Author: Patsy Kuipers

Gratitude

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I give thanks to you, O Lord my God, with my whole heart, and I will glorify your name forever.
Psalm 86:12

It wasn’t a chirp or a tweet but an intermittent, melodious trill that caught my attention. The pattern – a snippet of song followed by a moment of silence – repeated several times, causing me to look out the window to see which feathered friend was singing so sweetly. There, perched on the suet, was a Carolina wren, one of the smaller birds that visit the buffet of treats I’ve placed on my deck. I watched him take a nibble (silence), then sing his little song. The endearing sight both charmed and convicted me. Charmed because I imagined the tiny creature thanking the Creator after each bite. Convicted since I know there are times when I fail to express my thankfulness to the Giver of all good gifts (James 1:17).

Longtime readers know I’m a ponderer. Thus, my thoughts turned to how I feel when someone doesn’t thank me for a gift or an act of kindness, which quickly led to me remembering the story of Jesus healing ten lepers (Luke 17:11-19). Only one, a Samaritan, came back to thank Jesus. Scripture doesn’t tell us why the other nine didn’t return, so we’re left to surmise their reasons. Maybe they were astonished at being healed, so overwhelmed with joy that they couldn’t wait to show their friends and relatives after they showed themselves to the priests. Who knows how long they’d been outcasts, separated by the uncleanness of the dread disease?

I doubt ingratitude for such a miraculous healing was the main reason they didn’t return, yet Jesus’ question, “Where are the nine?” conveys His disappointment in the behavior of those who went on their merry way. There are times when I’m thankful, but I don’t take the extra step to express that gratitude to God or to the person who’s blessed me. That robs God of the glory He deserves, the other person of the gladness of knowing they made a difference, and me from the delight of counting my blessings and realizing there’s so much more for me than against me!

Expressing gratitude is a joy-producing practice. As Christians, we can start by acknowledging that everything we have and are, from each breath we take to our salvation in Christ and every blessing in between, big or small, are gifts from our gracious heavenly Father (Ephesians 1:3). Then, we can be intentional about recognizing the good gifts others give us, both the material and relational, tangible and intangible.

God deserves all honor, praise, and glory, and we benefit by acknowledging and appreciating all He’s given us. Over the years, studies have shown a correlation between gratitude and emotional well-being, with thankful people being more positive and hopeful.

As we celebrate Valentine’s Day later this week, may we remember that God loved us so much He gave us the most precious gift He could give – His one and only Son (John 3:16). And let us never adopt a sense of entitlement, thinking we deserve the bountiful blessings He bestows upon us. Instead, let us endeavor to cultivate an attitude of gratitude, being thankful for every morsel and miracle He gives us until we find ourselves singing a happy song of thanksgiving like the little wren.

Sing praises to the Lord, O you his saints, and give thanks to his holy name.
Psalm 30:4

The Sad Relief

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It is the Lord who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed.
Deuteronomy 31:8

Holiday Blues

For most of my life, I looked forward to the final six weeks of the year, full of holiday cheer, beginning with Mom’s November birthday, followed by Thanksgiving, my mid-December birthday, Christmas, and New Year’s, with long-standing traditions associated with each. Granddaughter Lyla arrived the day after my birthday in 2013, multiplying the joy by becoming my birthday buddy.

But several years ago, my anticipation of the end-of-the-year celebrations began to wane as Mom’s health declined, and she couldn’t fully enjoy the season as she had in the past. Then 2020 rolled around, and, like many other families, COVID-19 derailed our Christmas traditions.

Little did we know it would be our last Christmas with Mom.

December 2021 found me going through the motions. Not only was it my first Christmas without my beloved mother, but my strong father had suffered a stroke six months after her passing. Though the physical effects were minor, the stroke impacted Dad’s cognitive abilities, leaving him incapable of handling his finances or medications, making it impossible to live on his own. Though we found a live-in caregiver for him, Dad grew tired of having someone in his space all the time. Thus, December found us looking at assisted living options, planning to move him in January.

I was equally despondent as the holidays approached in 2022. If it had been possible to fast forward to mid-January 2023, I would have done so. Dad contracted Covid at the end of October. His health was so fragile I thought it likely I would be planning a funeral before the end of the year. But he rallied and was able to celebrate Christmas, New Year’s, and his 92nd birthday before suffering another stroke in May of 2023 and gradually declining until passing away peacefully on July 12.

Grieving with Hope

After four years, holiday joy finally returned to my heart last December. That may sound strange considering it was my first without either of my parents. I’ve pondered that myself and have frequently returned to a phrase one of my friends used when she replied to my text informing her of Dad’s passing:  “I’m so sorry. Now begins the sad relief.”

The sad relief – an apt description of the blend of sorrow and joy known to Christians because we’re able to grieve with hope (1 Thessalonians 4:13-18). Though I miss Mom and Dad, there’s great comfort in knowing they’re together in the presence of Jesus, far beyond the reach of earthly pain and distress.

After three years of intense caregiving, first for Mom and then Dad, another type of relief joined that of knowing they’re better than they’ve ever been – the relief from stress related to not knowing what any given day would bring, having to make so many difficult decisions, and, as an only child, feeling the heavy weight of responsibility. Only now, after several months of no longer experiencing the daily tension, do  I realize the load I carried, one always tinged with guilt and doubt. Was I making the right decisions? Should I be doing more? Ultimately, I knew that no matter how hard I tried, I was helpless to stop the relentless march of aging or prevent the inevitable conclusion.

Faithful God

But looking back, I also have a much clearer view of how God went before us every step of the way.

Mom’s agony was intense but relatively brief. God directed and redirected throughout the ten-day interval between the moment she fell and broke her hip and the one in which she drew her final breath. We intended to bring her home and endeavored to do so, but the Lord had plans to call her Home.

Though the stroke Dad experienced six months after Mom died wasn’t as catastrophic as her broken hip, it initiated a decline that lasted 18 months before he joined her in Glory. When he came home from the hospital, we secured a male, live-in Christian caregiver for him. I’ve got to believe that’s a rare combination of traits! When Dad grew tired of that arrangement, we found a cozy apartment in a lovely assisted living community two miles from my daughter, son-in-law, and grandchildren.

Then came the day when Dad’s primary care physician recommended we transition to palliative care. The assumption underlying her suggestion wasn’t lost on me. We were running out of options to make Dad “well.” It was time to focus on making him comfortable instead. And, when we needed to take the next step and enlist hospice care, who would turn out to be his primary nurses but two women who’d overseen his care after his seizure some months before. In the interim, they’d started working for the hospice provider. Coincidence? I think not!

There are other examples of God’s provision and presence during Dad’s final months, but I’ll let these suffice.

Never Alone

There were times when I felt so alone in my seat on the emotional roller coaster associated with Dad’s ever-changing status, from declines to rallies and back again. Yet I was never alone. The One who promised never to leave or forsake me was there for every up and down, every daunting diagnosis and surprising recovery, not only knowing but also ordaining the end from the beginning (Isaiah 46:9-10).

The sadness of no longer having Mom and Dad to share things with, celebrate with, or reminisce with will stay with me for the rest of my life. But there’s the joy of cherishing memories of times past, carrying on favorite family traditions with my grandchildren, and mentioning Mama and Papop often so the youngest generation doesn’t forget their great-grandparents.

Ultimately, the greatest joy comes from the realization that God accomplished what I could not – relieve their pain and suffering – and He did it for eternity.

Epilog

Several days ago, I opened my journaling Bible to a section of Psalms I hadn’t read for a while, at least not in that particular Bible. I did a double-take when I saw what I’d written next to Psalm 40:17 two days before Mom broke her hip: “My prayer for Mom tonight, Lord. Please don’t delay in helping her or delivering her from the pain she’s been experiencing.” At the very moment I was writing that prayer, He had already determined how He would answer. Twelve days later, the Lord delivered Mom entirely and eternally from her pain.

Watching Mom and Dad decline gave me a glimpse of what my future might look like as I continue my journey Home. It also provided ample evidence of God’s faithfulness. It saddens me to think of possibly losing the capability to care for myself, yet there is relief in knowing God’s grace will be sufficient for my caregivers and me, just as it was for Mom and Dad and theirs – all the way to the end (2 Corinthians 12:9; Hebrews 10:23).  

New Year’s Resolution

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Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.
2 Corinthians 5:17

Making New Year’s resolutions is a tradition for many of us. Something about opening up a new planner full of blank pages waiting to be filled in or turning the calendar to January 1 inspires us to make changes in ourselves. Sadly, despite our best intentions, breaking those resolutions is about as common as making them in the first place.

But what if we were to resolve to do something that we knew for sure we’d accomplish? There is something, but we can’t do it on our own.

When we endeavor to become more like Christ, we can be certain of accomplishing our goal because it’s God’s will for us, and the process is all of Him. Reflect on these assurances:

  • God chose us in Christ before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him (Ephesians 1:4).
  • Those (God) foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of His Son so that he might be the firstborn among many brothers (Romans 8:29).
  • We are being transformed into his image from one degree of glory to another (2 Corinthians 3:18) by the power at work within us, the same power that rose Jesus from the grave (Ephesians 1:19-20).
  • For it is [not your strength, but it is] God who is effectively at work in you, both to will and to work [that is, strengthening, energizing, and creating in you the longing and the ability to fulfill your purpose] for His good pleasure (Philippians 2:13, AMP).
  • Ask anything according to His will, and He’ll do it for us (1 John 5:14-15).

Isn’t that encouraging?

When we think of resolution, most of us think of the primary definition: a firm decision to do or not to do something.

But if you keep reading through the list of definitions, you’ll come to this one: the degree of detail visible in a photographic or television image. That description reminds me of a statement made by my spiritual mother, Susan Hunt, “We become what we behold.” The more we look into God’s word – living, active, sharper than a two-edged sword –  the more precise our picture of His character, His promises, and His will for our lives becomes (Hebrews 4:12).

Let’s consider again the initial verse from 2 Corinthians 5, continuing to the end of the chapter: Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come. All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation. Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us. We implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God. For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God (1 Corinthians 5:17-21).

Our pastor often reminds us that we are Christ’s ambassadors as we live in the now-and-not-yet, in between Jesus’ first coming, when He ushered in God’s new kingdom, and His second, when that kingdom will be fully consummated. We’re already counted righteous in Christ, seated in the heavenly places with Him (Ephesians 2:5-7), but we still struggle with sin (Romans 7:19-20). However, given our new nature and our new citizenship, we’re to embrace, embody, and extend to others the goodness and grace we’ve experienced because of God’s work in our lives, being salt and light (Matthew 5:13-16).

Later this year, I’ll celebrate the 50th anniversary of my baptism and public profession of faith. In those five decades, the Spirit has done a mighty work – chiseling, sanding, polishing – making me more into the image of Jesus. I’m not the same person I was then, and by His grace, I won’t be the same person I am now when I turn the calendar to January 2025. The same can be said for all God’s children, be they baby saints just beginning their journey with Him or seasoned saints drawing ever closer to Home.

Our transformation won’t be complete until Jesus returns, but we can be confident that He who began a good work in us will see it through to completion (Philippians 1:6). Then, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, we will be changed (1 Corinthians 15:52-53)!

For now, may we heed  God’s charge and resolve to be kingdom representatives, endeavoring to live up to what we’re already counted to be in Christ, knowing we’re not laboring alone or in our own strength.

Gifts in Disguise

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Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.
James 1:17

The Backstory

Many of you are longtime friends and blog followers, familiar with some of what I’m about to write. Please bear with me as I set the stage for other readers needing these initial details to better understand this post.

I lost my 39-year-old husband to a heart attack in 1997. Ray had a degree in horticulture. The lovely garden he designed and tended on our small suburban property was part of the legacy he left for me and our two elementary-aged daughters. It didn’t take long for me to realize that I would need to learn how to care for the plants or risk losing a precious connection with him. Thus, the seeds were sown for my interest in horticulture, which would develop into a passionate pursuit, including a desire to return to school to study plants. 

In a beauty-from-ashes scenario, I realized my dream when I enrolled in the horticulture program at a local technical school two days after my 30-year career with a large corporation ended when they eliminated my job.

Study Buddy

Six months after I lost my job, I became Grammie when my first grandchild, a beautiful baby boy, was born. Joshua was my study buddy from his earliest days. I’d point out different plants as we strolled the neighborhood, repeating their names to my little passenger. I wasn’t sure how much he was absorbing, but the repetition was a great way for me to study.

As Joshua grew, our plant discussions expanded. He has a keen eye for detail and an impressive capacity to retain information. I eventually told Joshua about his Grandpa Kuipers and how his love of plants inspired my passion for horticulture.

A Passion of His Own

Little boys have lots of interests, and Joshua is no different. Only time would tell if he’d tire of Grammie’s plant discussions and tagging along on her horticulture excursions or if the seeds planted on those early stroller walks would bear lasting fruit.

Last spring, I asked if he would like to go to The Pocket with me. I couched my query amidst some disclaimers. It would require a 75-mile drive to reach our destination, a small but flower-filled area. Though small, it would take me about two hours to complete my leisurely stroll and admire the numerous specimens. Despite my stipulations, Joshua quickly accepted my invitation.

Some folks might be able to traverse the wooden boardwalk in less than an hour, satisfied that they’d seen enough. Others, like me, want to take it all in – hike up to the waterfall, as well as make the loop around the boardwalk. Joshua proved to be one of the latter. Any doubts I had about the genuineness of his enthusiasm disappeared before we left the gravel entry road and made it back to the paved highway when he exclaimed, “I love this place, Grammie! Can we come back next year?”

Not only did we go back this year, but we made two trips to my, now our, beloved wildflower mecca. And Joshua is becoming quite the botanist, collecting plants, growing oaks from acorns, and learning about the art of bonsai from reading one of his Grandpa Kuipers’ books.

From Study Buddy to Plant Protege

Last week, we went to Opryland as part of Lyla’s 10th birthday celebration. I’d only been once before, and that visit was years ago, so I’d forgotten about the extensive indoor gardens. Although we had several activities planned during our brief stay, Joshua requested a “plant walk with Grammie” soon after we arrived.

As we took that walk the next day, I was again overwhelmed by the blessing of Joshua and our shared love of plants. It’s not hard for me to imagine Ray smiling as Joshua and I crouch together, examining a plant and extolling the One who created such a vast array of beautiful specimens for us to study and enjoy.

More Than We Can Imagine

Sometimes, we don’t get what we want, or it doesn’t come in an appealing container, beautifully wrapped. However, God often gives us good gifts in unexpected packages. Isn’t that the way it was with His very best gift?

A baby in a manger wasn’t the gift God’s people were expecting or longing for. They wanted a powerful ruler who would free them from oppression by overturning the Roman government. Instead, God gave them what they truly needed: a Savior who would free them from a master much more sinister than the Roman rulers. They were slaves to sin, dead in their trespasses, unable to free themselves. So were we (Ephesians 2:4-6).

Because of that gift, planned before time began, we know God will never withhold any lesser thing from us and that He is able to work all things together for good, even the darkest things, even if it doesn’t appear good in the moment (Romans 8:28, 32).

The abrupt end to my 30-year career certainly didn’t look like a gift the afternoon I handed in my computer, building pass, and credit card and exited into the gray January day, befitting the occasion, but what a gift it was!

And the sweet baby boy born a few months later who’s grown into a handsome young man whose plant knowledge is quickly catching up to mine? A gift beyond what I could have asked or imagined (Ephesians 3:20).

I treasure memories of my godly, plant-loving husband. I cherish the gift of loved ones in my life now, and I look forward to the day when the family circle will be unbroken through all of eternity because of God’s unimaginably perfect gift. Joshua and I will be able to stroll the heavenly gardens with Ray, exulting over the beauty of the new earth, no longer marred by sin (Revelation 21:1-4; 22:3).

In the meantime, I pray we’ll be expectantly vigilant as we enter the new year, assured that God’s good gifts are all around us if we only have enlightened eyes and hearts to see them (Ephesians 1:17-18).

Selfless Giving

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Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others. Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men.
Philippians 2:3-7

Welling

My daughters gave me an early birthday present a couple of weeks ago – dinner followed by Amy Grant and  Michael W. Smith’s Christmas Concert. After listening to their music for over three decades, we sometimes say it’s our Christmas soundtrack, so it was delightful to see them in person.

Several songs into the concert, Michael announced he had released a new Christmas album, his fifth. (How did I not know about this?) He performed several songs from the latest release throughout the evening, but the initial one, “Sometime Every Christmas,” touched me the most. Michael barely made it through the first two stanzas before it evoked in me what the chorus described:

I’m thinking about the holiday
And the sands of time
Years pass like pages of old family
Photos in my mind

Faces and the places
How Decembers used to be
A little loneliness and longing
It rises up in me

Sometime every Christmas
Can’t say where or when or why
But some moment or some memory
Takes me by surprise
And something in the season
Wells up in my eye
Sometime every Christmas
I cry

My “sometime” isn’t confined to a single episode during the Christmas season, which is full of countless traditions associated with loved ones who are no longer here. Usually limited to the momentary welling Michael referred to in this poignant song, there are times when my emotions overtake me and welling quickly gives way to weeping.

Such was the case a few days after the concert when I came across a note from Mom.

Weeping

I’d been working on setting up my Dickens Village, a beloved part of my Christmas celebration ever since my late husband gave me the first few pieces 34 years ago. Ray gifted me a few buildings and accessories each year until he passed away seven years later, and I’ve continued to add to the display ever since.

Ray also started a village for Mom. Dad and I added to her collection until it became difficult for her to set up the display. I offered to do it for her. Instead, one early December day, she said, “Come upstairs with me.” I followed along as she slowly trod the stairs and stopped outside the closet where she kept her Christmas decorations. When she opened the door, I saw she’d taped a note on the shelf where the boxes holding her village sat. “HAPPY EARLY BIRTHDAY! I want you to have these so you can put them out when you do your others! Love you! Mom xxoo.”

I keep the buildings and accessories in their original boxes, which I store in multiple plastic tubs. Sentimental me kept Mom’s note. It resides in one of the tubs, but I somehow forget about it from one year to the next. Thus, it caught me off guard when I opened one of the containers the week after the concert. In that moment, I was no longer standing in my living room. Whisked back in time, I was with Mom, outside her closet. Her eyes shone with anticipation as she opened the door to reveal the surprise. Her joy in giving such a special gift radiated through her petite being. The scene replayed in vivid detail, though the event occurred nine years ago.

No welling of tiny tears when I read the note penned in Mom’s familiar handwriting. Full-body sobs overtook me as the note reminded me of all I’d lost when she went Home. Mom was one of the kindest people I’ve ever known. Selfless and generous, she delighted in serving and giving to others. I often think of her when I read Philippians 2:3-8. Mom humbly put others’ interests before her own. Though her humility would never have allowed her to say, “Be imitators of me as I imitate Christ,” as the Apostle Paul did, nor did she hold herself up as a godly role model, she set a beautiful example for me to follow, nonetheless. Though I often fall short, one of the greatest compliments anyone can give me is to say some aspect of my character is like Mom’s.

Rejoicing

I enjoy listening to music while I’m working on my village. In a perfectly timed moment, as my sobs subsided, the Josh Groban song, “Thankful,” heretofore unheeded, arrived at the line, “We have so much to be thankful for.” Though I was by myself, I replied aloud, “So true, Lord! I have so much to be thankful for!” including the blessing of a godly mother, fond memories of Christmases past, and children and grandchildren with whom to share treasured traditions.

Advent is a time to contemplate the greatest gift ever: Jesus, God’s only begotten Son. Utterly undeserved, yet freely given, because God loves us (John 3:16)! Such a marvelous present belongs at the very top of our thankfulness list. The fact that the Word became flesh and dwelt among us makes all the difference, now and for eternity (John 1:14)! Jesus, the spotless Lamb, came to live the perfect life we could never live and died the death that belonged to us so that we can be dressed in His robes of righteousness, to stand in God’s holy presence clean and unafraid. How incredible!

Though we can’t grasp what it cost the Father and Son to bestow this gracious gift, may our hearts swell with gratitude and our eyes well with thankful tears, not just at Christmas but all year long, as we remember what Jesus has done for us. And, like Mom, may we endeavor to follow His example of humble selflessness.

Overwhelmed (Revisited)

/ Patsy Kuipers / 2 Comments

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places.
Ephesians 1:3

This post is based on an article I wrote for the November/December 2021 edition of our church’s women’s ministry newsletter. I remembered it several nights ago as I was lying awake in the wee hours thinking about all the Christmas-related things I hoped to get done. I decided it was time to revisit what I’d written, to refocus on eternal truths that will remain the same regardless of what I accomplish this holiday season. I thought some of you might need to be reminded, too, so I hope you’ll enjoy this recounting.

Perspective

What came to your mind when you read the title of this post? Was your initial reaction positive or negative? Usually, when I say I’m overwhelmed, I’ve reached the point of waking up in the middle of the night, wondering how I’ll ever get everything done.

A quick check of Merriam-Webster online  yields results that support the negative connotations of the verb:

1: to upset, overthrow

2a: to cover over completely: submerge b: to overcome by superior force or numbers c: to overpower in thought or feeling

However,  inspired by our pastor’s sermon series on Ephesians, I’ve recently been pondering a more positive take on the word. In Ephesians 1:3-14, the Apostle Paul gushes over God’s blessings in Christ:

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, even as he chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him. In love he predestined us for adoption to himself as sons through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his will, to the praise of his glorious grace, with which he has blessed us in the Beloved. In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace, which he lavished upon us, in all wisdom and insight making known to us the mystery of his will, according to his purpose, which he set forth in Christ as a plan for the fullness of time, to unite all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth.

In him we have obtained an inheritance, having been predestined according to the purpose of him who works all things according to the counsel of his will, so that we who were the first to hope in Christ might be to the praise of his glory. In him you also, when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and believed in him, were sealed with the promised Holy Spirit, who is the guarantee of our inheritance until we acquire possession of it, to the praise of his glory.

I’ve read that passage many times, but the idea of Paul gushing over God’s goodness is new to me. Yet that’s precisely what he’s doing! I imagine him exalting God, nearly breathless, as he recounts all our blessings in Jesus. Pastor David has encouraged us to do likewise and allow ourselves to be overwhelmed by God’s goodness toward us.

The Holiday Hustle

As the holiday season ramps up, so does my sense of overwhelmedness. When I contemplate adding cherished holiday traditions to my already bulging to-do list, restless nights are sure to follow. But this year, heartened by Pastor David’s invitation to embrace and embody our identity in Christ, I hope to approach the season differently. Rather than letting my to-do list have the final say, I pray I’ll be overwhelmed instead by all the blessings that are ours because God chose to send us the best gift ever – His only begotten Son.

A Positive Practice

Several days after I submitted the newsletter article, my 90-year-old father had a stroke. I’d been preparing to do battle with my usual holiday stresses when a barrage of new responsibilities hit. In those early days of trying to ensure I procured the proper care for Dad and managing day-to-day logistics once he returned home, I was tempted to ignore the holidays altogether. Over and over again, I thought, “I feel so overwhelmed.” And each time I did, the words I’d written came back to me, and I reminded myself of all the blessings that are mine in Christ.

After several weeks of this practice, the sequence has become instinctive. I sense the stress starting to build, sometimes multiple times a day. “How will I ever handle this?” runs through my mind, quickly followed by, “I feel so overwhelmed!” The once-negative word triggers the new, positive response, shifting my focus to the realities greater than my circumstances. I have all I’ll ever need in Christ, plus the promise He’ll never leave or forsake me:

He has said, “I will never [under any circumstances] desert you [nor give you up nor leave you without support, nor will I in any degree leave you helpless], nor will I forsake or let you down or relax My hold on you [assuredly not]!” (Hebrews 13:5, Amplified)

An Invitation

Will you join me? Pick one or more of Paul’s affirmations to meditate on the next time you feel weighed down by cares or responsibilities: In Christ, we are blessed, chosen, blameless, adopted into God’s family, redeemed, forgiven, sealed with the Holy Spirit, destined to receive the inheritance held secure for us in heaven. Just reading this makes my heart sing!

Take another look at the last definition above, “to overpower in thought or feeling.” When the truth of Who God is and all He’s done for us in Christ overpowers our worries, fears, and anxieties, it is a most blessed conquest indeed.

Dear Lord, as we shift our gaze from the immediate to the eternal, I pray our thoughts and feelings will be overwhelmed in the most positive way by Your amazing grace and all You’ve blessed us with in Christ, to the praise of Your glory.

Chief Cheerleader

/ Patsy Kuipers / 6 Comments

If God is for us, who can be against us?
Romans 8:31b

My daughters run. Mary, my eldest, began cross country in 8th grade, while Jessie, my youngest, ran the middle distances. They’ve remained diligent in their running endeavors. Mary has completed three marathons and several half-marathons. Jessie, too, has completed several halfs. Both have competed in countless 5ks, 10ks, and 10-milers.

My granddaughters, 9-year-old Lyla and 7-year-old Emma, have taken after their mom and Aunt Jessie. Starting with tot trots and moving up to 1-mile fun runs, they’ve now completed several 5ks. That’s a long way for little bodies and relatively short legs, but they’ve made it.

I don’t run. Running didn’t agree with me when I was in my early 20s, and it sure doesn’t agree with me forty years later. I suppose I could run if something were chasing me, but I prefer walking. However, this lack of enthusiasm didn’t deter me from attending my daughters’ races as often as possible. I took my role of head cheerleader seriously and still do.

A nearby town hosts a series of 5k races each year. Once a month during race season, I take up my post on my cheering corner to exhort my runners on to the finish line.

The town where Mary and her family live hosts an annual Turkey Chase. This year marked my second time at this particular race, so I’m not as familiar with where to stand to best encourage my runners. Nonetheless,  I positioned myself at what I hoped would be a promising location and waited for my people to appear.

Jessie was the first to come into view. I cheered her on, took a couple of photos, and turned my attention back to the hill as she rounded the corner and disappeared out of sight. Lyla was next to appear. She was walking as she crested the hill, but as soon as she heard my, “Go, Lyla, finish strong! You can do it!!” she took off with a burst of energy I couldn’t have mustered at the start, much less the end of the race.

I expected to see Mary and Emma close behind. Minutes passed. I peered as far as I could down the course, anxiously scanning each group of runners. But still no Mary and her happy little sidekick. Finally, fearing I’d somehow missed them in the throng of runners, I turned to “Find My Friends” to check for Mary’s dot. I hadn’t overlooked them. They were still out there. More minutes ticked by, and I moved further down the sidewalk so I could see them as soon as they turned the corner and started up the big hill.

Finally, they came into view, moseying along. I had no doubt Emma’s legs were tired, and mama bear Mary was sticking with her cub. I mustered my loudest voice and yelled, “Go, Mary! Come on, Emma!!”

Like a shot of adrenaline, my words had the desired effect. No more strolling for Emma! She was running at top speed and flashed a big smile my way as she barreled by, shouting, “Hey, Grammster!”

Likewise, Mary upped her pace, and they dashed to the finish line where the rest of their adoring fans (Jessie, Lyla, son-in-law Justin, and grandson Joshua) were waiting to welcome them. Even from a block away, I could hear Jessie yell, “That’s my sister!” when Mary crossed the finish line, arms raised in victory.

We all need cheerleaders, don’t we? Those people who’ll believe in us no matter what and encourage us to keep going. My husband Ray and my mom were those people for me. Death silenced Ray’s voice 26 years ago and took Mom from me almost three. Yet, after benefitting from Ray’s encouragement for 16 years and Mom’s for six decades, I still feel their love and am sustained by their belief in me.

I don’t consider it a stretch to think they’re still cheering me on. After all, Scripture says we’re surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses, faithful saints who’ve followed Jesus’ example and shown us how to run well (Hebrews 12:1-2).

The introductory verse above begins one of my favorite passages:

If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things? Who shall bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died—more than that, who was raised—who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? . . . No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord (Romans 8:31b-35; 37-39).

Not only is God our biggest cheerleader, He’s ensured we have everything we need to finish our race. Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, is seated at the right hand of God, interceding for us! We will be victorious because Jesus ran the perfect race and secured the victory with His precious blood. No trial or hardship or calamity, nothing, not even death, can separate us from His love. In fact, death is merely the portal through which we pass to eternity in His presence with our loved ones.

Dear readers, I pray you have at least one person standing staunchly on your cheering corner. Equally important, who might need your encouragement? Is there someone in your circle whose trot has turned into a trudge? Maybe your voice is the very one they need to hear cheering them on.

Epilogue

Several months ago, it became apparent that my dad’s earthly life was drawing to a close. I assured him he was almost Home and that Mom would be there to greet him. As we waited for the undertaker to arrive in the wee hours of July 12th, Dad’s hospice nurse asked, “Did he tell you he’s been seeing your mom?”

“No, but I’m not surprised. I told Dad she’d be waiting for him.”

Jen replied, “When I was with him the other day, he asked me if I saw Thelma. I said, ‘No, John, it’s just us,’ but he assured me she was there.”

I’m equally confident that Mom, Dad, Ray, and a bevy of other relatives and friends will be waiting as I near the finish line, elated and exuberant, ready to welcome me Home. As I run into Jesus’ arms, I hope to hear, “Well done, good and faithful servant!” And, after hearing Jessie’s proud pronouncement over Mary, I can imagine Him adding, “That’s my sister!” affirming my forever place in His family.

Wait for the Lord

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul who seeks him. It is good that one should wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord.
Lamentations 3:25-26

Cereal Shortage

Inflation has caused prices of all kinds of goods to skyrocket in the past year. (Stick with me. I promise this isn’t a political commentary!) I’ve been particularly appalled as I’ve watched the price of my favorite cereal creep toward, then gallop past, the $6 mark. Years ago, when the price hovered around $4 per box, I began waiting for BOGO (buy-one-get-one-free) sales and then stocking up in hopes of having enough to last until the next one.

Such was my plan earlier this summer when Publix featured my cereal in their sale circular. Although I had several boxes in my pantry, I decided to add a few more to cushion my reserves. I expectantly approached the shelf where the cereal usually resides, only to find it empty with an “Our Apologies” note posted on the edge. I made a couple more stops when I passed the store during the sale, but the shelf was empty each time. As the sale drew to a close, I requested a rain check, explaining that I’d stopped multiple times only to find the bare shelf and note of apology.

Armed with my rain check, I stopped by repeatedly over the next few weeks, hoping to find the cereal. A month passed and my rain check expired – still no sign of the cereal. I decided to check Amazon. I located my cereal. Hooray! But wait! $42 for two boxes?? Was I reading it wrong? Were these extra-large boxes? A whole case? I reread the description. Nope! Some enterprising person was trying to sell two boxes of cereal for  $42!

That’s when it finally occurred to me – there must be a shortage. A quick google confirmed my suspicion. Something had disrupted the production, but a note from the manufacturer promised distribution would return to normal by October.

I checked my inventory, did a quick calculation, and smiled. If the manufacturer stuck to their schedule, my cereal would be available before my stockpile ran out.

Watching and Wavering

Week after week passed. I kept checking for the cereal. Each time, the bare shelf and “Sorry” note greeted me. Meanwhile, my supply was dwindling, but I remained confident, remembering that God cares about the details of our lives, knew exactly when my stash would run out, and was fully capable of providing the cereal “just in time.”

And then, the day arrived when I opened the last box from my pantry. I stopped by the store and checked the shelf – empty. Even though I remained confident God would come through, I purchased another brand of cereal so I would have something to eat for breakfast in case He didn’t.

A few days later, I went back to the store. As I approached the shelf, I could see the persistent gap, but the “Our Apologies” sign was gone, and there, at the back of the shelf, were several boxes of my favorite cereal. The corners of my mouth lifted in a grin of validation. See! I knew I wouldn’t run out!

So why didn’t I remain firm and act on that belief? Good question. I suppose I wanted to “be sure,” as if God’s steadfast love and provision aren’t among the most certain things in my life!

Helping God

I have so many examples, big and small, of God’s faithfulness to look back on, including little touches like this that remind me He cares about the things we care about. He’s a good Father who delights in giving His children good gifts (Matthew 7:11; James 1:7), yet sometimes I get impatient and decide to “help.”

I only have to look at the Bible to realize I’m not alone. Remember how Sarah took things into her own hands to ensure Abraham would have an heir? Instead of waiting on God to fulfill His promise and never imagining she might be the one to bear her husband a son given her advanced age, she offered her maidservant, Hagar, to Abraham. That liaison resulted in the birth of a son, but not the one God had promised, and much hostility and heartache resulted from Sarah’s actions (See Genesis 15-17, 21:1-21).

And how about Rebekah? When she became pregnant with twin sons, God told her the older would serve the younger. Esau, born seconds before his brother, was their father Isaac’s favorite, while Rebekah preferred Jacob. She, too, decided to help God and concocted an elaborate ruse to secure Isaac’s blessing for Jacob. Though her favorite obtained the coveted blessing, the process led to much animosity, just like Sarah’s had a generation before (See Genesis 25:19-34; Genesis 27).

Perfect Plans

We can count on God’s promises. We can trust that His plan is good and perfect, as is His timing (Isaiah 55:8-9). He doesn’t need us to implement our own solutions, no matter how well-intentioned. He wants us to trust, obey, and wait.

There have been times when I’ve been forced to wait, times when my manipulation of circumstances didn’t yield the hoped-for results, or sometimes, no result at all except for frustration on my part. Yet, because God didn’t bless my maneuverings, I have examples of the superiority of His plans and purposes that assure me I can trust Him for something better.

I don’t know what you might be waiting for, dear reader, but I invite you to join me in quiet anticipation of God delivering on all His promises, knowing He is sovereign over every detail of our lives.

As for the substitute cereal I bought? For now, it can stay in my pantry, a simple reminder of a profound truth.

Precious Moments

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

Teach us to number our days and recognize how few they are; help us to spend them as we should.
Psalm 90:12 TLB

I was ambushed in a parking lot recently. Don’t worry, it wasn’t a carjacking! My granddaughters and I had almost reached our destination, the dance studio where they take classes each week. As I rounded the last corner, I saw three men gathered around an eye-popping teal-blue Maserati. I had no chance of fending off the tear-producing reaction that overtook me. I recognized a scene Dad had experienced countless times as admiring people approached him requesting an up-close look at his GT-R. The connection wasn’t the problem. The fact I couldn’t tell him about it was.

One of my friends has described me as a grief veteran. Having been widowed since age 38, I know you never stop missing departed loved ones. I also know it’s the little things that can sneak up on you. Birthdays, anniversaries, and the like – you know they’re coming and can prepare for the attendant feelings. My husband Ray managed the indoor gardening department at a local Home Depot. There are still times, over 26 years since his passing, that a wave of emotions will sweep over me when I’m strolling the aisles and see all the associates in their orange aprons.

Having grown accustomed to such occurrences,  I acknowledged in Mom’s eulogy two years ago that my unique connections with her would most likely get to me. Haircut days are the hardest. I always scheduled our appointments back-to-back, and then we’d go to Starbucks to chat while we enjoyed our favorite beverages. Now, when I drive to the salon, the empty passenger seat mocks me. I went to Starbucks after my first appointment without Mom, but I haven’t since – no need to have another vacant seat glaring at me.

I knew it would be the same when Dad passed. We always talked about sports, mostly golf and college football, with a bit of baseball thrown in. Sunday afternoons would find me pulling up the leaderboard for the week’s golf tournament and, during the season, the latest football rankings. I still check the rankings, but oh, how I miss having Dad to mull them over with.

And then there are the stealth attacks, like seeing the guys talking to the owner of the Maserati. I’ll be going along fine when Bam! The enormity of the loss hits all over again, fueled by the knowledge that I can no longer share the experience with Dad. A similar situation arose last week when I finished reading a novel by John Grisham, one of Dad’s favorite authors. I’d barely closed the book when tears started to flow. I’ll admit the satisfying ending would have provoked tears in all-occasion crier me, but others streamed down my cheeks because I wanted to discuss the details with Dad, confident he would have remembered the storyline even though he read the book several years ago.

But there would be no such discussion.

I suppose we could look at these emotional ambushes in a negative light, but I’ve come to appreciate them as enduring ties to my loved ones, each a distinct link in a tender fetter that binds us together. Sure, our lives occasionally contain highly anticipated events, dream vacations, and the like, but the little moments, woven together over time, make up the essence of our lives. Remembering that encourages and comforts me since simple moments are more attainable than expensive events, at least for most of us.

The moments – and memories – become priceless when we share them with those we love.

One recent afternoon, grandson Joshua and I worked together to divide and repot some of Mom’s aloe vera plants. Seeing we had two dozen baby plants, I commented, “If these little guys make it, we’ll have plenty to share!”

Joshua added, “We can give them to people who loved Mama and love succulents.” Then, after the briefest of pauses, he exclaimed, “Wait! Everyone loved Mama, so we’ll just figure out who loves succulents.”

His statement began a pleasant reminiscence between us as we talked about Mom’s beautiful spirit and her kindness and love toward everyone she knew. What a blessing that Joshua got to experience her love. Our conversation reminded me of my tender feelings toward my dear PaPa, my maternal grandfather, whose love I still feel even though he’s been gone nearly 60 years. [1]

I pray I’m forging similar links with my grandchildren – playing in the dirt (i.e., gardening), drinking tea, taking leisurely strolls through their neighborhood – and making sure they know how much God and I love them!

Dear reader, I don’t know who you may be missing today, but I pray you’ll find comfort in remembering sweet connections that bind you and your loved ones together while we await a joyful reunion when Jesus calls us Home (1 Thessalonians 4:13-18).

In closing, I offer one of my favorite Dietrich Bonhoeffer quotes concerning grief:

There is nothing that can replace the absence of someone dear to us, and one should not even attempt to do so. One must simply hold out and endure it. At first that sounds very hard, but at the same time it is also a great comfort. For to the extent the emptiness truly remains unfilled one remains connected to the other person through it. It is wrong to say that God fills the emptiness. God in no way fills it but much more leaves it precisely unfilled and thus helps us preserve—even in pain—the authentic relationship. Furthermore, the more beautiful and full the remembrances, the more difficult the separation. But gratitude transforms the torment of memory into silent joy. One bears what was lovely in the past not as a thorn but as a precious gift deep within, a hidden treasure of which one can always be certain. (Emphasis added.)[2]

[1] You may enjoy reading about PaPa in “Eating Apples – encore,” Archives, July 2022.

[2] Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works, vol. 8, Letters and Papers from Prison (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2009), letter no. 89, page 238.

Running on Empty

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.
1 Peter 5:8

Distracted

We had barely settled into our rental house for a week on beautiful Hilton Head Island last September when we started to wonder if Hurricane Ian would cause us to cut our much-needed vacation short. I’d checked the weather forecast before I left home but didn’t connect the predicted rainfall at the end of the week to the storm churning in the Gulf of Mexico.

Although Ian’s track continued to evolve, the possible scenarios included another landfall along the South Carolina coast, still packing hurricane-force winds and copious rainfall, after it moved across Florida. We agreed the risk wasn’t worth staying and decided to return home on Thursday, two days early.

I felt we’d made the right decision, but once we did, I became restless and unsettled, unable to concentrate on any one thing for long and disappointed that our family time would end so soon. About mid-day on Wednesday, I checked the gas in my car and was relieved to see I had enough to drive at least two hundred miles before refueling.

Any relief I felt was eclipsed a few hours later when I decided to get a head start on packing the car. The back hatch wouldn’t open. When the key fob didn’t work, I tried the release on the dash – nothing, not even a beep. Then, with a sinking feeling, I realized I’d left the accessories on when I checked the gas.

The battery was dead.

A Call for Help

My AAA membership has come in handy over the years – flat tires, keys locked in the car, dead batteries. I submitted a service request and waited, then waited some more. It was night, the storm was approaching, and we were staying in a gated community at the southern tip of the island. No one was responding to my SOS.

As the minutes and then hours ticked by, I berated myself for being so incompetent. The demeaning accusations picked up steam. “You’re old and stupid! You can’t even hold two thoughts together. You could barely keep up on the bike ride. No one wants to be around you. It’s only going to get worse!” And for good measure, “You know that book you’re trying to write? You’re not going to finish it. No one wants to read it anyway!”[1]

On and on, the taunting thoughts continued. I was powerless against the pummeling.

A New Day

Midnight approached. I canceled the service request and crawled into bed, where I tossed and turned, wondering if I’d get off the island the next day.

I rose early, weary and worried, but someone responded within minutes when I placed the service request again. A cheerful AAA rep showed up about an hour later. When I told him I keep my AAA membership to protect myself from my absent-mindedness, he replied that he sometimes locks his keys in the car. His reassurances continued, “Enough people do things like that, leaving their lights on and running out of gas, that I can make a living helping them, so don’t feel bad!” His kind assurances put a bandaid on my wounded soul.

He tested the battery and found it registered a pitiful 5% power, enough to jump, but he advised me to run the car for at least half an hour before turning it off. I let Bonnie[2] run for an hour for good measure, even though it meant using up half of the gas I’d been so excited about the day before.

Bonnie started right up when we were ready to leave later that morning, but none of her accessories worked. Her heart was pumping, but her brain had shut down. It took almost 75 miles for the audio and navigation systems to recover, but one by one, the components returned.

A Red Flag

The depth of my despair at my humanity was a huge warning sign. I used to lock my keys in my old CR-V once or twice a year, yet I’d laugh off my inattentiveness when I called AAA to report my latest foible, “Yep, it’s me again. Same address as before, too!”[3]  

My inability to combat what I refer to as “old stuff” flashed a warning. Not only did I not have the strength to fight the lies with truth, but I also started to withdraw from my bewildered family – old stuff plus an old defense mechanism. 

Thankfully, I didn’t withdraw from God. As I cried out to Him, I acknowledged the tough losses and monumental changes of the past two years had depleted me. I didn’t want to add to others’ burdens by complaining or asking for help. Through it all, I kept going, determined to be strong for everyone who was depending on me.

I realized the thing that finally pushed me over the edge was going through Mom and Dad’s things and selling their house. I hadn’t experienced recurring, guilt-infused dreams like those I had years ago when I gave away my late husband’s clothes and apologized profusely to him when he reappeared in my sleep. Even so, there are times I’ll think about a specific item or envision everything set up for the estate sale, and I feel sad, guilty, and conflicted. Did I do the right thing and make the right decisions? Should I have kept XYZ instead of giving it away?

Weak and Vulnerable

In my early 30s, I began counseling to work on deep-seated misbeliefs I held regarding myself. It was hard, often painful work, but I persevered. My counselor lauded my efforts and progress, yet she cautioned me to remain vigilant lest I slip back into old thinking when I’m tired or stressed.

Lions are patient and skilled hunters, habitually pursuing weak or solitary prey. It’s fitting that Satan, the enemy of our souls, is portrayed as a roaring lion prowling about, seeking someone to devour. He’s also the father of lies, constantly twisting the truth to ensnare and debilitate us (John 8:44).

Some of you may think my description of the self-talk I subjected myself to is hyperbole, “Surely you didn’t believe those things, did you?” Others will know precisely what I mean, having experienced similar battles in trying to overcome lies embodied in messages planted in your soul long ago.

Take heart! We don’t fight alone.

Refilling the Bucket

Despite the pain and discomfort of those few days, I’m thankful the Lord used something as mundane as a dead battery to show me how drained and depleted I’d become. Like Bonnie, my heart was pumping, but I didn’t have enough energy to do much more than trudge through each day.

Fortunately, I didn’t stay muddled in despair for long. I reached out to my longtime counselor and scheduled an appointment. Likewise, I told several trusted friends how I felt and asked them to pray for me. Unlike the initial call to AAA, the responses were immediate and affirming.

The Spirit within us reminds us that we’re beloved children, members of God’s family (Romans 8:16). What a blessing that we can turn to our brothers and sisters for help, to walk alongside us, and speak truth to us until we’re strong enough to tell ourselves again, to hear and believe the testimony of the indwelling Spirit.

Epilog

I drafted this shortly after the events occurred last year but felt too vulnerable to publish it. When I reread it after returning from this year’s beach vacation, I knew I needed to polish and post it in case it might resonate with one of you. If you find yourself weak and weary like I was, dear reader, don’t fear asking for help. Jesus came that we might have abundant life and the Truth will set us free. I pray you will find rest and restoration in Him.

[1] I dedicated a couple of hours each day we were away to working on the manuscript, but made negligible progress.

[2] We’re among those who name vehicles since we tend to keep them a long time and they become part of many family commutes and adventures.

[3] I usually locked the keys in my car at my daughter Mary’s house, leaving them on the seat as I juggled my lunch and supplies on days I stayed with my grandchildren.