Trail of Miracles

Gathered ’round a kitchen table,

after breaking bread,

I watched the cowboy close his eyes,

and bow his aging head.

 

For blessings he was thankful;

for work and family,

And praying for each loved one

was the habit of each day.

 

He liked to tell the stories

of what the Lord had done,

And often thought, I’ll write a book,

and tell of victories won.

 

Some say there’s Cherokee in me–

they tell of The Trail of Tears,

But I would tell of a different trail:

The Trail of Miracles.

 

That’s the name I’d give my book,

and many would be the pages,

For the Lord has led, and kept, and blessed

me all through the ages.

 

From times of loss to times of joy

He’s led me all the way;

From miracle to miracle,

so that I can only say:

 

Follow in my footsteps.

Think long and hard I pray,

And trust my Lord, my kind Shepherd,

and He will lead your way.

 

For He is good and He is kind,

and like Him I shall be

When my steps on earth have ended,

and I face eternity.

——-

In death, the cowboy closed his eyes,

and lingering on his lips,

Was the sweet, sweet name of Jesus,

who’d become his dearest friend.

 

But once again we’ll see them

his eyes–all clear and true

When he meets us at the Jordan

and we see him, strong and new.

 

He’ll look so joyful on his horse,

the roan with the flowing mane,

And great will be our joy to know,

Jesus led us all the way.

 

The Trail of Miracles never ends,

and glorious are the views,

When side by side we’ll ramble

over fields of stunning hues.

 

“Further up and further in,”*

will be our motto there,

And stopping by the trail side,

we once again will share–

 

The daily bread, once broken,

our shame and guilt now gone,

And everlasting joys–now ours,

as we ride on and on.

 

Written in loving memory of the man with few words whose life spoke volumes.

Cal Miller (1928-2018)

 

*Lewis, C.S.  The Last Battle.  New York : Macmillan, ©1956.

Masks

My daughter has the privilege of playing her violin at special occasions.  Once, when she was asked to play at a funeral, I came come along, as her assistant.    We were escorted to the front of a large, rather ornate church with marble columns and floors which made our quiet footsteps echo.  Feeling as though we were in a mausoleum, we followed a woman, who was dressed in black, down the long, long aisle to where I was to place Kelsey’s  music stand.  The woman was far from pleasant.  We were instructed: “Put the music stand here.” And: “Make sure you don’t block the view.”  In no uncertain terms, the steely woman made sure my daughter knew:  “This is not a show.” And that she, (the woman in black,) was “Second in Command” in that church.

Nerves were starting to unravel.   I could see that in my daughter’s face.  She has been given a gift of playing beautiful music which she loves to share with people, and had no intention of “making a show” of  anything.  This woman however was all about “show.”  It was as if she wore a mask of fake holiness because every time she passed in front of the church altar she  halted to curtsy, but when dealing with us, she was rude.  The mask would slip, and we saw the unkind sneer that was the real reflection of her heart.

That picture has stayed with me as a vivid reminder to keep watch over my heart.  What does my heart look like?  Do I wear a mask?   Do I have integrity?

Having integrity not only means being “morally upright,”  but it also conveys the picture of being “undivided.”  For me, as a wife and mother, that means:   Who I am at home is who I am.

When my children were small, there were those times I would lose my temper with them when we were actually on our way to church.  I could spew harsh, scolding words for the 5 minute drive, and then work hard to get my mask in place before smiling sweetly at the children in my Sunday School class.  I cringe now to think of it.  Hopefully I’ve grown in my walk with the Lord.

Children of the world are not stupid.  They can spot a play actor.  They see when a person who claims to be a Child of God is wearing a mask of fake goodness, for when it slips,  the true face of  unkindness is seen, and it is as ugly as death.

Jesus called out the Pharisees for wearing masks:  “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, Hypocrites!  For you are like whitewashed tombs which on the outside appear beautiful, but inside they are full of dead men’s bones and all uncleanness.  So you, too, outwardly appear righteous to men, but inwardly you are full of hypocrisy and lawlessness.” (NASB Matthew 23:27-28)

As a Child of God, I am called to reflect His glory and goodness to a dark and dying world. Only by His super-natural power working in me can I be transformed from the inside out; I become beautiful through and through, when He miraculously makes me whole.

Undivided.

No more masks.

 

Give me, O Lord, a heart of grace

A voice of joy, a shining face,

That I may show where’er I turn

Thy love within my soul doth burn!

a tenderness for all that stray,

With strength to help them on the way;

A cheerfulness, a heavenly mirth,

Brightening my steps along the earth!

Author:  Lady Gilbert