In his hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind. Job 12:10

As I write we are just returning home from a five-day camping trip at Devil’s Den State Park just south of Fayetteville, AR. It was a very impromptu event precipitated by reservations our daughter’s family had made months ago. We had discussed the possibility of joining them, but spring allergies and a number of competing projects pushed those plans aside until I mentioned that the kids were headed down this weekend. Ken was ready to go.  We checked the website for available sites and found an opening for Wednesday and Thursday nights but not the weekend….no big surprise there. The kids were going on Thursday so we could have a day with them and one to ourselves which is a pretty nice arrangement and, if we were lucky, maybe someone would cancel a weekend reservation.    

Our camper was thoroughly cleaned, inside and out, and felt we were ready for anything. The night before leaving, we lost car keys, well, at first we thought it was RV keys. It’s a very long story that I won’t take the time to tell, but we finally accounted for all of our keys and, as usual, I was the culprit who lost them. Because of the key debacle, we were delayed in loading all our gear and prepping food, but we finally managed to get it all done and were on the road by noon on Wednesday. We didn’t know what to expect on arrival because when I checked radar that morning the area around the park had been under a severe thunderstorm warning.

Do you know how God controls the clouds and makes his lightning flash? Do you know how the clouds hang poised, those wonders of him who has perfect knowledge? Job 37:15-16

On arrival, we discovered considerable damage and learned from the locals that the hail they experienced was softball sized. The bad news for us was more rain was forecast for that night. Fortunately, it wasn’t expected to be severe.  We checked for weekend cancellations and found there were none so we proceeded to our site to settle in and, as luck would have it, ours was the only site in the entire campground with literally no shade. Strike one! Also, the park is quite remote and off the grid. There is no cell service and WiFi is only available in two areas, neither being close to the campground. In order to drive anywhere, we have to unhook everything and re-establish all our connections on return. Choice number two…walk and the trail is pretty steep. Strike two! We learned pretty quickly that we had a leak in our water lines, so we had to switch to the holding tank and pump system, not the best scenario when you’re expecting full hook-ups. Strike three! By then, I was getting pretty discouraged.

Because of the heat and no shade at our site, we abandoned our plan to cook over the campfire and made cold sandwiches and lots of fresh fruit for dinner. I was beginning to think we should have stayed home. But, after our simple dinner, we took a walk and happened on a family playing wonderful music. They were Mom, Dad, five kids, and Grandpa who played a variety of instruments and sang together. As we stood outside their site and listened, they invited us in. Before long, others were invited to join the group. We listened to the likes of Country Roads, Take Me Home, The Goodness of God, Jolene, and many others. Sometimes we joined in the singing and sometimes we just listened. Our hosts were lovely folks, kind and generous, including anyone who was looking for a little fun and good fellowship. One of their guests turned out to be a park superintendent and we asked him to keep an eye open for a site cancellation.

The next afternoon, the other superintendent came calling with news of an available site. As a matter of fact, we could move right in, and it had the extra bonus of plentiful shade. We moved and were all set up again not long before the kids arrived. That night we indulged in bubbly Dutch oven peach cobbler and a great visit with the kids plus more music at the neighbor’s site. It rained overnight and during the morning hours on Friday, so we just hung out until the weather cleared and then did a short hike that tours the old CCC camp located in the park. If you’re not familiar, CCC, Civilian Conservation Corps, was a government program of the 1930s that provided employment for men aged 17-28 and utilized their skills to improve parks all over our nation. Remnants of their work exist today in numerous parks including here in Missouri. The men lived in barracks and worked together all week. On weekends they could go home or hang out at their assigned site. Lots of sporting activities sprung from the ranks and everyone did his share to make his buddies feel a sense of home away from home. We thank these unsung heroes who helped preserve some of our most precious natural treasures.

Saturday morning found our little troupe on the namesake trail in the park where geophysical phenomenon abounds. We marveled at the many chasms along a rough and rocky trail and the waterfalls left behind by the rains of the days before. Around every turn in the trail, a new beauty arose. Towering rock outcroppings, cave openings rendering a cool respite from the day’s heat, massive trees reaching for the sky, and others downed by storms or old age providing cover and homes for countless creatures. In a word, it was breathtaking. It felt so good to be on a trail through majestic woods once more. It had been too long.

Be on guard; stand firm in the faith; be courageous; be strong. 1 Corinthians 16:13

  In recent weeks the word faith has popped up in my daily life quite a few times. Pastor Dennis preached a whole sermon about faith and made excellent points for me to ponder. Pastor Sarah touched on faith just this past Sunday, also offering good food for thought. Many of my daily devotional readings have delved into the subject of faith and I felt that maybe I was being nudged to weigh in on the discussion. So here is my take on what I feel is the constant presence of faith.

My sweet and humorous husband has often described faith as buying green bananas at the tender age of eighty. He may have used the word optimism, but you understand the similarity. I would venture that when I see a tiny sparrow chasing a giant grackle in the backyard, that little sparrow must have lots of faith in its ability to steer the much larger bird away for its nest of babies. And those pesky squirrels bury acorns all over our yard each fall in faith that they will be there mid-winter when pickings are otherwise slim. The animal world seems to have an uncanny sense that provision will be there when they need it. Of course, science calls it instinct, but I really believe we could learn a thing or two from the other creatures God made to populate the earth.

We tend to think that faith is something we can’t see or feel or touch or taste, but I would disagree. We see it in His creation, from majestic snowcapped mountains to valleys bursting with crops. We feel it in the sunshine, wind, and rain. We touch it when we hold a newborn child. We taste it in the salt carried on a sea breeze, the sweetness of a fresh strawberry, or a thousand others of God’s amazing delicacies. Faith enfolds us as a warm quilt on a winter’s night. As I see it, faith does not come from us. God is the very essence of faith. He created us in His image and He provided for us from the very beginning of humankind. He still provides today. His faith in us continues, even when the mountain before us seems too formidable to climb, even when the valley of despair looms heavy on our hearts and, yes, even when earthly success worms its way into our very souls and whispers thoughts of sinful human desires. It is when things are going well that the faith God plants in us often has difficulty taking root and growing. It is then that we must listen well.

So faith comes from hearing, that is, hearing the Good News about Christ. Romans 10:17

Please read aloud the second portion of the opening verse; stand firm in the faith. God doesn’t infer that faith is something we possess but rather He emphasizes the faith He has in us, the faith He established. Our challenge is to grab onto it and hold on tightly, to nurture it and grow it until we and He are one.

How do we do that you ask? We do it by immersing ourselves in His word, by conversing with Him companionably throughout our day, by treating those around us as we would wish to be treated, by overcoming our fear of trying something new or reaching across an imaginary line we’ve never crossed before, maybe to a place outside of our comfort zone. God has faith that we can complete the tasks He sets before us. Why shouldn’t we trust Him?

So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live in Him, rooted and built up in Him, strengthened in the faith. Colossians 2:6-7a

And there it is again, that phrase, “the faith”. It surrounds us always, it is a gift of immeasurable proportion, one that can only come from God and one that is showered upon His children. So I end with the same phrase as my title, Faith just is….and it always was, because God always was and God is faithful! Are you ready to open the gift and accept the challenge, to start building on that faith with which he surrounds you?

For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing,  it is the gift of God. Ephesians 2:8

In so many ways we are separated from each other by walls we have built….

A couple of weeks ago, we embarked on the task of creating a border around our primary landscape bed that outlines the north and east walls of our home. Our location on a corner lot creates high visibility from three directions as the south wall is also in the direct line of sight. That side is our backyard and is not a part of the current project even though some changes may be coming in the fall.

This new border had been debated for the full seven years we’ve lived in the house. I love borders and had them on all sides of our previous home. It, too, was a corner lot with even greater visibility. Ken was not so fond of them because the engineered stones have a rough surface that eats trimmer line very quickly. But after throwing new mulch all over the yard with the trimmer this season, he decided they might not be so bad after all.

Three runs to Lowe’s later for purchasing stones (we had to haul them in our car and be mindful of the weight) and after Ken delivered the stones from the car hatch to the landscape bed, I set about placing and leveling. It took the better part of a week, we’re not kids anymore, but the bed looks lovely. I finally feel it has a finished quality. But the squirrels have other ideas. Any ground that was disturbed and received added dirt, and any of the pots that are scattered throughout the bed are all fair game. Each morning brings new surprises and challenges.

Now obviously, I didn’t expect a four-inch wall to keep those little critters out of our beds. Of course, an eight-foot wall wouldn’t do the trick either. They’d just scale it, do their damage, and exit the same way they entered. Only with a cover over all of it could keep the squirrels at bay. But then no one could see the plants to enjoy them.   

….walls of misunderstanding and fear, walls of hatred and injustice…

It occurs to me that walls are often very useful. Walls and a good roof keep us dry when it rains, warm when the snow flies, and provide a safe place to sleep and a gathering space for family and friends. But sometimes we build imaginary walls around ourselves that signal others to just leave us alone, even when we really need the benefit of companionship. And all too often we build invisible walls around our churches, thinking we should maintain the status quo. It wasn’t all that long ago that church was held in family homes, especially in rural areas where folks had to travel long distances to reach a real church building. It was much easier to just gather a few families in each other’s homes. I’m sure the experience was much more personal as well.

Jesus’ ministry was nearly always conducted outdoors. He taught from mountaintops and beside the sea, even from the bow of a boat. There were no walls and everyone was welcome.

This week, a vote at the Annual Conference of the UMC will likely change the path Aldersgate is traveling. Many things will remain the same, but some will be a little different. I would suggest that we take care not to surround ourselves with walls or boundaries, but instead, fling open our doors, go outside the church building, and go about the mission we accepted at our baptism—making disciples of Christ in this world. The church is not a building. It consists of people who have a heart for helping others. Let’s tear down those walls, make new friends, and use our specific gifts and skills in ways that invite participation in the family of God. Always remember, you may be the only Jesus that some folks will ever see. Make sure they know He loves them too.

…Jesus Christ died to demolish the walls that separate us from one another…

The ball is in our court. We need to carefully consider whose we are.

As for me and my squirrel friends, we’ll continue to build and tear down, build and tear down….that’s what squirrels and humans do. And we’ll hope to do it companionably.

(Quotes are from depree.org, Breaking Down the Walls of Separation, Mark D. Roberts.)

The heart is hopelessly dark and deceitful, a puzzle that no one can figure out. But I, God, search the heart and examine the mind. I get to the heart of the human…Jeremiah 17: 9-10a   

The arrival of spring ushered in another new season, the season of garage sales, and that seriously infected Ken with the itch to shop. His recent forays around town and return visits to some of his favorite flea markets have netted him a substantial stash of new (old) tools and the garage workbench is covered in rusty, nasty parts of every size and shape. They are in varying stages of repair and disrepair, many

wrapped in vinegar towels to dissolve years of rusty neglect. He’s constantly applying penetrating oil to soften the rust on a bolt or screw and then toiling over his vise to loosen and remove it from the body of whatever tool he’s working on. Or, with painstaking care, he’s brushing a piece of brass or steel with a soft rotating wire brush to remove the traces of rust still clinging to them after the vinegar bath. I can attest to his persistence because I find tiny wire bristles all over the garage and house, often with my bare feet.

Besides the metal parts that must be cleaned and brushed, there are also wooden pieces that require the removal of grime and finishescarelessly applied throughout the tool’s life. This must be done only to a level that will maintain the integrity and patina of the piece. He has an uncanny knack for knowing when to quit, even when I don’t agree with his decision. Hours of sanding precede the application of a final finish, usually tung oil, but sometimes other finishes are preferred.

I am constantly amazed that some of the pieces I would view as absolute junk are exactly what Ken is searching for. He looks beyond their obvious flaws and sees a thing of beauty and I’ve learned not to question his judgment. Well, not too much anyway. Some of them seem outrageously impossible even for him to redeem. The thing is, he knows he can get to the heart of the piece and find something worth saving. Our throw-away society doesn’t have the patience or the will to repair. Everyone seems intent on always having the newest, shiniest thing on the market, in the commercial, or on the internet. But there is much to be said for restoration.

Think where we’d be if God passed by the trash heap where someone has just tossed us, and He did nothing. And trust me, we do get thrown on the trash heap in countless ways. The boss hands us the proverbial pink slip or maybe he fires us through an email. A spouse decides a newer model might be nice. A friend abandons us in a time of need. The kids seem to forget they have a thing called parents. Someone does a little trash-talking that damages our reputation and that can be done anonymously on social media. Sometimes we do things that render us deserving of being thrown on that trash heap and sometimes we just get in the path when somebody starts slinging mud. However it happens, it hurts.

But you know what, God doesn’t leave us on that trash heap because he sees each of us as valuable, he knows there’s a bright and shiny heart somewhere buried beneath all the grime of anger, hatefulness, self-pity, and pain. He can make us just like new again and, just like Ken’s tools, the restored model is often much improved.

Not everyone has a heart for restoring old things, but we can certainly be more resourceful in maintaining what we have. And that applies to our hearts as well. When we try our best to live God’s will, He won’t need to rescue us from the trash heap quite so often and when we show His love to those around us, they may make fewer trips to the heap as well and than our world could be a lot brighter just like those shiny old tools that grace our home.

Create in me a clean heart, O God. Renew a loyal spirit within me. Psalm 51:10

Your word is a lamp to guide my feet and a light for my path. Psalm 119:105 NLT   

Last Thursday began as an ordinary day at our house. Ken was washing and waxing the car in recognition of spring. I was tending my perennials as usual and trying to wrap up the digitization of our old photos. I’d been in the yard most of the morning and came in to the sound of Ken’s ringtone but I didn’t make it in time, nor did I recognize the number on the recent call so I ignored it. A couple of minutes later, my phone rang and it was the same caller so I figured it must be someone who knows us and answered. I was surprised and thrilled to hear the voice of a dear friend at the other end of the connection, one we hadn’t seen for a good while. The couple was visiting Branson and enjoying their RV but decided to make a side trip up to our house if we were available. And, of course, we were. They planned to arrive about one thirty to two.

I was a muddy mess, looking like I just stepped out of a pig pen and Ken was wrapping up the car wax. We had just enough time to clean up and make ourselves presentable. Ken was faster but I finished a few minutes before one thirty so we got comfy and waited. One forty-five passed, then two o’clock and two fifteen. No company arrived at our door. I had jumped on the laptop to check camping availability at one of our favorite parks and discovered an open site so we quickly decided to go for it. In the midst of that, my phone rang and a very frustrated voice on the other end said, “We’re lost!”

They began to throw out road names that were unfamiliar and I was in the middle of a reservation so I tossed the phone to Ken. He had no idea where they were either when all of a sudden one of them shouted the name Hurley and we both knew exactly where they were. He gave them directions and they arrived at our door at the exact time their navigation system had predicted.

And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, This is the way; walk in it, when you turn to the right hand and when you turn to the left. Isaiah 30:21

They didn’t opt for the easiest or best route, 160 north to 14 west, they took the route that was described as “shortest,” apparently one that took them down one-lane roads, over low water crossings which would have been impassable a couple of days earlier, all in the proverbial “middle of nowhere”. They said the road resembled a goat path most of the way. The miracle of this adventure, and I would have to label it a small miracle, was that they had a phone signal when they decided to reach out to us. I believe someone pretty amazing had their backs that day.

This little misadventure leads me to the conclusion that life is filled with detours, large and small, and all too often the path which seems easier may start us down a very slippery slope. Their goat path may have been the shortest route but the shortest is not always the fastest and certainly not always the best. The upside here is that we had a wonderful visit with dear friends, enjoyed a nice dinner together and they pulled out of the restaurant parking lot in Nixa with time to make it back to their RV before dark if they ignored that little voice in the dash and drove straight down 160 and made a left on 76, which they did.

GPS is a beneficial tool and I don’t leave home without it. But that little voice in the car’s system or your phone can become very obnoxious when it decides it knows more than we believe we do. Likewise, that little voice in our heads often tries to tell us that the road it leads us down is a lot more fun, and when it does, we often have a little itch to travel that road for a while. But who do you turn to when you hit a roadblock or find yourself in a sticky mess? It’s often said that more prayers are uttered when humans find themselves in trouble than at any other time. Maybe the better choice, the next time we find ourselves considering giving in to temptation, would be to thoroughly scrutinize our options before choosing a path. God’s way is certainly not always the easiest or shortest, but it is always the best because He sees the whole picture.

You make known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand. Psalm 16:11

Anyone who listens to my teaching and follows it is wise, like a person who builds a house on solid rock. Though the rain comes in torrents and the floodwaters rise and the winds beat against that house, it won’t collapse because it is built on bedrock. But anyone who hears my teaching and doesn’t obey it is foolish, like a person who builds a house on sand. When the rains and floods come and the winds beat against that house, it will collapse with a mighty crash. Matthew 7:24-27 CEB   

Considering the amount of rapidly falling rain we’ve been receiving and the nature of our southwest Missouri topography, it seems an appropriate time to dig a little deeper, if you will, into the phenomenon of the dreaded “sinkhole”. You’ve all heard of them and when we shop for a home in this region, it’s a very good idea to make oneself aware of any sinkholes in our area of choice.

To understand the sinkhole, let’s look to the makeup of our topography, which is known as “Karst,” from the original Kras region on the border between Slovenia and Italy, one of only a few regions in the world, along with our midwestern US, where this phenomenon is found. Its history is very old and exists where uplifts have occurred in the earth’s surface and where there are large deposits of porous limestone or dolomite. As slightly acidic ground water travels around rocks it dissolves the soft stone away and creates a natural drainage system. As the cracks widen, they become small caves with what are referred to as “losing streams” flowing through them. If you happen to be hiking alongside a stream in the Ozarks and it suddenly seems to end, it is likely just disappearing underground into an interconnected system of caves and may eventually emerge again as a spring.

These underground pockets of water can be useful when harnessed by a pump to provide clean water for human consumption. Still, they can also be treacherous if the layers of soil above them become weakened and collapse, and thus the “sinkhole” is formed. Sinkholes may appear anywhere in the Karst regions or our world, in an open field, or near the foundation of a home.

Missouri isn’t known as the “cave state” for no reason. According to the Missouri Department of Conservation, there are some 7,000 caves in our state and, you guessed it, most are south of I-70 and west of the Bootheel. We are unique here in the Ozarks and are known for the beauty of our caves, streams, and springs. Sinkholes are an inevitable part of that system as well.

All this talk of collapsing earth and sinkholes reminds me of the song we sang when I was a child in Sunday School, the one about the foolish man building his house on the sand. The rains came and the winds howled, and that house came tumbling down. On the other hand, the wise man built his house upon the rock and the floods and wind could not destroy his house. Whether we refer to literal houses or spiritual ones, we must survey the terrain we inhabit to be sure it is attached to a firm foundation.

Many areas of our country have “reclaimed” land from the sea by dredging and building upward. But one thing I’ve learned about water in all the places I have lived is that it will have its own way. Whether you live near the ocean where waves rearrange the sand at your doorstep or inland, where water rushes silently underground creating fissures, then caves that can collapse, we’re all vulnerable to its power. Enough water, the right amount of time, directed toward a specific target can decimate anything man can build. But, in God’s hands, a single word can silence a torrent.

So….where did you say you want to build your house?

Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Psalm 51:10   

If you’ve read any of my writings, you’ll likely be aware that spring is my favorite time of year. Yes, even though my allergies are raging just as the wind often does and the temperature rides a roller coaster and thunderstorms often loom overhead, I love the season of new beginnings. My gardening skills jump into high gear, landscape beds get rearranged and new annuals find their way to flank my doorway.

But planting is not the only desire that awakens in springtime. You guessed it! The spring-cleaning bug hits the neighborhood. Mowers are running, weed eaters trimming, chain saws are removing dead limbs and when the yard looks just the way we’ve envisioned all winter, we turn our labors to the house itself. Windows must be squeaky clean to enjoy the beautiful outdoors. Closets are cleaned and clothing you haven’t worn in years is bagged for donation, attics, and basements are rearranged, those unwanted items are set aside, and then comes the biggest task of all…the garage. How do we accumulate so much stuff in the span of a year?

Not all who wander are lost…some are just looking for Garage Sales!

But…and here’s the good part! Garage sales pop up everywhere. This past weekend our town had its city-wide sale and Ken delighted in scouting out likely locations for finding rusty tools. He’s like a bloodhound on a scent. The man has a keen sense of radar regarding tools that just cry out for his experienced touch. And he doesn’t come home empty-handed. I often wonder if he remembers that we are trying to downsize and de-clutter. 

I’m sure that Ken is not the only one who enjoys a good garage sale, so now is the time to attack all those bastions of clutter in your own home and haul those unwanted items over to Aldersgate for the annual church garage sale. Your pre-priced donations will be accepted beginning Monday, May 8 in preparation for the sale on May 13. See the app or website for details regarding hours and any other necessary information. The youth will host the sale and proceeds benefit mission trips, camps, and other youth activities. It’s a great opportunity for everyone to dispose of items no longer needed and pick up a few “new” treasures to fill those empty spaces in your sparkling clean house. That’s my commercial for the day, now back to the business at hand.

As I speak of cleaning out clutter, I’m reminded that anytime is a good time to take stock of the clutter in our lives. Let’s yank out those bad habits that creep in and try to take root. Cast them on the garbage heap where they can do no harm. And then let’s cultivate the good traits we find and become more in touch with the people we were meant to be. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could exit the spring-cleaning process with not only a clean home and yard but also with a clean heart, renewed purpose, and a resolve to care more for each other?

Let me close with a big thank you to all of you who have expressed support for these weekly messages, whether online or in person. Your kind words are much appreciated. I trust God to fill my mind and heart with encouraging words each week and He never disappoints me. Sometimes He makes me really search for them, but I’ve always said, I believe His messages are meant as much for me as for anyone else, so I guess it’s only fair that I have to work for them. We all have a lot to learn. So, dive in with me, and let’s all get closer to where we are meant to be. Let’s get serious about this thing called Spring Cleaning!

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith,

let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up.

And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us. Hebrews 12:1

The Lord is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth. Psalm 145:18

A few months ago, a neighbor of ours asked Ken if he would mind taking a look at her antique telephone. She bought it because of her love of anything old but still able to serve a purpose, even if that purpose is only decorative. But soon after she acquired the phone, she found it a useful tool for keeping her young great niece and nephew from misbehaving around Christmas time. If they started to cross the line, she hopped on the old phone to call Santa and let him know of their behavior. And, of course, only an old phone of that vintage could reach the jolly old elf. It worked! Though the ruse quickly brought said niece and nephew to order, our neighbor found that the crank on the phone didn’t turn, a fact that conveniently escaped the kids.   

Well, as you would expect, Ken happily took on the challenge. He was like a kid with a new toy, something a little different from the tools he typically refurbishes. Our neighbor had said she would be happy if the crank would turn properly and maybe she would polish the bell a bit later, but Ken couldn’t stop there. He had to see this old phone looking spiffy again. I was a tad concerned that his eagerness to achieve the look he desired might be more than she wanted from this repair. She really appreciates the patina acquired with age and Ken was giving it more of a bright, shiny new look.

That being said, he spent hours repairing cracks, removing old paint, cleaning and oiling the inside components, and finally adding tung oil to preserve the lovely old wood. Oh, yes, he polished that brass bell until it sparkled. Then he decided it would be fun to create a “big reveal” just like on TV. Here’s where I got more worried. If our neighbor didn’t like what he had done, she would feel a little trapped. But I had no reason to fear. She loved it! Of course, the phone didn’t actually work, but the crank turned freely and the old parts were refreshed to last another hundred years, as a wall ornament and direct line to Santa.

Phones have come a long way since the days when that old relic provided communication in someone’s home. Even I can recall rotary dial phones, my mom still had one at the time of her death in 1989. I figured Southwestern Bell would probably find a spot in their museum for that big black clunker of a phone. And then phones went back on the wall when our kids were in high school and were supplied with very long cords so they could stretch their line of communication all the way to their rooms.

I can’t begin to tell you how excited I was when we got our first cordless phone. Imagine being able to talk for an hour and place the handset back on the charging station and in a short while, it was back up to maximum capacity and I wasn’t tripping over cords running from room to room or untangling said cords after the kids used them. I thought they must have been doing gymnastics amid their conversations for that cord to get so twisted.

And then I remember my first cell phone. I felt such freedom being able to call from anywhere, well, anywhere I could get a decent signal. Remember that old commercial, “Can you hear me now?” Ken was reluctant to climb on board the cell phone train, but when we moved back from Florida in 2008, I reminded him how difficult it had been to keep in touch between our two vehicles by walkie-talkie while on the road moving down. Then I went out and bought him the cheapest phone I could find. I just needed to have the assurance I could reach him if I needed help.

When one door closes another door opens, but we so often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door, that we do not see the ones which open for us. Alexander Graham Bell

All of this brings me to the point of this little missive. There are lots of instances in everyday life when we need the assurance that help is just a phone call away. We can call a spouse, call a friend or call 911, but whom should we call first? God doesn’t depend on electromagnetic fields for a signal, He is never too busy to take your call and He’s never unavailable. There is no voicemail on God’s personal and direct line with you. You can count on Him any day, anytime, anywhere. You won’t have to turn a crank like our neighbor, dial a number or even consult your contacts. Just give Him your heart and open the line of communication with Him. His signal is always a strong one hundred percent. He’ll answer on the first ring…I promise. You may have to work together for a while on whatever issues you’re facing, but He won’t leave you…I promise that too!

Look! I stand at the door and knock. If you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in…..Revelation 3:20