For the gifts and calling of God are irrevocable. Romans 11:29 (NASB)

 

God’s gifts and calling are unconditional and irreversible. What God has planted in our hearts; He will see to completion. His mercy is greater than our misgivings, failures, and disobedience. He knows our potential and provides what we lack.

On the dry and thirsty riverbed, God is present. When the whirlwind hits, He is our center. And when unbridled waves rock our boat, He is our calm. He stands watch so we too can sleep. The storm may not relent; however, God’s lamp never goes out. He sees our struggle to submit, wait, trust, and overcome. Look fear in the face. He will lead us.

Tests and trials prepare us for the uncertain tasks ahead. A broken heart is an empty vessel. Welcome bench. Open room. Light luggage. Ready ambassador. Sent advocate. Messenger. There is one who needs a hand to help or hold, or to be seen and understood, and another who will benefit from our story. God can redeem our mire  and muck. So, we trust in His timing.

For it is written on our hand “You belong to the Lord!” And He does not change His mind.

I lose my writer’s edge to keep a dentist appointment, only to learn that the procedure was scheduled for next week. I sigh. I’d driven in the torrential downpour for no reason. I shrug off the wasted time and embrace the rest. There must be a reason for the diversion. The slower pitter-patter on the ride home reminds me that my Lord sings over me with love. Dry bones stir and shift and stretch. God speaks.

I am home. Blessed is she who trusts in her God and is devoted to her husband and family. Ruth depended on God. She was discreet, gracious, and hospitable, and God provided for her. Like the Proverb 31 woman, her speech, appearance, character, and reputation set a standard. God protected Ruth and blessed her faithfulness; the lineage of Jesus began with her son Obed.

Ruth was a woman of excellence.

I also desire to be called worthy, and it starts in my home. I delight in the work that God has given me, the dusty cupboards, crumb-splattered floors, and smudged windows, and the late-night watches and heartfelt prayers. I wipe my grandchildren’s tears, care for their cuts and bumps, and read a second and third book. I sit and listen. Bear hunts, porch picnics, and storytelling remind me that time does not wait for us to catch up. I shrug once more. Laugh. Then I begin to sing while I juggle between play and piles of laundry.

Ordinary days matter.

I longed for simplicity decades ago, and it still tugs my heartstrings—linens hung on a line, strolls through the early meadow dew, a late-night chat with my mother that leaves us in tears, and a card from a stranger spur me on. I’m reminded of one of the last conversations with my father. He challenged me to forgive and to also speak my truth with boldness. He understood the power of our testimonies. His legacy of being the hands and feet of Jesus with mission work, local and abroad, has set a high bar.

However, I trust that God’s purpose planted within me will come to fruition. So, I welcome the lost and lonely, and I encourage the broken, hurt, and timid heart. God beckons me to the river, and I step in. Let the healing rain fall. I’m His beloved.

God will not fail or forsake His own. What He has called you to do; He will see to it!

Let us praise His glorious name,

Lily Mae