Over cA%> Of
could He do this to us when we had spent so much time, talent and money for His glory? Besides this, adding to the loss of our loved ones was the loss of my husband’s job, and for a while, we thought we would lose our home and possessions. It was at this time we came face to face with the Lord’s words in Matthew 10:39: “ He that findeth his life shall lose it: and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it.” With the possibility of losing our loved ones, and even our posses sions, very real to us, it dawned on us that if we lost everything, we would still have Him, the greatest posses sion. Now as we look back on the past two years, we see it was the greatest time of spiritual growing we have ever experienced. God’s abundance to us is a never-ending marvel, and we are ever learning the lesson that often when our losses are great, God’s abun dance is even greater. No wonder James said (Living Let ters translation) “ Dear brothers, is your life full of difficulties and tempta tions? Then be happy, for when the way is rough, your patience has a chance to grow. So let it grow and don’t try to squirm out of your problems. For when your patience is finally in full bloom, then you will be ready for anything, strong in character, full and complete.” dQ-C "I W AN T TO THANK YOU TWICE . . Her name is Eileen and she lives in Oregon. Years ago, she requested a recipe for a quick and simple salad I had served at a luncheon. I copied the recipe, she thanked me graciously, and that was that — I thought no more about it. We haven’t seen each other for years, but a week or two ago a note came from Eileen which read, “ I want to thank you twice! You have no idea what delight your worn recipe has brought to my family again and again.” She refreshed my memory about the luncheon and ended with a bit of humor about her family’s loving her most when she served that par ticular salad. Her note was like a fresh morning breeze on that particu larly busy day. I polished silver, dusted furniture and gave piano lessons, with her words re-echoing in my heart, “1 want to thank you twice. . . .” My en tire day glistened! Then I began to think of other friends who had added special joy to my life through their unexpected kind ness. There was the friend who sent a copy of Mrs. Cowman’s inspired de votional book, “Streams In The Des ert.’’ By now almost every page of my worn copy is circled and underlined, and I treasure it far more than when it first came through the mail long ago. Why not say thank you twicel I thought of the friend who gave me the delicate cup and saucer I love to use for a mid-morning coffee break. Somehow the coffee has a different
M y r o s e s a r e just gorgeous and they are blooming their hearts them, they looked so sad, but only a few weeks later, the new growth started and early buds began to peek out for their first look at spring and our back yard. Now all 17 bushes are bursting with hundreds of pink roses. We planted them close to the patio so we could watch the explosion of color from dark green stalks to bright green leaves and finally, to pink, pink, and more pink. How we love them! However, I think you should know what our roses think of us. They hate us. Quite simply, they are sure we are out to get them, and looking at it from their point of view, it’s just pos sible they do hâve a point. I have heard them talking about us many times, and the conversation between themselves usually goes like this . . . (now before you tell me roses don’t talk, my son said last week, “Hey, Mom, according to our science teach er, there’s a super-sensitive new micro phone that can pick up the sound of a cry when a flower stem is cut!” ) . . . it always begins like this ; with the older flower talking to the young bud: Old Rose:
out. In January, when Dick pruned
Goffee
by Joyce Londorf
Rose:
That’s just it, when I did ask them, the answer was just idiotic. They said, “We are doing these things so that you will grow and de velop beautiful roses.” I don’t understand them ; why should they do all that to us?
See that man and that wo man over there? You have to watch out for them. What’s the m a tter with them? It’s what they have in their hands — see that funny thing? It’s what they call the prun ing shears, and just when you really get going good, they will come along and you’ll feel the cut, and then you’re gone. Oh, that’s not all. After they finish the clipp ing , then look out for whatever is in that can. It sprays and stings, and you think there is no limit to their idea of torture. But they always talk so lovingly to us. Don’t be fooled by it, be cause about the time you think you’re safe, they start digging around your roots and you know they will be the death of you yet. In fact, many times I’ve shout ed at them to remind them how we all have filled their house with flowers almost nine months of the year, and how proud they are when their friends say how beautiful we are . . . but it does no good at all. Why don’t you ask them why they do it? No!
Bud:
Old Rose:
Two years ago, I gave birth to a little son, our third child, David. He was just beautiful and very dear. He was also almost a day old when my husband, Dick, came to my hospital bed and said, “It’s all over; David is with the Lord.” The bite of the pruning shears snapped into the very core of our beings. I thought, “ Oh God, WHY, WHY, WHY?” Gently, the answer came, “ My dear Joyce, I love you and I want you to grow to bear beautiful roses.” One year later to the day, the dear est grandfather in the world left us to walk through the Gates of Splendor — and the sting of the spray pene trated my heart. Once more I said, “ Oh God, it’s too soon and too hard to bear, WHY, WHY, WHY?” Again the answer came, “I love you and I want you to grow.” Nine months later, my precious mother slipped from her bed of sear ing pain into the waiting arms of our gracious Saviour. I felt as if my roots were being pulled up, and as I watched her leave, I asked the painful question again, “WHY, WHY, WHY?” For the third time in two years, I heard the same still voice of God say ing, “ I love you and I want you to grow — to bear beautiful roses.” My argument with God was over a verse of scripture He had given us when we became Christians — John 10:10: “ I came that you might have life, and have it more abundantly.” This was the abundance of God? These losses in our lives gave us abundance? How
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Old Rose:
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THE KING'S BUSINESS
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