It's About Trust

Proverbs 3:5-6 is a common memory verse.

"Trust in the Lord with your whole heart, and lean not on your own understanding but in all ways acknowledge Him and he will make your paths straight."

I learned this with a cutesy little song at Vacation Bible School when I was a child. But, as an adult this verse has challenged me again and again. My choice to trust or to not trust I what determines my destiny, not chance. And, while asking Jesus to be my Savior was a once and done thing, trusting Him and committing all my life and my will to Him is a constant, ongoing, moment-by-moment thing.

It's trusting Him even when it doesn't make sense. Because when I lean on my own understanding of things I see more ugly, anger, hate, injustice, and hurt than anything else. My understanding is partial, shallow, and selfish. I don't begin to understand the things our family has recently faced—much of which is heartbreaking and surely seems futile—and I  find myself, like Solomon, seeing life as a "chasing after the wind."

But I have chosen to commit my life and my will to Him, the One who does understand . . . ALL of it . . . He understands now and forever, behind and present and beyond the present. He's the One I choose to trust. I look forward to the day I understand. But, for now, I trust and follow the path that He makes straight for me—even when it feels quite crooked

I know, I know, I’ve been remiss in blogging. But this morning, I sit here with my coffee enjoying all of the lights and decorations around my house and feel it is time to blog. The only thing missing right now is our tree. And, that’s because our sons enjoy helping with it. The tree will go up in its corner today, but it won’t get decorated until this weekend sometime when we have the chaos of family here.

Our tree is a memory tree. While on our honeymoon we bought an ornament and decided it might be fun to get an ornament every vacation. Thirty-six years later, our tree is definitely creative. There are rocks, shells, crafts, ornaments that were gifts and others we inherited. I also have a vast array of things the boys made when they were young. We have a collection of rather creepy-looking paper-mache Santas that some call the ‘axe murderers.’ Few of our ornaments actually look much like Christmas, but each one is a memory, a story. As we decorate we share the stories. Decorating the tree can take a long time.

When our four sons were teenagers, they created an additional tradition. During Christmas they find VERY obscure things and hide them on the tree. If I don’t find them before the tree comes down, the item then becomes a new, strange ornament. Needless to say, my tree is quite a conversation starter.

Sometimes I am asked how I get my story ideas. The inspirations for my manuscripts are about as varied and unique as the ornaments on my memory tree. Sometimes it’s a sentence or something I see in nature or something a dog I’m training does. Even overheard conversations can become stories.

My favorite is the night my great-great-great Uncle John Edward Davis dreamed about his future bride. The next day he got dressed in what he wore in the dream, rode his horse to the house he saw in the dream and introduced himself to a total stranger as the man who came to court the farmer’s daughter, Elizabeth Everett. They were married four months later. (This story is not a published manuscript yet, but soon.)

Stories are the fabric of my faith. Tuesday I get to enjoy the most wonderful birth of my Savior, which of course, is the most beautiful story of all, crafted by the Creator of all. I bet He thrills at the things He sends to us as inspiration. And I wonder what His memory tree of all of the stories we write for Him would look like.