Make note

October 11, 2018 / Patsy Kuipers / 2 Comments

The Lord has been faithful to provide for me and my family in so many ways across the years. In fact, a desire to encourage others by sharing some examples of His goodness is what led me to begin blogging. I promised to write this particular post for some friends in various stages of buying and selling homes, but I pray the over-arching message of God going before us will resonate with many of you.

As I open up my mental portfolio containing instances of God’s providence, the file marked “Real Estate Transactions” stands out because it encompasses events that still give me amazement-induced goose bumps when I recall the specifics all these years later.

Several months after my late husband Ray and I got married, we began to contemplate the possibility of purchasing our first home. The image of him sitting at his drawing board/desk, his silhouette illuminated by a clamp-on light as he calculated and re-calculated the numbers, is etched in my memory. After several such assessments, we decided to purchase a townhouse attached to one other unit. We had three bedrooms on the top floor, an open floor plan on the main level and a full basement which we partially finished – plenty of room even after our daughter Mary was born two years later.

But when I became pregnant with daughter Jessie, Ray and I decided to start looking for a single family home to accommodate our growing family. Unfortunately, the houses we could afford weren’t within our desired distance to work and those in our preferred areas were priced beyond our budget. We looked and looked, our hopes repeatedly dashed. It was a hot, humid summer in Delaware and I was eight months pregnant, with all the attendant hormonal upheaval. So, when Ray excitedly told me about an open house at an older home in the same neighborhood as our townhome, I suggested he check it out while I treated my hot, tired, grumpy self to a nap.

Ray returned from the open house, his spirits still high, and announced, “You really need to see this one! It could be our house.” Several days later, I accompanied him on his return visit. I, too, liked what I saw. Coached by our realtor, we made an offer slightly under the asking price, only to be outbid. Once again deflated by dejection, we surmised it wasn’t the one after all.

Several weeks and more disappointing house-shopping jaunts later, the owners called to let us know the deal had fallen through and their house was back on the market. After thorough consideration of our options, Ray and I decided their house actually was the one.

Having finally concluded the search phase of our mission, we asked fellow members of our Sunday school class to pray our townhouse would sell. A young couple came up to us after class and said they’d be interested in looking at it. They did just that a few days after Jessie’s birth[1] and, without ever putting up a for sale sign, we secured buyers.

5-29-2015, 108 Dewalt The house on Dewalt Road was to be our long-term, raise-the-kids residence, but DuPont decided to move my entire work group to Georgia so we could be closer to our customers in the carpet industry. Once again we were faced with selling a house, this time one filled with toys and accessories parents of toddlers are used to stepping over and around. I dreaded the process of keeping the house picked up and ready to show at any moment. After Ray and I signed a contract with our realtor the day before I left for a weeklong business trip to California, I told them, “Ok, you two. I want you to find a buyer before I get back.” (Cue laughter.) But God graciously provided a young family, much like our own, who could no doubt imagine their own children’s toys strewn across the playroom and parked in the yard. They were ready to make an offer by the time I returned home.

Fast forward five years to when the unthinkable happened. My beloved 39-year-old husband went to work one beautiful spring day, suffered a fatal heart attack and didn’t make it back to what has indeed been my long-term, raise-the-kids residence. My parents were living in Charlotte at the time and had been considering a move since my dad was recently-retired. What a blessing when they chose to move to Georgia to help me with the logistics and challenges associated with being a single mother. They had an offer on their house within a few days of putting it on the market. And, when my mom told the owners of the house they bought in Georgia the reason for their move, the woman replied, “Our house was under contract several months ago, but the deal fell through. Now I know why. God was saving it for you.”

I realize your real estate history probably differs from mine. Maybe you’ve endured weeks without showings and multiple price cuts during stagnant markets. But, as I hope you can see, this recounting isn’t about houses at all. It’s about remembering God’s faithfulness. About recording instances of His provision and sharing them to encourage yourself and fellow believers when times get tough. (Psalm 63:1-8) About speaking truth to yourself: “Just look what He’s done! He’s never forsaken me and I know He never will.” (Deuteronomy 31:8; Psalm 9:10; Psalm 37:25)

Your list of examples will be as unique as you are. But, even if you’re a brand new believer, you have instances to look back on, including the fact He called you out of darkness and welcomed you into His family. (Matthew 4:16; John 8:12; Ephesians 1:3-14) And the longer we walk with Him, the more extensive and varied our personal inventories become, as He does exceedingly more than all we can ask or imagine. (Ephesians 3:20)

May we be ever-faithful to recall and recount the Lord’s goodness.

I will give thanks to the Lord with my whole heart; I will recount all of your wonderful deeds. I will be glad and exult in you; I will sing praise to your name, O Most High. (Psalm 9:1-2)

[1] We’d originally planned for them to come over earlier, “unless I went into labor”, which I did on the previously-scheduled date.

When we least expect it

September 11, 2018 / Patsy Kuipers / 1 Comment

It caught my eye as soon as I pulled into the driveway, weary from a homeward drive after a week at the beach. So much time had passed since the cream-colored lycoris bloomed, I didn’t even remember it was there. Yet despite its long absence, in a perfectly-timed reappearance, it provided a cheerful, “Welcome home!” Its return was even sweeter because my late husband, Ray, planted the bulb from which it sprouted over two decades ago. The intriguing inflorescence showed up again this year, accompanied a week or so later by another long-forgotten specimen in an adjacent flower bed. But I haven’t seen a single red one yet, even though several of them flowered last year. No wonder “surprise lily” is one of lycoris’ common names![1]

Jesus said His promised return will be a surprise. In fact, He said no one knows the day or hour except the Father. (Matthew 24:36) After making this statement, Jesus went on to tell several parables emphasizing the importance of being watchful and ready. First, there’s the tale of the master of the house who would have stayed awake to protect his dwelling from a break-in had he known when the thief would arrive. (Matthew 24:43-44) Then there’s the story contrasting the behavior of faithful and wicked servants, (Matthew 24:45-51) followed by the tale of the ten virgins, five wise and five foolish. (Matthew 25:1-14) All three have the same admonition: be prepared! Our Master may return at any moment.

The Old Testament is full of prophecies regarding Jesus’ incarnation, yet 400 years passed from the time of the last one until His appearance – more than enough time for people to forget or doubt. Nonetheless, God preserved the memory of His covenant promises across all those centuries, as exemplified by Simeon and Anna. Both were devout. Both watched hopefully for the coming of the Savior. Enlightened by the Spirit, they exulted over weeks-old Jesus when He was presented at the Temple, knowing the long-awaited One was before them. (Luke 2:22-36)

The wait for Jesus’ return is nearing 2,000 years. I rejoice that I am one of those expectantly waiting because generations before me told their children who in turn told their children so the marvelous message of God’s glorious deeds would not be forgotten. (Psalm 78:1-4) Likewise, we must tell our children and grandchildren of His great love and faithfulness, and instruct them in His commandments. (Deuteronomy 6:4-7)

When my mom was a little girl, talk of the impending end of the world scared her. In her wisdom, my grandmother told her, “Honey, the end of the world comes for someone every day.” And so it does, sometimes when we least expect it. On a beautiful spring day, my husband went to work, suffered a fatal heart attack and never returned home.[2]

Whether we remain until Jesus returns or He calls us Home before, may we be found ready and watchful, faithfully going about our Father’s business. Though the timing is unknown, His second coming is as certain as His first and our eternal destiny is secure.

But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep. For this we declare to you by a word from the Lord, that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord. Therefore encourage one another with these words. (1 Thessalonians 4:13-18)

[1] Common names for Lycoris radiata include surprise lily, hurricane lily and spider lily.

[2] Because I’m writing this on September 11^th, I want to remember the ones who left home 17 years ago and didn’t return either.

I see you!

July 3, 2018 / Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

The week before last was one of those “what next?” kind of weeks. A series of small-to-medium challenges plus an inconceivable event that led to bewildered contemplation one sleepless night, had me hunkered down, bracing for the next volley. Nonetheless, I was cautiously optimistic when Saturday of the oh-so-trying week dawned, reminding myself the Lord’s mercies never fail, that they’re new every morning. (Lamentations 3:21-24)

I was barely halfway down the stairs, looking forward to a day at home to do a few chores, maybe some writing and a little weeding, when I saw it. Instead of facing outward toward the sun like its fellow flowers, one beautiful blossom on the althea on my front porch was peeking in the left sidelight. A joyful, irrepressible exclamation escaped my lips, “Good morning, Lord! Thank You!!” I knew, without a doubt, Who was responsible for the perfectly-placed greeting.

Several years ago, my kids introduced me to American Ninja Warrior. The amazing athletic feats performed by the participants plus some equally-inspiring backstories combine to make the show a much-anticipated staple of my summertime TV-viewing. Often, as a contestant makes their way through the obstacles, drawing ever-nearer to the podium where the announcers stand, one of the hosts will yell, “I see you (insert name of ninja)!”

The Lord’s Saturday-morning salutation shouted, “I see you, Patsy!” (Psalm 34:15) It was a reminder that none of what transpired the previous week went unnoticed by the One who’s promised to never leave me or forsake me. (Deuteronomy 31:6-8) The image of that flower stayed with me throughout the day and I’ve recalled it a number of times since, always with a smile, because my loving Father reached out in such an intimate way. I don’t think it’s far-fetched to imagine Him smiling as well, watching as his delighted daughter gazed out the window, appreciatively acknowledging his floral gesture which found its mark like an impeccably-aimed arrow. (Matthew 7:11)

This, friends, is my 100^th post. I expect a few long-time readers have noticed that I believe in acknowledging anniversaries and celebrating milestones, so I’ll also mention the 4^th anniversary of the debut of “Back 2 the Garden”. My main objective in launching my blog with “Consider it pure joy” on July 1, 2014, was to glorify God and to encourage my readers by proclaiming His faithfulness. My objective, all these posts later, remains the same.

Thank you to all of you who’ve read and commented. You’ve come alongside me on this journey and you encourage me to keep writing. In fact, I’ve been considering compiling some of my posts into a devotional book and would appreciate your thoughts about doing so. I love books – you can hold them and highlight them and re-read them – but the idea of publishing one is a bit intimidating! Nonetheless, it is a dream I pray the Lord will allow me to realize.

In the meantime, I will endeavor to write engaging posts for this site, using simple stories and everyday examples to tell of God’s extraordinary goodness and grace.

O God, from my youth you have taught me, and I still proclaim your wondrous deeds. So even to old age and gray hairs, O God, do not forsake me, until I proclaim your might to another generation, your power to all those to come. (Psalm 71:17-18)

Longing for Egypt

June 26, 2018 / Patsy Kuipers / 3 Comments

A recent devotional reading directed me to one of several Old Testament instances of God’s chosen people grumbling against Moses and Aaron. But, ultimately, their protests were against the Lord himself. The particular passage in Exodus recounts how the Israelites complained about not having anything to eat. This, as you may recall, occurred soon after God’s gracious provision of water from a rock in response to their grievance regarding thirst. (Exodus 15:23-25) The grumbling escalated to the point that they lamented the fact they’d ever left Egypt. “If we had only died by the Lord’s hand in Egypt! There we sat around pots of meat and ate all the food we wanted, but you have brought us out into this desert to starve this entire assembly to death”, they moaned. (Exodus 16:3)

To listen to their description, you’d think they’d been on an extended vacation. Had they so quickly forgotten God delivered them not from some idyllic existence, but from slavery?

IMG_6094 (2) Our pastor has been preaching through the book of Exodus. The events recorded in the second book of the Bible – the burning bush, the plagues, the parting of the Red Sea, the giving of the Ten Commandments – have been part of my Biblical knowledge for as long as I can remember, dating back to my childhood Sunday school classes. Nevertheless, this ongoing sermon series has yielded a number of thought-provoking insights for now-grown-up me to ponder.

Consider for example: When the people initially cried out to God, they were seeking relief, not rescue. (Exodus 2:23) By then, they’d been in Egypt 400 years and had grown accustomed to that culture. It felt like home. In fact, they even worshiped Egyptian gods.[1] The Israelites were focused on their day-to-day existence, just hoping conditions would improve. But God took note of the darkness of their spiritual condition. He knew He had to not only get his people out of Egypt; He had to get Egypt out of them.[2]

God initiated their deliverance. Indeed, He initiates the deliverance of every one of his children.[3] For until He calls us, we remain dead in our trespasses, unable to save ourselves or to even realize our need of salvation. (Ephesians 2:1-9) Furthermore, Jesus’ sacrificial death on our behalf frees us from the penalty of sin – God’s wrath and eternal separation from Him – as well as sin’s ultimate pull and power as we navigate life in a world that’s no more our Home than Egypt was home to those God freed from Pharaoh.

Nonetheless, as long as we’re in the flesh, surrounded by worldly influences without and our own not-yet-perfected desires within, we will struggle to do what’s right. The Apostle Paul outlines the ongoing battle well in Romans 7:18-20. God and sin both promise us joy, peace, and happiness, but sin lies. And it fights back with a vengeance when we try to get free.[4]

It’s so easy for us to read the accounts in Exodus and think, “What was wrong with those people?” They saw God do mighty miracles on their behalf, they heard his voice (Exodus 19:9, 16-19), they ate food He rained down from heaven (Exodus 16:4-36), yet they grumbled and complained and even longed for Egypt. But, sadly, we are capable of the same amnesia, grumbling and self-deceit when it comes to forgetting our helpless, hopeless estate apart from God, how vulnerable we are to temptation.

God, in his mercy, provides a way out when we’re tempted. (1 Corinthians 10:13) Even so, there are times when we turn away from the offered escape, rationalizing some sort of exemption for ourselves, yet knowing there are no such exemptions. It is then that our loving Father disciplines us, allowing consequences of our actions to chasten us and draw us back to himself. (Hebrews 12:5-11) The Spirit contends within us, reminding us Who we belong to, who we are called to be. My own times of wandering have convinced me that unless I live a life that satisfies God, I will not live a life which satisfies myself.[5] Obeying, loving and glorifying Him are to be my primary purpose, now and forever.

Just like the Israelites, we’re apt to forget or downplay distasteful aspects of our past. A wise counselor recommended I record the hardships I endured during a difficult situation some years ago. She advised, “In time you’ll forget how bad it was. Write down specific events, so you can look back and be reminded of the reality.” And so I did. And many are the times I’ve read what I recorded. Psalm 40:1-3 became my refrain: I waited patiently for the Lord; he inclined to me and heard my cry. He drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure. He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God. Many will see and fear, and put their trust in the Lord.

O, Lord, throughout history, You’ve told your people to set up memorials, (Joshua 4:1-24), to observe days of remembrance, to recall your great mercies. (1 Corinthians 11:23-26)[6] May we never forget how lost we were before You found us and may we ever praise You for your daily protection and provision as You faithfully lead us Home.

[1] “The God Who Knows”, sermon, Pastor Ben Duncan, Grace Covenant Church, January 28, 2018.

[2] “Throwing Down the Gauntlet”, sermon, Pastor Ben Duncan, Grace Covenant Church, February 25, 2018.

[3] Ibid.

[4] “Throwing Down the Gauntlet, Part II”, sermon, Pastor Ben Duncan, Grace Covenant Church, March 11, 2018.

[5] Arthur Bennett, “The Valley of Vision, A Collection of Puritan Prayers & Devotions”, p. 161, The Banner of Truth Trust, Edinburgh, 1975.

[6] The sacrament of Communion is one of our most important ways of remembering Jesus and his atoning sacrifice.

No fit pitchin’

May 26, 2018May 26, 2018 / Patsy Kuipers / 4 Comments

I bet it’s happened to you. You’ll read a passage of Scripture, one you’ve scanned countless times before, and the Spirit will point out something you hadn’t noticed previously. Not surprising, since God’s Word is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword.[1]

Such was the case when I was asked to prepare a devotion on Philippians 4:11. I suppose I’d always focused on Paul’s ability to be content in whatever situation he found himself in, but this time, “I have learned” caught my attention. The fact Paul had to learn how to be content implies contentment isn’t a natural state for us.

If we have any doubt about that, we need look no further than our children. Even if I’d forgotten the clashes and complaints of my own dear, now-adult daughters, I spend time with my beloved grandchildren, ages 2, 4 and 6, on a regular basis. Just the other day, all three were howling over the same orange ball. Said item held no interest whatsoever until one chose to play with it, whereupon it became the only toy worth having. This, even though there were dozens of other options to choose from.

Likewise, protests can erupt over perceived parental partiality, different foods touching on the dinner plate and being asked to come inside on a pretty day. As they get older, our offspring often chafe under our rules. Stakes are higher as peer pressure sets in and they become more aware of status associated with material belongings.

To be sure, I’m not saying dissatisfaction is only an issue for the young. We know contentment is just as tenuous and elusive for adults, if not more so. Frequently, we strive to fulfill not only our own needs, desires and expectations, but also those of our significant others – spouses, parents, children, friends. Too often we seek fulfillment in circumstances, relationships, accomplishments and/or possessions. But circumstances change, sometimes quickly, possessions lose their luster as the next best thing comes along and relationships can be stressful, especially if we’re people pleasers.

If we think of contentment as a first cousin to joy and peace, which are fruits of the Spirit,[2] we begin to see it isn’t a result of externals at all, but a reflection of our internal state. Neither is contentment an emotion. In one of his sermons on Philippians, our pastor declared, “Contentment is a state of being, anchored firmly in the confidence that God is sovereignly working out the details of our lives, moment by moment from beginning to end.”[3] That’s why Paul could say he’d learned to be content in any and every situation – the reason for his hope and the guarantee of his well-being, both temporal and eternal, rested in One who never changes.[4]

Faced with the orange-ball debacle, I decided no one would get to play with it. This, of course, resulted in more sobbing and anguished pleas. Eventually my three charges turned their attention to other things and peace prevailed, at least for a while. Mustering all her 2-year-old earnestness, Emma confided something to me. A smile accompanied my comprehension of what I’d missed the first time when she repeated, “No fit pitchin’, Gammie.” “That’s right, Emma. We don’t pitch fits when we don’t get what we want!”

“No fit pitchin’”, a phrase I’ve used innumerable times over the years, first with my daughters and now with my grandchildren. As I thought about the rounds of peace-followed-by-protest we’d cycled through several times that day, I wondered if I try my Father’s patience as much as my little ones try mine. No doubt I do, though my fits take a different form. Regardless of our stage of life, we have times of grumbling, fear and doubt because we’re still in the flesh.[5] That’s one reason we need each other – to remind our fellow sojourners of God’s promises. Indeed, being able to recount more and more examples of God’s faithfulness in my life and the lives of my friends is one of the best benefits of getting older. And it’s a great antidote to fit pitchin’!

Lord, please help us to say with Paul, “I’ve learned in whatever situation I am to be content”, knowing that no matter how many changes or challenges we’re faced with, You never change. You are the same from beginning to end, the Alpha and the Omega,[6] and your promises are trustworthy and true.[7]

For further study

The fourth chapter of Philippians holds many clues to the building blocks of the contentment Paul attests to:

In verses 4 thru 7 we’re told to rejoice ALWAYS, not to be anxious, to pray with thankfulness, with the promise that in so doing, the peace of God will guard our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Thankfulness is a key component of contentment, as we recognize and acknowledge all God has already done for us.
In verses 8 and 9 Paul encourages his readers to think on things that are true, honorable, just, pure, lovely, commendable, excellent, and praiseworthy. Once again with the attendant benefit, “the God of peace will be with you.” Similarly, 2 Corinthians 10:5 tells us to take every thought captive to make it obedient to Christ, while 2 Corinthians 4:18 reminds us to keep our eyes fixed not on what is seen, but what is unseen, for the former is passing away and the latter is eternal.
When Paul says he’s learned to be content in whatever situation he finds himself, we know his life as an apostle wasn’t an easy one (major understatement). His second letter to the Corinthians details many of the hardships he endured for the Gospel, including beatings, shipwrecks and lack of adequate food and shelter.[8]
Nonetheless, in Philippians 4:12 Paul goes on to say, “I know how to be brought low and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need.” And in verse 13, a favorite of many Christians, Paul shares the “secret”: “I can do all things through him who strengthens me.” Note his use of absolutes: every circumstance, all things.
Then finally in verse 19, the assurance that “God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus.” Our loving heavenly Father, who owns the cattle on a thousand hills and sent his precious Son to die for us has promised to meet all our needs.

[1] Hebrews 4:12

[2] Galatians 5:22-23

[3] Pastor Ben Duncan, Grace Covenant PCA, Dallas, GA, sermon “The Secret of Contentment, July, 17, 2016

[4] Hebrews 13:8

[5] Psalm 103:13-14

[6] Revelation 22:13

[7] Revelation 21:5

[8] 2 Corinthians 11:24-27

All I’ll ever need

March 15, 2018 / Patsy Kuipers / 5 Comments

If it’s true that confession is good for the soul, I’ll feel better after I write this. On the other hand, I may just embarrass myself by publicly airing yet another dust moment.[1] Regardless, I pray the following will encourage at least a few of my fellow dusty sojourners.

I was sleeping soundly when my alarm chimed at 5:15am last Saturday morning. After getting a mere five hours of sleep, it would have been understandable if I’d silenced the pesky dinging and snuggled deeper under the covers. Instead, I drug my groggy self out of the warm cocoon. After performing a few minor ablutions, I pulled on several layers of clothes, packed some snacks and ventured out into the dark. I was intent on arriving at daughter Mary’s house by 6am, in time to accompany her to a half-marathon she’d been training for.

As I drove through the pre-dawn stillness, my anticipation intensified. Mary and I see each other several times a week, but are usually surrounded by three little people vying for our attention and so rarely get to enjoy one-on-one time. Not only would the 3-hour round trip give us time to visit, but getting to cheer her on in such an important race would be special in itself. I’ve been attending her races since middle school and our early-morning trek was reminiscent of oh-so-many drives to cross country events and track meets.

The sun rose on a beautiful morning. We made it to the race site at Berry College in time for Mary to easily collect her packet. But I hadn’t eaten breakfast. And I have hypoglycemia. I thought I could drop her off, pick up a breakfast sandwich somewhere and be back in time to cheer her at the start. Nope! Not only was the race location several miles from any fast-food emporiums, but traffic flow had been changed to one-way to accommodate the influx of participants. As I computed these details and realized I’d miss the start even if I could find an alternate way to exit the campus, I opted to eat one of my snacks to stabilize my blood sugar.

It worked! I was able to stroll to the start line with Mary and shout, “Go Mary! You can do this!”, and the like, as she jogged past with the rest of the jostling mass.

She was barely out of sight when my inner whiny-voice began to complain, “Now what am I going to do about breakfast? I wanted to be here for Mary, but I’m going to have to go in search of something to eat.” I even added some version of “Why, Lord?” to my grumbling, as if He’d somehow let me down. As this discouraging mental monologue continued, I spied a number of tents behind the start/finish line. Maybe one would be selling heartier breakfast fare as a fund raiser? I approached the only one that looked promising, the one displaying “Refreshments” on its front flap. I quickly realized the tables were laden with post-race alimentation for the contestants. Thinking the young women staffing the booth might be Berry students, I asked if there was any place on campus to buy food. My assumption was wrong and they weren’t familiar with any possible eateries within walking distance, however, they kindly invited me to choose something from their bounty of bagels and fruit. I thanked them, but confided I was hoping to find some eggs. Upon hearing my plight, one of the young ladies handed me an egg-and-sausage biscuit, probably from the stash meant for the workers. “Feel free to take a bottle of water too,” she added.

In that moment, I’m not sure which was greater, my gratitude or my remorse. I thanked them profusely, then immediately turned my attention to acknowledging the One who ultimately provided that needed nourishment. My gratitude was intertwined with apologies for doubting and a plea for forgiveness, a petition God gently assured me He’d heard as I engaged in prolonged self-castigation.[2]

It’s so easy to read Biblical accounts of the Israelites’ grumblings against God as they wandered in the desert and think, “What was wrong with those people? How could they so easily forget the wonders they’d seen as God delivered them from the Egyptians?”[3] And then God uses my own hangry moments to remind me how easily “O ye of little faith” can become “O me of little faith”, when I allow myriad examples of faithful provision to be overshadowed by immediate circumstances.

In one of my earliest posts,[4] I recounted the epiphany I had one evening while restocking the toilet paper in my daughters’ bathroom closet. In realizing they didn’t have to worry about procuring food and household essentials because I did that for them, it occurred to me that God does the same for me. Everything I’ll ever need is already in his possession and He’ll make it available when I need it. From salvation to sustenance, He’ll not withhold any good thing from those He loves.[5]

I’d looked forward to a great day with Mary. It was more than I asked or imagined[6], as my loving Father used a sausage-and-egg biscuit to remind me, yet again, that He’s always watching over me and knows my every need.[7]

[1] Psalm 103:13-14 is one of my favorite passages: “As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him; for he knows how we are formed, he remembers we are dust.” For more on this, please see “Dust moments” in Archives, March 2017.

[2] 1 John 1:9

[3] See, for example Exodus 16:2-3 and Exodus 17:2-3.

[4] Please see, “Thoughts on Romans 8:32”, Archives, August 2014.

[5] Romans 8:32

[6] Ephesians 3:20

[7] Matthew 7:7-11

Perfect timing

January 17, 2018 / Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

(This is the second in my reflections-on-a-different-December series.)

“Mom and Dad” appeared on the screen as my phone rang out its cheerful tune. But when I answered, I heard an uncharacteristically uncheerful voice. Mom was in so much discomfort I could scarcely understand her. Even so, I ascertained an ambulance, summoned by my dad when her ongoing back pain became intolerable, was on the way to ferry her to the hospital.

Emergency room staff assessed Mom’s situation and administered essentially-ineffective pain meds. She reluctantly agreed to be admitted so doctors could manage her pain more successfully while determining its exact cause. Little did we know when they transported her to a semi-private room several hours later that the overnight stay would stretch into six.

Mom is a people person so we were somewhat confounded by her less-than-thrilled opinion of her roommate; however, we presumed her response was influenced by her pain and the medications being used to alleviate it. In spite of her standoffish demeanor toward the patient sharing her room, Mom was her sweet self with the nurses and captivated them with her gentle spirit and radiant smile.

An MRI performed in the wee hours of the morning confirmed the results of an earlier CAT scan – Mom had a fractured vertebra. No wonder she was in agony! Fortunately, there was a procedure (kyphoplasty), which could be performed to stabilize the vertebra, thereby significantly reducing the pain. It was scheduled for Monday, three days hence.

My daily routine disappeared, dinners at my parents’ table being replaced by take-out consumed at the foot of Mom’s hospital bed. We laughed and talked and I read aloud the numerous Facebook messages friends and family posted for her each day. And I noticed a comradery gradually developing between Mom and her fellow patient, Gail[1].

Hopeful anticipation of the next day’s surgery colored our Sunday evening visit. I became alarmed, however, when Mom admitted she didn’t know who would perform the procedure and that no one from the referring orthopedics practice had been in to see her. A rather animated conversation with the head nurse, followed by her perusal of copious notes accrued since Mom’s arrival failed to deliver the assurance I sought. I convinced Mom not to undergo the kyphoplasty until our concerns were addressed. Gail concurred. By then, she and Mom had become each other’s advocates.

Misgivings commenced even before I reached my car, my mood as dark as the cold night. They persisted as I prepared for bed and dogged my restless sleep. Had I counseled Mom correctly or caused a needless delay?

The head nurse called the next morning with news she’d discovered a referral from the attending orthopedist, amidst the massive accumulation of notes on Mom’s chart. My sense of having meddled escalated, as I contacted the physician’s assistant in hopes of rescheduling. Her dispassionate explanation that we couldn’t reclaim the now-lost slot on the anesthesiologist’s calendar caused my recriminations to explode into full-fledged self-flagellation. “Just great! Now look what you’ve done, subjecting your mother to another day of pain, another day in the hospital!! Why did you have to interfere?”

Within seconds, other, kinder, thoughts entered my mind, as the Spirit began whispering truth to my troubled soul.[2] “Looks like you’re focusing on the storm instead of the One who can calm the wind and waves. Have you forgotten I’m in control?”[3] I gratefully embraced the assurance and, thinking more calmly, recalled the PA’s comment that the interventional radiology teams rotated shifts throughout the week. Could it be the Tuesday team was better-suited to care for Mom? Regardless, I knew God hadn’t lost sight of my precious mother.[4]

When I arrived for my Monday evening visit, Mom and Gail told me about the pain-filled night they’d both endured. I was standing by Gail’s bed while she delineated the details. As her tears escalated to sobs, I realized Mom, defying orders to stay in bed, was making her way ever-so-carefully to her new friend’s side with no thought of her own throbbing back.

“Mom! Be careful!!”

“I’m alright. Gail needs a hug!”

The soul-soothing voice returned. “See, your mother’s right where she’s supposed to be.”

Mom’s procedure the following day went flawlessly. By the time she was out of recovery, the horrific pain was gone. When I appeared the subsequent afternoon to take her home, she and Gail had exchanged their hospital gowns for real clothes and the newly-minted pals were discharged within the same hour.

There are times when God gives us no insight into what He’s doing; after all, He owes us no explanation.[5] But there are instances when He graciously gives us glimpses of what He’s accomplishing. I treasure those moments of insight. I tuck them away to shore up my faith and dispel my doubts when the path isn’t as clear and I have no clue why things are unfolding as they are.

Lord, please help us to trust your perfect plan[6] and your impeccable timing[7], for your ways and your thoughts are so much higher than ours.[8] Your steadfast love never ceases. Your mercies are new every morning. Great is your faithfulness![9]

[1] Name has been changed.

[2] John 14:26

[3] Matthew 8:23-27; Mark 4:36-40; Luke 8:22-25

[4] Psalm 33:18; Psalm 34:15

[5] Job confessed as much after God reminded him of all He’s capable of. See Job 42:1-6 and chapters 38-41, respectively.

[6] Isaiah 25:1; Jeremiah 29:11

[7] Romans 5:6; 2 Peter 3:9

[8] Isaiah 55:8-9

[9] Lamentations 3:22-23

The best-laid plans

December 30, 2017 / Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

Now listen, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.” Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead, you ought to say, “If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that.” (James 4:13-15)

I had a holiday-to-do plan for December. Oh, it wasn’t written down, but I’d roughly sketched it out in my mind and penciled in some dates on the calendar – yes, I prefer a paper calendar with pretty graphics to a digital one. I’d even outlined several seasonally-topical blog posts, optimistically hoping to find time to write amidst the extra busyness that descends upon the twelfth month.

And then reality intervened.

Two major events – a 10-inch snowfall and my mom’s unexpected hospitalization, including back surgery – took precedence, disrupting daily activities as well as special plans and traditions. One day melded into another as the countdown to Christmas continued unabated. Although the unforeseen circumstances derailed one or two highly-anticipated events, there were still special moments to be savored. Furthermore, the detours gifted me with time to reflect, to re-prioritize, to remember who’s in control.

It’s not wrong to make plans. In fact, Scripture encourages us to do so. It’s important to prepare, to count the cost[1], and to listen to wise counsel[2], but we delude ourselves if we believe we have the final say. Scripture is unwavering in its proclamations of God’s sovereignty. Regardless of our notions, his will prevails.[3] Nonetheless, those of us who belong to the King have nothing to fear. Not only does He assure us his plans for us are beneficial,[4] He promises to work all things together for our good[5] and to never leave or forsake us.[6]

The Lord blesses us with varying gifts and abilities,[7] He knit us together in unique ways,[8] and He’s prepared work for us to do.[9] All that we might glorify Him.[10] My desire when I started Back 2 the Garden in the summer of 2014 was to tell of God’s faithfulness, thereby offering hope and reassurance to those who read my stories. Many of you have been with me from the beginning. Some have started visiting more recently. I appreciate each one of you. Your comments and presence encourage me to keep writing. Thank you!

Lord willing, I’ll be able to write those posts I drew up a month ago plus a few featuring lessons learned as I navigated the ever-changing circumstances leading up to Christmas. For now though, as we enter this new year, each with our own plans, hopes and dreams, may we endeavor to seek first the Lord’s will, trust his promises and rest in his assurances.

Oh give thanks to the Lord; call upon his name; make known his deeds among the peoples! Sing to him, sing praises to him; tell of all his wondrous works! Glory in his holy name; let the hearts of those who seek the Lord rejoice! (Psalm 105:1-3)

[1] Luke 14:28-32.

[2] Multiple Proverbs, including 11:14 and 20:18, declare the importance of wise counsel.

[3] Proverbs 16:9, 19:21

[4] Jeremiah 29:11

[5] Romans 8:28

[6] Deuteronomy 31:8; Hebrews 13:5b

[7] 1 Corinthians 12

[8] Psalm 139:13

[9] Ephesians 2:10

[10] 1 Corinthians 10:31; Colossians 3:23

Through the storm

September 22, 2017 / Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

Unlike tornados that pop up with little advance notice, potential hurricanes can be tracked from their inception as tropical waves off the coast of Africa. Meteorologists keep watch, naming, categorizing and modeling them. And, when conditions merit it, they issue warnings so people in their paths can prepare.

Such was the case last week. As Irma plowed her way through the Caribbean, it became evident her interaction with the tiny islands wouldn’t slow her down. Not only was Irma expected to wreak havoc in Florida, but she was big enough and strong enough to elicit a tropical storm warning for metro Atlanta, several hundred miles north of the point of initial landfall. My Friday-night grocery trek proved more challenging than usual. Lines snaked around the gas pumps outside; inside, the aisles teemed with apprehensive shoppers. Nonetheless, I was able to get all the essentials on my list – except bottled water – and headed home to hunker down.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, I checked the forecast frequently over the weekend, fretfully wondering when we’d feel the brunt of the storm. Finally the models zeroed in on late-afternoon Monday. Sunday evening found me bringing potted plants into the garage, securing outdoor furniture and pondering how many of the trees on my property might still be standing Tuesday. Even though I trust God to work all things together for good[1], I couldn’t completely rid myself of an undercurrent of anxiety. I went to sleep praying for protection for all in the storm’s path.

I awoke Monday, still praying, something I would continue throughout the day.[2] A gentle rain pattered on the roof. An occasional breeze-nudged branch tapped the house. And then I heard them. My bird friends arrived for breakfast as usual. A quick glance at the weather prognostications – no high winds predicted until later in the day – gave me confidence to hang the larger of the two feeders for a few hours. I barely closed the door to the deck before my feathered companions flocked to their meal. Soon I perceived the characteristic call of the woodpecker and returned the suet, his favorite treat, to its hanger.

All day the rain fell, steady showers repeatedly giving way to insistent downpours, as Irma’s blustery remains coursed through our area. In spite of the less-than-favorable conditions, the birds continued to flit from branch to feeder to tree trunk, seemingly oblivious to the circumstances.

I returned repeatedly to the window that overlooks my woods. I suppose I was hoping to somehow will the trees to keep standing with my frequent and fervent gazes, all the while petitioning the only One with the power to keep them upright. As I watched the green canopy sway in the ever-increasing gusts and beheld the unperturbed behavior of the birds, calm pervaded my spirit. The scene before me embodied one of Jesus’ most precious lessons: our Father, who cares for the birds of the air and the lilies of the field, will surely sustain his children. Those who trust in Him need not worry about tomorrow.[3]

Many of the storms in our lives aren’t meteorological in nature. They have nothing to do with barometric pressure or wind speed. Broken relationships, unexpected health issues, the death of a loved one. These and other tempests enter our lives, often unexpectedly. Yet nothing ever catches God by surprise and his promise to never leave us or forsake us[4] is certain regardless of the source of the upheaval.

Notwithstanding his assurances, there are times when we concentrate on the storm instead of the One who the wind and rain obey.[5] We’re in good company. Jesus’ disciples feared for their lives when a fierce windstorm descended on the lake they were crossing, even though their Master was asleep in the boat with them.[6] Likewise, Peter’s confident water-walk turned into fearful flailing as his focus shifted from his steadfast Lord to his tenuous circumstances.[7] On both occasions Jesus chided their lack of faith, but He didn’t hesitate to calm the storm-tossed lake or to rescue Peter with an outstretched hand.

The Lord deals with us in much the same way, remembering we are dust, frail creatures who sometimes lose sight of Him amidst our storms. As our compassionate Father, He often sends personally-prepared reassurances of his watchful care. On the day Irma blew through, my reminder came via the unruffled presence of the birds as they fed contentedly. When I strolled my woods several days later, I discovered another special gift. Nestled safely at the base of a towering oak bloomed a tiny cyclamen, unfazed by events earlier in the week.

The One who provides for the sparrows and the lilies graciously sustains us. He bids us to cast our care on Him that we might not be shaken.[8] In confident obedience, may we seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, trusting Him to take care of all our tomorrows.[9]

[1] Romans 8:28

[2] 1 Thessalonians 5:17

[3] Matthew 6:25-34

[4] Deuteronomy 31:8; Hebrews 13:5

[5] Luke 8:25

[6] Luke 8:22-24

[7] Matthew 14:22-33

[8] Psalm 55:22

[9] Matthew 6:34

Putting down roots

June 29, 2017June 30, 2017 / Patsy Kuipers / 2 Comments

The morning of June 29, 1992 found me seated in a conference room at a law office. Ray, next to me at the large, polished-to-a-shine table, remained his usual calm self. But the cumulative stress leading up to that moment overflowed as tears streamed from my eyes. No, we weren’t on the brink of divorce . . . it was time to settle on our house in Georgia.

Ray and I spent our first few months of marriage in a two-bedroom apartment, long enough to know we’d prefer to put the rent money toward a mortgage instead. The image of Ray sitting at his drawing board/desk, pencil in hand calculating and re-calculating budget scenarios makes me smile as I recall his diligence. After one such number-crunching session, he announced, “It will be tight, but I think we can do it.” Our options were limited by our rather meager finances, but we purchased a brand new townhouse, attached to one other unit which housed another young couple.

It was a perfect first home, plenty-roomy inside with a small yard for Ray to display his landscaping skills. When daughter Mary came along a couple of years later, the open floorplan allowed her to explore under our watchful eyes. However, when I became pregnant with our second daughter, Jessie, we decided to look for a larger, single-family home where we could put down roots and raise our family. What a nightmare! Houses in our preferred area were out of our price range, while those within our financial boundaries were far-removed from our desired location. Add the heat and humidity of a Delaware summer and the hormonal fluctuations of pregnancy – not a pretty picture.

Then one Sunday afternoon, Ray went to the showing of a 20-year-old house a few blocks from our townhouse. Hot, tired and generally miserable, I stayed home. Upon his return, Ray declared, “You need to see it! I think this could be the one.” And so it was. We moved into our “raise- the-kids” house the day before Thanksgiving 1989.

When you buy an older home, you expect to replace some things, both decorative and functional. Our first order of business: removing the shiny, 1960’s-era wallpaper in the kitchen – the glare was distracting! Eventually, we progressed to more substantial changes. We replaced the roof and added vinyl siding and double-paned, tilt-in-to-clean windows. These latter upgrades came only after several discussions with my management regarding a potential transfer to Georgia. The possibility of such a move had been bandied about by our business leaders off and on for months since it would put us closer to our carpet-industry customers. Assured we would be staying in Delaware, we proceeded with the renovations . . .

A little over a year after the last window was hung, the last shingle hammered into place, there we were in that law-office conference room to make settlement on our second-attempt, raise-the-kids house a thousand miles away from the first one. Yes, God does have a sense of humor, or, as one old saying puts it: “If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.” Scripture makes it clear his plans are the ones that prevail.[1]

Before the legal proceedings and endless paper-signing began, someone ventured to inquire about my emotional state: “Are you ok?” I wailed in reply, “My belongings are on a moving van somewhere between here and Delaware; my daughters are in Charlotte with my parents; my brand new carpet has Georgia-clay footprints all over it. No! I’m not alright!!” I felt uprooted, the pieces of my life scattered.

But I wasn’t. And they weren’t. My roots were deeply and firmly planted in the One who held each piece and every detail in his firm grasp.[2]

So much has transpired over the past quarter-century. My Georgia home was indeed our raise-the-kids house, but I did much of the raising on my own after Ray’s death not quite five years after the move. Sometimes I wonder what our lives would have been like had we stayed in Delaware, even if Ray might still be alive. Yet I know all his days were written in God’s book before even one came to be.[3] And I think of relationships and experiences woven into my life because God’s good plan[4] brought us to Georgia – friendships formed, lives touched, losses endured – as He’s worked all things together for good.[5]

Even after all the years of living in the South, my accent is indiscernible, prompting people to ask where I’m from. My well-practiced reply?: “I was born in North Carolina, grew up in Delaware and moved to Georgia in ’92, but I consider North Carolina to be home since several generations of my family have lived there.” Yes, that’s an accurate recounting of where I’ve put down roots during my earthly sojourn. But I know my forever-Home awaits, where Jesus is preparing a place for me.[6]

Until then, I will remain securely rooted in the One who sustains me,[7] for in Him all God’s promises are “Yes” and “Amen”.[8]

[1] Proverbs 16:9, James 4:13-15

[2] Colossians 2:7, John 10:27-29

[3] Psalm 139:16b

[4] Jeremiah 29:11-13

[5] Romans 8:28

[6] John 14:1-3

[7] Jeremiah 17:7-8

[8] 2 Corinthians 1:20-22