A writer's blog of short stories, hopefully through them you will become aware of the gentle inner voice of God speaking through a rose or the simple activities of every day, such as playing with your grandchildren. His voice is everywhere. We just need to slow down and listen. When we do, He will heal our deepest hurts and set us on His path to becoming the person He created us to be.
Grandma's Quilt of Prayer (Day 4 from Cleansing Thoughts)
It was a beautiful afternoon, and I had learned what it was like to pray without ceasing as I looked out upon God's masterpiece and saw my grandmother's quilt of prayer, and as I drove home, I thanked God for the memories I had of seeing her praying for her family and for the legacy she had given to me. As I pulled into my driveway, I could not help but notice all the trees around the wood line near my home were bare, yet they brought a smile to my face and a joy to my heart that is hard to explain, because they reminded me of all the prayers of those, like my grandmother"s, that were offered for me as well as those I had offered for others like my dad, who have now gone to be with the Lord. Like these, their lives have passed from season to season, leaving only memories and the hope of spring. My memories of that day will always remain with me, and one day, I hope to share them with my granddaughter when I pass down her great great-grandmother's quilt and her legacy of prayer. Whenever I look at the quilt, I am reminded that all of us have been called to be reapers in the Kingdom of God.
Jesus spoke a parable in the book of Matthew about the coming harvest in the kingdom of God when the reapers would separate the wheat from the tares, but until that time, the two would grow together. However, at the time of the harvest, the reapers would then go in and gather up the tares into bundles to be burnt, then the wheat would be separated and placed in the barn. In Isreal, the tares closely resembles wheat and can rarely be distinguished until the grain appears at the time of harvest. In the symbolism of this parable, those truly serve the Lord, and those who do not will live together until the angels of God separate the two. until that time we are the ones, God uses to touch the lives of others. Sometimes, the only way this can be done is through prayer. Prayer opens the door for God to touch lives, and you are the one holding the key; that is why it is so important that we keep a pure heart before God, because His Word tells us, "For the eyes of the Lord are on the righteous, and His ears are open to their prayers; but the face of the Lord is against those who do evil" (1 Peter 3:12, NKJV).
As I sat with my grandmother the last few weeks of her life, I witnessed the lives she touched and the hearts that were changed because of her faithfulness to God in prayer. I thank God for those memories because they have given me the strength to continue her legacy. My pastor has always said that prayer is more of an act of love than a lack of time for when we love someone, we will always take the time to spend with them. In prayer, you spend time with the One you love, presenting before Him those you love. Many nights, I have called out to the Lord, "Let my prayers be set before You as incense, the lifting of my hands as the evening sacrifice" (Psalm 14:2, NKJV). I will always cherish the memories of my grandmother gently stroking the quilt that lay across her lap, as she was touching each of us as she prayed. I have never witnessed a greater love than memories of her in prayer. Oh, precious child of God, it is my heart's desire that prayer will become a daily part of your life, that you would experience the joy of seeing those prayers answered, and that your life would become a story of love.
"Heavenly Father, touch the heart of this precious child with a desire for prayer. Open the eyes of her understanding to know the width and the length and depth of Your love. It is in the name of Your beloved Son, Jesus, that I pray."
To illustrate what I am saying let’s look again at the purple loosestrife. It is an invasive wetland perennial plant from Europe and Asia, arriving in North America as early as The 1800s by settlers for their gardens, because of its beautiful purple flower, which can produce thousands of seeds per plant. Later it was highly prized by beekeepers for the flavor produced in honey. Over the years it has spread throughout the United States and Canada causing a serious problem for our wetlands, because of its large dense growth areas it not only chokes out all other wetland plants, it also makes it impossible for many animal species which feed, nest or take cover in wetland plants to enter these dense growth areas. Now to make my point; the use of this plant started out to be innocent, first of all, it was appealing to the eye, being a perennial it would spread on its own. However, many years must have passed before the invasiveness of the plant was even notices let alone became a serious
I like to collect teacups, so when I get the chance I browse through china shops or antique stores to look for them, there is one shop, in particular, I really enjoy browsing through. One afternoon while I was there I saw a Tea-for One set that I just couldn't go home without. It had a pink rose that joined the teapot perfectly to the cup and the handles looked like a fish and it had gold edging. I asked the sales clerk if I could see it, stating how beautiful I thought it was, and then the most amazing thing happened . . . the teacup spoke! I haven't always been a teacup, there was a time all I was was a lump of red clay. My Master took me and rolled me and rolled me, then patted me all over and over again. I didn't like it, and I yelled out at him to leave me alone, but he only smiled and said, "Not Yet." Then I was placed on a spinning wheel, and suddenly I was spinning around and around and around. "Stop!" I cried, "I'm g
IT'S THAT TIME OF YEAR when the house is filled with the smell of freshly baked cookies, and in the air is a feeling of excitement as everyone runs around the house gathering up their hidden treasures. One by one they enter the wrapping room filled with boxes, paper, and bows, oh yes we mustn't forget the most sought after items of all, a box filled with everything needed to disguise the item within. As the evening comes to an end, with each one giving a big yawn we head upstairs for a long winter's nap. The chatter of voices from just an hour ago is now silent, so I slipped out of bed to check on the boys. As I pushed open each door I smiled in spite of myself seeing them snug in their beds; undoubtedly with visions of their presents filling their heads. As I gently closed their door I whispered, "Sweet dreams my little ones it won't be long now." Then I slipped down the stairs. In the quiet of the night, I cleaned up all the wrapping mess while ch