Joey in a Pouch

Joey in a Pouch

For a very short time our family had an unusual pet. We had a baby kangaroo, a joey. His mother had been tragically hit by a passing truck at the side of the road one evening. She was killed instantly and left lying in a pool of blood in a patch of rugged wild grass beside the bitumen highway. A passer by kindly stopped, checked her pouch and discovered a young joey, safe and warm and snug inside, but now all alone in the world. We delightfully accepted the care of the young joey as he was finally passed onto our family. 

The Australian kangaroo lives in a social group called a mob. They are well known for hopping on their strong, hind legs, while using their muscular tails for balance as they manoeuvre around and stand still.The males box each other quite vigorously, which includes kicking with their hind feet, to establish dominance. Female kangaroos give birth to a joey about once a year, after a one month gestation period. The little joey is born hairless and blind and is smaller than a bee. He climbs into the mother’s pouch, stays there to nurse and to continue to develop for 120-400 days. Joeys often peek their heads out of the pouch to look around several weeks before they take off on their own. Our little joey that came to us had been just starting to emerge from the pouch and was beginning to nibble little bits of grass.

Our family enjoyed our gentle joey. We named him Jessie. We created a pouch for him by placing a pillowslip  padded with an old towel on the back of a wooden chair. Jessie would hop awkwardly around the kitchen, then thrusting his head into the pillow case he would then summersault into his “pouch’, sometimes leaving his tail or hind feet protruding slightly. Our little Jessie was unlike other pets our family had had before regarding his body space, there was always more to him. I would see his little, furry, soft ,grey head down beside me in the kitchen as he stood, but I would always find myself forgetting that a long strong tail ran along the linoleum floor behind him. Numerous times I tripped and stumbled over his prominent tail. Jessie was still being nursed, almost fully, when he came to us. A trip to the local vet gave us  supplies in special, very long, thin kangaroo teats, bottles and formula. When we took him outside to enjoy a little hop around and to allow him the delights of taste testing grass, we could only call him back to us by producing the pillowslip, upon which he would hop over to us, and tuck himself away into the pillowcase pouch. Our joey was cute and fun and we enjoyed him very much.

The pouch for our joey was his safety and his protection. I have felt inside a mother kangaroo’s pouch several times. They are soft, very warm, and snug, nurturing places for a baby joey to curl into. When my best friend visited from the USA , we took a day trip to an animal farm where there were tame kangaroos that you could feed and pat. I encouraged my friend to have quick feel of the warm  softness that little joeys snuggle into. My friend had a look of wonderment on her face as she was able to feel for a moment the world of a baby kangaroo.

The Bible often encourages us to be “in Christ”. The apostle Paul used the term numerous times and it seemed to be his favourite way of expressing our relationship to Christ. What does that mean? How can I be “in Christ”? To me the wonder of the kangaroo pouch gives me a glimmer into a life “in Christ”. For a joey, he is “in the pouch”. This environment is a place of protection, of sustenance, it is nurturing, a place of care, of love. In the pouch he is watched over tenderly and in constant contact and connection with his mother. This is the life of what being “in Christ” means to me. I am in  a constant, connected relationship with Christ that is nurturing, protecting, sustaining and full of His care and love for me. 

2 Cor 5:17 Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creature; the old things passed away; behold, new things have come

Rom 8:1 Therefore there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.

Eph 2:13 But now in Christ Jesus you who formerly were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ.

Dogs Don't Chase Parked Cars

Dogs Don't Chase Parked Cars

When I first married my loving husband, Michael, he worked for the South Pacific Division of the SDA church, here in Australia. We lived in a comfortable home owned by the Division office, that was located on a main thoroughfare of traffic. We had a gaggle of pets, a new born baby and a beautiful collie dog named Prince. Prince was gifted to us via a neighbour, who had sadly parted from him as he accepted a call to mission work, in Papua New Guinea.

Prince, a large and active dog, was handsome in every way. His rough, long, full coat of fur shimmered with tones of cream, white and tan, while flecks of sable flanked his face. He was elegant and graceful in his movements, appearing to float over the ground as he ran joyously around our grassy yard. Prince was charming, loyal and affectionate in every way, responsive to Michael and I. His deep brown eyes in his wedge shaped head, held a look of intelligence, excitement and love. He was a devoted dog, soft and gentle with our growing baby. Prince was the perfect family dog but he had one major weakness, his love for chasing cars.

Collie dogs historically come from Scotland and England where they have, for many centuries, lived as working dogs, herding cattle and sheep. Their main task as drover dogs was to guide the cattle and sheep to the markets. In the 1860’s, the then reigning regal Queen Victoria, visited the picturesque Scottish Highlands, fell in love with the collie dog and brought this breed into popularity. The beautiful collie dog was thrust into the limelight in 1943 with the release of the Hollywood Movie, “Lassie Come Home” and the subsequent movies and television series has kept this breed in demand.

Our gorgeous Prince had all the personality and tenaciousness of Lassie mixed in with the desire to run and herd of the Scottish Highland canine of long ago. Our fully fenced yard kept Prince’s desire to chase cars safely contained. One night, however, while we lay sleeping exhaustedly between  the feeding times of our newly born daughter, a neighbour frantically started knocking at our bedroom window and calling out anxiously to us. Startled out of a deep sleep, my husband attended to our neighbour. Our darling Prince had managed to escape from our yard and had dashed up our road ,that was frequented with traffic, to enjoy his past time of ‘herding cars’. On this occasion however, Prince was hit. With eagerness he had crouched by the road side waiting for his next car, a hunter green rover. Prince leaped out for the chase, but in his anticipation of the thrill before him, his timing was out, and instead of finding himself racing wildly after the car, barking in frenzied delight, he ran straight into the side of the car. The thud and the crumpled, forlorn, isolated figure of a dog by the roadside, seen in the review mirror, alerted the driver. He stopped and upon inspection of his car, which had been damaged, he set out to find the owner, discovering our friendly neighbour in the process. My husband exchanged contact details with the owner of the expensive rover, and scooping our bedraggled dog into his arms, he loving brought him home. 

Prince had been tragically injured. After X-rays and an examination at the local vet it was ascertained his two front legs had been painfully broken. Patiently he endured his time spent at the vets where his front legs were placed in  fibre glass casts and bandaged, making walking almost impossible, or so we thought. With all the perseverance of his breed he did manage his own version of hobbling as we faithfully cared for him. Meanwhile, all was not well with the owner of the dark, mossy, green, expensive rover. It seemed our dog had chosen to plummet feet first into the car of an insurance con man. He was known by insurance companies for his dishonest claims. Initially, he used all his charms to convince us to cover the costs of the damage to his car, which he was increasing dramatically by the day. I prayed. We prayed. God heard our cry for help. In a panic of despair I was led to call our insurance company for advice, only to discover a small clause in own home contents policy that covered damage created by pets, even to ones that chase cars. Joyfully, we contacted the Rover owner to let him know he could deal directly with our insurance provider. Anger, bullying and control tactics were all used to coerce us into dropping our insurance company from the situation. We were legally able to prevent all contact with the intimidating man, discovered his history and left his predicament with our insurance company to handle. 

We knelt in thankful praise to God for his financial protection. Prince went on to heal, his desire to herd cars remained, but our vigilance prevented him from anymore opportunities to fulfil his  doggy dreams. Dogs don’t chase parked cars. They chase cars that are moving speedily forward. Sometimes in life it can feel like the devil is just chasing us down. He knows how to hit us hard when God is doing great things in our lives. Crises after crises tumbles one upon the other in quick succession, finances crumble, health stumbles, relationships falter, hearts break, death stalks and patience is tried. God seems silent and life feels chaotically spiralling into a dark place. Keep moving forward. Keep holding on to God, persevere in prayer, talk faith, think faith, sing praises even when you don’t feel like it. Keep on keeping on with Jesus. God is moving you into the purpose for your life. Dogs don’t chase parked cars. God is moving you forward into all that He has for you. There is a rainbow after the rain and the dawn comes after the darkest of nights. Hold on to Jesus, He’s holding onto you.

Eph 6:10-12 Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of His might. Put on the full armour of God, so that you will be able to stand firm against the schemes of the devil. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places

James 4:7,8 Submit therefore to God. Resist the devil and he will flee from you. Draw near to God and He will draw near to you.

The Gift of a Friend

The Gift of a Friend

Liquid pools of darkest depths,

Glisten and shine.

Heart's open words unspoken,

Dance.

Soul's immersed thoughts surfacing,

Shimmering bright,

Deepest love cascading down,

Joy.

Our hearts meet overflowing.

I hear her words.

I know her thoughts.

Souls entwine in quietness,

Trust.

The God App'

The God App'

I love my smart phone. I am rather technologically challenged, so I will not be found in the long queues of excitement at the Apple stores waiting for the anticipated release of the iPhone 6. I own just a simple Samsung Galaxy 3, but it does have the cutest bright pink bumble bee cover for it. This is not my first smart phone. Until recently I owned a Samsung Galaxy 2. I purchased the S2 with very little knowledge of all I would be able to do with such a small device, that I could pop easily into my pocket.

Several years ago I was ready for an upgrade. I drove the forty-five minutes to the nearest small city to be able to make the necessary purchase from the store owned by my service provider. I had been hearing about smart phones and I was up for the terrifying leap into the unchartered territory of the such a phone. In the shop, the pretty sales girl took me into the confusing world of mobiles and plans and costs and contracts. She presented phone after phone to me and discussed their different functions. I was zoned out with information overload. What was an app’ anyway? I just desired a mobile that could do the basics, enable me to text message my then teenaged children ( highly important) , ring them and take photos. Finally, I heard the words that sung a song to my heart, “cheapest contract”. Now I was all ears and definitely following the conversation. However, as things would turn out, the phone I really wanted, at the price I really wanted, was only available from my service provider’s call centre and not through the actual shop. I was disappointed as I was all ready to enjoy my new mobile that very day. I spent about half an hour eagerly on the phone with a professional sales assistant.  I completed the unavoidable information they required, and my new mobile phone was placed in the mail to be speedily delivered within five working days. So I waited, and waited, and waited, not so patiently. After seven working days, I contacted my service provider, only to be told that according to their records, my mobile phone had been not only been dispatched, but had reached my local parcel centre and had been, according to them, received by me. Alas they were mistaken. 

Four weeks later, after many prayers and God’s divine intervention, I finally did obtain my first smart phone. Those four weeks had been fraught with misery. My service provider was absolutely certain I had received my new phone, and I was absolutely certain I had not. I was placed on a merry go round between Australian call centres and off shore call centres in India, all to no avail. No one would help me. No one could answer me, and they most definitely were not going to supply a replacement phone for the one I was about to start paying for and didn’t have in my possession. God hears and answers our prayers and I contacted the local Ombudsman, whose job it was to make sure that agencies fulfil their functions properly and improve their delivery of their services to the public. The Ombudsman is an independent and impartial watchdog. With several swift communications between the Ombudsman and my service provider, my contract was suddenly terminated, with no loss to myself and I was given permission to freely go to a store and start my purchase all over again. 

With an appreciation of God and a song in my heart, I departed for the local store, and that is when I entered the land of mobile phone data. The time spent relentlessly contacting my service provider at Indian call centres and with no outcome, had not been worthless. It had in fact taken me into a one week window of opportunity created by my service provider to lure customers into the  wonderful world of gigabyte usage. I finally received the phone I had desired, at the price I had desired, but with the sudden delight of an upgrade of 2 Gb for the same cost. I had no idea when I first held that phone the power of communication it held. 

I am an extrovert by nature. I love to talk and I love my smart phone. Here I am now with a phone full of apps from diary’s to gardening journals to the bible. However, I love the communication apps. At my finger tips I can be in touch with any friend, at any time, at any place. I can be a passenger in the car, standing in a line at the check out, sitting at a doctors waiting room and yet be in touch with family and friends. I have facebook, instagram, viber, whatsapp, wee chat, and the facebook messenger app. With precious family and loving friends living far away and my dear church family several hours away, my apps get a work out. My best friend lives overseas. We are in constant communication with each other, all day, every day. I have varying ring tones for each app and during the day little tunes and rings and dings sing out to me for their attention, particularly from my best friend. My ears are tuned in to hear her calls and messages and I am quick to respond.

If there was a God app,’ would I download it? If my God app’ played a little tune of “Amazing Grace”, would I dash in eager happiness to hear from Him, and respond joyfully back? What would He say? What would I say? Does God have first place in my heart and in my communications? We all have a God App’ but it doesn’t need a mobile phone. It’s called prayer. Is my mind lifted moment by moment in thoughtful contemplation and quiet communion with God despite all that is going on around me? Do I turn to Him to share as readily as I do on my apps’? Do I message Him first through prayer when I have a question, a comment, a thought, or I need His divine help? God is more desirous to hear from me than any of my dearly beloved family or friends whom I message. Am I longing to hear from Him?

1 Thess 5:17, 17 Pray without ceasing; in everything give thanks; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus

Eph 6:18 With all prayer and petition pray at all times in the Spirit, and with this in view, be on the alert with all perseverance and petition for all the saints

1 John 5:14 This is the confidence which we have before Him, that, if we ask anything according to His will, He hears us.

Cards of Decoration

Cards of Decoration

I am a card person! I love cards! I have cards from many years stashed away in musty, bundled piles. I have discoloured, ageing cards from my wedding day, from baby births, from dearest loved ones of long ago. I have hand made cards, created with loving thought and received by me with wonder. Collections of cards filled with romantic love and shared tender moments between my husband and I, are affectionately treasured. I have cards that the chubby hands of childhood made so sweetly and carefully, with hearts full of love for their Mother. I have farewell cards tearfully signed and cards of friendship from hearts brimming with care, cards of thankfulness, pouring out words of appreciation and cards of encouragement, during those moments when life fell apart. I love cards.

As I joyfully receive a card, I place it fondly on a book shelf in our lounge room to enjoy, to be able to stop and read at times. Cards decorate our home with the thoughtful words of loved ones. My best friend lives far away in the USA. Her cards are precious and treasured, a reminder of the happy times we have spent together. Her cards express her heart in friendship and I have strung them up across a wall in my bedroom as bunting, complete with pink bows and pretty butterflies. It is a charming decoration.

The Christmas of 2001 was a very special Christmas for me. That year my husband and I received very carefully chosen Christmas cards. Our precious daughters, then aged, 12, 10 and 8 years, had spent the year delivering a weekly newspaper to the local neighbourhood. The girls traipsed willingly, most of the time, around the quiet streets nearby, each thursday morning, with back packs full of folded newspapers, placing one in every letter box. It was a huge job which entailed the help of Mum and Dad as the bundles of newspapers and colourful advertising brochures were picked up each week at 5am from a delivery site, brought home and sorted into piles. Each newspaper was inserted with a variety of leaflets, folded neatly and held together with a rubber band. Finally after hours of methodically working, they were ready to deliver. Out we would head in rain or shine ,cold or heat to bring the local paper to everyone before the day was out. This enabled our girls to enjoy earning some money while gaining the skills of budgeting wisely and of returning to God a faithful tithe. This Christmas our daughters had squirrelled away their hard earned money, saving it to buy my husband and I very special Christmas presents, and the cards. 

Clutching their purses with their money, our daughters asked to be taken to the the local country town’s very small shopping centre. The three of them took themselves off on a shopping spree, carefully calculating their combined savings to excitedly make their purchases. My husband hung lazily around the lounge area at the shops waiting for their return. When they arrived home, the car was full of laughter and chatter, secrets and concealed purchased. Soon the gifts and cards were ensconced out of sight, giggles remained and love wrapped our home in a blanket of contentment.

That Christmas, amidst a flurry of brightly coloured wrapping paper spread across the lounge room floor, the excitement of the presents the girls gave us filled the house. We opened our gifts from the beautiful ,delicate pink bath mats to the sturdy garden pruners  to the added delights of rose scented toiletries and other thoughtfully purchased gifts. Then there was the wonder of the cards that showed their fervent love for us, their parents. Now each year those cards come out as decorations, to adorn our house with Christmas cheer and to bring a smile to my face as I remember that Christmas of 2001.

The yellowed cards of long ago, stored carefully away, the  beautiful bunting of cards gracefully adorning my bedroom wall, the cards that decorate only at Christmas time and the loving cards that sit on our lounge room book shelf remind me of the greatest card of all, the Bible. God sent me words of deepest love, of tender friendship,  encouragement and hope, thoughtfully placed in card after card and all contained with in the Bible. With joyful anticipation He longs for me to read His words.Do I read it daily or is my Bible like some of my ageing cards, just stored away to be pulled out occasionally, for Sabbaths only?  Is my Bible like the beauty of the many cards draped across my wall, as an adornment in my bedroom, just sitting quietly on my bedside table?  Can a family Bible be found in the centre of my home like the cards upon a  book shelf, thought about frequently, but only opened spasmodically to be read? God wants me to open His Word each day and with wonder and delight, discover the card He has for me. He wants me to smile at His love, to wipe away tears as His heart calls to mine, to be encouraged, empowered, uplifted and filled with His Spirit. 

Ps 119:18  Open my eyes, that I may behold Wonderful things from Your law.

Rom 15:4 For whatever was written in earlier times was written for our instruction, so that through perseverance and the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope

Josh 1:8 Keep this Book of the Law always on your lips; meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do everything written in it. Then you will be prosperous and successful.

Prickled Balls of Spikes

Prickled Balls of Spikes

In the inky black of darkness, echoing across the glassy lake in front of our home, and bouncing off the surrounding hills, was a loud, abrupt, metallic clang. It awoke us from our peaceful slumbering. Again the sound pierced the night with eeriness. Startled, my husband Michael, leaped from the bed as the penetrating noise continued to reverberate around the paddocks. Dispelling the darkness with a flood of light, he strode purposefully outside to investigate the ruckus. He found our small, protective dog on his chain excitedly by his kennel. The dog kennel was a home made job that served it’s purpose well. Pieces of corrugated iron had been screwed together and hastily painted in a rusty brown. It sat under a shady gum tree in a  dusty place of dry, bush grasses near the house. Suddenly, with a lunge, our dog flung himself with a frenzy around the side of the dog kennel, his chain clattering loudly in a bedlam of noise against the corrugated iron. Upon further inspection, my husband discovered an echidna busily digging away under the back of the kennel in search of ants and entirely ignoring the panting black face of our crazed dog.

Echidna’s are an Australian mammal that are also classified  as a monotreme. Monotremes lay eggs and feed their young with milk. The female echidna digs a burrow with her long sharp front claws. Inside her snug home she curls up and lays a single, leathery egg into a pouch ,where, in ten days time, will hatch a hairless, spike free baby puggle. The cute, little puggle, licks milk from his mother’s skin. When the spines start to grow the puggle leaves the pouch but continues to drink milk from his mother until it’s six months old.The echidna’s body is covered in dark brown hair and on his back and sides are sharp hard spines. They only eat ants and termites. There, behind our dog kennel, with his  beak like snout, an echidna was actively whipping out his long thin, sticky tongue and consuming large black ants.

The mystery was solved, the dog settled down and we knew we had an echidna living in the area. This was an educational opportunity not to be missed. It isn’t often you can observe an echidna in the wild. For several days we saw him waddling from side to side in his slow gait, his excellent sense of smell leading him to ants, which his tongue quickly conveyed within to be eaten. The echidna has no teeth just hard pads inside his mouth which he uses to grind the ants up before delectably swallowing them. If we got too close to him, in self defence, he would curl himself up into a tight ball of sharp spiky needles. Other times he could dig so fast that he seemed to disappear into the dust, leaving only a rounded ball of prickled spines. He was a master at self protection.

After observing the echidna, we decided to have a closer inspection and learn some more. As Michael reached down to pick up him up, he immediately contorted into a prickly sphere. Getting his hands under the sides of the echidna, and getting spiked in the process, Michael was able to hold him while he then unfurled his body. There staring at us, with his beady little black eyes and his long beaked nose and his a tiny little tail, was a wild echidna. We brought him inside and placed him in the an old disused baby play pen, to observe him more closely. The echidna’s first desire was to try to frantically bury himself in the bottom of the play pen, spines of protection glaring at us, before slowly straightening out and peering around at us. We enjoyed our short time of being able to touch him and watch him before we released the echidna happily back into the wild.

I wonder if God looks at me and sees my emotional responses to life’s bruises and neglects in much the same way as an echidna responds? When hurtful or stinging words come my way do I emotionally hide? When my heart is heavy, am I busy shutting people out with my exterior of self protection, that prevents the healing rays of God’s love to penetrate deep into my soul? Do I curl up in self pity, withdrawing within myself? Am I busy disguising my feelings of thinking I am  unloveable, unappreciated, unwanted or misunderstood, behind a facade? Am I prickly towards others? Am I an “Echidna Christian” busy defending myself , protecting myself or do I run to God, my strong and sure defence? Do I allow Him to be my refuge, my defender and my strength? 

Prov 18:10 The name of the LORD is a strong tower: the righteous runs into it, and is safe.

Ps 144:2 He is my loving God and my fortress, my stronghold and my deliverer, my shield, in whom I take refuge

Ps 31:20 You hide them in the secret place of Your presence from the conspiracies of man; You keep them secretly in a shelter from the strife of tongues.

Glistening Rain

Glistening Rain

The countdown was on. It was the month of August in Australia and spring officially starts on September the first. I had, already, with much thought and care, planted my spring garden seeds into containers. Our kitchen area created the perfect glass house  effect as they sat by the large plate window in the warm, winter sun by the snug, wood fire. However, this winter, day after day, we caught only small snatches of sunlight and clear, azure skies. Scattered showers and gusty winds had thrown their mantle of misery across the wintery landscape. The yearning for spring grew deep in my heart as the days passed by in a blustery gust of cold and wet.

Finally, in great excitement, the last day of winter arrived. It was bright and clear, warmth kissed the brown earth and the promise of spring  was upon us. I was on a mission. The calendar said spring was here for this coming week. In a flurry of anticipation, I busily organised the day around planting and weeding and tidying up the vegetable garden area. My husband, Michael, was conscripted to the cause, and off we traipsed into the heat of the day. We have two garden beds, sixteen feet by eight feet; both of them neatly bordered with wooden railway sleepers. The area surrounding our garden beds is covered with dusky coloured pavers and fully fenced. A flourishing passion fruit vine  clambers slowly over the fence; while rounds of dry cut wood stand neatly stacked to the side, ready for chopping. At the back lay scattered piles of chopped wood, unwanted bark, saw dust and scraggly weeds struggling to grow up between the pavers. Last season’s pumpkin vine lay dry and prickly through the tangled growth of tall grass and spilled out towards the garden.

Eagerly I turned the soft moist soil with the garden fork, stooping  to pull out each undesirable weed. Michael was happily occupied with methodically stacking previously chopped firewood and noisily cutting up old timber palings. My mind was whirling with the happy thoughts of all I would accomplish in the week ahead, from cleaning the pavers to eradicating the old pumpkin vine. I was enthusiastic and dedicated. I spent my day preparing the dark rich soil and planting out thirty corn plants and twelve zucchini plants, leaving the other seedlings in their containers to mature some more. I finished by spreading thickly a layer of yellowed sugar cane mulch across the garden bed.

I spent a few days hovering over each tiny plant, fussing with all the love of a mother over their tender care. I was enjoying the arrival of spring, the brightly coloured flowers blooming in my front garden, the sunny skies and the warmer weather. Unexpectedly, a roll of deep thunder echoed across the skies, a blast of cold air hit and blackened clouds unfurled themselves; rapidly blotting out the brightness of the sun and stealthily darkening the garden. I looked anxiously outside with a sense of foreboding. Abruptly the heavens opened and the outpouring of icy cold rain launched itself like arrows swiftly to the earth. It was torrential and I peered nervously towards the vegetable garden. The rain turned into tiny pellets of white ice. It was now hailing. Then back to teeming.  Would my seedlings survive? Would the leaves be damaged? Was the rain too fast, too heavy and too much? I stood there praying. With a blast of chilly wind the darkened clouds parted and the sun shone through swift and sure. Each rain drop fell, glistening like jewels to the ground. Rays of light in thin shafts beamed a radiance through the rain, creating  an enchanting wonderland. It was a world sparkling with beauty. I stood in awe.

The past year has found me feeling very vulnerable, fragile and weak like those little plants before the raging torrents of trials, copiously flowing from the skies. I have felt flattened and knocked and left wondering when it was ever going to cease. The brightness of God’s promises had lit up my heart with an iridescence of joy like streaks of light across the darkened corners of my mind. His word shone like gemstones shimmering through tears. Just as my little plants not just survived but thrived through the storm; so too I have hope, hope in the  abounding love and goodness of the Lord towards me. The lustre of His word glitters with a sheen upon your heart as well as mine. Will you believe Him? Will I ? 

Neh 8:10 “..Do not be grieved, for the joy of the LORD is your strength.”

Ps 34:17-19 When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears and delivers them out of all their troubles. The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit. Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivers him out of them all.

James 1:2-4 Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.