The beauty of the early morning porch sun along side the symphony of birds and God’s creatures calms my spirit, for He is near.  The song that bursts forth as a yellow butterfly zig zags across my backyard vista protrudes into my loneliness- bringing me a gift of peace.

He bestows upon my heart the beauty of creation and nature and the stillness that comes from God’s goodness.  Thank you Lord for reminding me of your nearness, your love.  Leaving for work is put on hold as God calls me closer to Eden, “listen” I hear in my spirit, “calm yourself with the sights and sounds of my loveliness.”  God never ever fails me, always knowing what I need with crisp amazing insight into my heart.  He whispers to my spirit, ” be still Cindy Kay, hear my call, find my peace.”

”..the mind controlled by the spirit is life and peace.”  Romans 8:7

“Peace I leave with you..let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” John 14:27

By the time the shadows of the day have fallen away I am bone tired.  “The sun has set and so have I.”  Counting and recounting my blessings I purposely leave out single motherhood and all it’s side kicks.  Most single mothers are super heroes- arms opened wide to the loves of their life, those precious children who actually sustain them, alongside their faith.  I have been on my own far longer than I care to admit.

“Lord how long will you look on without action? Rescue my life from their destructions, my dear and only life from the lions.” Psalm 35:17

I ask this over and over like the clicking sound at the end of an old 45 record playing. God must be as weary and tired as I am of my voice, sorry Lord but you are my Hero, my light and I have no where else to turn.

Brokenness is the catalyst to our lessons of faith.  In this busy, chaotic dark world it is beyond difficult for even God to grab our attention….so He allows trials.  Sometimes, more often than not, I can’t imagine that anything good will ever come from my broken life.  Angela Thomas states in “Brave” that “the Bible is clear-when you believe in Jesus Christ as your savior then you are saved-saved from living forever in brokenness.”  Our earthly trials and tribulations are temporary, for our true home is in heaven.  Hanging on the cross Jesus took on our brokenness and sin paying dearly with His own life in order that we might have a life free of sin and pain. 

God, protect and shield me, heal me and put all my broken pieces back together. Amen.

Glen Beck says, “we are all on difficult , sometimes tortuous journeys that are really meant , designed in fact, by God to lead us to the best in ourselves.” Love that insight, so Lord help me seek you and find the best in myself, teach me to whisper your name all day long, in the precious moments and in the pain. 

Lord, I began with brokenness and I end with thankfulness for all you do for me everyday, for even in my trials you are there living inside me. Thank you Lord for your strength in my trials, as I continue to whisper…Jesus, you are my hope.

“I am your refuge and strength, an ever present and well-proved help in trouble.”  Psalm 46:1

Donna, we are at the Beacon Motor Lodge this weekend-our family gathering place at the beach! The miles from home to here and back leave thousands of memories paved into my heart.

“Who stilled the roaring of the seas, the roaring of their waves..” Psalm 65:7

God’s mighty waves crashing into the tiny grains of sand call us every time to the shore, our beacon calling us home to His peace, to rest and relax in His beauty. A respite, our place of rest and regathering and rearranging our chaotic lives, lifting our hands up to the endless aqua blue sky hoovering over the waters and shouting Praise you Lord, thank you for this glorious vista You supply for us, Your always broken people.

“I call on you O Lord, everyday, I spread out my hands to you.” Psalm 88:9

A mama seagull and her baby fly overhead – a reminder of your love and gift with children, carefully flying just close enough so the little one can rest assured that he can fly!  I am writing this between the lines of my devotional readings, sporadic thoughts jump out in front of my hand and I find to still them I must pen them.  The song mammy used to sing all the time popped into my heart..”I come to the garden alone while the dew is still on the roses and the voice I hear falling on my ear..the Son of God discloses, and He walks with me and He talks with me and He tells me I am His own, and the joy I share as we tarry there, none other has ever known.” My favorite.  I hear His voice at the beach, beach music if you will, and I must say there truly is none other like it.

My Jesus Calling book instructs me to “walk with Me in the garden of your heart, where I have taken up permanent residence” and I am so grateful you have Lord.  The distinct, constant sound of waves rushing in sings in the distance up over the row of white and blue motel rooms that so dot our family history and it lulls my soul into rest, untangling the knots of a stressful life.

“The Lord your God is with you…He will quiet you with His love.” Zephaniah 3:17

That’s is God, isn’t it..if we really pay attention we find you here with us in the ocean breezes, the endless skies, the seagulls flight and the babies delight-you are here, near by to rescue us if we fall.  That’s why the Beacon beckons us, it’s you Lord reminding us to slow down, take in deep breaths of my bountiful splendor, observe, listen and still your restless soul.  That’s what I do here at the edge of your beach waters, look and listen, walk and rest.  It is here that so many of our family healings have taken place, and again we come this memorial weekend to heal broken hearts and look to you to lift us up as only you can do.  The royal blue umbrellas have magically appeared while I was busy in your word, they polka dot the white tables and chairs.  In a world that constantly changes, bringing forth trial after trial, along side Your ever constancy, the blue and crisp white decor of the Beacon has remained ever constant through the years of my life. I ponder now the thought that perhaps this is one of the things that draws me here, the reliance in it’s never changing decor.  Every time we arrive I am reassured of what I will see and it has never disappointed me.  Like you My King, you never disappoint me with your unfailing, unchanging decor of love. This trip we are in a room we have never stayed in- very very unusual, as we have stayed in every room here! It was a surprise, a pleasant change for our little family gathering…something we find necessary to pull through this trial.  Change. Jolt of wake up my child, you can face this trial-sit a short while now and listen to my beach music play for you.

Awwww-my dear Donna, I am listening to the sound of precious memories, sweet and dear as the glorious sun rises higher and the beach is calling my chair….

“I have told you these things so that in Me you may have peace..” John 17:33

I am acutely aware of my human insufficiency today- “I am nothing without Him” rings loud and clear like a heavy church bell, over and over in my mind. DING DONG DING DONG.  Walking with my Savior intimately has taken it’s toll on my bell of faith, reminding me of those words.  I fear the bell is cracking, the cause of which is- it’s ringing loud and clear for all to hear.  Most of my life I have felt I was nothing. Period. That is a complete sentence, subject and verb, and then nothing. For many dark, lonely, tragic years I isolated myself from Jesus, wrapping myself up in dark paper- a gift no one wanted to open.  The world smothered me with its’ falsities, lies and deceptions and I fell for it – hook, line and sinker.  Satan’s fishermen reeled me in right onto their boat of sin, the promise of freedom, fun, excitement.

No worries, no cares as the bells hard sound got quieter, smaller, distant.  Jesus was there, I just pushed Him to the back of the line enabling evil to cover up my pain with, little did I know, more pain.  At the bottom of that bell in my church tower the thick heavy rope to Jesus dangled swinging, in air to the rhythm of the dongs.  ”I am nothing without Him.”  Believe me the only gain through pain is walking with Jesus head on through the trials- one step at a time.

Fast forward in time, many, many sins later during my darkest hour the ringing became louder beckoning me to that rope-climb girl climb! Let me tell you Jesus does not make it easy, it was work, climb, work, climb to the top. The light of God’s grace, His glory shinning through that tower’s glass panes, singing out grace grace, God’s grace, made me work even harder.

Months go by, my hands and heart are raw with pain, still dangling, there were moments I wanted to let go….I held.  Fragments of trials, pain, losses, more stress, trust Me girl, hang on tighter, I am closer than ever! Battle after battle, loss after loss, I held on with all the faith I had, gripping on to Jesus as if my life depended on it.  And I held.  And He held me.  And I began to change, my vision cleared, His light covered my darkness.  The higher I climbed, studying His word, praying each day, spending time with Him every morning without fail,  bible study after bible study….the closer I came to Jesus the more the world’s grip started to slip.

I’m still climbing, my hands are calloused, and I anticipate the top where Jesus and that bell of freedom hang, more than Christmas morning as a child! I am far from sacred places where Noah, Moses, Abraham and Paul walked, but I am on my dusty journey up that rope towards my Savior.

“I am nothing without Him” rings so deep and true.

Bittersweet thoughts flood my heart this week as we draw closer to my niece’s wedding day.  My thoughts keep tuning in to memories of my sweet sister, the bride’s mother.  As I begin to create her flowers for her special day, my sis’s kind face just keeps popping up-reminding me she is near.  I am just not sure that the searing pain of this kind of loss ever goes away….ever.  I wonder as I work what would she have done?  How would sis have decorated that wedding room?  Fabulous with that special touch she had, that’s how.

Keep working, keep your focus, do it for her I whisper to my heart.  I love Jesus so much, but until I ask Him face to face, I will never understand why we must go through such pain here on earth.  It just doesn’t feel like my real home, earth that is, my heart tells me there is a place for us.  I need peace Jesus, come into my heart and fill it up with your presence – so I can BE present for this occasion.

Sis would put raffia on all the mason jars, working quietly in her “keep it all to herself kinda manner”.  It would be country looking, warm and inviting and never outrageous or over the top.  Gotcha sis, I’m with ya, let’s keep it simple.  Her baby girl is alot like her, at first she didn’t want any flowers at all, but gradually ideas and her look came together .  Mason jars filled with babies breath, stock, dusty miller and little wild daisies.  Ummmm, hate to be the one to say this but your Mom’s influence is definately in this design ! Oh and by the way, the bride tells me, “absolutely NO raffia, cuz mom put that stuff on everything and I just don’t like it!”  Okay I say to myself while secretly thinking-gosh we sure need raffia around those jars…lol.

She decides to put butterflies in special places, in the jars, in certain bouquets and corsages, not too many, just a few, just a little reminder that her mom is with us all on that day.  She will flutter around that precious moment of joining two people together for a lifetime of love-like her marriage was, yep she’ll be there for sure.

One of my flower tasks this week is to create two bouquets for the graves of my two sisters, one left us the night before her wedding day and the mother of this bride who left us just a few months ago.  Again I don’t know how I’d survive this heartbreak without my faith-it would be a dark road.

It’s a beautiful day today, crisp, sunny, not too hot or humid, the kinda day my silly sis would have laid out on the deck to get a tan kinda day.  I’d join her and we would be doing the flowers late into the night to make up for the fun we were having in the sun.  Yep, that’s what she would have done for sure.

Love you sis, and miss you all the way to the moon and back.

Raining raining tumbling down

in and out and all around

leaves and branches, bark and ground

pulling my sadness deeper

drippy dreary drops and clinks

songs of fertile grounds beneath

thankful roots no longer sleep

preamble to the spring adored

this song of droplets drowns the birds

scarlet cardinal ventures near

weathered fences splattered with scars

gnawing notches deep

into those we dare to leap

stormy velvet curtain

covers the day,

sun takes a bow

and slips away

applause abounds to no avail

shadowy greyness performing now

twilight begins to dance around

while bands of melancholy 

sound too loud

tangled consequences wash clean

tricky maneuvers through

false saviors

rain fuels dark reminders

lingering mistakes

pounding big drops of pain

whetting my appetite for

warmer tropical themes

saving grace

promises of covers away

from pounding pangs

Redeemer, umbrella of light

renew my awareness of right

deliver me from rivers and rocks

and slippery slopes where

thy mercies fail not

sure my feet upon 

the mossy stones that 

line my path

raindrops drip down my back

My King, My King, as you

sing of spring.

We have just wrapped up another great bible study by Beth Moore, the book of James.  It was humbling to say the least, truly soaking up the Word of God in the form of His servant James, brother of Jesus, he sure had a mouth full for me to digest.  I am finding the more I am in the Word, the stronger my connection to my Lord becomes, it’s like the manna that God provided His people, I just can not wait til the next day for more.  James opened my eyes to the reality of my reality here on this earth- which is I have a long way to go to get where I need to be.  Yeah, seriously, we all do.

That precious brother of our Savior sure took the long road to reedemption himself..doubting his Lord, his family, was even who He said He was..I think that was brave of him.  When he did come around to the light, boy did he ever shine.  I thank you so much James for allowing the Lord to work through you and leave us those words of wisdom..action words that we should live by and learn from.  Wow, what a book of the bible.  Ending the study I pondered slowly as I listened to Beth reciting the entire book by heart, can I even come close to this kind of living?  Lord I pray I can, I pray hard you will help me grow.

“Perserverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” James 1:4

Not sure when the holidays turned into such a fiasco, rushing here and there and everywhere, just trying to keep peace with everyone.  Gifts galore, most returned to the stores.  Next year I am considering a cabin hideaway, with snow and roaring fireplace and sleigh rides…dream on.  It seems when you put two or more people together at a holiday you have dysfunction in any home in any city, inevitable.  If anyone is mad at anyone else, lines are drawn and sides are chosen, not a comfortable situation to say the least.  Throw in a few heartbreaks and you have got yourself a potentially dangerous situation…PDS as we call it, and someone is gonna blow.  One of the younger ones said late into the night, hey I wonder what it’s like inside other people’s homes and everyone was just real quiet.  Real quiet.

I like Christmas at the Krank’s home, very cool idea to skip it one year…a warm island getaway fills my stocking just fine.  This year, our family put on smiles and spoke words to cover the heartache we all felt from empty spaces at our table, children missing their mom, their grandmother mourning her second child taken, a husband torn with grief, siblings, nieces and nephews, all of us wrapping our sadness in pretty paper and bows bright and shiny.  

Expectations of the season fall short of the reality that befalls us….the difference leaves people empty.  In homes all across America disappointment hangs heavy over us as the 24 hours of Christmas comes and goes.  If we put our hope in the gifts we receive instead of the true gift God gave us all-our lives will be empty.

“Find rest, O my soul, in God alone, my hope comes from Him. He alone is my rock and my salvation; He is my fortress, I will not be shaken.”  Psalm 62: 5-6

“The Lord is my portion, saith my soul, therefore will I hope in Him.” Lamentations 3:24

The greatest gift we all have ever received is God’s son Jesus Christ, and even when He departed this world He left us another gift, the Holy Spirit to live inside us always until He returns.  What a King, what a giver of true gifts, what a reason to celebrate the season….thank you so much my Lord for filling my empty spaces with your love.   

Today I took a different road home after I dropped my son off at school.  It was early morning and the sun was still kissing the horizon, all sleepy eyed, and the longer way home called to me.  This route takes me through fields and and quiet byways and less traffic and it was so worth every extra minute of my precious time.  The sunrise across the farmer’s field with its melted hues of purples and pinks sprayed with oranges stilled me filling my heart with peace and beauty.  I lingered there as long as traffic allowed-pondering how my day might change if I made simple changes – like taking a different road home?

I, like all of us, have been on the busy bustling road to the perfect Christmas lately, filling every minute with as much craziness as I can cram in, like the night before a final exam.  On this particular morning I thought; what am I possibly gaining from this holiday rat race?  A maze of great confusion and certainly not peace to speak of…I answer my thoughts back.

This Christmas eve we are going to start a new tradition, along with new pajamas and church service and riding around gauking all starry eyed at the tackiest lights and decorations we can find, we will add one more thing to our list.  Each of us are going to perform, using our own creativity and talents, something deeply meaningful about the season.  More specifically, the REASON for the season and what that means to each of us kinda thing.  I can’t wait.  Funny, it was my idea, and I have no idea what I plan to do. Lol.  Surely God will bless my spirit with a fabulous idea that will shine like the Bethlehem star did.  Or maybe not.  Maybe, just maybe, God will remind me in His brilliant, funny way, to re-check the road you are on my child.  Is the way you live every day leading you towards my son, Jesus?  Are you taking that different road-the one less traveled?  Or could it be my sweet child, you have lost your way yet again?

The quiet, still country road this morning touched my heart reminding me of peace, the peace you only find on the road to Bethlehem.  That night the shepards followed that spectacular star, their only light, no flashlights, no I-phones with a special app, no lanterns, just a star….lighting up the entire sky and night.  Wow, now that’s taking a different way home for sure, what a journey, what a night, what a King was born, lowly and warm.  Those simple men had no idea that for thousands of years to come people of all nations would speak of their journey with awe and reverence, and many of us would dream of possessing their simple obedient child like faith.  Blind faith that was deep enough to simply follow a star when asked.

What if God asked me to pack up everything and go into the dark of night, trust Him and He will provide a light for me to show me the way….would I go?  What about my GPS, my maps, my I phone directions, can I use them?  No, He says, follow me, trust me, I will lead you on the right road.  My whole heart believes He will.

This paritcular Christmas, after great loss, I believe in that little baby lying in that manger under that bright shinnning star, and I know He will guide me through this topsy turvy life.  This season is the perfect time to reflect on His love and take the right road and follow His light, and when we do all our worries will fall by the wayside.

This morning I stopped the Christmas rush to reflect on all the gifts that are NOT under my tree, but are in my heart, and I am so heart-full because my Savior was born!  This year may we all create new traditions in our homes and hearts and be thankful, be generous to others and shine a light bright so others can find their way to peace on a dark road.

Merry Christmas and may God’s peace wash over you and yours and may the road you come to always carry you home.

Pumpkin, golden yellow, reds, copper brown color the ground as the leaves make their way down to create fall’s quilts-the ground covering. It is gently stitched together by wind, rain and animals.  Accented with acorns, gumballs, pine cones, pods and dried slender pine needles.  When you walk the ground crunches and crackles underfoot…twisting my shoes and ankles into odd configurations.  The smell of a wood burning fireplace- pop, spark, sputter and flames of fall colors flare up and warmth comes out.  Gathering wood in the yard, piling up kindling and bigger logs near the door.

Today is a great day to gather; windy, cool day, the kind you keep a sweater on or a blanket close by you.  This is a day to bake something pumpkiny, made from scratch, like my mammy did it.  She gathered eggs from the hen house in her basket or sometimes her worn white apron enveloped them.  Fresh milk from early morning, then butter churned from it’s cream, stamped and pressed into beautiful shapes.  A fresh pumpkin from the late fall garden, pecans picked off the ground and cracked after dinner. Mixed by hand and poured into the old worn black and brown pan and into the wood stove it goes.  No timers…just instinctive internal clocks that tell you when to check it.  Her hands, fingers that are cracked and wrinkled, manicured by hard work on the farm, wrap a warm dishtowel around the pan, clink, onto the stove top to cool.  Organic, pure, fresh food like God intended it to be.

I loved that farm in the fall, trees huge and tall like mountains dotted the land up and down the long dirt driveway.  Fruit trees and summer crops resting in the cooler weather.  Fall’s harvest of wheat, pumpkins, late squash and anything that would pop up in the cool breezes of the season.  Bacon and pork drying and curing in the smoke house-the smell like smoke, salt, meat, earth, after a fire all at once.  Thick, meaty bacon hanging from the wooden rafters waiting to be placed in the big black iron fry pan, and savored by all of us.

My sweet mammy bought my first electric typewriter, and gave it to be before I left for college at 17, it was quite a surprise.  Ironic her gift to me put words onto white sheets of paper then and here I am half a century old putting into words how she lived.  It was always a harvest there on that expanse of land, sky as far as you could see with no interference.  Always plenty at every meal, grace first, and a chapter of the bible read at the end of every single evening meal. Always.

Fall, harvest, football, school, new supplies and lunch boxes ( my favorite), plaid skirts and cardigans, loafers and corduroy pants, Thanksgiving and family—all of it falls into the season.  A season of grace and bounty…then and now.