365 days, a journey to find joy in every day!

There was an old house that sat out on a vacant farm down by the river where I grew up.  It seemed to be falling down, and it was apparent that no one had lived there in decades.  The local farmers didn't even use it to store equipment in.  It just sat there with gaping windows, leaning to one side in the front, and the other side in the back.  The weeds had grown up all around it so tall that they looked like they had been planted there. You could not even see the foundation of that old house. We used to say that it was haunted, because. of course, children must have something to stimulate their flights of fancy. 


Being the adventurous child that I was, I ventured in the old place one sunny afternoon.  The porch creaked beneath my feet, but did not break, and the old screen door opened with squeaky hinges, even though it was very clear that no one had set a hand on that door in ages.  Inside, through the dusty windows, I could look out across the Colorado prairie, see the hills in the distance.  From the back porch, by the place that looked like it must have been the kitchen, I could see Pikes Peak from the window.  There were some tatters of what must have been old lace curtains hanging from an old curtain rod.  The dust had to have been at least 4 or 5 inches deep, belying the fact that no one had been there, and not one foot print in the dust, with the exception of mine.  I made a quick scan of the place, with my child eyes, but saw no evidence of ghosts or any other goblin type creature.  There was an old iron bed with bare springs in the only bedroom, and a few other things laying around that indicated that at some point, this place had been someone's home.  I felt sort of like I had violated some long lost privacy, so decided that I had better head home.  But later on in my adventures, this little shack of a house would prove a refuge from a thunderstorm, and shade in the hot sun.  I don't think anyone ever went there besides myself, and my little faithful horse. 


I noticed something about that old house.  Even though it leaned sort of funny to one side, all the doors opened, and I suppose the windows would have too.  It had apparently been built by someone who knew their carpentry, and who had provided this little house with a good foundation, even though that was well hidden by the overgrown weeds. It has been over 40 years since I was at that house, but I noticed it was still there when I went back in September.  It is what my grandfather used to call " a house with good bones." meaning it had been built on a good foundation, with time taken to put it together right. 


I am thinking about that old house tonight, after a tearful journey back home from the nursing home.  So much suffering there, so little hope.  I pray please dear Lord for this one and for that one, and please Lord help them because no one else can.  I am stirred by their suffering, and for some reason it makes me think of that old house.  They all look like they are falling apart, but they are still standing.  At least some of them are. 


I am trying to find some joy in this tonight, and finding it hard, but I can hear the scriptures in my heart, saying "The Joy of the Lord is my strength."  I am sad, for my father to be there, for any of those people to be there, and the outcome to the world is that their plight is a hopeless one.  There is only one way out of that place, and that is in a box. 


And then I feel it, that knowing inside of me, that is so deep that I cannot even at times express it.  This is not the end of them, or of me. This world we call home, this thing we call our life, is only a stop on our journey, and we will travel past this layover to brighter places.  This is all in the Lord's hands and in His time, for each of them, and for all of us. 


No, I am definitely not happy tonight.  But I find that, like that old house, I have a foundation that is sure, that sometimes can't be seen because of all the other things that have grown up around it.  It was built by God, to  keep me strong and steady, standing, even if I do lean a bit to the south.  That foundation is my sure hope in Jesus, in all He did for me and for the world, and that God has a plan for every life, to prosper them, for good, and not for evil. 


Tonight I know I saw at least the southeast corner of my foundation.  In spite of sorrow and suffering, the Joy of the Lord is my strength.