When our son, Ted, was six years old, he was intrigued with the Bible story of Peter walking on water. With childlike faith he headed for the irrigation ditch to give it a try. But born in the space-age Ted knew something about backup systems. He wore his galoshes.

When Ted became a man he told me of his little trip to the ditch and how hard it was on his faith. I’m glad to see him as a grown man, along with his brothers, faithfully “walking on waters” in a spiritual sense. I wonder how Peter must have felt. Under the best of circumstances—in the physical presence of Jesus—his faith moved right out from underneath him.

The trials we face day-by-day are not the same choppy waters that Peter tried to master, but the test is the same. Peter took his eyes off Jesus and looked at the circumstance. It was doubt and fear that flooded out his faith. The question is, how to keep our eyes on the master when the storms are raging? How do we have faith when the “waves” are high and mighty?

First, what is faith? It is having “confidence in what we hope for and assurance of things not seen,” (Hebrews 11:1).

This means faith is holding fast to something even before we see it happening—mentally picturing our answer and saying “thank you” although it is not yet a fact. Faith is all wrapped up in what’s holy, and although challenging, it is wholly obtainable.

So, where do we get faith? (Romans 10:17), tells us it comes from “hearing what is preached from the word of God.”

Through faith we move within a storm to a place of peace, on top of the “waters” waiting the storm out.

Unfortunately, we don’t always do that. We get stressed up, toss and turn in the night and sometimes get an ulcer. Then, just as the Master reached out and saved Peter before he sank into the dark waters, our Lord rescues us. But not before we uttered Peter’s cry, “Lord, save me.” Our Lord knows we are weak—and he loves us within our struggles.

The Psalmist knew what it was like to be nearly overwhelmed by the waters of affliction as he wrote: “all your waves and billows are gone over me.” Yet, said, “He brought me up also out of the horrible pit, out of the miry clay, set my feet upon a rock and established my steps,” (Psalms 40:2).

Could it be that we have one foot on the rock and the other on shifting sands? Is this why some of us are experiencing “the pits?”

Faith brings new vision. Vision without the limitations of physical sight allows us to see beyond the storm of the moment. The apostle Paul intended this when he admonished us to “walk in the spirit.”

Strangely enough, it is often the little things that ripple the waters of life. Thoughtless words and actions trip us up. So often it is our pride that hurts the most. But it is false pride that says we “cannot make mistakes.”

Clarence J. Enzler wrote in My Other Self, “Should your imperfections momentarily gain the upper hand, you do well to be displeased at your fault . . . . When you allow yourself to be dejected over your involuntary faults, it is because you think you are better than you really are. And once you allow your imperfections to upset you, you are likely to find yourself in a sharp tongue, irritable mood in all that you do.”

I believe God has faith, too. Faith in us. Instead of seeing us as we are now, He sees us as we will be when His work is finished in us. We must have faith in ourselves, too, knowing that he is working with his best tools at the safest speed to bring us into what He would like us to be. God does not get frustrated with us. Instead, he is there to help us when we want to bail out on ourselves.

It will take a lifetime to overcome each and every innate weakness. Yet each time we succeed in resisting the temptation to go our own way we are stronger for the next go-around and each time we keep our eyes on the Master in the middle of the storm, faith grows.

There seems to be a powerful inner aversion to loving and appreciating ourselves, at least for many of us.

We wrap ourselves up in “Almighty Work” with goals for owning lovely homes, impressive cars, garments of every shape and color. This is all well and good, as long as the work itself and what we are able to produce through it, are not perceived to be the measure of our worth.

True celebration of what could offer heartfelt, memorable moments is robbed of its glory, as most often work wins out. Who has not felt an edge of guilt while sitting with a treasured book? After all, the yard needs work and floors beg cleaning.

Yet, life can become monotonous if we  don’t recognize the definite need for making sure there is time to enjoy and savor the fruits of our labors—alongside clocking in at work, plus cleaning pots and pans and doing the laundry, while training energized children!

Always, there will be the inevitable surprises of life. Having a balanced life makes us better prepared for these when they come.

Loving ourselves means taking time out to simply enjoy the gift of human “beingness.” Like taking an hour to read a novel—or even 15 minutes to simply think about good memories . . . playing with the children, or the dog . . . take a walk or run through the park. . . have a meaningful conversation . . . or write a loving letter to a close friend. These are a few poignant ways for reviving the spirit. It just takes loving oneself enough to grant these little leisures.

Then, what of the Sabbath day of rest we are called to set aside for restful wholeness? Have you ever noticed how many promises are extended for those who obey this Biblical commandment? It seems to be a direct criterion for good health and happiness, yet so often is ignored. We wonder why our hearts skip beats, flutter amiss or give up early. Could it be that we are failing to give ourselves essential time for restoration?

Charles E. Cowman, author of the devotional titled Streams in the Desert, wrote, “There is no music in the rest, but there is the making of music in the rest.” What would it be like if instruments in the orchestra sounded with every beat? No doubt discomfort or anxiety would see us walking out before the performance ends.

Could it be prideful attitudes, thinking we are indestructible and indispensable, or lack of trust in the “Conductor” that keeps us from following undisputable directives? Or, a rebellious attitude . . . “I’ll play it my way.”

God loved us so much He gave commands to keep us from running amok. It is actually good self-love when we keep them. However, life without respect for God’s directives brings brokenness, deficits, regrets and guilt! We all are in the same drum kettle. We want to make beautiful music with our lives. Doing so means we must practice good self-care by taking time to listen for what is taking place in our souls.

Being one’s own best friend means we won’t believe the worst about ourselves just because it is easiest. Instead we will weed out those harsh, chastising, guilt-ridden messages that can be prevalent—the negative self-talk—and speak up for our own solid goodness. After all, we are children of God. And, “God don’t make junk,” as one fine author states it.

When we truly begin to get a sense of our own goodness, instead of becoming self-centered (as is easily feared) that love moves outward, evidenced by a strengthened capacity for more earnestly caring about others and even the whole world.

I will never forget a day while driving down McCulloch Avenue, when a thought made a quantum leap into my consciousness. In a momentary awakening, the usual “me first” attitude is replaced by an indescribable sense of oneness. For several moments it seems we all are moving to the beat of One Heart.

I was flooded with the deepest sense of caring never experienced before–an intense desire for all of us to arrive on time, whatever the place or the cause, filled my thoughts. Since then, a truth is becoming apparent: The more I love myself, the more capacity there is to love others. Was Jesus trying to tell us this when He said, “Love your neighbor as yourself?”

What if we do the ultimate, by becoming more in tune with “the Director,” intent on following what He called “the first command, “you shall love the Lord our God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength,” Mark 12:20. A love and appreciation of self (and others) could flow, even on McCulloch! Happy Valentine’s Day. 

Gary and I experienced a surprising happenstance while on vacation years back. We still can stop to savor it. We were hiking in Ecola Park, at Cannon Beach, Oregon, when we passed an older man on the trail. He asked Gary, “Do you have the time, Sir?” Both of us looked at our watches as Gary gave him the time.

That proved to be the beginning of an astounding encounter. As it happened, this man turned out to be anything but ordinary. He was elderly, appearing to be a little unkempt but fit enough to take to the trail.  It was his spirit that took us by surprise.

Conversation sparked and some of his words still come to mind even as years have passed. Without mentioning God, this man told us much about Him, inadvertently answering questions I had sorely pondered.

Tears surfaced when the “old man of the trail” spoke of how joy is to be at the bottom of all we do—that “fun” is at the base of the word “function”—and how we can go as far as we want to go, see as much as we want to see and experience as much as we want to experience while riding through life on the crest of joy.

As if talking was not enough, the man asked, “May I sing?” We were happy to let him. He began singing in a different language. Then he sang in English to the same melody, now stretching out his hands as if to include nature. It was a phenomenal experience right there at the edge of the Pacific Ocean!

I began to wonder if he were a real person or perhaps an angel; were we being “entertained unawares,” as Scripture speaks of happening with humans at times?

So, I questioned him, “What is your field or profession?”

“Psychopharmacology,” he answered. “The study of the effect drugs have on the human mind.”

He had been a teacher at a medical school in Portland. No doubt now retired. But ever so alive!

We remained spell-bound for half an hour, during which neither Gary nor I spoke more than two or three sentences. It was as if we had nothing to say of importance in the light of what was pouring out of this man’s copious heart.

As we parted, we spontaneously hugged the “stranger.” Throughout the day Gary and I returned to his words, knowing that God had touched us powerfully through them. It was fun to muse inwardly of how this guy could possibly have been an angel sent to us on the trail. Yet, surely it is even more spectacular that God could use one human being to touch and bless the lives of two others, who are absolute strangers—so soundly in such a short span of time. That was the “miracle.”

The second little miracle was that we gave him “the time of day.” And, that he had stopped us and asked for it! 

We pondered a lot that day. We could see how all of us on earth can be a blessing to others. It takes being willing to “stick our necks out,” rather than to live encased in ourselves and our “immediates.”  

It does take time to perchance enrich another, even if briefly. And, it takes daring to see God in all those we meet, realizing these moments as “Divine Appointments.” How different would life be, if only we could ride the waves of life experiencing more serendipitous moments!

Solomon’s words says it best in Proverbs 17:22, “A joyful heart is good medicine,”

Think of life as “riding the waves,” experiencing the “fun” in the midst of our “functions.” Laughter is a major pleasure that we can enjoy daily right at home, relieving much of our pent up tensions. Watch for it, as opportunities abound.

Here’s one that happened while working on a column for Today’s Herald-News in January: I intended to write, “Have you noticed how good it feels to sing, whistle, hum and enjoy music?” However, I inadvertently left the “g” off the word “sing.” When Gary, my excellent first-line editor, caught this faux pas we laughed—big time!  I quickly added the “g,” so the word could read “sing” instead of “sin.” That was close.

We are funny little creatures, as humans. Laughing at ourselves helps us stay sane! It is like medicine to our soul . . . helping us surf through life with excitement!

Often, a story will be told triggering one of your own. Perhaps a shared memory, here, will do that for you today:

Many years back (my tumultuous years between 18-35 now over) while still living in Boise, I took a walk across the Ann Morrison Park very early in the morning. No one was about except for a human bundle under a bush, someone not yet ready to embrace the light. Birds were on the move accompanied by the sound of their own song. Holy ground it seemed. Shoes removed, I relished the morning dew, which grass blades wore as crowns. It was a lazy walk, filled with contemplation. That is, until it was rudely interrupted.

Inadvertently, I had wandered into the cross pattern of a forceful sprinkling system. The reward for my sudden mad dash was a blast of cold water. Full-bodied. With clothes dripping the thrill of youth had returned.

During those morning moments the gift of life and limber limb, wrapped in sunlight and earthen splendor brought this “mid-life” person of serious soul into an hour of carefree living.

The young child who once rode her bicycle with random recklessness had reappeared. And time stood still. Laughter. Alone with the Creator among His works, yet with a sense of the whole world being with me.

Sweet summer weather had enfolded me into its grip, granting new strength to “shoulder my pack,” and again face realities, which in previous months had seemed to stretch this heart beyond its boundaries. This was one tiny reprieve, yet more healing than a doctor’s potion. And it was free.

I think of that now, in Lake Havasu’s January, sunny and warm. A walk in the park finds our Winter Fellows talking about deep snow “back home.”

Christmas memories behind us and packages—well, some wondrous and some returned. But, just enough Christmas cheer to get us going, headed into another year.

But, wait. Let’s think about some of the gifts which are free, with us year after year. With or without funds the season can be seen with some glory by taking time to reflect on what might be called universal toys:

A nap in a sunny window, smells of earth’s offerings blended in a skillet. Memories lifted from life’s treasure chest . . . nudges and lick-kisses from faithful pets . . . sunset with orchestra music behind it . . . with our lake afire with color.

Sounds with which to keep one’s self company, such as singing, humming, whistling; the wonder of a warm bath with music … even with candlelight?  A good novel devoured under warm covers; backrubs … smiles … a hug; the voice of a friend; quiet time, alone with God. Perhaps during our winters, icicles forming drip by drip in front of a favorite window; branches waving their “hello” with highly balanced snow. 

This list is just a beginning. The human mind is powerfully creative. Without cost it is possible to give a gift of yourself simply by sharing at just the right moment, a lively experience, one listeners can enter into vicariously. Momentarily you loan them your legs, your voice, your heart. Could one ever set a price on the gift of human communication?  The joy of making another laugh?  The touch of a hand on a lonely back?  The pleasure of watching a child stay upright while learning to walk?

Today, blue skies and abundant sun, I sit at my computer wishing I were outside. Yet, must stay put to cogitate, here. Then the phone rings. It’s the voice from a friend, “Come on over, I am in the mood for reminiscing.”

Now, this is true gift!  I waste no time saying, “I’ll be right there!” Here is a gift that is eternal!

Could we ponder ways that could lift another’s day, bringing joy to them . . . recalling special times together . . . creating moments with others that will last for memories later?

May God be with you as you make this an unforgettable January!  Yikes! It’s February—already! And my Christmas tree is still up! Time to shake a leg and get a move on!

As Ecclesiastes 3: 1-9, assures us, “Everything has its time.”

Raising three sons to manhood has been the most challenging, thought-provoking and enlightening part of my life. Not only has it been richly rewarding, but looking at them as adults, I see them as the greatest accomplishment I could ever hope to achieve as an earthbound woman.

In reading that, you might think these young men “have it made”—that they are living with minimal problems. Not so. And that is where my problem with the word “mettle” comes in.

When a parent raises a child it is almost impossible not to place a great deal of hope on that young life. As parents, our years of experience have given strength, courage and wisdom in varying degrees. We have gained some foresight having struggled so much with hindsight. Our hard-earned wisdom is wonderful, we think, and being perennial givers of gifts it is natural to feel we must give it to our children. Yet, for the most part we have only 12 to14 years in which this works well. After that, the minds of our children are mostly their own. At least, for sure they thinks so.

“God has no grandchildren,” someone once said. How true. The young men or young women we have raised have to go out into the world, enter life’s battles and find their own strength, courage and wisdom. The difficult part for us is seeing them meet with wounds and receive some scars. The truth is, they have a right to their own recovery. In the process, they may find the “God of their fathers.” But some of them won’t.

If the persons who first placed those tiny bundles of baby in our arms could have told us of the sorrow and trauma that could come in watching them grow, do you think we would have passed those bundles back? Hardly! For there is something stronger than sorrow or pain and that is love. Love nurtures courage and strength.

Unfortunately, at the time we receive the gift of those tiny lives most of us did not have a great amount of wisdom. For wisdom comes with time. Our lack of wisdom often finds us doing more for our children than we need to do. It is not our intent to harm. Our actions come out of the urgings of love; we want to save our younger generation from every form of suffering possible.

Some parents do better than others at letting their children learn through trial and error. Others stunt their children’s growth, showing stupendous aptitude for being one jump ahead, catching them before they fall on the hard rock of experience.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge once said, “Experience is like the stern lights of a ship, which illumine only the track it has passed.”

We cannot give experience to our children. Telling them of our own and expecting that to suffice simply will not work. What we can give them is patient training and sound teaching while they are young. But the day comes when to love means we will let them go – set them free, giving them the dignity to live their own lives. From then on, the greatest gifts we can give them are to love them unconditionally and to support them with our prayers.

That morning as I prayed for the strength not to “mettle” in my grown son’s life, I was prompted to think about what I had asked.

Have you ever felt God’s sense of humor? I did, upon looking up the word “mettle” to find I had used the “wrong” word. A sister word, “meddle,” meaning to mind someone else’s business was what I had intended to say. When I read that “mettle” is courage and strength (it does not have a verb form), an internal light flipped on.

If as a parent I try to superimpose my mettle (courage and strength) upon the head and heart of my adult child I have gone to meddling.

Surely there is not a parent alive who has not meddled in this way. Yet the best way to give courage and strength to our children is to have it ourselves. If they see it they will want it. But they must be given the opportunity to flounder and fail and to find it on their own.

“Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it” (Proverbs 22:6).