Here’s To The Moments

Photo by Kim Lance (Click image for more of Kim’s work)

Goodness, I love the beach! I saw this photo of Kim Lance’s and it took me right back to my childhood.

My family used to go to the beach once a year, and for me, it was almost better than Christmas. We had all these traditions that went along with our beach trip: same general area of the beach, same types of beach towels and sand buckets/shovels.

We took the same kind of food, and went to the same ice cream place. We had the same routine each day: up early, ate breakfast, played on the beach, ate lunch, took a nap, played on the beach, ate dinner, and collapsed. It was so great!

The best part of the whole thing was seeing my dad relax. When I was young, my dad was a high-powered, driven, chemical engineer. He worked a lot. He had to take several business trips over the years. But when he was at the beach, he was a different person.

Dad played with us. He didn’t work on anything. He laughed more, and it was wonderful to see him smile so much.

When I grew up, I often wondered why life couldn’t have been more like that all the time. Not that it was bad. It was just not that relaxed. Sometimes I long for those days. There have been many times when I’ve said, “I want to go to the beach, but I want to go when I was a kid.”

I know we usually remember the good when looking back, but honestly, it really was that good. Sure, I want to go to the beach when I was a kid because I didn’t have to pack anything, cook anything, or be responsible for anything! All I had to do was play.

But that’s not really why I would love to go back there. It was the joy of being all together with nothing pulling us away from each other. It was some concentrated, lovely family time.

Even now, the memory of my dad’s carefree laugh makes me cry grateful tears. To have heard it once would have been enough, and I heard it many times.

I know last week, I wrote about not living in the past or the future, but in the now. And here I am writing about the past. The past is not bad; it’s just not now and we can’t try to live in it. But the past does help make us who we are. And if we think about it, those memories can help turn “now” into a lovely moment.

I miss my dad, and I miss my daughter. But they will never be farther away than a moment when I remember them and the time we had together.

Here’s to the sweet moments of the past that give light and color to today and keep our hearts full of gratitude for every kindness from the Lord.

Phyllis Keels

The Wind in the Trees

It is March and it’s really windy lately. That’s normal. The last few days have reminded me how much I love hearing the wind in the trees. One day, that sound and sight sparked a memory. I’m never surprised at the kindness of the Lord. But I am always overwhelmed with gratitude by it. The following is a retelling of one of those days. I pray this blesses you.

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I was looking out a window the other day and something about the shape of the trees, the green grass, the sound of the wind, and the blue sky reminded me of my childhood. The view pulled me into a memory that I couldn’t hold on to.

It was like trying to grab a mist or a puff of smoke. Before it surfaced in my mind, it was gone. But the feeling remained. It was a good memory, whatever it was.

Mingled in with it was the bliss of being a daydreaming child. Carefree, loved, taken care of.

I think that moment was a kindness from my Heavenly Father. I was so tired from many compounded adversities of life – worries over loved ones, busy schedule, the weight of sharing the gospel. (I say weight because I do not take it lightly. I love doing it and I respect the importance of it).

Even so, I was weary. More weary than I can describe. I felt battered and bruised in my soul. That’s when I glanced out the window and saw green trees and blue skies, and I felt the breath of the Holy Spirit as He whispered to me, “Remember…”

But I couldn’t remember. I didn’t know what the memory was. I only knew that I had seen something like that view before, and had felt a peace and excitement all mingled together – and I had been happy.

I know now that the memory was not the thing. What the Lord was showing me is that I am a beloved child of the Most High, and He still loves me. I am still a daydreaming child, carefree, loved, and taken care of. I am His child.

Even in the midst of the stuff we deal with in life, I can remember my Lord’s love for me. I can remember that I can always be at rest IN Him. I am IN Christ. Hidden in Christ where I am safe, loved, and at peace.

Our Heavenly Father speaks in soft, gentle ways, and each time we choose to dwell on Him, He opens up more understanding in us so we can receive love from Him. That is what replaces the cares and weariness with a light heart and a rested soul.

I’m so grateful that He cares for me!

Beloved friend, please believe me when I tell you that the Lord loves you the same way. He longs to show you how much. Let Him shower you with that beautiful love – the love that came in the person of Jesus and has already paid for your freedom.

Let Him show you that you too are IN Christ – greatly loved, and completely surrounded with His kindness.

Phyllis Keels

A Mist of Memory

Photo by Kim Lance (Used by permission. Click image for more of Kim’s work)

I was looking out a window the other day and something about the shape of the trees, the green grass, and the blue sky reminded me of my childhood. The view pulled me into a memory that I couldn’t hold on to.

It was like trying to grab a mist or a puff of smoke. Before it surfaced in my mind, it was gone. But the feeling remained. It was a good memory, whatever it was.

Mingled in with it was the bliss of being a daydreaming child. Carefree, loved, taken care of.

I think that moment was a kindness from my Heavenly Father. I was so tired from many compounded adversities of life – worries over loved ones, busy schedule, the weight of sharing the gospel. (I say weight because I do not take it lightly. I love doing it and I respect the importance of it).

Even so, I was weary. More weary than I can describe. I felt battered and bruised in my soul. That’s when I glanced out the window and saw green trees and blue skies, and I felt the breath of the Holy Spirit as He whispered to me, “Remember…”

But I couldn’t remember. I didn’t know what the memory was. I only knew that I had seen something like that view before, and had felt a peace and excitement all mingled together – and I had been happy.

I know now that the memory was not the thing. What the Lord was showing me is that I am a beloved child of the Most High, and He still loves me. I am still a daydreaming child, carefree, loved, and taken care of. I am His child.

Even in the midst of the stuff we deal with in life, I can remember my Lord’s love for me.

Our Heavenly Father speaks in soft, gentle ways, and each time we choose to dwell on Him, He opens up more understanding in us so we can receive love from Him. That is what replaces the cares and weariness with a light heart and a rested soul.

I’m so grateful that He cares for me!

Beloved friend, please believe me when I tell you that the Lord loves you the same way. He longs to show you how much. Let Him shower you with that beautiful love – the love that came in the person of Jesus and has already paid for your freedom.

Phyllis Keels

The Song of the Stream

“If it weren’t for the rocks in its bed, the stream would have no song.” ~ Carl Perkins (Photo by Kim Lance, used by permission)

I grew up playing in places like this. Both my mom and dad were raised in the mountains of North Carolina and we visited there a lot. I was raised in the Piedmont. Throughout my childhood, rocky streams were plentiful.

Even now, when I look at a photo like this, tears come to my eyes because my memories of these streams are so sweet. Solitude, the sounds of the water, the birds, the wind in the trees… Oh, what lovely times of daydreaming!

When I had a friend with me, we practiced our “catch and release” program for crawdads. Yep, crawdads. We’d never heard of crayfish!

We trekked across giant fallen logs over the stream – the stream that transformed into a cavernous ravine as we tried not to fall off.

We marveled at the tiny “handprints” in the mud – handprints we were convinced were made by the Little People (the Leprechauns, certainly not raccoons).

We dreamed up great adventures, true love, and the ability to fly like Peter Pan. Fairies and elves, unicorns and tree houses. You name it. We could imagine it.

Looking back, I can see where my love of writing began. It began with the song of the stream. Even today, the sound of that water flowing over the rocks calls to me.

And yes, the quote above is true: without the rocks the stream would have no song. Without the obstacles, our lives would have no depth, no beauty.

It is only through the broken heart that our gifts are made perfect. Paul said it best, I can have all these abilities, resources, talents, but if I do not have love, I am nothing.

Paul had learned that to allow the love of God to flow through you is the greatest gift you can have and give. And it’s done by allowing it to happen. It’s done by changing our focus from the hurt to the source of all love: our Heavenly Father.

If you’ve had a hard life, if you’ve had adversity, and heartbreak, then my friend you are most blessed. You are in a position to possess the most beautiful song. A song that will comfort someone else as you comfort your own heart.

Let your heart sing the song of the highly favored, and deeply loved: the brokenhearted. After all, we can sing because He is always near to the brokenhearted.

He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear (worship) the Lord and put their trust in him. (Psalm 40:3, NIV)