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Dreams and Pauses
Dreams, they’re personal and reveal depths we sometimes have to grapple with. I will admit, I am a dreamer.
Having lived in a busy household for decades means that I processed a lot while I slept.Answers to issues, personal failings, or the direction needed to proceed came in the early morning waking hours… in my quiet times of reflection or through a dream. I’ve had so many dreams that I now log them in a ‘dream journal.’
Lately though, I’ve been in a season of rest. Perhaps you could label it regrouping or pondering, but in essence it’s me waiting for direction. It’s the ‘what’s next, Lord’ question.
Sometimes I get a clear answer like ‘go here and do this.’ Other times the answer comes in circumstances unforeseen. And although I know God is working in these pauses, I’m anxious to get-on-with-it.
Do you ever wonder what is He doing in these pauses? I suspect that whatever lies ahead may need skills I’m to be building now or perhaps strengthening ones that I already possess. So, while I work on retaining what I know, I look for open doors. Discernment is needed before entering any door though, for not every door is open for my benefit.
My current dreams are motion related perhaps indicating that I may be ready for the next part of my journey. Do I have any dreamer friends out there? Remember that Joseph was a dreamer, and it took about twenty years of hardship for his dream to be realized. I’ll encourage you with the thought that God can speak to us in many ways. And not every dream is a direction dream, but it may be. As we prayerfully wait, we can trust that this time of preparation will help us in whatever challenges lie ahead.
Keep on doing what you know is right to do, and He’ll get you on your way soon enough. He leads, He directs, He guides… and it’ll bear fruit all in His perfect timing.
And trust that pauses are part of His plan. You can rest in that. 
Blessings,
Debbie G
Isaiah 26:3 You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you.
Genesis 37 The story of Joseph the dreamer.
#rest #pause #dreams #SeasonsOfRest #trustthepause
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Savoring
In many ways I’m a creature of habit.
I like my day to start with hot black coffee. My breakfast routine is fairly consistent- eggs and veggies. And I try to stick to not-eating between meals. So, why am I so focused on food this morning? Because I also am learning to slow down.In my busy years, (raising 7 that I homeschooled) life came at a hectic pace. My early hour alone was my place of sanity. And many times, we were eating on the fly as we traveled to sports practices, a music lesson or dropping someone off at work. Needless to say, our meals weren’t always healthy nor leisurely.
The past few months I’ve also been pondering gratitude, which brings me to this morning’s breakfast, but first let me back up a bit to a season pre-kids. I accepted an invitation to an extravagant dinner. A place where men were given a suit coat to wear if they showed up in too casual an attire for the ambience.
If having someone redressed behind you wasn’t uncomfortable enough, having the waiter lay a cloth napkin on your lap, and checking in at least twice during each serving certainly added to my unrest. Every course was followed by fresh water ‘to cleanse your palate.’
Unfortunately, the European-trained chef that showcased his remarkable skills fell on my ‘meat and potatoes’ appetite. Two hours and seven courses later, was enough for me to realize that I didn’t feel ‘polished’ enough to visit such a fancy establishment.
Now, back to this morning’s breakfast. My simple fare of eggs and veggies that fills my belly is more my style, but as I remembered that ‘refined meal’ from years ago I realized that the experience also entailed slowing down to appreciate the combination of textures.
So, this morning, I did that. I paused, savoring each bite. Which allowed me to experience the separate flavors. The pepper, the light coating of cheddar cheese, the various veggies. Unlike the busy years of child raising, I can now slowly chew on these morsels, grateful for not only the provision, but for this season of quiet. A place where hurry is being undone.
I am reminded that God too, offers us His Word in great chunks. Paragraphs, chapters, and books… How do I un-hurry here? Like that meal of long ago, I can nibble a one verse, savoring the various nuances and parallels. Who is this verse talking to? I take a few moments to hunt down the answer by looking up the references. Great, now how can I apply this in my life today? By mentally slowing down and releasing what I think I already know, this pause ‘cleanses my palate’ so God can expand my taste buds with a fresh experience.
Who knows that today’s morsel might turn into a two-hour meal, but now I can appreciate the Master Chef’s recipes. I’m not concerned with embarrassing my companion with my lack of finesse or inappropriate etiquette for He accepts me as I am. Each ingredient He adds and every course He presents is leading me to the grand finale. Where I will stand in appreciation for the refinement He is now doing in me.
Bon Appetit,
Debbie G
Taste and see that the Lord is good. Psalm 34:8
#eggs #slowdown #savor #tasteandsee #cleanseyourpalate
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My Strength
I felt an impression this morning to read from
the book of Isaiah and my thought was, Oh no, I don’t like Isaiah. It’s full of judgment. I just didn’t want to start my day off with sadness. I found myself complaining as I opened to chapter 12 and began to read. Thanks to the Lord, he turned from his anger and comforted me. God is my song and strength. I will trust and not fear. God is my salvation.I took a deep breath and read on about drawing from his well and singing his praises. Which then moved to shouting with joy for the Lord is in your midst.
I paused and chided myself for grumbling. “God, I love Isaiah!”
I am reminding myself to not fear (or whine) when he leads me to read difficult passages. It’ll take working through hard places for me to reach the end of my story here on earth. And so often, like today, I am humbled by his compassion as he leads me to inspiring verses to start my day.
I will trust, and not fear for he is my strength and my song. Hoping you find strength for this day.
Blessings,
Debbie
#MyStrength #MorningDevotion
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The Power of Touch
We sat silently together my hand in hers for the longest time. Her husband had died, and I had no words.
I’m not sure how long it was that we sat there as I listened to a clock ticking in a nearby room. Suddenly she came to herself and said, “Thank you.”Call it friendship. Call it empathy. But it’s beyond words, it is the power of touch.
We touch with words, “Thank you.” “You’re the best!” “I love you.”
We touch with actions. Bringing homemade soup to a sick associate. Grabbing a meal in a bag for a homeless person. Raking a neighbor’s leaves.
We touch without even knowing it. Passing someone crying on a bench. Hurrying past a disabled car on the roadside without calling for roadside assistance. Mindlessly letting the door close behind us into the face of someone else.
This reminds me of a story in Luke. ‘Just who is my neighbor?’ a lawyer asked Jesus. And as the story unwinds, we see a half-dead man lying on the side of the road being ignored by two presumably holy men. One a rabbi and the other a Levite (one who cleans the temple). The third, an enemy from a rival town decided he couldn’t just leave him there to die. He poured healing oil on him, bound his wounds, and brought him to safety. Even paying the hotel debt.
Jesus made it clear that this neighbor thing was more than looking for ‘a neighbor’, it was about being a neighbor. It wasn’t only caring about but caring for someone else. It’s an action. It’s moving to help when assistance is needed.
We read in Hebrews, that Jesus was not only a rabbi, but that he is our Great High Priest. And if you consider that before we knew him, we were in essence his enemies. Thus, our Rabbi, our High Priest, the one who could consider us an enemy, found us in our woeful state and tended to our needs. Pouring the oil of salvation in our open wounds. Covering our bodies with His robe of righteousness, and He paid our insurmountable debt of sin at the cross. No matter how we look at this parable, Jesus owed us nothing, yet gave us His all.
The choice is ours: we can walk in love or throw our hurts around like knives. We can tap our toes at the long check-out line, or we can pray for the harried clerk as we wait patiently.
It may be difficult to set aside fears and frustrations, but making the most of our moments makes our lives richer. If the Great Shepherd walked and served in empathy and compassion, can’t we? If the Holiest of all Rabbis willingly left the ninety-nine in the temple to minister the one in dire need. What are we willing to do?
Sometimes all that is needed is to hold a hand. But joining people in their hard places can heal their deepest hurts. It may be uncomfortable and it’s always a sacrifice, but they’ll never forget it. And neither will you.
Praying for you in your journey, my neighbors and friends. 
Blessings,
Debbie G
Hebrews 4:14 Jesus, our great high priest.
2 Corinthians 1:4 Comfort those in any trouble.
Psalm 147:3 He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.
Hebrews 10:34 Stimulate one another to love and good deeds.
Luke 10:29 Who is my neighbor?
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Broken Wings
She was only about twelve inches tall, but she spoke to me, and I bought her. Placing her atop my writing area, I hoped that perhaps my words would flow like her long flowing robe.I loved that she held her heart outside her chest, evident that she held nothing back. She offered love to all who came her way. And as she gave it, her heart enlarged making room for more love.
And how my own heart lurched when she teetered and fell, breaking into pieces. So many pieces… I wasn’t sure she could be repaired. Life was busy then; I placed her broken form back above my writing space and shoved the pieces aside. There she sat for five years until I noticed her again today.
One wing missing. Her base broken and leaning against the books there on the shelf. Missing pieces. What to do with my broken angel? With so many broken places in life could I just let this broken thing go? I looked at her again… she was beyond repair, yet I still loved her.
Now grounded, she could only touch those nearby, but her spirit wasn’t compromised. In her leaning, she found strength in those nearby that supported her. Somehow, in her fragmented state, the bonds of friendship grew stronger.
I lean closer, I see that her heart hasn’t been touched… still complete, unchanged. Out in the open, holding all that she loves close to her chest.
I took her down off her long-standing spot… and dusted her off. Then gently replaced her on her perch, overlooking my words. She is a reminder that there is beauty no matter how broken. And if you can no longer fly, you can still love.
Remember to love…
Blessings,
Debbie G
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Owning the Gray
What a difference ten months can make. I decided late in 2020 to start letting my hair go natural. I lightened my brown tones each time so it wouldn’t be such a harsh change. But for those who weren’t around for the process and compared my appearance to the photo on the back of my book, I’d hear, “Wow, I wouldn’t have recognized you.”So, I had a new photo taken for the back of Book 2 (due out this summer). I’m amazed at how much I’ve aged in the past year. Yeah, I know, gray hair means I’ve lived and apparently, I now have wisdom. Quite a bit of it actually!
But when I see the first photo, I recognize that I was in a state of grieving, almost a numbness. My husband and his beautiful momma had passed within a few months of each other, and I made a decision to just press on. This photo was me shouting to the heavens that I was going to complete what I had started, the book I had begun ten years earlier. I stood on the shoreline of the river we had both loved, in an effort to let my husband know I was ‘letting the baby fly.’ (a reference to my continuing to stall on moving forward with my novel)
Now, months after its release, I face new challenges without the numbness of that initial grief. I don’t have my handy computer tech to bounce things off of. No wisdom on what computer applications to add or to avoid on my webpage. I can personally attest that the adage is true, you don’t truly appreciate all the ways someone is a blessing until they’re no longer there.
In sharing this journey, I know it will help many get through their own season of grief. Some days I can focus on doing the next thing, and on others I simply crawl back into bed for a nap. Honestly, it helps.
So today, I wonder about the ‘wiser looking Debbie’. (I refuse to call myself old- yet!) Learning to do things alone again. Changing the wording of ‘we’ to ‘I or me’. Adjusting your eating, sleeping, and working habits, it all takes time. Just like any other season of life there are trials and errors. Over it all, I try to give myself grace. I’m heading gently into this new year. I wish you all wisdom to fully show your love to those dear to yourself, and the grace to start over gently when necessary.
Blessings always,
~ Debbie G
#Grief #ForwardJourney #GivingGrace #GoingGray
https://booklocker.com/12575
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Rise Up, Clay Pots!
Unlike a cookie cutter press, consider that we are like clay being molded. Our circumstances and relationships help form the shape that we become.
We have a dent here when a friendship ends badly. Or a dig mark there when someone uses harsh words to condemn us. We may even have great gouges when a life partner is removed. We walk around cracked and damaged, each unique yet affected by the world around us. We cannot see ourselves as other’s do. The barometer of our experiences and pain colors our vision.
How are we called artwork? We don’t often think of ourselves as being works of art. After all, who would want someone’s cast off? Someone who’s done what we’ve done or someone as sullied as we are?
Perhaps we’ve come to think that we must fit into a specific mold to be considered ‘good’ or ‘valuable’. Where would you place yourself on a scale compared to a highly paid professional or a successful businessperson? Why would we think lower? Probably because society has a step ladder and uses finances as its gauge. It’s as if owning things and having a large bank account places people on a higher rung. So, we work to get ahead… um, ahead of who? Ahead of what?
No wonder our self-image is askew.
Back to the clay. If I put myself in the category of a walking lump with a huge hole from a past broken relationship, I begin to question myself. What did I do to deserve this? Why wasn’t I enough? Natural questions, but anytime I’m involved so is the potential of my sin nature. No one is perfect, not one. Certainly not me. So, my new question instead is: now what, God?
And God, being the Brilliant Potter that he is, takes me in his loving hands and reshapes me. He covers the edge of my gaping wound by moving some of my clay and slowly I realize that I’m now more in the shape of a bowl. My opening is at the top and I can receive whatever blessing he wants to rain down on me.
But not everyone is a bowl. No. In his creativeness, he transforms some into useful cups, pitchers, vases, and beautiful decorative pots. His creativity is endless. I only know that he has a purpose for each and every lump of clay he forms.
So even if the world looks at you and sees a walking saltshaker, know that you can be the seasoning God uses to add flavor to the lives of others. And instead of using the world’s ladder to judge your saltshaker status, imagine all the people who could be sitting around the table in heaven, because you’ve sprinkled their lives here with truth.
So, rise up clay pots, walk in love, and trust that the painful markings this world gives can be used by the Master Potter for much greater things.
Blessings my friend,
Debbie G
Suggested Readings: Jeremiah 18:4, 17:9, Isaiah 64:8
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Sunrise to Sunset
The pink of morning Highlights of the late day’s sunshine on my trees kicked me into high gear. Quickly, I grabbed my camera. I started my day with some sunrise pictures now it’s time for some evening ones.
As I jog down my stairs and out the door, I realize that I will be standing in last of this day’s rays, and when I see the stump of a tree in my front lawn, I am reminded that these rays will never touch my husband again.
Grief slips in unannounced, and I battle back tears as I snap the first photo. The red tones were already deeper than I anticipated. I focus on getting the right foreground for the next set of shots.
Then it’s as if a voice whispers, ‘Remember this morning’s sunrise?’
I pause and recall the hint of pink I caught on the topside of a cloud through a break in the gray expanse.
Yes, my mind answers in response to the prompt. There was no glorious burst of color, but I did catch the wisp of pink.Right now, in my evening sky, the sun is shining above the clouds. And not everyone has gray skies tonight. Anyone in an airplane can attest to the beauty of breaking through a dark sky into the glory of the sunshine above. It’s breathtaking.
I continue to walk and snap photos, almost on autopilot, capturing the beauty of my given sphere. Tears seem to ease and then a great sob of sadness again washes over me. He was a good man who loved me. Yes, I am thankful for the gift he was. I remind myself of these truths and am grateful that one of the gifts he gave me was the camera I was holding. I grip it tighter. It somehow reminds me constantly of his love.
Another internal whisper and I am halted by the thought that although my husband will not stand in the shadow of the sunshine here on earth, he is currently enjoying the full light of heaven’s glory. Oh, the thought to never have to face any kind of shadow ever again is pure bliss.
The diversion of capturing tonight’s sunset has worked its magic. From morning to sunset sky, I am not alone. My internal Comforter walks with me reminding me of these truths. I discover that my heart is more at peace each time I let myself grieve a bit. Gratefulness and sadness have become my friends as I journey to wholeness. And the light above guides me on the path ahead.
Peace and blessings, my friend. You are not alone.
The glory of sunset. Feel free to drop me a line.
Debbie G
#sunrisetosunset #notalone #notSidelinedbyGrief #JourneytoWholeness
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Silent Years
You’ve hit a rough patch before, r
ight? You’ve run out of options. You turn your eyes to God and are surprised that His eyes are already on you. Opening His word, you ask for wisdom; and he promises to give it.What power is it that takes a written phrase and speaks to our hearts? We read this powerful scripture aloud and somehow the atmosphere hears his words. With our voice, we are aligning ourselves with HIM; with his kingdom and his power. He says, “Ask me for My answer.” So, we do.
Now we listen and await his response. Sometimes the answer is an overwhelming, in your face, open door, and other times it means waiting in silence for years as he moves things into position for the perfect answer to our request. And if that’s you. If you are in year three and are still waiting, keep in the Word! Keep washing away the impurities we’ve picked up from those around us. Stay focused on walking rightly and when that door opens, we’re going to fall down in worship, overwhelmed that the Creator of the Universe thought so much of little ol’ us to give such a wonderful gift.
El Roi translates into ‘the God who sees.’ He sees you. He desires you to know him more, and he’s never too busy to respond to a heart that’s seeking him.The deepest honor we can receive is the honor God gave to young Joseph. First, He gave him the dream. Then came years of silence as he was rejected by brothers, sold into slavery, falsely accused and thrown into prison. We don’t have access to Joseph’s thoughts or how he struggled with comprehending how his dream would ever come to pass, but in our humanness, we can imagine that he did indeed struggle.
Then our hearts soar as he is released from prison. And when we read that Joseph rose to become the second highest man in the kingdom let us not make light of the silent years. The young boy matured into adulthood and continued to walk righteously even when he was alone in a foreign land. God was aligning the world and used these hardships to move Joseph into position for Joseph’s dream to come to pass.
So, if God is trusting you in a time of waiting, be encouraged. His silence was an answer to that faithful young man, and it can be shouting that he’s working things out for you too.
Blessings,Debbie G
Suggested reading:
Washing by the water of the word. Ephesians 5:26 El Roi. Genesis 16:13 Joseph’s story. Genesis 37-41
#Provision4theVision, #SilentYears, #Favor4theRighteous
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Ordinary Beauty
As the creator of the universe, God could have presented Himself to the world in any way He wanted. We are witnesses to His originality and love for beauty in the mere panorama of the sphere we occupy. As king over heaven and earth, He could have come as regal as any; after all He is called the King of kings. Imagine the pomp and celebration that would have ensued had He suddenly appeared with His host of angels. And yet when we read about His humble beginnings in a barn, and that He had nothing to draw us to Him in the natural sense, now any man can identify with Him.
Christ chose to come in this nondescript way so that we couldn’t say, “Oh well, I’m nothing like Jesus.” Because honestly, we’re all like Him in our humanness. We’re just common beings living in a fallen world, and sometimes we’re kicked by the very people we hold close to our hearts.
We’re born with a wrinkly face that only a momma could love, oh but the heart. It’s the overflow of the heart that shows the true character of a man. And we can see by His friend’s testimonies that Jesus loved. He loved His enemies. He loved His family that tried to stop His ministry. And He loved His friends that scattered and left Him alone in His hour of need. He even reinstated them after His resurrection. And He’s still loving today.
So, draw near. Confess your frustrations to the One who knows how hard this season of life can be. To the One who endured everything that this world threw at Him. To the One who defeated death so that you and I could live.
Tis true, common people who are hard pressed are not crushed. We may be struck down, but we’re not defeated. We rise. Like Christ, we learn to love those who hurt us. We forgive as He forgave. We know that they don’t know what they are doing. We also know what we need to do. We’re learning to walk out the Great Commission. Every day introducing people to the love of Christ that radiates from within us. And perhaps, just maybe they will get a glimpse of Him in our actions, in our words, in the love in our eyes. And oh- what a glorious thought this is… perhaps they too will fall in love with the Lover of their souls.
Let it be so, Lord Jesus. Let it be so.
Blessings. ~Debbie
Isaiah 53:2 He grew up before him like a tender shoot, and like a root out of dry ground. He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.
Suggested reading: Reading: 2 Corinthians 4:8-12
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Vagabond Writer
A wanderer.
Room to room, notes on my phone, sending myself emails. My brain overflowing with impressions, parallels, searching for wisdom beyond myself. Surprised to discover new truths. Age old adages come alive in the light of this day. Heavenly whispers that mark out a new path.Highlights of light on the treetops – the birds swoop between them without care.
A squirrel slips down a trunk- all that remains is a bouncing twig as he makes an acrobatic leap to a branch on the other side of the ravine.I sit observing the changes in the defused light as the sun climbs in the sky.
Holy Spirit is opening a way for me. Constantly changing, yet always forward.
~Debbie G
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The Strength of the Pine
The thin pine swayed and bent in the violent wind gusts pushing her against cluster of fir trees behind her. She was fully exposed to all the elements now that her diseased southern neighbor had been removed months prior. She looked so weak and alone. I thought she might snap from the pressure. I watched spellbound, scarcely breathing, until she bounced back aright after each harsh blow. On one side her branches were stunted from their years in the shadow her neighbor had cast. Now, off-balance and without protection her handicap evident as she tipped.
Suddenly, I realized why I was so concerned about this tree’s ability to survive through this raging storm; we were fighting similar battles. I too had lost my front man, my covering. The death of my husband a few weeks prior, and the challenges of this past week had me leaning heavily on my spiritual family.
I found myself staring out my window, rooting for her, as she bobbed back and forth throughout the day. So grateful for the strength of those behind her preventing her from a fall. I was sure those trees were the primary reason she didn’t break. What a relief it was when the wind finally eased to see that she was still standing.
As I closed my shades for the night I thought ahead to the coming spring. Surely sunlight would help her stunted side to grow even again, giving her better balance. Like me, she needed to lean a bit now, but would soon grow strong again. Perhaps even someday becoming a sturdy buffer for those who were now supporting her.
Storms are meant to challenge us, to grow us, in new directions. This tree’s struggle brought an awareness of just how important support people are in one’s hour of need. I’m sure if the tree could speak, she’d add her thanks to her fellow fir trees for the strength of their entwined roots; and an encouragement for people everywhere to rise up and stretch out to the hurt and needy with hands of love.
A side note: I’m so glad to be back in my writing chair.
Blessings always, my friend.
Debbie
2 Corinthians 1:3-4