Trying to hear the information from our family doctor as she prescribed the antibiotic, I could hear things heating between Tyson and Charlotte over by the bead maze table. As much as I wanted to focus on the doctor, I found myself nodding along, half-listening as she continued, “Tyson just bonked Charlotte on the head with the pizza tray.” “I know,” I told her, a little desperate for adult conversation, even if it was about medicine. I urged her to keep talking, grasping at the small chance to connect with another adult. When the arguing over who would send the beads through the swirly maze grew louder, I finally walked over, catching Charlotte mid-lecture to Tyson. I bent down, exasperated, and pleaded, “Give him the bead loops now. Go play on the other side. I need one minute to talk to a grown-up!” As we left, Dr. Thelen rounded the corner with a smile: “Please write this in a book. I want to read about real life played out at its finest.”
There is an old cowboy folklore that says the deeper a horse puts its muzzle in the water, the better he is. Psalms 36:8 says, “They are abundantly satisfied with the fullness of your house, and you give them drink from the rivers of your pleasure.” Do we drink deeply in the things of God? Do we see His handiwork in the markings of our daily lives, or do we live for the mountain tops instead of the climb? The mountaintop means nothing without the climb behind it.
Lost in my own thoughts on a beautiful day outside, I watched Charlotte savor each bloom, inhaling deeply. She bent down, buried her nose in a blossom, closed her eyes as she breathed in, then rose with a contented sigh. “It smells just like bubblegum,” she murmured. Together, we remained still, letting the butterflies—orange, blue, black, and pink—flutter around us. Charlotte’s eyes, wide with wonder, followed their gentle visit.
Lying down under the tree, Charlotte motioned for me to lie down beside her. She put her hands behind her head and crossed her legs in the grass. “This is how I like to see the sky. Springtime feels warm and green. I like to watch the birds play and talk to each other in the trees.” I joined her and watched the world from her perspective, quietly absorbing her sense of wonder. In her simplicity, I saw a depth I often overlook in my search for the next philosophical meaning.
Not long after our sky-watching adventure, Charlotte stepped on a sliver. Sitting her down in the living room, I watched her little foot shake—a visible sign of her fear, knowing I had to retrieve it. "I have to get it out, Charlotte." She responded with conviction, "We have to pray, Mommy. God will heal it, don’t pull it out." I paused, moved by her faith in God’s ability to heal, and gently shared that sometimes healing is found on the other side of pain. Trusting me, she handed me her foot and let me carefully dig out the sliver with my needle.
When it was over, alligator tears stained her face. I held up the tiny sliver that had caused all the pain. Charlotte hugged me tightly.
It is not always the mountain we are climbing that gives us all the trouble. Perhaps it’s the pebble in our shoe.
1 Corinthians 16:19 tells us Aquilla and Priscilla had a church in their house. Do we? Do our children see Jesus when slivers need to be removed? How deep will we go? Charlotte’s request to ask Jesus for help revealed where I draw my water.
It’s easy to get lost in daily busyness, in needs and wants—things that seem most important, only to realize they mattered little. I do not want to miss spring blossoms, birds perching in their nests, and visiting one another. I want to drink deeply from the rivers of God’s pleasures; moments we often deem lesser.
My children seem to find me easily each morning. No matter how early I rise, they make their way to where I am. My Bible study time is often interrupted. Sometimes I think I am accomplishing nothing. It seems like a shallow well at times, yet I know it’s a well that never runs dry. The water that fills me is the water that leads me. He promises to lead me beside the still waters and restore my soul for His Name’s sake.
It is at His feet we get our chances back. It’s where I am refreshed and renewed. Secrets are revealed in the secret place.
Pam Stockdale
Charlotte had a serious case of croup a few weeks ago. It continued to advance all morning. By midafternoon, we were left with no other option than to take her to the ER for treatment, which could only be found there. Sadly, this meant we had to postpone our ice cream trip until she was completely better. Daily, she would ask, “Is today our ice cream day?” Finally, her “ice cream” day came. We celebrated with the whole family at the local parlor. I made the comment about how happy we all were that she was better. Charlotte chimed in, “It was God who made me all better, Mom!” I drank in the truth of her words deeply.
The sunshine was deceptive on a late February afternoon. The wind was blowing hard, cold, biting through our coveralls and reminding me of the gusty winter winds across the prairie. Despite the chill, Charlotte and I decided it was the perfect day to head off to the barn. Once inside, we walked from stall to stall, watching the horses' breath escape into the air and breathing in the scent of hay that filled the space. My hands found warmth under the mane of a sweet old mare. I stood there, listening to the quiet stomps and nickers moving from stall to stall—the mindless grinding of hay between their teeth brought a comfort only some can understand. I smiled at their water buckets hanging on the stall walls, loose strands of hay floating at the top. With over thirty horses in the barns, I was hoping at least one would dive deep to quench their thirst. Lord, I pray I might do the same.
The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside the still waters. Psalms 23:1-2
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