Mr. Cardinal is still here, pecking at the window in Daddy’s den, reminding me of Your presence, Lord, in such a tangible way. Sometimes he even comes and sits on the outside windowsill and stares at me. And I speak to him in that voice I use for small children and animals. And I think he listens.
I’ve been in Atlanta for almost three weeks now. Andrew and Lacy and the five kiddos moved into our home in Flintstone (near Chattanooga) as they await the renovations on their home to be completed. I’m so thankful that we could offer them the house now that Lacy is able to manage the stairs. She has improved so much.
And it has been less stressful to be here for almost three weeks. Not to go back and forth every few days between Atlanta and Flintstone. But I’m still exhausted; I still feel so far behind in life. And the grief hangs heavy.
Today a man is coming to appraise many of the items in my father’s house. There are a lot of items in a home that was built in 1938 and has been added onto several times. My parents weren’t hoarders, but they did like to keep photos and letters and cards and lots of other memorabilia. Appraising it will take some time.
I pause to consider how You appraise my life, Lord. Because of Your sacrifice, Lord, I am worthy to be called Your much-loved daughter. So I am trying, trying, trying to sit with this and believe it today.
In spite of all that surrounds me.
Life is so ravaging. Ukraine is being ravaged by Putin, several dear friends are ravaged by cancer. Andrew and Lacy are dealing with countless headaches with their home renovations not to mention all the craziness of Lacy’s health and the five kiddos. Chris is stuck in Israel with Covid (update, he made it home safely), and some of my loved ones are dealing with unresolved conflict. The world and our lives are messy. And we grieve.
Oh, how I grieve. Great big sobs of expected and unexpected tears. Grief.
So please keep appraising my life through Your lens, Lord. And let me hear Your voice above the rumblings of my thoughts and the world’s cacophony.
Your voice is so sweet and clear and yet also so surprising. Like a gurgling brook.
Like the shock of yellow daffodils amidst the purple of creeping phlox.
For instance, today I read Psalm 110 and Hebrews 7, the next Old Testament and New Testament chapters in my oh-so-sporadic Bible reading these days. Those two chapters were not in any Bible reading plan because I wasn’t using one. But they were both about Melchizedek.
Really, Lord? Really? How random is that? I mean this guy, Melchizedek, doesn’t get a lot of written words dedicated to him in the Bible, but today, I ‘just happened’ to read two of those chapters where he appears.
And this brings fresh tears as I cry out to the God who knows my every breath, who orchestrates eternity and the veil to intrude in His loved ones lives in a way that prohibits mistaking anything for coincidence.
If Melchizedek, that high priest of peace, can show up twice for me today, then may I sit with Your peace that passes understanding, trusting that You will show us the next steps in this oh-so-hard season of life, one day at a time. As the psalmist writes: “Let the morning bring me word of Your unfailing love for I have put my trust in You. Show me the way I should go for to You I lift up my soul.”
May you find His peace today as you pour out your soul to Him.
ELIZABETH MUSSER writes ‘entertainment with a soul’ from her writing chalet—tool shed—outside Lyon, France. Find more about Elizabeth’s novels at www.elizabethmusser.com and on Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest, and her blog, Letters to the Lord.