayed with a long, long battle he'd never win.

With tears in his eyes, a break in his lonely heart,

Hoping for, and begging for entrance, in whole or in part.

He begged and implored with no realized reply.

As his tender, young, hungry heart, wondered, why, why?

He sought and reached for love, from any who could understand,

We were too blind and busy to see the pitiful outstretched hand.

Rigid discipline, strict codes, hard rules with no exception.

Too late, too late I realized I was tragically practicing deception.

He called and called but I couldn't see his desperate need.

Grandma's Hands

Grandma, some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the patio bench. She didn't move, just sat with her head down staring at her hands. When I sat down beside her she didn't acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat I wondered if she was OK. Finally, not really wanting to disturb her but wanting to check

on her at the same time, I asked her if she was OK. She raised her head and looked at me and smiled. 'Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking,' she said in a clear voice strong. 'I didn't mean to disturb you, grandma, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were OK,' I explained to her. 'Have you ever looked at your hands,' she asked. 'I mean really looked at your hands?' I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them. I turned them over, palms up and then palms down. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried to figure out the point she was making. Grandma smiled and related this story: 'Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. These hands, though wrinkled shriveled and weak have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life. 'They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor.They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back. As a child, my mother taught me to fold them in prayer. They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots. They held my husband and wiped my tears when he went off to war.'They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent. They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son. Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special They wrote my letters to him and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse. 'They have held my children and grandchildren, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn't understand. They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body. They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw. And to this day when not much of anything else of me works real well these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer. 'These hands are the mark of where I've been and the ruggedness of life. But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when he leads me home. And with my hands He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of God.' I will never look at my hands the same again. But I remember God reached out and took my grandma's hands and led her home. When my hands are hurt or sore or when I stroke the face of my children and husband I think of grandma. I know she has been stroked and caressed and held by the hands of God. I, too, want to touch the face of God and feel His hands upon my face.

I'm Not Finished With You Yet

I was born in late September in Tennessee.The humidity was still high from August.Doctor said I was lucky to be alive.Severe allergies and all you I'm afraid was rough on my tiny body.Finally,got to go home.

And since then I've been in trouble since the day I got here.I'll be in trouble until the day I disaapear.On that day I'll finally get it right.

Dad always said," There's hope for you yet.God has got plans for you. Just have to wait and see."

In school I was never that good.I talked too much and trouble always followed me.I become the walking, hopeless fool as far as others were concerned.I don't know how but I made it through.

Still wondering why I'm here.I deal with the fear of my uncertainty.Will I prove them all wrong?I don't know.But I've seen enough to know that I'm not here for nothing.He's up to something.

So I hold on tight to my daddy's words,"Wait and see,he's not finished with you yet."Him and God must see something I can't.The finished product that comes out this mess that is me must take a miracle only God can deliver.He didn't leave me at the beginning, He won't leave me at the end,and all those parts in between both.

by

Lance Gargus

My Daugher-In-Law

My daughter-in-law treats me like a mother. She calls me Mom. We are close to each other. Some people thinks she's my daughter. We go to different places together. But the best place together is when she and I with the whole family go to the house of the Lord.

By

Louise Gargus

The Empty Egg

Eight-year-old Steven was mentally retarded and had many> health problems. His health appeared to be growing worse ever> daily. His teacher was concerned his classmates might stop> identifying with him and loving him as they became more aware> of his differences.> > In April, the teacher asked the class to put together one> plastic Easter egg filled with a small object representing new> life in the Spring. Thinking Steven might not understand (and> not wanting to embarrass him), the teacher had each child> place their egg on her desk so that she could open each one> individually. She needn't have worried.> > The first egg contained a tiny wild flower, which truly was an> indication of new life.> > Next, came a rock and the teacher assumed the rock was> Steven's. Her reasoning was that rocks don't symbolize new> life and growth. But a little boy shouted from the back of the> room that the rock had moss on it, thereby showing new life.> The teacher agreed.> > A butterfly flew out of the next egg and the little girl that> brought it bragged that the butterfly was hers, and how it had> came from a cocoon, symbolizing new life. The teacher agreed> again.> > The fourth egg was empty. The teacher knew this had to be> Steven's egg, and she nervously set it aside, hoping he> wouldn't notice.> > As she began to pick up a different egg, Steven excitedly> announced that the empty egg was his! Hesitating, the teacher> replied, "But it's empty!"> > "That's right," said Steven. "Just like Jesus' tomb was, and> that means new life for everyone!" The teacher was amazed at> Steven's insight and his love for Jesus.> > Later on, at the end of the school year, Steven's condition> worsened and he died.> > At his funeral, the children from his class each placed an> empty Easter egg among the flowers. Many of the adults at> Steven's funeral were puzzled by the appearance of all the> eggs, and the message Steven shared with his classmates was> shared again!> > An empty tomb some two thousand years earlier gave Steven the> hope of a new life! Although the flowers were beautiful, it> was the empty eggs that shared the message of hope in Eternal> Life through Jesus Christ!> > What a wonderful message to share this Easter with those you> love.> > "Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not> here; He is risen!"? Luke 24:5 NIV> > ~

Fight The Hands

And not many days after the younger son gathered all together, and took his journey into a far country,
Luke 15:13

Screaming I break loose from his hands.Fighting, I get away, jumping from his lap. I run as hard as I can paying no attention to where I'm going.
To a four year old, my only thoughts are how I feel in the moment. Tears run down my face mixing in with the rain outside. I stop when I can't see
my house anymore. The spring raindrops make it hard to tell how far I've ran. All I know is I escaped. I wanted that toy and that's all that mattered.
I'm somewhere in a pasture, but I can't tell which way is back home. I'm lost. No moon or stars in the sky to give me light.
The storm worsens as the wind starts to pick up. I can barely stand on my feet. Lightning flashes some illumination so I can see briefly. All I can make out is
dark shapes off in the distance. My heart feels as though it pounds harder with each rumbling of the thunder.Barreling head long, I take flight as fast as I can go.
My feet go sliding on the wet ground. I find myself sliding into a gigantic mud hole. The shapes of the people looking for me are moving further away. I crawl out
of the mud yelling the whole time.
"Here I am, here I am,"my voice shrills.
No way they can hear me over the sound of the storm. I have to reach them.
Adrenaline kicks in and I make my way to the shadowy people. Only their not people, just cattle huddling together under an old tree for shelter.
"What do I do now? They will never find me. Why had I wanted that stupid toy so bad? Why did I act like that when Daddy told me know? Now I will never
see them my family again," my small mind wondered.
So I plopped down on the wet ground a lost boy with no family. Water from the rain and tears from my troubled heart filled my eyes to the point I could no longer make out anything.
And as I sat on my soggy pants, so sure my little world had come to an end, I heard a voice.
"You ready to go home,son?"
I turned to see the one I struggled so hard to get away from. He held out the hands that I had pushed away. Unsure for awhile if I would ever see those hands
again. No longer was I rebellious boy throwing a temper tantrum. I was a wet and sorrowful sight of a little boy, who just wanted to go home to his family. His hands
reached down to pick up his trembling, frightened son.
Now I stand out in the spring rains again. This time I am a man. I let the drops of water streak down my face. Feeling the cool moisture on my skin. And I recall how it felt back
then. Despite it all, I still fight the Hands that try to hold me. Running wildly into the darkness and confusion of my own heart. Chasing shadows and phantoms while the
thunder rolls on in the chambers of my soul. My soul yearns for the silence from the storms of this life. My soul longs for the feeling I felt back then. When my father's
hands came to carry me home.
Dear Father,
I am the rebellious younger son in the far country. I lose sight as I did in that open field of what's important. My self-deception has blinded me to the true reality,Yours.
Unlike him, sometimes I can't find my way back, and You always come looking for me. Help me to help myself. Make in me a new heart that doesn't want to fight the hands that want to hold me
and take me home.
Amen.
by
Lance Gargus

Handwriting On The Wall

A weary mother returned from the store,
Lugging groceries through the kitchen door.
Awaiting her arrival was her 8 year old son,
Anxious to relate what his younger brother had done.
While I was out playing and Dad was on a call,
T.J. took his crayons and wrote on the wall
It's on the new paper you just hung in the den.
I told him you'd be mad at having to do it again.
She let out a moan and furrowed her brow,
Where is your little brother right now?
She emptied her arms and with a purposeful stride,
She marched to his closet where he had gone to hide.
She called his full name as she entered his room.
He trembled with fear--he knew that meant doom
For the next ten minutes, she ranted and raved
About the expensive wallpaper and how she had saved.
Lamenting all the work it would take to repair,
She condemned his actions and total lack of care.
The more she scolded, the madder she got,
Then stomped from his room, totally distraught
She headed for the den to confirm her fears.
When she saw the wall, her eyes flooded with tears.
The message she read pierced her soul with a dart.
It said, I love Mommy, surrounded by a heart.
Well, the wallpaper remained, just as she found it,
With an empty picture frame hung to surround it.
A reminder to her, and indeed to all,
Take time to read the handwriting on the wall

For We Believe

 1 Thessalonians 4:14 For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him.

This verse embodies all of my Hope, all of my Desires, all of my Dreams, and all of my Loss. For without this one small verse we have no hope. Nothing this world 🌎 can offer me, show me, sell me, or entice me with can bring me what this simple Truth can. The older I get, the more I despise the things of this world. The attraction it once had escapes me. For this is only temporal and I long for the things Paul spoke of in his Epistles that are Eternal. Things of this world has be replaced constantly. I have to constantly breathe,eat, drink, sleep, and exercise. Not by choice but by necessity. I’m always trying to fill myself with the desires of this life. It always leaves longing for more. I become thirsty, sleepy, hungry, sleepy once again. I long for the day when I see as I am seen by God. Eternal. I long for my loved ones. To see my son, dad, brother again. This verse tells me they are bringing them back to me. God is allowing His Son to bring my son back to me. Jesus will personally bring him back to me. And all my Hope rest in this because God rose His son from the dead. And He promises to raise mine. And He promises to raise your husband, your wife, your mother, your sister, your daughter, your son, your grandchild, your uncle, your aunt, your stepdad, your stepmom, your cousin, your classmate, your friend……we build upon the Living Hope, the Invisible God, the Friend to the Friendless, President of Presidents, Maker of Me, Lover of My Soul, the One who hears my heart’s cry, the only One Worthy to open the scroll- our Only Hope, the Gentle Lamb, the Lion of Judah, the Lily of the Valley, the Creator of Heaven and Earth, the Balm of Gilead, the Healer of Nations, the Prince of Peace, the Peacemaker, the Ultimate Counselor, the Comforter, the Only One Who Can Make All Things New, the Destroyer of Death and Hell, the Reliever of Pain and Suffering, and the Shoulder I Cry On Who Wipes Away My 😭 Tears………..Amen. Let it be so. Come soon Lord Jesus and bring our Treasure back to us. Our treasure- our love ones- oh they like You Sweet Jesus is the Treasure Hidden Away in You…..

Jehovah Jireh

 Jehovah Jireh. The Lord will provide. That’s easy to say when everything is dependable. It’s hard to say when you reach for that checkbook and there’s no money there. Or when the car is on empty and your trying to make it to a gas station. And the next one ain’t for miles. How about when you shoot that big buck and can’t find him? No matter how long you search. Reaching into darkness and not sure what is there. 

This is where true Faith starts. I try to patient. I try to understand. I remember the words of Shadrack, Meshack and Abindigo. Whether our God saves or doesn’t we still won’t worship the statue. Hey, let’s be real. That takes a lot of Faith. When that loved one doesn’t come home from the hospital, that job lets you go after all those years, that person tells lies about you and others believe it, or you can’t feel His presence anymore. 

I shot the biggest buck I ever killed. Big ten point. Walked up to him. Layed out on the ground. Go back to vehicle to bring it down to retrieve him. He’s gone. No blood trail. No indent in the ground.  No tracks around where he was. Like he vanished. Who knows what happened? Other hunters speculated with me. But it’s still disappointing. But God let me have the experience but not the reward. 

Cause he knows I might have took the credit and not Him. He allows me just enough of anything that’s sufficient for me. I’m not saying I ain’t hurt. But like I said in a previous post. He’s Spirit is better that a 1000 bucks hanging on the wall. 

I’m learning how to accept the experience and not the reward. Acceptance, contentment, in all circumstances. Paul learned from these examples that God was making his heart over for his heart to feel for others by his experiences…..

So that ten point buck has fattened up the coyotes as I hear them yelp. As the sunsets 🌅 I remember there will always be Jehovah Jireh the God who provides what is sufficient for me. And I can thank Him enough. Hug 🤗 Connor Gargus, my son who went on to be with Ypu, a little tighter for me Jesus as I learn to accept Your will not mine.

Family

 I want you to think about this. I know your busy scrolling. Looking for something but not sure what- to speak to a need. A need in your heart. So, PLEASE 🙏 , give me just a moment. 

A rich man lives in a house all alone. He would give up all his treasure to share it with someone. A wife, a family, friends, anyone. Jesus had all this and more with Heaven. But, He was lonely. He saw us and didn’t want Heaven without us. So. He gave it all up. To rescue us from death and suffering. He chose willing death and suffering. Imagine how hard it is to hold something straight out. The lactic acid burns our muscles. Now imagine holding the whole world for generations straight out on a cross. Arms stretched out. The nails didn’t hold him there. 

Love did. 

He didn’t want Heaven without us. He wanted His family there with Him. 

Now. Shouldn’t we feel the same about our family……

The Hunt

 You didn’t kill a deer today. Spring is you didn’t catch a fish today. No I did something much more. Those moments of waiting for that game to appear has taught me to wait upon God. I caught the Holy Spirt on that boat or in that deer blind. Cause in those moments I have to be quiet. I have to be still. It’s like when your forced into a hospital bed from sickness or forced to your knees over losing a love one. You can’t help but hear the still small voice saying to your storm,” Peace. Be still.” 

So yeah I caught/ got ……the Holy Spirit that is worth more than 1000 bucks or 1000 bass.

Reconciliation

 Genesis 33:4

But Esau ran to meet Jacob and embraced him; he threw his arms around his neck and kissed him. And they wept

Two truths I can pull from this verse. Jesus parable of the prodigal son. The father ran to the son. Two. Jesus wept. He wept for Lazerus. Wept is a strong word. It’s a sorrowful weep that comes from the soul. 

Now. Jesus is the  Word. The Word is alive. So. At Jesus heart is all this. Reconciliation. Reconciling of family here or there. Our choice. So. We are either Esau. The one who has to accept the forgiving. Or Jacob. The one who has to swallow pride and ask for forgiveness. 

The result was Jacob becoming Israel. He moved up quite a bit. His blessings became many and reknown. But you have to decide. Level up or level down. Forgive to be forgiven. Your choice. My choice. Make it count. Time is short. Generations are waiting on your decision. Peace.

Job’s Three Friends

Job's three friends live a distance from him, but they come together and decide to visit Job in order to help him mourn. For the first seven days, they merely sit with him, quietly. They do not say a word. They support him, let him have his sadness and be there with him in his time of trial. 

Job’s friends start off I believe feeling sorry for Job. But as they started trying. to figure out why Job had this happen to him. They became terrible comforters after that. 

The Bible says… And He burned with anger against Job’s three friends because they had failed to refute Job, and yet had condemned him. Job 32:3 

I have often wondered how I have come off giving comfort. This is by no means any condemnation to anyone over my present condition with my son. But it makes me reevaluate my sense of comfort to those hurting. Do I start off good and end it like Job’s friends? Do I start with good intentions and end it with my blabbering that sounds more like preaching and less like being a shoulder to lean on? 

When the night has come

And the land is dark

And the moon is the only light we'll see

No, I won't be afraid

Oh, I won't be afraid

Just as long as you stand

Stand by me

So darlin', darlin', stand by me

Oh, stand by me

Oh, stand

Stand by me, stand by me

If the sky that we look upon

Should tumble and fall

Or the mountain should crumble to the sea

I won't cry, I won't cry

No, I won't shed a tear

Just as long as you stand

Stand by me

And darlin', darlin', stand by me

Oh, stand by me

Oh, stand now

Stand by me, stand by me

And darlin', darlin', stand by me

Oh, stand by me

Oh, stand now 

Stand by me, stand by me

Whenever you're in trouble won't you stand by me

Oh, stand by me

Won't you stand by

Am I someone to stand by someone or am I someone that others would rather avoid? 

As my soul searching unfolds with each chapter of my life I ponder upon these things in my heart.