Page 17 • christianvoicemonthly.com • August 2017
Grace Notes By Debora Coty I was six years old, living in Starke, a town so small we had to drive to Gainesville to shop. On this particular preChristmas Saturday, my parents had packed my older sister and me into our station wagon for a much anticipated foray to J.M. Fields. The sun was setting as we entered the enormous department store, and Christmas shoppers packed every square inch. Mama grabbed a cart and off we went. At first, I had no trouble staying right behind Mama’s tweed car coat as I’d been warned repeatedly to do, but when we ventured near the toy department, I crashed and burned. The next time I looked up, Mama’s coat had been replaced by the jackets of dozens of strangers, swarming the aisle like bees. In my six-year-old mind, I realized it would be impossible to find my family in all this hullabaloo; my best bet was to go back to the beginning. So I made my way through the throngs back to the front of the store, followed a rotund man out the big glass doors and into the vast parking lot, where I located our car, climbed up on the hood, and sat there alone in the gathering darkness. They can’t leave without me, I reasoned. I was not frightened. I didn’t feel lost. I knew where I was: safe on my own car. It was simply a matter of time until my family finished their shopping and returned for the ride home. Of course, unbeknownst to me, my poor hysterical parents were
Found
combing the store, the loudspeaker blaring for little lost Debbie to come to the service desk. At last, a little gray-haired grandmother, hearing the loudspeaker announcement, remembered the little girl she’d seen in the parking lot and reported my whereabouts. Was I ever surprised when an entire posse of panicked people suddenly burst through the doors, running through the parking lot in my direction; my parents leading the pack. Sort of how Jesus must’ve felt when his vastly relieved mother gently rebuked him at the temple after he’d finally been found, “Son, why have you treated us like this? Your father and I have been anxiously searching for you” (Luke 2:48-49). The calm reply of a confidant child who knew where his true home was: “Why were you searching for me?” … “Didn’t you know I had to be in my Father’s house?” You know, we’re never really lost. Even when we can’t find our way, there always is one. No reason to panic. Or give up hope. We simply need to go back to the beginning of our faith … into the waiting arms of Papa God. Where the lost are always found.
Debora M. Coty is an inspirational speaker and award-winning author of over 100 articles and 13 books, including Fear, Faith, and a Fistful of Chocolate, More Beauty, Less Beast, and Too Blessed to Be Stressed. Debora also teaches writing workshops. Visit www.DeboraCoty.com
South Brandon 2010 Bloomingdale Ave Brandon (813) 571-0569 Lake Brandon Village 11325 Causeway Blvd Brandon (813) 655-1237 Hours: 6am - 10pm
Live Like You Mean It The Garden Hurts, and then the Garden Heals By Derek Maul For as the earth brings forth its shoots, and as a garden causes what is sown in it to spring up, so the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise to spring up before all the nations. – Isaiah 61:11 So, despite all the heat (we’ve seen temperatures in the low 90’s fairly consistently over the past couple of weeks), and the relentless pain of an uncooperative back, my wife logged in more than a few hours of yard work this weekend. The gardening hurt a lot, yes, but then it hurts more – Rebekah says – to miss out on the dirt under her fingernails, and the smell of the good soil, and the feel of the earth in her hands as she pulls weeds and puts in new bedding plants. Some of my photographs may suggest otherwise, but we really don’t have a ton of space around our home here in North Carolina. There are times – like last week when we visited our daughter and her family in their new apartment – when Rebekah and I can see the benefits of living quite happily without any yard at all. But there’s something about taking care of a garden that is, quite simply, good for
the soul. Lord knows there are enough responsibilities in our lives without mowing, and digging, and planting, and weeding; but in many respects all those things feed us in ways a good therapist would likely charge an arm and a leg for, yet never come close to achieving such a result. So Sunday morning, heading into church for worship, I couldn’t help but think of our Creator, who willingly toils in the garden of this world to provide us with nurture, and spiritual nourishment, and – constantly – new and restored life. We are refreshed by the Living Water, so graciously given; and we are fed by the Bread of Life, so generously provided. And we flourish, and we grow, and we are humbled, and we give thanks. In gratitude – DEREK Derek Maul has written for many news outlets, including the Tampa Tribune, The United Methodist News Service, All Pro Dad, FOCUS Magazine, Newsweek, USA Today, The Christian Science Monitor, Presbyterians Today, Guideposts, Chicken Soup for the Soul and many other publications. Read Derek Maul’s daily blog posts at www.derekmaul.wordpress.com
Phil & Michelle Colesanti visiting the working windmills at Museummolen Schermerhorn inThe Netherlands.
Michelle with Alicia Martin (past Osprey Observer staff member - now living in England) at Shakespeare’s birth home in Stratford on Avon, UK.
One of the stops on a recent Rhine River cruise, Strasbourg is in the Alsace region of northeastern France.