All posts by Amy Canada

A Memo from Heaven

Grace, Heaven, Miracles, Rainey, Relationship

I want to tell what God did tonight. It was after 2:00 in the morning, and I’d finally got both my daughter and my husband into their beds and said goodnight, and smeared their foreheads and wrists with lavender oil. My daughter’s bed is the couch tonight, so I was sneaking around, trying to be silent as I set a diffuser with one of the oils she favors. I had just turned on my iphone’s flashlight when she said something. I leaned over the back of the sofa to hear her, and suddenly there was a man’s voice next to me. I jumped, shaking the phone. A voice memo app had opened and one of the recordings had started playing. I slapped the button to stop the recording just as I recognized that the voice was Les Granier.

“Hello, this is Les. I was wondering if y’all were coming by. Please have Victor call me…”

I stared at her then at the phone, mouth agape. I said that I must have “butt-dialed” a recording of Les. I couldn’t understand how it happened. It required 3 layers of touching the exact spot to open the group, open the app, and choose the memo. Then the “play” arrow, right at the precise moment I leaned over the couch and looked into her eyes. Her face was priceless. Such a change from the last hours, days, weeks full of unbearable stress and teenage angst. Now, there was a peacefulness in her smile that I could see even in the dim light of the cell phone. I realized that the app was recording a new memo of me realizing and being astonished by what was happening! I do not know how it was possible that I could have touched the screen in the sequence that would start a new recording. Not possible, I say. Except… God.

I want to tell you, I don’t even know where that app is on my phone. I looked for it later but couldn’t find it. I had to check the recently used apps, then I got to listen to the recording of me realizing that I had somehow inadvertantly opened the group, opened that memo app, opened that recording, and hit play. It’s an unrealistic scenario created by an unreasonably benevolent God.

Wynter was just smiling though. She didn’t move or say a word; she just lay there smiling. A beautiful, wonderful smile. I asked her if she wanted to hear it again. There was actually another recording, in which Les’ voice said “I just need a couple of minutes” and she laughed. “That’s not true. He never only needed a couple of minutes.” I played it again. And again. Her peaceful smile slowly turned into heart-wrenching grief. She pressed her face into her fluffy blanket. Giant teardrops plopped down on the back of the couch as I reached over to stroked her hair and back, trying to comfort a void that cannot be filled on earth.

I sat down to write this, not wanting to let another miracle fade from memory before making a record of the details. On a whim I opened email. Any messages about the Bible Study that starts in six hours could have waited. But I checked. On a second whim, I opened an email from Ever Thine Home; a blog post by Barbara Rainey called Heart Identity Matters. She recalled a prayer written when a young, overwhelmed mother:

Father, I pray you will teach me more about my identity and my call as a mom. Teach me too the value of that call because so much of my work is inside these walls – unseen and immeasurable.

God continues to amaze me. I took heart in her encouragement:

To all of you moms who are losing sleep, staying home with sick kids, giving the best years of your life to your children, wondering if you will ever have time to yourself again hear me say, you matter!

Believe God sees and is taking account of your labors of love. Believe my word of encouragement and belief that your investment in your kids, even though you are unseen and have no great following, is more important than likes.

Barbara Rainey, EverThineHome.com

“And your Father who sees in secret will repay you!”

Matthew 6:4

And who will play a memo in the middle of the night with a voice from heaven to comfort a distressed, sleepy girl. And who will comfort her far more than even a mom could. And who gave this mom the memory of that peaceful face, and a voice memo to remind me!

Walking in Grace and Forgiveness

Forgiveness, Grace, Relationship, Teachings

I was driving down a poorly lit boulevard after dark a few days ago.  I was on the way to get my daughter a late dinner after helping a relative load our car with items to store in our attic.  I looked down at the map on my phone, attached to a holder on the console, and explained to her that the route indicated meant taking the interstate, but that I knew how to get to the restaurant using a less busy road.  I did not have a thought, did not hear anything, but my head jerked up just in time to see a person on a bicycle slowly crossing the three lanes not far ahead of me.  I slammed on my breaks.  And I even honked my horn, just out of shock, I suppose.  The person wearing all dark clothing with no refective gear at all passed without any acknowledgement of me or the incident whatsoever.

But I was shaken.  I had been looking down longer than I should have and I could have slammed into that cyclist with no pause.  It took my breath away.  I took it back and repeated “Thank You Jesus!” with more gratefulness than I have words to express.

I confessed to God and my daughter that I had been so wrong to be distracted by that map for so long.  I remembered public service announcements about how 5 seconds looking at a text message can cause disaster.  I was looking at a map, but disaster was only averted by the grace of God!  What  a mighty God we serve!  He saved me from disaster.  He saved me again!  Many times on the highways He has saved me from disaster, and has saved my very life.  Many times in many ways He has saved my life, out of His Great Grace.  And indeed He has saved my soul. Because He saved my soul, I know I will be with Him in heaven after I leave this life, so I am not concerned about dying.  But I’m concerned about the condition of my heart when I do.  I’m concerned about how I will present myself to Him when I arrive in His presence.

I was reminded of that night while listening to Priscilla Shirer telling of her grandmother who, near the end of her life, told her granddaughter that she did not want to face Jesus on her last day unable to look Him square in the face.  “Oh, Priscilla, I don’t want to meet Him with my head hung down,” she said.   Those two women understand “being right” with the Lord.  Understand the importance of giving and receiving forgiveness. And understand how vast is the unmerited favor of a gracious God!

In an article on desiringGod.org, staff writer John Bloom  wrote:

The old hymn says it beautifully: “Grace, grace, God’s grace; grace that is greater than all my sin.”

But the grace of God is not only great enough to “pardon and cleanse within.” It is so powerful, as Joseph’s older brothers learned in Genesis 45, that it can turn the most horrible sin you have ever committed against another, or has ever been committed against you, and make it the slave of his mercy.

My sin a slave to mercy?  Oh yes.  If you have not lived through challenges in your life that brought you deep enough to NEED the great, wide, vast mercy of God, then you may not be able to understand this.  If you want to gain this understanding, ask for it, but don’t get mad when you go through heavy trials… it’s the only way to get it.  (It’s the same as miracles; everyone WANTS one but nobody wants to NEED one.  But you only GET one if that’s all it could take to keep you from running down a bicyclist late one Monday night on Williams Boulevard.  Or keep you from jumping.  Or keep your leg from being amputated.  Whatever the miracle is, it needs a need to be needed.  See the struggle as the road to the miracle, the path to grace.

No one needs a vindicator who is not pursued by a foe.  Nobody who is not under attack needs to be rescued.  But don’t get mad at the attacker, look to the savior!

And then, as Psalm 54 says, we offer thanksgiving and

1 O God, save me by Your name, and vindicate me by Your might.
2 O God, hear my prayer; give ear to the words of my mouth.

3 For strangers have risen against me; ruthless men seek my life;
they do not set God before themselves. Selah

4 Behold, God is my helper; the Lord is the upholder of my life.
5 He will return the evil to my enemies; in Your faithfulness put an end to them.

6 With a freewill offering I will sacrifice to you;
I will give thanks to your name, O Lord, for it is good.
7 For He has delivered me from every trouble,
and my eye has looked in triumph on my enemies.

Give thanks for He has saved you.  Offer time to the God who saves to thank Him.

 

 

 

 

Looking to the future or running from the past?

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Do you want someone who married you because you were a better option than the horrible life they were living and the hopeless future they faced?

Or because the very best day of their awesome life wasn’t good enough because it didn’t include you?

Which would the one you’re with say about you?

If either of a couple answers closer to the first than the second, there are some serious potential hazards coming down the road.  When the going gets tough, this question is going to go through the mind like a flashing billboard ad.

But, when the first is true, it’s the hardest to realize and face the reality, hardest to not run from the only better option available.  But, if there is something really there between the two, both should look to make the life of the other awesome first, and in so doing, both will figure out if the second is more than wishful thinking.

People find it hard because if it turns out that a serious relationship doesn’t develop, they feel as if they’ve wasted their time.  Not so!  They’ve altered their life, presumably for the better, and they leave each other better off for the work of it, and better able to identify, pursue and attract what really is best for them.

It’s what all of the romantic movies are about, right?  Couples who realize they can’t live without the other.  Remember, the movie has a time limit… real life doesn’t.  Except that before long, you really know.  You took the courage to pursue, so if you find out it’s not this one, then both of you leave the other better off for it.  And don’t give all of yourself until you know!  You will leave more behind than you’ll be ok with later!

Now you’re in a better place to keep making your life amazing.  From there, see who is running toward the same goal with equal passion and joy. That’s where you’ll find the one who makes your future brighter, and whose future wouldn’t be as lovely without you.

Remembering our Daddys

We gave this glass cross to the kids to commemorate the third anniversary.
“Forever In Our Hearts” poem on a glass cross.

This week was the 3rd anniversary of Les Granier’s death.  Victor and I took Joshua and Wynter to lunch at Goodwood Grill, which was Les’ favorite place to take them. The only table available was the same table as the last time we went there with him. I gave him some beads that day as a surprise, and we have those beads hanging on a frame with picture of the three of them.  Josh and Wynter both ordered their usual, the special of the day: lasagna.   The owner greeted them as always, and most of the staff remember them.  We gave the kids a glass cross with a poem, and talked about their times with Les.

Later in the car, Wynter and I were singing along with a cd by the band Train.  During a song called “I love your every color” some of the lines struck me :
From way up where you are
Above the silent stars
Just dancing in the sky-y-y.
I told her that it made me think of Les, and that I honor him because I love her and Josh’s every color  – and I don’t mean skin! but their talents at drawing, their humor and love of laughter, and even some of the things they don’t like – so  much of who they are came from him.  Les and I had a bit of a contentious relationship for some of the eight months that I knew him, but Josh and Wynter knew why I made the decisions I did (many at their behest) and in the end, Les knew he was leaving his precious children with someone who would fight and claw anyone and everyone to protect them.
I have two voicemail messages from Les that I’ve been able to save on my phone after two upgrades and a transfer of service.  After the conversation in the car, Wynter asked to hear them.  So when we all got home, we listened to each several times.  They are short, and it is apparent to us what mood he was in when each were spoken. The kids remember his voice well, and that’s my aim.   I remember how quickly I forgot things about my Daddy, who passed away 6 days before my 11th birthday.
They don’t realize the stress that comes over them leading up to this sad anniversary.  This year Victor and I didn’t plan ahead enough.  Like so many things that were tossed about in the waves of stormy chaos, that was a side-effect of the “Great Flood of 2016” which wreaked havoc on our start-of-school schedule.  And our nerves.
But even without the added stress of a historic natural disaster, emotional disturbances preceding the anniversary of a trauma are not abnormal.  I remember going through the same thing as a teenager, having a rough time every May leading up to the anniversary of my Daddy’s death.   Every year, I would forget to remember it was coming, and would get in trouble in school, at home, and have a difficult time being around friends… or people in general.  We are trying to at least prepare each September, be aware and try to keep an even keel.
We didn’t talk much about my Daddy in the years after his death.  But I remember how upsetting it was every time I realized I’d forgotten something else about him:  his voice, his smell, the feel of his strong, muscular hand holding mine.   I’ll never forget the day I smelled his cologne wafting down the hallway from my parent’s bedroom, and the disappointment to realize it wasn’t him.  But that’s another story for a depressing day.
This week, rather, we celebrate all the good there was about Les Granier, aside from the fact that he was just their dad, and that holds a respect.  We want to help them remember the best about Les.  Not to put him on a pedestal – they would deem that unrealistic – but to not focus on what could have been better or what he could have done differently.  Every night as part of their bed time routine, they try to recall and write down a memory of him.  I know that later, looking back in those journals, they’ll be really glad to have those stories and reflections.  This past May made 40 years since my Daddy left this world, and I’d give everything I own to have in writing the memories I held those first years.
And that’s part of how I know God intended me to be Josh and Wynter’s Mom.  I knew what they were going to need before they knew they needed it.  Because I’d lived it.  Helping them through all of this has caused me to process a lot that had been left untouched for many years.  Memories good and bad that evaded my recollection or haunted me, put in the perspective of the here-and-now-needs of my children who lived somewhere else for their first decade.   Any attempts to strip those first years of theirs from them or sterilize them into something they weren’t would prolong their grief and cause more wounds to open in their souls.  So, we talk about Les.  They remember good and bad, forgive the bad and celebrate the good.  We commemorate milestones.  We light candles and release balloons.  And we look forward to seeing him dancing in the sky, and that makes us smile.

Break in a New Friend

Relationship
New always takes time to become comfortable.  In shoes, in jeans, and in jobs.  And in being a follower of Jesus.   Especially if you grew up like I did, in a family that mocked the “freaks” who dared utter His* name.  (Yes, I spell His name with capitol letters; it’s a respect thing and it’s intended to signify that He is THE ultimate He.  The word “he” becomes a proper noun when referring to Him.  Current culture might mock that, but I’m more ok with that than watering down my reverence to Him.)
That is part of the struggle today, for people who are trying to get used to a new way of life with a new best friend whom they’d previously known OF, but just started getting to know and are finding more awe inspiring than they ever imagined.  A friend who, in fact, they’d at times insulted and ridiculed, even if it was just going with the crowd.  It’s hard to have a turn-around like that.  Especially hard when the realization hits that the someone deserves a capitol H.
I learned that He understood that I was doing what I saw.  I was repeating what I heard.  I was mimicking.  Being a monkey.  Then He told me to stand up straight, look Him in the eye, count Him as a friend.  He is as comfortable to talk to now as old jeans are to wear.  We’ve broken in our relationship like those canvas walking shoes I wore every day one summer.  Except, He never wears out.  He just keeps getting better and better with time.

Bathsheba’s Maid

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Bathsheba’s Maid

by Amy Canada

 

David had become very famous.  He was a mighty warrior king, who reigned over all Israel and was fair to everyone.  Even his sons were priestly leaders.  He had been kind to Saul’s grandson, Mephibosheth, and also to Ziba, who had been Saul’s loyal servant.  And now, even I am a partaker in his kindness, living in his palace with my lady, Bathsheba.  She mourned deeply when her husband, Uriah, was killed in battle.  We were all shocked; he has always been such a powerful warrior.  King David must feel awful, that the one time he didn’t go to battle with the Israel army, one of his favored soldiers, Uriah, an upright man, was killed.  And that, only days after hosting him at a dinner in the palace, having him there at the king’s banquet table as a guest.  Uriah didn’t even know yet that his wife was with child.  Now, King David is being chivalrous to take Bathsheba as a wife, to give Uriah’s child a father.  Bathsheba will be well taken care of, although I can still see the sadness in her eyes.  I can see that she is still heartbroken over Uriah’s death.

Today, we are in the court for the first time, watching the proceedings as Kind David hears reports and requests, and settles disputes.  I heard that a prophet arrived this morning seeking an audience with the king, but no one seems to know the matter about which he would make an appearance before the royal throne of Israel.  The crowd is in good spirits today.  There are few difficulties in dispensing with the disputes; the man after God’s heart seems to walk in His wisdom as well.

There is the prophet Nathan now, being led into the chamber by palace guards.  He is a smaller man than I expected, leaning hard on his cane.  King David seems glad to see Nathan and comes down from the dais so that the old prophet would not need to climb the steps.  They are speaking in hushed tones; I guess the matter is of national security.  I am quite excited to be here.  I cannot see Bathsheba from here, but I know she is in the area near the throne.  She is wearing royal purple today; some of the embellishment I sewed with my own hands, a pretty little stitch my mother taught me.  This moment is thrilling.

Now I see why people are so impressed with King David; he listens so intently, as if the words of this prophet are the only important matter in the world at the moment.

Gasp. Oh, it startled me, the king is shouting angrily, waving a fist.  If I were Nathan, I’d have turned on my heels and run from that booming outcry.  He stands so still.  And now the entire courtyard is silent, every eye trained on the tall, tanned, muscular man we trust and bow to, the man we call King.

“…having no pity!” is all I could hear.  I am shaking now.  I don’t know what this is about, but Nathan is stock still, staring into the eyes of Israel’s leader.  Only the sound of breathing is heard, all else is as quiet as the dessert night.  Wait, the prophet is raising a hand to King David.  The man must have a death wish!  He is pointing into the face of God’s anointed.  Oh, Lord, don’t let this end badly!  All here present are in shock.  You could hear a grain of wheat fall.  I hear Nathan’s voice as if he stood next to me…

“You.  Are.  That.  Man.”

What?  What is he saying to the King David?  What man?  What does this mean?  The king’s face has gone pale; all the blood has run out.  He looks suddenly frail and weak.  Oh, my!  Lord, what is happening?  I must get to my lady, but I cannot move a muscle.  I, like every single person in this courtyard, am frozen, mesmerized by what we see.  Perplexed by what we hear.  Confused.  Yes, even scared.

Nathan is not shouting, but I hear him clearly; “The Lord, the God of Israel says, ‘I anointed you king of Israel and saved you from the power of Saul.  I gave you your master’s house and his wives and the kingdoms of Israel and Judah.  And if that had not been enough, I would have given you much, much more.  Why, then, have you despised the word of the LORD and done this horrible deed? For you have murdered Uriah the Hittite with the…'”

Huhhhh! A gasp from the crowd, a shriek in the distance.  My lady!  What did he say?  My mind is screaming.  I must get to my lady.  The crowd must let me through.”

“Just be still,” says an elderly man as he gently grasps my shoulders and turns me back toward the throne.  I am wild with fright and want to fight him off, run to Bathsheba.  I look into his eyes, pleading.  There is peace there, in the depths of his gaze.  He nods and presses my arms to my sides.  His demeanor calms me.  “You can’t get to her right now; just listen.”  His voice is soft, like cashmere to my ears.  I acquiesce and bend a knee, turning my attention back to the prophet, who is still addressing King David.

“This is what the LORD says: ‘Because of what you have done, I will cause your own household to rebel against you.  I will give your wives to another man before your very eyes, and he will go to bed with them in public view.'”

Gasping, moaning, crying from the crowd.  I realize I am part of it.  My fear has turned to sadness and grief.  This is all too much!  I cannot comprehend this madness.  Who is this Nathan?  What he says cannot be true!  Who is this David whom we call King?  Is God playing a horrible trick on us?  Where is Bathsheba?  I must find her.

The man still has one hand on my arm, soothing my hysteria.  David… is the king crying?  He puts a hand on Nathan’s shoulder and looks into his eyes, great tears falling from the face of the king.  “I have sinned against the LORD.”

Sobbing.  The people and the king, all are sobbing. David, now leaning on the prophet, does not hold back his emotions.  King David is broken.

Nathan’s voice is as gentle as the gaze of a doe; as soft as a brook yet as strong as a river:  “Yes, but the LORD has forgiven you, and you won’t die for this sin.”

I look again to this man beside me.  I don’t understand.  I don’t understand any of this!  This gentleman again speaks to me in a whisper, “It’s going to be alright.  In the end, it’s going to be alright. You will be with your misses before long. She will need you.  You will be strong for her; you will help her through.  You are hers; you are here with her for such a time as this.”  I think he must be mad, but his voice is so soothing, calming.  He nods toward the Prophet Nathan and his king.

“Nevertheless,” I hear Nathan say, with sadness in his voice, “because you have shown utter contempt for the LORD by doing this, your child will die.”

Sobs escape me.  I feel the hand of the kind man grip my shoulder.  My face in my hands, I cry hard for my lady, for the baby, for King David, for Israel.  Oh, Lord, what has he done?  What will we do?

“You will be strong.”  I don’t hear the man this time, I hear it in my heart.  I feel the tension release in my body, and I begin to feel a deep peace and strength.  I resolve that this elder of the court is correct: I will be strong for Bathsheba.  I will be there for her to lean on.  I will do everything in my power to be a strong tower for her.  I must express my gratitude to this man – perhaps a friend of my grandfather, but I didn’t recognize him.  I pull my hands from my face.  He is not here.  I search the crowd, now milling about, both crying and shouting.  He is nowhere.

But I don’t have time to linger, a path has opened in the crowd; I am running, running out of the courtyard.  Running to my lady.  Running to my future.