Showing posts with label devotional. Show all posts
Showing posts with label devotional. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 17, 2021

THE THANKSGIVING I WILL NEVER FORGET: Devotional by Lorilyn Roberts


 


Many years ago, I sat with my dad on the front porch one summer night in Marietta, Georgia. The stars shone brightly overhead, and the chirping of nightlife filled the air. We got into a discussion about whether we would live to see the turn of the century. I was a young teen at the time, but my dad was in his 40’s.

He shook his head. “I don’t think I’ll live that long. I’d be in my 70’s. Well, maybe.”

Both his parents died when he was young, so his words hung in the air, pressing in on me that I would probably outlive him and my mom, although my mother’s side of the family is long-lived—typically into their 90’s. My mom is approaching that age in 2021. Sadly, my dad didn’t make it to 2000. He passed away in 1994 from a brain tumor, but he was close.

My dad used to say that even though his body had aged, his mind was still the same as when he was young. I never understood what he meant when I was young. I suppose if you get Alzheimer’s, that’s not the case, but the thought that your mind doesn’t age like your body does is intriguing. How can that be? 

As I continue to stretch myself doing things I never imagined, I hope it will help keep my mind spry. I am learning Morse Code and pondering what my first sentence will be when I go on the airwaves. The biggest adjustment will be instead of sending out captions at 260 plus words per minute, I’ll be “competent” if I can send out ten words per minute using C.W. 

I just applied for Social Security and will be retiring at the end of the year. Where does the time go? I remember a poem I wrote by that title when I was around fifteen. Because my mother loved it so much, I even turned it into a song.

It’s so easy to lose track of years as they come and go and not even realize decades have passed in what seems like the blink of an eye. Since August, I’ve been an empty nester. Both my daughters have moved out. I even needed to replace the 20-year-old van that I bought when Joy was still an infant.

While I might be sounding a little melancholy, I’m thankful to be alive. And this Thanksgiving, I wanted to focus on how grateful I am for all the blessings God has given me.

I asked myself, what is my favorite Thanksgiving? At sixty-six, I’ve lived through quite a few. And the answer came almost as quickly as I asked the question. I want to share an extraordinary Thanksgiving story from when I was seven.

My mom and adoptive father married on November 3, 1962. Three weeks later, that Thanksgiving holiday, my life changed forever. The arrival of my childhood pet is a story made for Hollywood. But God wrote it for me before the foundations of the world.

At a tenuous time when my mother had just remarried, because we moved to a different area of Atlanta, I had to switch schools. I was a lonely, confused kid. Being forced to repeat first grade didn’t help. But God had His eyes on me. He knew I needed a special friend. Our loving, heavenly Father sent me a stray dog that taught me more about God and the meaning of love than most seven-year-olds could ever understand. That is—unless it was someone like me, someone who needed the kind of love only a dog can give.

Here is an excerpt from my recently published book, Tails and Purrs for the Heart and Soul.


Seven Years Old

 

One morning I awoke from a fantasy world more thrilling than Disney could ever create. I felt a wet, warm kiss on my cheek. When I opened my eyes and saw a dog, I wrapped my arms around her.

“Who are you?” I asked. As my dreamy eyes focused, I saw she was white, and somehow, she had walked into the house, run up the stairs, and found me in bed.

My mother stood across from me with a smile etched across her face.

I patted the dog’s head. “Where did she come from?”

“This is Gypsy. We’re going to keep her,” she said.

I blinked to make sure I hadn’t died and gone to heaven. Not that I even knew where that was, but I wanted to make sure I wasn’t starring in a Hollywood movie. Surely this was just make-believe.

A prominent movie director in New York once tried to convince my mother to let him take me to Hollywood. My mother said no, and I lost my only bid for Hollywood stardom. Instead, Hollywood discovered Hayley Mills. Everybody, when I was young, compared me to her. I’ve heard it said everybody has a twin. Hayley Mills was mine.

Everything faded into the bedroom walls as I focused on the bouncy white, playful pearl. While some might argue we saved her from a wretched life on the streets, I’d say she saved me from a very challenging, lonely childhood. Is dog not God spelled backward?

Mother told me how the night before, Gypsy snuck into the apartment through the door with my stepfather—who I call Dad for the remainder of the book—when he returned from the store to buy milk.

Soon Gypsy became my faithful companion and playmate. When I came home from school, she would be waiting for me at the door. I invented games to play with her. I would place my hand underneath the blanket and move it around, and Gypsy would “fetch” it with her mouth. I soon learned how much dogs love to chew on shoes, slippers, and record covers.

When I came home from school, I could hardly wait to walk her. When we returned after each walk, I would announce how many times Gypsy had used the bathroom, both number one and number two, to validate I was the best dog walker in the world. I cleaned up after her when she made a mess so nobody would know. I always had a deep-seated fear I might lose her.

One afternoon I arrived home from school, and I knew something was wrong. Gypsy didn’t greet me at the door, and I ran through the house looking for her.

“She’s gone,” my mother told me. “The apartment manager said we couldn’t keep her, and your father took her to a protected area. Don’t worry. She’ll be fine.”

“Where did he take her?”

My mother paused before continuing. “You know the apartment complex doesn’t allow dogs. We had no choice.”

My heart broke. I knew it might come to this. I’d overheard the whispers. I ran out of the room and up the stairs to my bedroom. Burying my face in the pillow, I cried. Gypsy was gone. I didn’t want to believe I would never see her again. Even at eight, I believed in miracles.

That night thunderbolts crashed outside my bedroom, and lightning pierced through the window shades. I imagined Gypsy in the darkness. I could feel her fur against my skin and see her dark, brown eyes pleading for me. I twisted and turned in bed as peals of thunder bounced off the walls. If Gypsy ever found her way back, I vowed to run away with her. I would never let anybody take her from me again.

The next day came and went. She didn’t return. I went to school, hoping she would find her way back.

After another stormy night, Wednesday arrived, the day before Thanksgiving. We were packing things to visit my new father’s family in North Carolina. My mother had recently remarried. We had yet to meet the extended family of her new husband—a brother and three sisters.

I kept looking up the hill in front of the apartment, imagining that I would see my dog come flying over the rise in the road. I knew it was almost impossible, but I hoped. I made one last trip to my bedroom. The car was loaded, and we were ready to leave. I picked up my pillow and remembered the first morning Gypsy awoke me and licked me on the face.

“God, please help Gypsy to find her way back.”

I walked out the door to get into the car. Glancing one last time up the hill, I saw something white. Was it, could it be—I dropped my pillow and started to run. My mind raced, and I ran as fast as my legs would move. It couldn’t be—but it was.

Tattered and dirty and barking excitedly, Gypsy ran toward me, flashing her tail in the wind. She had survived two nights of bad weather and found her way home through a raging storm. If she had arrived two minutes later, we would have been on the road.

I crouched down and held her as she whimpered and licked my face. I didn’t know I could laugh and cry at the same time, but one thing I did know—God brought Gypsy back to me.




“I will never let go of you,” I promised.

Gypsy squealed. For the first time, I believed in God.

 

🐶🐶🐶

 


All these years later, my faith in God remains steadfast. And as I wrote in my book Tails and Purrs for the Heart and Soul, I know I will see Gypsy again. My younger daughter Joy and her roommates recently adopted a dog from the local humane society. I’m smiling on the inside. The Roberts’ tradition lives on with my children, and that brings me great joy this Thanksgiving.

To learn more about my memoir, Tails and Purrs for the Heart and Soul, click on this link.  

Friday, October 18, 2019

ETERNAL REFLECTIONS: Devotional by Lorilyn Roberts





Juneau, Alaska


☦☦☦☦☦☦☦☦☦☦☦☦

Be inspired...


Juneau, Alaska




Juneau, Alaska


Juneau, Alaska


Juneau, Alaska


Juneau, Alaska



Juneau, Alaska


Juneau, Alaska

Juneau, Alaska


Juneau, Alaska
Juneau, Alaska









Friday, June 28, 2019

BELIEVING LIES OF THE DEVIL - DID POPE FRANCIS REALLY SAY THAT: Devotional by Lorilyn Roberts



Many years ago I watched a movie about a pastor who did not believe in the infallible Word of God. The passages he deemed irrelevant he instructed his congregation to cut out of their Bible. By the end of the movie, the Bible was in rags, and when trials and tribulations came, those divinely-inspired passages that the people needed were no longer in their Bibles. If my pastor said during a Sunday morning sermon, “I think this Bible passage is wrong and I will change it to…” I’d be looking for another church.

In fact, anyone who tells me the Scriptures are flawed is not someone from whom I would seek counsel. We can only see through a glass darkly now, and while there are many things I don’t fully understand, I know God will make it all clear on the last day.

While the movie was a fictional example of how the serpent can cause deception in a leader’s understanding of Scripture, it’s even more treacherous when the leader is the head of the Roman Catholic Church and 1.2 billion Catholics. I’m referring to Pope Francis’s recent approval of the changing of the translation of the Lord’s Prayer given to us in Matt 6:13 and Luke 11:4: “And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil…”

To quote Pope Francis: “A father [doesn’t lead his children into temptation]. A father helps you to get up immediately. It’s Satan who leads us into temptation. That’s his department.” The Pope’s new rendition of the Lord’s prayer to His followers is: “Do not let us fall into temptation.”

This stunning proclamation by Pope Francis leads to other significant questions that are at the core of the Gospel. Would a perfectly loving and Holy Father offer up His only begotten Son to be tortured, crucified, and killed as a sacrifice for humankind? Or what about when God commanded Abraham to offer up his only son Isaac as a sin offering?  

What kind of example is Pope Francis setting when he says the Bible needs to be changed to comport with his understanding of what Jesus meant?

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Steve Cioccolanti states in his new book The Divine Code, A Prophetic Encyclopedia of Numbers, Volume 1 (Discover Media 2009-2019), “The devil knows that the worst thing he can do to you is to make you reject God’s Word and believe a lie instead (ch. 4).”

Examples abound in the Bible where Satan succeeded in his deception. Perhaps the most well known is in Genesis 2:17. The serpent asked Eve, “Did God actually say, ‘You shall not eat of any tree in the garden?’”

In another example where Satan failed, he misquoted Scripture when he tried to tempt Jesus three times in the wilderness. Jesus countered the serpent’s false accusations by proclaiming, “It is written…”

Steve Cioccolanti goes on to say, “There is really nothing for the believer to worry [about] once he or she knows his or her authority in Christ and uses the Name of Jesus in prayer (ch 4). ‘If you abide in my word, you are my disciples indeed. And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free (John 8:31-32).’”

Romans 10:3 tells us we do not know the righteousness that comes from God and therefore we seek to establish our own. Isaiah 40:8 states: “…the word of our God shall stand forever,” and to quote Steve Cioccolanti in The Divine Code once again, “Jesus promised us victory over every stronghold not by praying against devils, but by putting God’s Word first (ch 4).”

The most precious thing we can touch and hold in our hands this side of eternity is God’s Word. Matthew 24:35 states, “Heaven and earth shall away, but my words shall not pass away.” By believing the Scriptures, all of them, even those parts we may not fully understand, we can escape any attempt by the devil to reject or retranslate God’s Word in a way we find palatable.

“For the time is coming when people will not endure sound teaching, but having itching ears, they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own passions” (2 Tim 4:3).
The Lord’s prayer means exactly what it says: “Lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil.” We can rest assured that whatever temptation we face, God will provide “the way of escape, that we may endure it” (I Cor 10:13).

Friday, May 3, 2019

AND I WILL RESTORE TO YOU THE YEARS THAT THE LOCUSTS HATH EATEN: Devotional by Lorilyn Roberts




 “And I will restore to you the years that the locust hath eaten…” Joel 2:25 (KJV)


“I took away her dreams,” my husband told the judge. His words stung. My dreams of bearing children, finishing my college degree, and pursuing my goal of becoming a writer seemed impossible. At thirty, I hit rock bottom and started over in a dead-end job I hated. Tears welled up as I wept bitterly.

Thirty-three years later, I thank God he did not save my marriage. As an abuse survivor, I learned to be kind to myself. Prayer and reading God’s Word helped me to heal. I discovered freedom through travel. I found new ways to earn my college degree and studied internationally. I eventually earned my Master of Arts in Creative Writing. I learned to keep a short memory. I overcame bitterness by developing a positive attitude. I discovered beauty because I chose to look for it. I learned to love better and adopted two beautiful little girls from Nepal and Vietnam. I homeschooled them and learned patience. I chose to forgive. I was most surprised to learn that locusts can only eat so much. Then they die.


With the wind at my back and the sand underneath my feet, I no longer lament the years the locusts stole from me. They aren’t worth remembering. Only my footprints remain for others to follow. Instead, I’m thankful. Nothing is ever wasted, especially suffering. By taking that first step toward healing, we can share our victories despite our pain. Others will be encouraged when they see our footprints and know someone has gone before. 

Prayer:  Loving Father, help us to follow your footprints in the sand as we leave our own, forgetting the past and looking forward to the future.

Friday, September 23, 2016

GOD'S LOVE REVEALED IN A WORM: Devotional by Lorilyn Roberts



Recently some friends and I were discussing when we feel closest to God. I sheepishly responded I feel closest to God when I am writing or scuba diving. I feared that didn’t make me sound very spiritual— until someone remarked that’s probably when I feel most needy. 

I reminisced back to my diving days before kids. Away from the noise and distractions of a busy life, I would be overcome with the immense beauty and vastness of the world beneath the ocean.

On one night dive in the Florida Keys, my dive buddy and I were at seventy-five feet. We were diving off a shipwreck, and when I shone my underwater light on the rustic red side of a sunken boat, I discovered a brown caterpillar-like creature with tons of legs.

He was edging his way along at a rather slow pace. I probably stunned him by
the intrusion of my bright light in what was otherwise total blackness.
As I floated beside the ship and examined the peculiar worm,

I wondered why, in the middle of the vast Atlanta Ocean, I would discover this rather ugly creature.
Asking questions of seeming insignificance can lead to discussions latent with deeper meaning. Why did God create me? Are the things we stumble upon in life purely by chance?

Twenty-five years later, I’ve not forgotten that worm at the bottom of the ocean’s depths. I am reminded that our words bear witness to God’s nature in all of nature. We feel God’s pleasure in the stories that we tell—the stories that touch us deeply.

One worm found its way into a Bible story. In the book of Jonah in the Old Testament, God sent Jonah to warn the people of the city of Nineveh to repent of their ways. After being eaten by the whale, Jonah traveled to the wicked city and did as God had asked him. But when God didn’t destroy the city and spared the inhabitants, Jonah brooded over God’s mercy to Israel’s enemies. Then God supplied a plant to give Jonah shade as he sat angry in the hot noonday sun. The next day, however, God provided a worm to eat the plant. Sometimes
my life seems like that. What is God is trying to teach me?


Diving into the depths of the ocean reminds me of diving into the depths of God’s love. I see His creativity in the world of worms, garden eels, and sea urchins; manta rays that glide over the sea wall, nurse sharks that hide under rocky ledges, and barracuda that amass in the hundreds.

God’s underwater paradise gives me hope that harmony with the world through Him is possible. I may not understand it all, but I don’t have to. Perhaps God just wants me to enjoy the journey and channel His creativity that I so much love
into my soul.
As my kids get older, I look forward to once again putting on the weight belt, BC, tank, and octopus. I always enjoyed spitting into my face mask to clean it (after all, how many times in life is that acceptable behavior); and, of course, getting that last strand of hair out of the mask so
as not to burn my eyes with seeping saltwater. I can’t wait to push that regulator button and hear the compressed air spew out (pretty important down there to be able to breathe) and I will waddle like a duck in all my gear to the back of the boat and wait my turn (imagining I look better than I feel with the cumbersome tank on my back).






I will make sure I remember all those hand signals (the out-of-air one might come in handy), and hopefully, heave off the back of the boat in a spectacular somersault.

The rising bubbles as I sink and the sound of the regulator imitating my breathing will bring me back to my favorite pastime. I will be wooed once more to enjoy God’s presence in a world of unparalleled beauty where even a worm bears witness to His unconditional love.


* * * * * * *

To enjoy more of Lorilyn Roberts' writings, check out her website at LorilynRoberts.com.

Monday, August 29, 2016

GOD'S LOVE REVEALED IN A CAT: Devotional by Lorilyn Roberts

Kenobi 2016, double hip surgery


Recently my two-year-old cat had a terrible accident. We became aware something was wrong when we couldn’t find him. We searched all over the house and looked outside, although he’s not an outdoor cat. Perhaps he ran out without us noticing. No matter how many times I called his name, he didn’t come. I started moving the furniture around to see if he was hiding. When I pulled the sofa away from the wall, he popped out.

Our excitement at finding him dissipated when we noticed he was limping, but I had no idea of the severity of his injuries. My daughter then remembered seeing something white flash behind her when she was vacuuming. We then realized he must have run to escape the vacuum cleaner by hiding underneath the sofa.

That night, Kenobi rested in the corner of my bedroom on a rug with his hips propped up. I noticed he was breathing heavily, but when I approached him, he hissed at me. He felt feverish, and the next day I took him to the vet. X-rays revealed he had broken both hind hips.

The vet prescribed some pain medicine, and we elected to try the conservative approach first – bed rest for two months in a crate. Follow-up X-rays revealed his hips had not healed, and the left hip was actually more displaced than before. He didn’t appear to be in as much pain, but he walked with a noticeable limp and couldn’t run or jump up on the sofa or bed.

The right hip didn’t seem symptomatic, so the vet recommended we just do surgery on the left hip, but there was another problem. He had a heart murmur. Who heard of a two-year-old cat having a heart murmur? Surely that couldn’t be anything serious. 

Our vet recommended we take Kenobi to the University of Florida Small Animal Clinic to diagnose the cause and make sure he was healthy enough for surgery. I set an appointment, realizing the costs were mounting for his treatment and questioning how much money was too much to spend on a cat.



The results came back from the heart tests—Kenobi had heart disease. As the vet described it, if you have to have heart disease, his is the best kind to have. It was somewhat treatable with medication, and the doctor felt he should be able to survive hip surgery.

I packed Kenobi up in the van and brought him home. How difficult would it be to give a cat a tiny pill twice a day? Maybe giving Kenobi his medicine would help me to remember to take my blood pressure medicine. 


We scheduled Kenobi for surgery, but then he did something to his other hip. He couldn’t walk at all, and he was in as much pain as when he originally broke both hips. It was Saturday and our vet was closed, so I took him to the Small Animal Clinic at the University of Florida. They sent me home with pain meds to make him comfortable until our vet did the surgery on Tuesday.

I dropped Kenobi off at the vet three days later, informing the doctor of the recent change in his other hip. They did X-rays, and the doctor called me on the phone and said Kenobi needed surgery on both hips. He believed both hips should be done at the same time because of Kenobi’s heart murmur, but he couldn’t do both hips that day.

Arrangements were made to have the surgery done the next day by an orthopedic specialist. He also arranged to have an anesthesiologist to assist with the surgery because of Kenobi’s heart disease. The costs had become steep, and several well-meaning friends suggested I should put him down.


“Never,” I told them. God would provide the money, even if it meant working a lot of overtime to pay for it.

The next day I took Kenobi in for surgery and prayed. Matthew 10:29 came to mind: “Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father.” Kenobi as well as my seven other animals have all been rescued, and each one brings me joy.

The night after Kenobi’s surgery, I called the vet and asked how Kenobi was doing. 

“He’s doing okay,” the nurse said.  “But he’s not eating or urinating on his own.”

“Can I come down and see him?” I asked.

She put me on hold for a few minutes before replying. “If you make it brief,” she said.

I drove to the vet and arrived within minutes. Not many people are awake in the wee hours of the morning. The nurse took me to Kenobi where he was resting in a small crate. As soon as he saw me, his eyes lit up. The tech opened the cage and I reached in and stroked him gently on the head. Sweet purrs filled the air. I smiled. He just needed to know I hadn’t forgotten about him.



The next day I took Kenobi home and made him comfortable. The vet prescribed morphine and he wore a small fentanyl patch on his back. Eventually, the pain faded, and he became his old self again. As I write this, he is even starting to play with toys and walk at a brisk pace. He can now get up on the sofa using cat stairs I bought at the store.

Surprisingly, a few days ago, my back started bothering me. Maybe it was from leaning over taking care of Kenobi. Maybe it was from some heavy cleaning I did and hauling away dozens of books and donating them to a local bookstore.

I went to the doctor and got some muscle relaxants, and now I’m taking lots of walks, hot baths, Ibuprofen, and Tylenol.

As I thought about the coincidence, I wondered if God had something He wanted me to remember. Jesus Christ, when He died on the cross, died for our infirmities. He took upon Himself the weight of the world— our sins, our pain, and our hurts, and suffered an inhumane death on the cross. Isaiah 53:4 states: Surely He (Jesus Christ) has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed Him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted.”


Perhaps God was showing me once again when we care for others deeply, we feel their pain. We hurt for them and with them.
Did God use Kenobi, a two-year-old kitten from the Human Society, to draw me near to Him? I feel God’s love when I love Kenobi, knowing without my sacrificial love, he wouldn’t be alive. I saved his life because I esteemed his value even if others didn’t. I saw a greater lesson, a greater message, and a greater story of love. Just as God cares for the sparrow that falls from a tree, God revealed His eternal love for me through Kenobi’s brokenness and healing.

Kenobi's hair is already growing back.