Wednesday, April 30, 2014


"What time I am afraid, I will trust in thee." Ps. 56:3

For three months, my husband Richard and I have been living on pins and needles, awaiting the results of medical tests he has gone through. Today is the day we are to receive the results of those tests.
Last evening, I went for a solitary walk along a path near our house, which leads to the shores of beautiful Flathead Lake in Western Montana. My dog, Foster, and I were treated to the soft smells and soothing touch of the crisp Spring air. Trees hugged our path as we crept through outstretched branches and beneath overhanging bows. A pair of elegant whitetails bounded through the brush, stopping long enough to check us out. I whistled at them and Foster tugged at his leash with a soft "woof," standing on his hind legs and stretching to his full height of over five feet, as he observed them.
Except for the sadness which had bound up my heart for weeks, this was a perfect moment.
A phrase from the Psalms nudged at my heart: "What time I am afraid...what time I am afraid..."
Yes, Lord...what is the rest of it? Of course I knew. "I will trust in thee."
A couple of nights before I had been unable to stop tears and throaty sobs that wracked me in the privacy of my loft. I had crept out of the bedroom I share with my husband and had stolen to the place that had been a refuge many times over the years...the place where I had sensed God's leading in the writing of so many books...the place where God had spoken directly to me many times.
Would he speak to me again?
Tears did not subside until the same phrase came to me. "What time I am afraid..." Even then, however, I was still desperate.
"Lord, I know I am supposed to trust in you," I cried, "but right now I can't!"
Something in that admission brought a measure of relief to my spirit. I felt the warm smile of my Great Companion when I made my confession. He wanted me to know that I did not have TO DO anything...that trust is the antithesis of work. In fact, the work of trust is to give up, to NOT TRY, but to LET.
The walk through the woods was a continuation of the lesson. The presence of Jesus in the realm of his creation was a balm to my troubled heart. "Walk this way," I sensed him saying. "Trust in me. This is my world, and you are my child. Breathe deeply, hear the silence, bask in my love."
The stolen moment did not take all the pain away. But it held out hope. Jesus would provide a well marked path for me, through green bows and perfect light.

"What time I am afraid..." I am trusting in thee!

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