While I walked a couple of nights ago, the sun was just going down, or had, and a group of dear neighbor gathered. They sat together on one of the porches on a beautiful evening and as I heard their voices, happily telling stories, I instantly smiled. Then I heard the voice of one special neighbor, who had recently returned from a long stint at the hospital. I hadn’t heard his deep voice in too long, and I smiled too. I turned to see the figures gathered under the glow of light on the small front porch, spilling out onto the walkway. His back was to me and he was telling a story. In the next sentence or two, he got to the punchline, and everyone laughed and smiled. I smiled again, too.
The second neighbor had been in the hospital too, though not nearly as long, and here they were, laughing and spending time together on a beautiful summer evening.
“What a miracle,” I thought to myself. One of the everyday kind of miracles it’s kind of harder to notice until it’s almost not so anymore.
The next night I was walking, again. This time when I passed my deep voiced neighbor’s house, I saw he was sitting with his wife on the front porch.
I tossed a greeting out, loud enough to be heard from a distance. “It’s so good to see you!” I practically shouted. I smiled big enough for him to see.
He smiled too, and said something to the affect of “It sure is good to be seen.”
His wife joined in, and a conversation started, one that ended up lasting a rather long time, by casual walking-by-in-the-evening standards, especially.
They told me about his hospital stay, and following nursing home stint. He has cancer in the spine, and things got really bad for a while. Then they told me about his return to the hospital, for a second surprise issue.
At one point early in our conversation, he looked me in the eye, pointed his finger at me, and with clearer eyes and a brighter countenance than I’ve seen in so long, he said, “Those prayers you prayed for me worked, Courtney. I heard you were. They worked.”
I got chills. In fact, I do again, just remembering.
I had some surprise tears escape the corners of my eyes. My heart unexpectedly overflowed. He repeated his stance a few times. And at one point, with a decided, settled, and grateful look in his eye he said, “It really was a miracle.”
Just the night before I called it a simple miracle.
Tonight his kind, pointed finger connected some dots. And I realized that I got to be a very small part of it, through nothing of my own merit. For remembering, alone, that God is loving and listening and powerful, and for asking Him to help a friend.
I remember telling him I’d pray for him, before he landed in the hospital. And I meant it. I felt a bit shy in my delivery ( I mean he’s my neighbor and everything.) But in my spirit I felt so bold, and so convinced in my soul that God could heal him, touch him, and ease his pain, to whatever degree He saw fit. Regardless of what it would look like, I knew God could help him. And I was going to pray exactly for that. Whatever it could look like. That God would make it better.
At another point, when he was in the hospital, I saw his wife as she walked the dog, and another while she took out the trash. I checked in , asked her if she needed any help. She really didn’t need any, not in a practical way at least. She was surrounded by kids and more grown grandkids, who helped daily, and neighbors that mowed her lawn (the same neighbor who ended up in the hospital as well, actually.)
She didn’t need any practical help. But I told her I would pray. That I was praying already (in fact I was mid way through praying for him when I bumped into her.) I told her I would continue and please send my well wishes to her husband.
Some weeks went by and I didn’t know what was happening. But I still mentioned him in prayer anytime I thought of him.
Now here we were, reconnecting, sharing stories of healing and hospitals, pain and pills. And ultimately, of what the patient recognized as Gods mighty hand helping him through it all.
A miracle.
Some might scoff, credit the doctors and nurses, alone, say healing without them is some kind of fairytale. They do so deserve credit and special mention.
But truthfully, God deserves more. He gave them the special talents, He created the body to heal, and He allowed things to work together. they said some of the care they received was better than others, mistakes were made, and his wife had to be a pretty vocal advocate.
At the end of the ordeal, for them, God stood out. Gracious, listening, and helping.
I can agree with that assessment, for I have seen it in my life too. He uses any means necessary, but at the end of the day, every good gift comes from above, even if He has to use imperfect human messengers to get it there.
Why do I tell you this story?
To remind you, you might be one of those imperfect messengers too. You might be a nurse or a doctor, grandchild that calls and checks on their grandparents, someone who cuts a lawn. Or you might be just a walking and praying neighbor, like me.
You have a part to play in some miracle, somewhere.
Keep your eyes open as you go. Look for those miracles. See where you can help, maybe even be a part of one.
And always, pray. Pray more than you think you need to. Pray bigger than you feel capable of asking for. (It’s not about that anyway.) Pray bigger than you think can happen. Pray for miracles.
Because God has a part to play, too. He’s just waiting for an invitation. He’s waiting for someone to ask.
That someone might be you.
I left that day with new marching orders, new things, next miracles to pray for. And you better believe I will.
Because there He is, this Jesus. Just waiting to come to your everyday ordinary. To show up on porches and at hospital beds and on your evening walks. And He always brings with Him exactly what we need. Himself.
And the miracles, too. Peace. Healing. Love. Just like the wedding of Cana. He can’t help it. It’s the really true nature of Love- the ability to heal what ills us.
And Here we are. Ready and ripe for such miracles. What a perfect combination.
I once raced an entire Ironman triathlon with a thorn in my foot. (Don’t worry, this is not just story about me. Though, inherently, it is at the start, it’s really about all of us. Stick with me.)
This means I ran a marathon on it, biked 112 hilly miles too. Possible swam 2.4 miles, with it too. (Not exactly sure about the swim part. Sometime in my barefoot journey to the lakeside for the start, a final trip to the portapotty, and then venturing through the water for the first lap and existing briefly to return for a second, or exiting the water to return to transition area (where I put on bike shoes and the socks that would remain on me for the next 12 hours or so) I got a splinter of some kind lodged into the ball of my foot.
I ran a PR. I biked a PR. I swam a PR. I felt fantastic and spent, all at the same time. It was a grueling , wonderful, exhausting, exhilarating, and eventually, triumphant day. And I didn’t even think or know about the stupid thorn.
There something about this story that has struck me then, and still strikes me now. The absolutely clear message of “if you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter“. That’s absolutely true. I say that to my kids all the time. If I had known of said splinter/ thorn, I probably would have obsessed over it slightly, been concerned, doubted whether I should continue to run on it without taking care of it. I’m glad I didn’t know. I was able to complete an Ironman triathlon with a big black gnarly thorn.
But there’s another lesson. There are some things you can ignore for only so long. Truthfully, You can be successful and overcoming, but still have something sticking around that is bothering you, and causing you harm, even though you may not know it. You may still be triumphant. You may be amazingly at the top of your game. But that doesn’t mean the painful thorn doesn’t exist.
When the celebrations were over and I floated back to the bed and breakfast for a rest, and I gratefully slide of my shoe, I felt it. A twinge. Sitting down with a scotch and friends, I started to look at it. Indeed it was swollen and puffy and clearly already infected. I tried to remove it over drinks and good conversation but it wasn’t going anywhere.
That night was a fitful sleep. But not the usual exhausted, achy, crampy, and somehow still restless legs kind of sleep after an exhausting race like that. This one had that element. But by and large, the clear winner was the throbbing foot.
The next morning at breakfast, red streak showed up, extending past my ankle bone. Our dear friend with us is a nurse and she clearly saw this as problematic, and recommended a trip to urgent care. So after the requisite lunch of burger and a beer at the local brewery, we headed to urgent care. The doctor looked concerned and recommended we drive home. He drew a line on my leg where the red line on my leg and said “If the red line goes past there, go to the nearest hospital.” After picking up a round of robust antibiotics, we headed on our five hour drive home.
I was glowing with the accomplishment but physically more uncomfortable all the time. By the time we made it to the family cottage to see family and pick up our dog, give hugs and celebrate, it was almost unbearable. I remover not being able to stand up at the sink because it was throbbing so much. My mom asked the neighbor, an accomplished surgeon and doctor, to take a look.
The look on his face wasn’t exactly encouraging. He told me if I was a diabetic it could mean the loss of a limb. The very leg that had just carried me all of that way was now in danger of basically dying. Thankfully that wasn’t going to happen, that wasn’t my story. But the mere suggestion was kind of rattling. He said in a serious tone, that it wasn’t exactly good “doctor” advice, but if it was him in my ‘bare foot’, so to speak, he’d be very concerned, and he’d be doing everything he could to get it out.
I did try, but to no avail. Two days later I was able to return to work and the antibiotics were doing their thing. I had to go through two more rounds, and the redness did eventually subside. But the thorn never came out. My body learned to live with it.
One warm evening about a month later, I was swimming laps in the open water at the lake. I bumped into some fellow triathletes as I exited the water. They had done the same race, so we stood on the rocks and shared our race stories. The thorn story came up (they each had their own medical issue stories from that day, the talk of triathletes). I reflexively brushed the pad of my foot, the tender spot that was in question. And I felt something with my hand.
Right there, just casually half sticking out of my foot, was the thorn. It was black and little enough, and the stupid thing just came out. I mean, not exactly. But while I wasn’t thinking about it, my body finally kicked it out. I was just swimming, doing what I had been doing when it arrived, and the water softened my foot enough, my body had enough, and the darn thing pulled itself out.
Once again. That’ll preach. Sometimes, something happens, we have some kind of annoyance or tragedy or injury, maybe that we don’t even realize is happening. We continue on and have no issues of problems. It doesn’t even appear to exist. We go about our lives.
And then one day, the pain is unbearable. It doesn’t mean we were not successful. It just means that a painful piece of history, a thorn, existed. Maybe we didn’t even know it was there, but it was, and now it needs to be dealt with.
Maybe you felt it before now. Twinges you ignored. But when you returned to the quiet of your rest, after your own weary journey, you found it. Painful and red. Threatening everything yet to be ahead. Either way, it needs to be dealt with. It doesn’t mean the good stuff didn’t happen or didn’t mean anything. It just means now is the new season, time to deal with the issue. Because you can’t ignore it now. And to try to do otherwise would be costly. So costly.
I won’t presume to know anyone’s history or story. It’s yours to figure out, truly. But if I could share from personal experience a few things about healing, both physically and emotionally, I would say this.
Take your medicine. Rest your injury. Don’t rush back to “work.” Let it heal, manage the pain. Don’t poke and prod too much, which might make things worse. But when the pain subsides, the swelling goes away, and the redness finishes, get back in there. Swim in the deep, beautiful ocean, river, lake of Gods love. Let the hurt drawn out. It’ll happen. Suddenly, someday, it will be gone.
There is no way around it, this healing. Time doesn’t heal alone, but some healing takes time.
One more thing. Sometimes I have ghost pains in that spot. Tender, achy pains. The thorn is out and long gone, the damage is done and the mostly healed. Fully healed as far as I know. But those twinges of , memory, yes, that’s the body keeping score. Sometimes the body lies. It can only go on the past. It doesn’t know yet to future. That’s your soul’s job on this journey.
Listen to it. Don’t count it as a new injury, especially if you already saw it healed. Count it for the healing that happened. The miracle that it is. Keep knocking. Don’t obsess or worry over it. Be grateful. Be gracious with yourself.
I don’t know what your exact path to healing will be. But keep going. Keep trying. Don’t give up until it’s better. Know healing is available and God is for you. This thing it won’t take you down. God is bigger. And your body is stronger. Better days are yet ahead of you friend. Keep healing, keep going.
David, don’t let anyone talk you out of it. Don’t let anyone downplay or redefine Goliath for you.
If this is meant for you
(and surely it is, if you see it.)
You are not meant to ignore it. Don’t let them lure you into putting away your slingshot. Do not give up and go home. Don’t shrink your existence back to your tiny tent. Just because someone tells you. Even if that someone is you.
You know what the battle is, and what wars against you. It’s not a man, it’s a spirit of captivity. It comes in many forms. You known your own Goliaths.
And you were made to be free.– Body, soul and spirit.
Stand up to Goliath And you tell them about your God.
That He is GOOD and He has good things for you. Accept nothing less. Nothing less than His best for you.
Why is obedience and submission so important to God, anyway? Ever wonder how the same God who talks about freedom can place such heavy emphasis on obedience also? It can feel contrary. Which one is it?
It’s because without obedience to a perfect God, there is never true freedom. See, there’s always someone in charge. It’s either us, our desires, or the people around us and theirs. All of us, fallen and imperfect, even when we’re trying to be otherwise.
Look around. Most of the mess exist in the world or even in our own lives because of some man’s decisions, some person’s expression of free will and choice, which created some type of consequence. Intended or otherwise, they set in motion a chain of events.
Why does man make a horrible leader? Because they often tell you or lead you ultimately to what works best for them. Maybe you too, but often them as well. It’s hard for man to leave himself out of the equation, even just a little. It’s not even necessarily BAD. It’s just a part of human nature to be self-seeking and self-caring. It’s a nature of survival, probably.
Is that really true servant leadership? Does that even exist? It might be hard to find, but it’s supposed to be the goal. “Those who wish to be greatest among you must be servant of all.” It’s very counter intuitive. Counter culture at its core. Even if you find that it’s attempted, there are failures. There probably always will be.
What’s so different about God? He works things out for his good pleasure to. But His pleasure is exactly that: good. It’s good to the core, as good as He is, which is perfect. We can’t imagine, we can’t seem to wrap our hearts around it. But as Bob Sorge says, “if I believe any of it is true I must believe all of it is.”
It’s not that there won’t be good counsel or wise advice. Hopefully there will be plenty of it. But at the core it is not perfect, completely impartial nor accurate. Which is exactly why God values obedience to Himself first and foremost. Because He is Good. He can’t be manipulated or controlled, nor does He seek to control us.
No matter what lies you may have been told or shown by those who try to follow Him, He is not a set of rules and regulations and requirements. He is Good and He is Love. He has given us free will, and so much room to roam, and to run.
Last fall I was standing at the edge of a great lake, praying. I was praying for our nation, for our world, for people. Praying for God’s mercy and Love to win, for God to protect us and lead us, for God’s purposes to come about. I felt His presence, and felt so much Love. Then I noticed a sign there by the edge of the overlook. It was a warning, yellow stick figure sign, and the poor soul was falling down the cliff. It struck me to my core. Behind me was so much room. Acres and acres and rolling hills and grass, fields and trails to roam and explore. Picnic tables, benches, places for people to enjoy, playgrounds to climb. Just don’t go over the edge.
That is like the request of obedience that God gives us. Just don’t go over the edge. Don’t go the place or do the things that will lead to your own destruction. See the signs. Follow wisdom, and enjoy all of the freedoms that are available. Stay away from that which leads to destruction.
That edge might be different for everyone. Because your wide open space probably looks different than your neighbors, too. As in, whatever good places and spaces God has for you. It’s not that anyone’s is worse or better, just different. But it doesn’t really matter. What matters is if you listen, He will tell you what He has for you. And God won’t let you walk off a cliff that easily.
God has good things planned, good places for you to rest your head, to dance your heart out, the run, unencumbered. Maybe stop hanging out on the edge, dancing around the perimeter, wondering why you feel something is telling you to be careful. Maybe step onto the wide places of what God has for you, instead. Listen for His voice, let Him tell you what He has for you. It is good and it is lovely. It is freedom, and you get there by obedience. To Him.
There is nothing bad in Him. Come out from the shadows and be free.
I’m pretty sure when you read that, a certain movie comes to mind. Perhaps even a certain scene. You know the one. Dance floor, hot summer night, Catskills. Yup. Dirty Dancing.
(Though, fun fact:: Did you know that wasn’t actually filmed in the Catskills? It was filmed somewhere outside of Blacksburg, Virginia. I literally only know this because I was there one time and recognized it. My husband’s bike race ended on the top of some mountain and when I met him there, I looked around, at the old resort there and said “this looks so familiar… This is going to sound funny, but it kind of reminds me of the movie Dirty Dancing.” He said, “I do know and, it makes perfect sense. It was actually filmed here.” I laughed that I couldn’t believe he hadn’t mentioned that before! That seemed pretty important. But honestly, it was more fun just to discover than to anticipate. That sounds like a fun topic for a different day.) (If you want to check the facts, look here.)
Back to the story though. Baby (yes, her name was Baby in the film. I had to double check 😂) nods, is carried off the stage quite dramatically by some other dancers, and goes running toward Johnny who is standing there waiting. She jumps, no, leaps into Johnny’s hands, trusting him completely.
What does he do? Some thought he wasn’t trustworthy. In fact, that room was full of people who had said he shouldn’t be there. When he came on stage, he shocked a lot of people. “I always get the last dance,” he said. (Oooohhhh that’s a good one!)
Does he drop her? Nope. Not even close. She soars high into the air, flying higher than she ever did before him nor ever could herself.
I thought of this scene this morning while I was praying. I was thinking and meditating about humility. True humility. Humility is not actually what people tend to think it is- Putting yourself last, in the back, making yourself less important True humility is a surrender to someone or someone else. Let me ask you, What better person is there to trust than Jesus? Johnny is pretty great. I’ll be honest, when I went back to watch the scene this morning, I was impressed But mostly because I saw some beautiful parallels to the Lord. (He is truly leading man material!)
But also, how He feels about YOU.
NOBODY PUTS BABY IN A CORNER
There’s a scripture that reads “Humble yourself therefore under God’s mighty hand, and in due time, He will lift you up.”
Another definition of humility is “submission to another.” Submit yourself therefore, to God. Does that sound scary?
It isn’t though. Submitted to the God of the universe is the safest place you can be. It doesn’t mean stay in a corner, shrink back, shrink down.
Submitting means bowing a knee to One who is greater, and trusting yourself into His hands. And guess what. He won’t crush you or beat you down. He will lift you up with His own hands.
THE lift
In God’s eyes, you don’t belong in any corner. He doesn’t want you to stay in a corner of anyone’s making, even your own. You shouldn’t be cowering in fear or darkness of any kind. You were born to fly. Yes, you were born to fly. Like Baby running across the dance floor, you can trust Him. Even as you run, He’s not just standing there. He’s running to you too.
Go ahead.
Let Him love you, out of your corner. Watch and see how it feels as He lifts you high into the air. (You can watch the Last dance here)
Break out of that corner, He’s got you (if you in let Him❤️)
Hey, I'm Courtney, a pretty ordinary girl who thinks we've all been called to an extraordinary life and love story with God. I'm passionate about family, faith, motherhood, and the adventure of every day. I write lots of words, mostly because I can’t help it- and I think it's one of the things I was born to do. I hope that something I write encourages you, to walk in your own unique purpose and calling, set free to love and give it away, starting wherever you are today. That's what Courting the Extraordinary is all about. Finding the good all around you, and giving it away. Finding, too, the God of all goodness who wants to walk with you.
I love quiet mornings, coffee, prayer and “work” before sunrise. Quality time with my family is my jam. I can be found grinning ear to ear when we're out on an adventure. Whether that's in our own backyard or exploring someplace new all-together, I’ll for sure note something beautiful about nature aloud-and maybe repeatedly, ha!. Life is a beautiful, precious gift, and an adventurous path to travel! We might as well learn how to love.
Hey, I'm Courtney, a pretty ordinary girl who thinks we've all been called to an extraordinary life and love story with God. I'm passionate about family, faith, motherhood, and the adventure of every day. I write lots of words, mostly because I can’t help it- and I think it's one of the things I was born to do. I hope that something I write encourages you, to walk in your own unique purpose and calling, set free to love and give it away, starting wherever you are today. That's what Courting the Extraordinary is all about. Finding the good all around you, and giving it away. Finding, too, the God of all goodness who wants to walk with you.
I love quiet mornings, coffee, prayer and “work” before sunrise. Quality time with my family is my jam. I can be found grinning ear to ear when we're out on an adventure. Whether that's in our own backyard or exploring someplace new all-together, I’ll for sure note something beautiful about nature aloud-and maybe repeatedly, ha!. Life is a beautiful, precious gift, and an adventurous path to travel! We might as well learn how to love.