All days are special but there are some occasions on which we choose to celebrate the goodness of God in a deeper way. Marcia Laycock helps us do that with devotionals designed for Christmas, Thanksgiving, Mother's Day etc.
Marcia has published hundreds of devotionals in anthologies, newspapers and in three other books, as well as for Scripture Union Press, Upper Room and The Quiet Hour.
"There's something uniquely comforting and uplifting about Marcia's approach. She doesn't avoid heavy topics, and her insight consistently points out deeper meanings springing from life's often trying circumstances. But even the ordinary moments offer lessons." Mark Weber, Red Deer Express
I think they'll enjoy the Christmas devotionals
Waiting
Ask anyone in the country and they’ll tell you it’s been a long cold winter. Spring’s feet have been weighed down with ice, her blood still running cold and sluggish even though it’s well past the first day of spring. And everyone has had enough. Everyone is longing for green, for the sound of running water, the sight of clear blue skies and the feel of a warming sun.
The longing of our hearts can be an ache that won’t let go. It can be for something as simple as a change in the weather or it can be a deep yearning for the return of a loved one who is gone, or the deep deep longing to be forever in God’s presence, in a place where there will be no more pain or suffering, no more longings.
These feelings are indications that we are not yet where we were meant to be, that we are not yet who we were meant to be. It’s the deep deep longing for communion with God Himself. These longings can sometimes build into frustration with ourselves, with our circumstances, and even with our creator.
The scripture tells us that even nature “was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies” (Romans 8:19-23).
The waiting is hard, especially when the end result we long for is delayed or perhaps even seems like a mirage. There are days when it seems it’s too much to bear, but we know the end will come. The trees will bloom and the soft warm breezes will blow. And we know some day we will be in the presence of our creator, the One who has put these longings in our hearts to remind us that there is something so much more and so much better to come.
And as we wait we have His promises, His presence with us, the daily mercies that tell us He knows and understands our heart’s longings. And we can know that His intention is to fulfill them, to give us our heart’s desires in ways that we cannot now comprehend. The redemption of our bodies, our minds and our souls will someday be a reality, just as the arrival of spring is sure. So “put your hope in the Lord, for with the Lord is unfailing love and with him is full redemption” (Psalm 130:7).
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MOTHER’S DAY
A Dance Lesson in the Kitchen
“What’s Grandma like, Mom?”
My daughters lifted serious faces toward me. The question caught at my heart. I hadn’t seen my mother since before she suffered a stroke and I was fearful. Had the effects of the debilitation changed her more than just physically? I swallowed my apprehensions and answered the question.
“You’ll love her, girls. She loves you both very much.”
I could see my response wasn’t quite satisfactory. My daughters needed something more. I watched nine-year-old Katie do a pirouette. Her sister Laura, seven, did an attempt at a tap step. A friend had given us an old pair of shiny black tap shoes and both girls had laid claim to them, resulting in many a battle.
I smiled. “Grandma was a dancer, you know.”
Two little faces lit up. “She was? Did she tap dance?”
“Oh yes. She won prizes for dancing when she was young. I think I have some pictures downstairs. Let’s see what we can find.”
For my daughters, the old photos were an introduction to extended family. They pointed, giggled and asked, “Who’s this?” Katie peered at one photo. It was of three young girls, about 11 or 12 years old. My mother was the girl in the middle, in a pokadot blouse, short skirt and tap shoes with big bows. Her short hair was gelled into kiss-curls on her forehead and cheeks.
I didn’t disturb Katie as she studied the picture. When she looked up, her eyes were hopeful. “Do you think she could teach us to dance?”
A memory flooded back - a slight, trim woman, holding the edges of her apron, her eyes twinkling as she did the “soft shoe” on black and white kitchen tile. “I’m sure Grandma will ...” I started to say. The realization hit again. After two years of fighting, Mom now walked with a cane and a heavy brace on one leg.
“Well,” I faltered. “Grandma’s legs don’t work like they used to, but we’ll see...”
When Mom arrived, Katie blurted the question that had stayed on her heart. “Grandma, will you show us how to tap dance? We have these shoes...”
My Mom beamed. “Oh, what wonderful taps, Kate!” She struggled out of her chair. With all of us holding our breath, my mother planted her cane firmly and gave my daughters their first tap lesson.
“Step, touch, click, step touch click. Oh, this brace is so clumsy! But it’s easy, girls. Come stand beside me and try it.”
As I watched them, the taps clicking on the hard linoleum, giggles coming from all three, a scripture came to mind - “Perfect love drives out fear” (1John 4:18). I realized I was seeing that truth, alive and well, dancing before me. In spite of pain, humiliation and fear, my mother drew on love and triumphed. In that moment I knew, though the fortress that is my mother might slowly crumble, her indomitable spirit would never die. My fear turned to joy and thankfulness for this moment, a moment that was so much more than just a dance lesson in the kitchen.
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The Promise of Christmas
Chaos reigned supreme. That’s how it seemed as we began rehearsing our Christmas play. The first rehearsal didn’t really happen. The second one was only a bit better, and three quarters of the cast didn’t make it to the third. Those of us who were supposedly “in control” wondered if we were going to have a play at all.
But it was nothing new. Every year it seems to happen. Kids run helter-skelter, some don’t show up, some can’t find costumes or those made for them don’t fit. The choir director is tearing her hair out and the stage director is even more on edge. This year seemed a bit more chaotic than usual, but somehow I knew it would all come together in the end.
The night of the performance seemed to go well. I say seemed, because I was too busy trying to keep my “cast” quiet and focused, to notice if the play was working. One of the magi discovered he could use one of the shepherd’s headbands as a slingshot to wing the beads off his crown clear across the front of the church. That delighted the kids in the front row who dashed out to pick them up. Mary couldn’t stop squirming because her costume was made of wool, and Joseph kept changing his mind about which robe fit best – right up until he walked out onto the ‘stage.’ I wasn’t sure it really had all come together until the audience stood to applaud at the end. When many congratulated us on a job well done, all I could say was, “It’s a miracle!”
And that’s the promise of Christmas – it all comes together in the end. I’m sure the followers of Jesus, watching the drama of His life and death, felt the same way we ‘directors’ did. To those who thought they were in control, it looked like chaos reigned. From the moment of His birth, He and His parents had to run from those who wanted to kill Him. As He performed miracles, religious leaders plotted against Him. Even the disciples themselves didn’t understand His message. They were disappointed that He didn’t chase the Romans out of the country; He never did set up an earthly kingdom. Then, the cross. It looked like everything they tried to accomplish was doomed to fail. But in the end ...
In the end, the stone was rolled away. The baby born in a stable and crucified on a cross was raised glorified, to the glory of His Father. And there is another promise yet to unfold. As the birth of Christ is overshadowed by the cross, which was blasted away by his resurrection, even that will be outdone by His return. One day, God has told us, “Before me every knee will bow; by me every tongue will swear. They will say of me, ‘In the Lord alone are righteousness and strength’” (Isaiah 45:23, 24).
It will be a miracle and it really will all come together in the end.
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