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Have you ever felt like a catastrophe is happening and there is nothing you can do about it but watch? You view the events in disbelief and hope it is just a dream?

Early mornings find me taking Kenai, a young labrador retriever, out for a run. Our rental, 1891, is located on a large lot with trees in the back. Deer frequent the area, but so does one rodent- Skunkie.

“No, Kenai! Come back here!” I yelled out as she ran toward the black animal. Even though I could barely see the stink bomb, I knew and dreaded the effect.

Not thinking, I brought her back into the home. The strong smell permeated everything.

Corey woke up and immediately asked,” What IS that smell?”

I went to work, bathing Kenai, but the smell continued to fill the rental.

I left for school, not thinking how my clothing would also experience the effect of Skunkie’s perfume. As I walked into the building, another teacher asked, “Smells like a skunk out here!” A different teacher told me to hang my coat on my van, but it was too late. The classroom smelled like it, prompting several students to plug their noses.

The teachers, after learning of the catastrophe, howled in laughter. It really was a funny moment. The assistant principal remarked, ” I wondered what that smell was in the classroom and thought it must have been a skunk.”

Corey went to school where a teacher asked, “Who smells like a skunk today?”The remark caused Corey to leave the classroom, asking to head home. Office staff, suspicious of his motives, would not allow him to leave unless a parent approved. Mitch, miles away in Indiana, informed them it was okay. He left and worked on getting rid of the smell on Kenai and the rental.

Thankfully, many others have experienced skunk/ dog interactions and shared the best remedies. The school janitor provided step by step instructions for bathing Kenai as well as the ways to get rid of the smell inside. Surprisingly, coffee grounds placed on plates around the house was the best way.

The week continued with another challenging situation– the furnace stopped working. As we sat in the frigid temperatures, I reflected on the week: a skunk encounter, a furnace not working, and Mitch’s travels to India. I think that is enough! As the journey continues, who knows what other adventures will occur?

I had to blink to make sure, but it was there, long and annoying. It seemed to taunt me. I closed my eyes one more time, but it didn’t matter. The windshield crack didn’t disappear, as much as I hoped it would.

It was only a mere two months ago when I finally replaced the last windshield crack. A sigh exited my mouth. Now I would be dealing with it again!

While driving to Waterford and Royal Park this past Saturday afternoon, the blizzard-like conditions reminded me of vision as well. Sometimes, it is difficult to see the path that lies ahead. Cracks appear. I continue, but it seems vague and challenging. As I gripped the wheel, hoping I would not end in the ditch like other vehicles, I thought about the year and how the year in Michigan seemed unclear at many moments. Searching for housing in East Lansing, searching for a school for Corey, and figuring out my employment left us feeling frustrated.

But then, as the weather changed on Sunday to beautiful sunshine, I thought of how so many of our decisions became crystal clear. Corey’s education, our housing, and my eventual employment as a substitute teacher only included some of the ways God revealed Himself to us. It now is our story to share. As we contemplate next year, it will become clear, too. All praise to Him!

The word grit evokes images of someone climbing a high mountain, running a lengthy race, or enduring cancer treatments. I think of someone heading to the gym on a daily basis despite the weather, a Michigan driver dealing with the constant messiness of snow without complaining, and an author persisting in finishing a book that may never get published.

As the winter months continue, I can see the presence and absence of it. I catch myself complaining when the students still don’t complete tasks properly. I hear people groan when the weather report includes a wintry mix. I see people running in the snow. How do they do it? I listen to my college aged children describe their study schedule, the exams, and the need to balance all of it. I see the teachers who persist in helping students read, an essential life task. Amidst it all, I observe the nurses at Waterford and Royal Park providing care to residents who complain, resist any kind of care, and sometimes even try to use physical force against them.

When I entered my father’s room yesterday, he was sleeping ( again) on his recliner. He woke up quickly and answered my daily greeting with the same response , ” Fine, but there’s not much going on here.” When I asked him if he had written in his journal, his response was the same. ” Not yet”. Fighting my irritation, I inwardly sighed. When will he take his own initiative? Why can’t he see that he needs to stay active?

My next reaction, a teacher impulse, was to provide assignments. I printed off seven math sheets, telling him that he can do one per day. Surprisingly, he started immediately. I showed him the binder I purchased for his writing and the horse drawing book. The drawing book peaked his interest and he agreed to try drawing horses. We agreed that he needed some additional materials to complete his artistic skills. We also agreed that he needed a daily schedule posted on his wall, similar to a classroom where the teacher lists the subjects of the day. It’s amazing how many parts of the elementary classroom help my father! I left and headed to Staples where I located the sketching paper, pencils, the white polymer eraser, a compass, and pencil bag. I also decided to purchase poster board to write his daily tasks to be completed.

As I drove back on M-6, with road conditions rather hazardous at times, the word grit came to mind. Caregiving takes grit and determination when you really don’t feel like doing it. At times, I don’t feel like providing more activities for my father when it doesn’t seem like he shows grit. I don’t feel like shopping for items that may end up in the garbage bin at some point. I don’t feel like braving the road conditions and experiencing lake effect snow. But my feelings are irrelevant. He needs us. Period.

The words of Esther 4:14 on my board at home remind me as the journey continues.

As we continue this journey in Michigan, I am constantly in awe of the daily reminders of God’s faithfulness I encounter whether with family or while at school. For example, this past week, a teacher reminded me of Esther 4:14, “Perhaps this is the moment for which you have been created.” Completing a long-term sub assignment is filled with challenges and her comment reminded me of God’s faithfulness. I also am reminded of it at Wednesday devotions. Sometimes, the teachers write their own devotions. I will include the second grade teacher’s devotional, another reminder, in the next post.

While singing “Great is Thy Faithfulness” at my uncle’s funeral, I found myself filled with emotion, as I reflected upon this journey. Three funerals– my mother’s, my sister’s father, and now my uncle– will always be a memory of our year in Michigan. Despite the difficulty of saying goodbye, their spiritual legacies will linger. At my mother’s funeral, her constant reminder, “Just pray about it, ” will help us during the darkest moments. At Phil’s funeral ( my sister’s father), I repeatedly heard people say how he always helped others. Yesterday, those attending my uncle’s funeral listened to the pastor describe my uncle as a life architect, someone who held the position of an architect in a company but also built a life of loving the Lord and his family.

As the journey continues, I marvel at His faithfulness as the journey continues. But why do I? He is the King of the world, the architect of all our days.

• 

I’ve been thinking a lot about what I wanted to share with you this morning. It’s been on my mind for a few weeks, not just because, as we all know, this privilege comes with a fair amount of fear and trepidation, but because I’ve been learning so much lately in my own walk that I was having a hard time deciding on a main idea.

What I’ve been thinking about the most is one of the powerful encounters with the Holy Spirit I had just a few weeks ago, when Nate and I were at the marriage retreat. I have shared with many of you how the Lord orchestrated our attendance at the retreat in the first place, and I knew He was going to show up while we were there. On Saturday morning I got up early to go for a run. I didn’t really know where we were, but I knew Lake Michigan was close, and I do love Lake Michigan and didn’t want to miss an opportunity to see it. I pulled out my phone to see in which direction I should run to find the shore and realized it was only a quarter mile or so away. I started down the road, and as I got closer the sound of the water became louder and louder, and by the time I reached the beach it was deafening. It was so dark that I couldn’t see out into the lake, only the huge whitecaps that were crashing into the rocks on the shore. I tell you the truth, it took my breath away and terrified me, at the same time that it drew me in. After only a few moments I sprinted back toward the conference center, where I felt safer. For the rest of my run, in fact the rest of the weekend, I could hear the waves crashing in the distance. I hadn’t recognized the sound when I started out that morning, but it was undeniable after I had stood on the beach and experienced the roar. It could be heard from quite a distance away. 

The experience quickly formed a spiritual metaphor in my mind, which I know was a gift from the Holy Spirit. The vastness, the might, the roar, the power of Lake Michigan was a powerful representation of the vastness, might, holiness, and power of our Almighty God. My proximity to the waves made my breath catch in my throat; it terrified me to be so near, and I knew it would swallow me if I got too close. The picture of our God who is so holy we can’t even glimpse him or we’d die but whose love for us is so great it can overwhelm and consume us, even as we resist, was so powerful for me that morning. As I continued my run, I crossed a bridge over the channel leading from Lake Mona, frozen in the depths of winter, to Lake Michigan. The water melted and started to flow faster as it neared the churning waters of the big lake. This was another powerful metaphor for God’s irresistible love and power, that can melt a heart frozen against him into himself. None of us can resist Him when he has called us. And just as the sound of the water was not recognized by my ears before I encountered the roar up close, but was ever-present and audible thereafter even at a distance, the presence of God is always around me, whether or not I am aware. Once I tune my heart to hear his voice, I can hear it more and more.

That morning I was overwhelmed by the power of our God to do immeasurably more than we can ask or imagine. He is teaching me that His power is made perfect in my weakness. He is teaching me to be still and let his holiness, love, and blessing wash over me like a mighty wave. He is teaching me that He is our ever present help. He is showing me that He is with us.

Psalm 46 has been my favorite psalm since sixth grade. I’d like to share it with you this morning because many of the things that I’ve been learning echo in this psalm, and I hope it resonates with some of what I shared with you, even if the metaphors are a bit mixed. I trust that the Lord can speak to us even through my poetic failings.

God is our refuge and strength, 

an ever present help in trouble.

Therefore we will not fear, 

though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea

though its waters roar and foam 

and the mountains quake with their surging.

There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,

the Holy Place where The Most High dwells.

God is within her, she will not fall. 

God will help her at break of day.

Nations are in uproar, 

kingdoms fall. 

He lifts His voice, the earth melts. 

The Lord Almighty is with us, 

the God of Jacob is our fortress.

Come and see the works of the Lord,

the desolation he has brought on the earth.

He makes wars cease to the end of the earth

He breaks the bow, and shatters the spear, 

he burns the shields with fire.

He says, Be still and know that I am God.

I will be exalted among the nations,

I will be exalted in the earth.

The Lord Almighty is with us,

The God of Jacob is our fortress.

Our school theme verse for this year exhorts us, “Let the redeemed of the Lord tell their story!” He has indeed given us a great story to tell, with little scenes throughout where we each experience His power, His goodness, His love. Thank you for hearing one of mine this morning. I’d love to hear one of yours, too. Let’s pray. 

Heavenly Father, you are so good to us. You reveal yourself to us in new ways all the time by the power of the Holy Spirit. Thank you for your great love for us. God I want to thank you for each of these friends gathered this morning and pray that you would bless them in their work today with your kids. We know lots of kids are dealing with sickness right now, and we pray for healing for them and protection for those who are healthy. We lift up our staff members who are expecting new babies soon and pray for healthy moms and babies. We ask for comfort for Lieschen’s family as they mourn the loss of her grandpa. Give your comfort to the Seif family as well as they walk these final days with Joyce. Father we ask for healing for Amy Rottman as she deals with many health issues. Be with us in this day and bless the work of our hands. In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen. 

As I continue subbing, I hear one common phrase uttered in most schools: My birthday is coming up. Reacting with excitement is absolutely necessary. It’s a little more difficult to react the same way when a student announces several times throughout the day that her half birthday is very close, but… in their world, it is important.

In stark contrast is the announcement at Royal Park about the birthday celebration. When I meet a resident and find out it’s his birthday, I congratulate them, but their reaction is markedly different. Sometimes a smile, maybe a chuckle, but that is about it.

This past week, I visited my aunt and cousin at Trillium Woods, a hospice facility, where my uncle spent his last days on earth. They exhibited peace, despite the fact that my uncle stopped eating on Tuesday. Our conversation, mostly centered on his unwavering faith in our Lord and Savior, reminded me once again of God’s faithfulness. Despite my tears as I remembered my mother’s passing, I felt this unbelievable sense of joy in knowing that both of our parents passed a rich spiritual legacy to their families.

We ended our conversation, agreeing that our perspective on his passing would be entirely different if faith was absent. It’s a perspective that repeats as this journey continues.

Word came this morning of my uncle’s passing. Attending another funeral could fill me with dread, but clinging to the eternal hope reminds me once again of God’s faithfulness.

I had been waiting for the phone call or text, anticipating the event minus joy. I knew it would come, but I didn’t know when it would actually occur. Perhaps that is one way God helps us through uncertainties. He prepares us long before it actually occurs.

No, it wasn’t Royal Park calling about my father, although that is definitely something I know will happen at one point. It was not the airlines, thankfully, informing me of a plane crash involving Mitch who is currently in Puerto Rico. It was Corey, our newest driver.

“What’s wrong? I texted as soon as I saw he phoned at 8 o’clock. Hoping it was a simple matter with the dog, I waited for his reply. “Fender- bender, but got Dad,” it read. Thankful that Mitch can answer the phone while working in the Puerto Rican fields, I asked how I could help. Thankfully, it was a minor fender- bender and Corey only received a warning. A ticket would mean he would be without a car for some time.

I was amazed at the peace I felt over this situation. Normally, my heart would be racing, I would want to scream, and then eventually calm down. Besides feeling a sense of peace, God reminded me of His care when the first graders enthusiastically sang Psalm 18: 1-3. “The Lord is my fortress and my deliverer. He is my rock in whom I take refuge“.

Having teenage drivers is one of the hardest parts of parenting. Trusting that God will watch over them as they exit the driveway and face unknown driving scenarios challenges me every day! In addition, Corey shovels snow at various times of the night. What was I thinking in allowing him to work there?

My Bible cover reminds me again– Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways submit to Him and HE will make your paths straight– Proverbs 3: 5-6. It’s a reminder I need repeatedly as the journey continues.

• 

• 

Entering Waterford, I saw Peggy, someone I had not seen since my mom’s passing. It was a joyful reunion as we reconnected and I updated her on my father. “New people moved in their room,” she told me. My eyes scanned the patient list on the wall, and I found their names. “Their situation is just like your parents,” she informed me. Since I am a volunteer at Waterford, it is permissible to share this information.

I entered the SAIDO area to begin therapy. Saturday volunteers need to check the white board for make-up sessions. The director asked me to complete a 1-2 which means two people work at different paces while I observe and take notes. Another surprise awaited. One patient is the sister to my deceased kindergarten teacher and aunt to the fourth grade teacher at a school where I sub! It was another example of Dutch Bingo as the people here term it.

After completion of the session, I found myself walking down the hall where my parents lived- Room 105. New names replaced the blank spot. A welcome sign hung near the door. Without hesitation, I knocked on the door. After a second attempt, I heard a faint, “Come in”. Opening the door, I walked to the adjoining room where four people sat, looking at me with curiosity. They included the husband and wife and other family members. I quickly explained my volunteer status and how my parents lived in these same rooms in August. The husband asked me some questions about the placement of beds. Swallowing the rising emotion, I answered easily and described the two twin beds. ” My father wanted to be near my mother,” I explained. Somehow, the description of God’s faithfulness rolled off my tongue. “He orchestrated everything that happened in this room,” I told the husband. He nodded his head, slowly. Remembering that I needed to see other patients, I ended by saying I might see them on other Saturdays.

I have no idea how I entered the room or left without completely breaking down. As I walked past the piano, the same one I played for my mother back in August, the emotions came bubbling over. Thankfully, I was able to escape to the SAIDO room, telling myself that it was okay. My mother is in a better spot. She could not have continued her life in the frail state. She needed to leave her starved body and enter into eternal rest. Somehow, I managed to keep it together and complete another session.

I left Waterford to visit my father at Royal Park. Upon entering his room, I greeted him. “What have you been doing?” I inquired. His usual response,”Nothing much”, generated a response from within me. “Come on, Dad!” I encouraged. “Let’s get out of your room”. The policy of Waterford, getting patients out of their rooms as much as possible, reminded me that he needed to get out of that recliner. “You need to use your walker today”, I told him. With much reluctance and some grumbling, he managed to rise from his recliner and grab his walker. We slowly ambled to a seating area to observe the fish, swimming in the colorful tank. “I’m so tired, ” he kept saying. ” I just want to sleep,”. Ignoring him, I pointed out the fish. “How many are in there?” I persisted. He muttered a reply.

Just as I was contemplating motivational ideas, Ray, another resident, joined us. He described a concert he recently attended. The conversation revolved around the joy of music and blessing of a piano. “But there isn’t a piano here, Ray!” I responded. ” We need to do something about this!” Let’s tell, Jeff, the director, ” I replied. “Dad, that’s your job this week!” I enthusiastically encouraged. Ray chuckled and remarked that I knew how to give a challenge. A nurse passed by us, smiling. “Hey!” I called to her. “What do you think about asking for a piano?” She agreed and wrote it in her notes. We ended our visit, agreeing that a piano would help the residents.

Another memory hit hard as I exited Royal Park. An ambulance, parked outside the door, indicated that someone in Royal Park probably fell and needed medical care. Memories of July 22, the date of Mom’s fall, flooded my mind.

Driving back on M-6, I mused on the afternoon events. I never quite know what will happen at Waterford or Royal Park. The memories of my mother, the frailty of my father, and other residents’ conversations continually point back to God and his abundant goodness. He orchestrates. He conducts. He prompts. After all, He IS the King of the World.