I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.
Psalm 121:1-2
The Long-lost Rug
This time 50 years ago, my parents and I were living in Argentina. Dad was working for a subsidiary of his US employer, and Mom and I were along for the 2-year adventure. We made use of school holidays to travel around Argentina and to other Latin American countries. And, as most tourists are wont to do, we accumulated plenty of souvenirs. One of our favorites was a llama-skin rug that depicted a woman tending one of the furry pack animals.
Mom and Dad used it as a wall-hanging when we returned to the States, and then at some point, my husband and I took possession of it. The rug hung on our wall for a while, but there was no place for it when we moved from Delaware to Georgia, so we returned it to my parents.
Then somehow, it disappeared.
Occasionally the rug would come up in conversation, and we’d muse, “Whatever happened to it?” Some good-natured banter would follow the question:
“I think you have it.”
“No, I’m pretty sure I gave it back to you.”
“Well, wherever it is, we haven’t seen it for years!”
So it went until one day last month when I was searching for something in my late mother’s closet. I looked up, and there it was, neatly folded on the top shelf! I’m not sure why Mom tucked it away in there with her clothes, but I felt like I’d found a long-lost treasure and couldn’t wait to tell my family about the discovery.
The Dark Hole is Real
I don’t know about you, but it seems like at least once a week, I or someone else in my family will bemoan the fact we’ve misplaced something. Sometimes we’ll find the missing item in relatively short order. Then again, there are times when objects remain lost for weeks, months, or even years, like the llama rug. We refer to this as “the dark hole syndrome,” as in “the dark hole ate it.”
A few days after locating the rug, I began helping my dad prepare to move into assisted living. His new apartment has a small porch that is still big enough to accommodate two of his deck chairs. I offered to get some cushions to make the metal seats more comfortable. Dad replied that he already had some, and we proceeded to hunt for them.
We searched in all the logical places – in the basement where he kept the patio set, in the garage, in the storage area tucked under the stairs – all to no avail.
“Chalk up another one for the dark hole,” Dad sighed.
I’ve made almost-daily trips between Dad’s house and his apartment, picking up necessities as well as niceties he forgot to include in the initial transport of stuff. I was standing in his closet, talking to him on the phone as he gave me instructions about where to find that day’s requested item. I looked up and started laughing.
“Guess what I just found!”
“What?”
“The chair cushions!!”
“Where?!”
“On the top shelf in your closet! I need to start looking up more instead of straight ahead all the time.”
A Spiritual Parallel
The words had barely left my mouth when a spiritual application occurred to me. Too often, when faced with a challenging situation, I focus on the dilemma in front of me. Instead of taking a Biblical perspective, I become mired in the what-ifs and oh-nos. The dark hole of doubt swallows up what I know to be true about God as surely as my family’s fictional dark hole occasionally devours objects.
But when I look up, I remember I’m not alone. My help comes from the Lord, the very Maker of heaven and earth (Psalm121:1-2).
Furthermore, the Spirit gently reminds me of the truth found in the Apostle Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians:
So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal (2 Corinthians 4:16-18).
The things pressing in on me will soon pass, whereas those currently hidden or out of focus will become clear and constant (1 Corinthians 13:12). God’s promises and assurances are always there, ready to be seen by enlightened eyes of faith if we’ll simply look up.
Dear Lord, please enlighten the eyes of our hearts that we may know the hope you’ve called us to, the glorious riches of our inheritance in Christ, and the immeasurable greatness of Your power toward us who believe (Ephesians 1:18-19).




Her statement piqued my curiosity and nudged a long-ago, gift-related memory from the recesses of my mind. The recollection tempered my enthusiasm as I wondered which traits I’d projected to inspire this perfect gift. Much to my relief, the beautiful bookends my friend joyfully presented after the worship service reflected my love of gardening and reading.
So what about the memory? Two small, resin snapping turtles, a Mother’s Day gift from my then-elementary-aged daughters. Snapping turtles! To this day, some 25 years later, my daughters declare they thought the scary critters were cute. Cute?! Maybe it was my late husband’s barely-suppressed grin or my insecurities as a busy, often-tired mom, but no amount of explaining could convince me the turtles weren’t a commentary on my character flaws.
Similar thoughts accompanied me as I strolled my woods exclaiming over the latest plant finds. Jesus’ declaration that we need not worry because the God who cares for the birds and the lilies will watch over His beloved children, who are much more precious, is among my most cherished (Matthew 6:25-34). It’s also one of the reasons I find so much solace in my garden since I see the truth of His statement played out repeatedly.
You may argue that the birds and flowers aren’t capable of worrying since they don’t know what we know or reason as we reason. But God says the same about us. Even though we’re created in His image, His ways and His thoughts are higher than ours, beyond our finite minds (Isaiah 55:8-9). He is Sovereign. We aren’t. And it often takes events that are obviously out of our control to remind us, even though every breath we take is a gift from God.
I’m thankful for the time Ray and I spent together. I’d rather have been married to him for 13 years than not at all. The last card he gave me was a Valentine card. Unlike other memorabilia tucked away in various boxes and file folders, it resides in a special spot on my bookshelf. Lost in my reverie, I retrieved it from its slot and reverently removed it from its well-worn envelope. After savoring the sentiments within, I placed it on the edge of my dining room table which also serves as my desk. There, alongside other tangible reminders of loved ones, it radiated a message of glowing encouragement.
Just as I took a drink of water, I noticed Joshua’s confused look. I knew in an instant what was coming next and oh how I regretted taking that extra-large gulp.
Until then, may we avail ourselves daily of the comfort and protection God has provided, confident that we have nothing to fear because the Lord goes before us (Ephesians 6:10-18; Deuteronomy 1:30). His steadfast love never ceases. His mercies are new every morning (Lamentations 3:22-23). And His grace is sufficient to meet every need (2 Corinthians 12:9).