Finding Hope and Grace

Sunset, Sunday, September 14, 2025

Our first question at Sunday School this week was a doozy, considering the week the world had had.

"Can you think of a time when you felt like giving up on people? What helped you come back to a place of grace or hope?" 

I'd like to say that the lesson then shared a revolutionary "How to save the world in 10 easy steps." It didn't. 

The lesson centered on Psalm 14. And, at first glance, Psalm 14 is pretty depressing. 

The fool says in his heart,
    “There is no God.”
They are corrupt, their deeds are vile;
    there is no one who does good.

² The Lord looks down from heaven
    on all mankind
to see if there are any who understand,
    any who seek God.
³ All have turned away, all have become corrupt;
    there is no one who does good,
    not even one.

Yikes ... After that first question, I thought we were supposed to be finding grace and hope. 

So ...  How do we find hope? How do we keep hope? 

I didn't quit thinking about it after I left the Sunday School room. Or after I trudged down the church steps to the car after the church service. 

On Monday, I looked up the lesson summary from UMC Discipleship (the source of the Sunday School material). It says that in Psalm 14, hope happens somewhere in the space between the comma and the “but”: 

“You would confound the plans of the poor, BUT the LORD is their refuge” (Psalm 14:6).

But God. 

But the good news.

But grace. 

 

We find and keep hope when we name all that is hard in our world ...

Take a breath ... 

And then remember, BUT GOD.

 

However, if we are trying to find God on social media, it may be tough. 

 

If we are trying to find God when we only get our news from the sources that confirm our own ideas and denigrate anyone who dares to disagree, it may be tough. 

 

Sunset, Sunday, September 14, 2025

 

For me, it's a lot easier to find God on a lonely country road, surrounded by God's beautiful creation. 

 

Just maybe, it will give us the strength to encourage one another to live in hope instead of despair.

The psalm suggests that God is a refuge for the poor and the righteous. What does it mean for God to be a refuge? The Sunday School lesson suggests:

• A place of safety, dignity, and protection
• A place of truth-telling without rejection
• A source of strength when the world feels hostile.

Sunset, Quivira National Wildlife Refuge, January 2022

Maybe if we follow Jesus' example, the ripples could be far-reaching. 

It's worth a try, right? 

Sunset, Sunday, September 14, 2025

Closing Prayer from the Sunday School lesson:

God of justice and mercy, when the world seems filled with disappointment or corruption, remind us that you are still our refuge. Help us to see others as you see them, not as categories, but as beloved children. Soften our hearts and strengthen our hope. In Jesus' name, Amen.

And giving credit where credit is due: The Sunday School lesson was written by the Rev. Anthony J. Tang, the Senior Associate Minister of Mission and Vision at First United Methodist Church of Dallas, Texas.

Beauty in the Cracks

 

The pink petunia seemed to grow right out of the concrete as I pulled into a parking spot on Main Street Stafford.

Just a few yards away, its compatriots were gathered demurely in the red-brick planter box. Since early spring, those petunias have been growing right where the conscientious, community-minded gardeners planted them. The flowers brighten and beautify Stafford's downtown. And they are doing their job admirably. All up and down Main Street, flowers bloom in the planter boxes, colors bright and cheery,  waving in the Kansas breeze.

Since springtime, I've noticed the planter boxes on my way into the Post Office or Stafford Mercantile or even just driving down the street. But, honestly, they remained in my peripheral vision. They were there. They were pretty. But, I didn't give them all that much thought or attention.

 

But, as I pulled into the diagonal parking space, this escapee caught my imagination. How did it get there? Did a seed float a few yards away and take root in the miniscule spot of soil found in a sidewalk crack? I was sufficiently intrigued to take a few photos.

I kept thinking about the little flower bravely growing in the concrete crack, long after I left Stafford for home. I thought the pink petunia was unique. But, when I was in town again the next day, I noticed even more of these "escapee" flowers. 

And it made me think about finding beauty in the cracks - in the places where you least expect it.

We know the world is cracked.

• A mass shooting mows down worshipers in a South Carolina church.
• Passionate people can't agree with one another at a church conference. Both sides believe they are representing Jesus and his teachings. 
• Friends mourn loved ones.
• Others struggle with scary diagnoses. 
• Machinery breaks down - again.

I could go on and on.

Yes, the world is cracked. Sometimes, like the little pink petunia, we feel like we're all alone, clinging precariously to life in less-than-ideal circumstances. But, if we look around, we might find others standing in the cracks, just like those hardy flowers that find a way to bloom from concrete. 

It requires us to STOP.

It requires us to intentionally find the beauty in bad situations. I'm not saying there is beauty when  innocent people are murdered or when people disagree or when we deal with the 101 frustrations of living in this imperfect world.

But maybe the beauty is in how we respond to one another in love and compassion. Maybe the beauty is actually seeing the miracles all around us.

A Time to Think

All the world is an utterance of the Almighty.
Its countless beauties, its exquisite adaptations,
all speak to you of Him.
–Phillips Brooks, clergyman and author

A Time to Act

Open your heart to the beauty that surrounds you.

A Time to Pray

Dear Lord, please help me to see the beauty of every day.

The devotional (in blue) was from a daily email from Guideposts.

Hope, Peace, Joy and Love: My Wish for All of Us

 

Hope, Peace, Joy and Love: It's what the Advent season should be about. So often, I get distracted by my to-do lists and the "must-do" requirements I place upon myself in order to have the perfect Christmas celebration for everyone.

But, a couple of weeks ago, our church choir sang a song called "Hope, Peace, Joy and Love," with words and music by Joseph M. Martin. Those words have been swirling around my stuffed-up head this Advent season. And it's my wish for all of us during this special time. Here are the words. Many of the photos are from our church, Stafford United Methodist. Others are from my Christmas decorations at home:

Hope is like a candle burning in the night

Hope paints every shadow with its gentle light.

Glowing like a promise till our faith is sight,

Hope is like a candle in the night.

Peace is like sweet music sounding pure and strong

Singing songs of comfort when the night is long.

Turning drums of hatred into heaven's song,

Peace is like sweet music pure and strong.

Joy is like a flower blooming in the soul,

Sending forth its fragrance to heal and make us whole

And when bitter winds are blowing

When birds refuse to sing.

Joy can turn our winter into spring.

Love is like a diamond wrapped in purest gold.

Nothing is more precious, nothing bought or sold.

Pearl of heaven's glory wondrous to behold,

Love is like a diamond wrapped in gold.

Joy is like a flower.

Peace is like sweet music.

Hope is like a candle in the night.

I'm looking forward to having my kids and granddaughters arrive today. We'll be with my family on Christmas Eve to celebrate my Mom's birthday and Christmas together. (My folks have gone from 5 great-grands last year to 8 this year. The family is growing!)

So ...

If you'd like to listen to the song I illustrated, this church's YouTube version had a large choir and full orchestra. We may not have sounded exactly like that. But we did have Kristen Knight on flute!

Planting Hope

Randy & our new Autumn Blaze Red Maple Tree

He who plants a tree

Plants a hope.

~-Lucy Larcom, "Plant a Tree"

Randy planted a little hope last week. And as he did, he continued a legacy that began long before we moved to this house, 8 months pregnant with our first baby and looking toward the future with excitement and a little trepidation.

Our house is nestled among big old trees that give us shade in the summer and shelter us from winter winds.

Years ago, there were people like Randy who planted those trees. Did they imagine that a little boy and a little girl would soar into the air on a swing hung from a backyard hackberry tree?

Did they think that children would gather under the branches and make mudpies, tend to their baby dolls or make roads with Tonka trucks? Did they think about that canopy of green that would nestle a family as it grew?

Those long-ago tree planters and my husband must share an optimism for the future and generations to come. As Randy dug the holes, he said he didn't know whether the trees would grow big enough for us to enjoy them.

"But someone will," he said simply.

The true meaning of life is to plant trees
under whose shade you do not expect to sit.

~Nelson Henderson

Randy planted two Fat Albert blue spruce trees. See the tree over his shoulder in the photo above? He and Jill planted that blue spruce 25 years ago.

The best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago.

The next best time is now.
~Chinese Proverb

Through the years, Randy has planted other trees, including this red maple that greets us with fiery arms open wide each fall as we enter the driveway coming home.

Pine wilt has taken some of the majestic old trees that surrounded our house. Many of our trees were given an unwanted trim with the ice storm of 2007.

But, like faithful old friends, others continue to stand by as silent witnesses to our comings and goings.

The oaks and the pines, and their brethren of the wood, have seen so many suns rise and set, so many seasons come and go, and so many generations pass into silence, that we may well wonder what "the story of the trees" would be to us if they had tongues to tell it, or we ears fine enough to understand.

~Author Unknown,
quoted in Quotations for Special Occasions
by Maud van Buren, 1938

Someday, the Autumn Blaze tree Randy planted last week will greet a family as they arrive home from the north. And they will be thankful to the man who cared enough to plant it.

Wait

Wait.

Even saying the word has a certain "weight" to it, doesn't it? It forces us to take a deep breath and try to slow the tick, tick, ticking of an anxious heart. It asks us to still the thoughts that tumble helter-skelter as we skitter along to the next task, the next big thing on the all-important to-do list.

I wait for the right words to come.
I wait for the list to be done. (I'm still waiting!)
I wait for this event.
I wait for that event.

As I was driving home from a doctor's appointment in Hutchinson last evening, I watched the sun's fireball slip underneath the mantle of the earth.

My mind immediately kicked into high gear. I kept looking for a good place to pull over so I could take a photo. But there were obstacles.

In town, the view was blocked by power lines and buildings.

At the cemetery at Rayl's Hill, trees were blocking the sightline I craved.

I thought about turning down an unfamiliar country road to look for a barn or a silo or a single bare tree - something with which to silhouette a brilliant night sky.

But I waited - not so patiently - but I waited. I kept my eyes open and scanning along the horizon, watching and waiting.

I knew there was a windmill along 4th Street Road, but would I get there before the inky darkness covered all traces of light?

Yes. But while the photo shows a glimpse of the slide show I watched as I raced westward, it doesn't tell the whole story. It doesn't show the incremental changes in the western sky. It doesn't show the pink fingers of light that insistently reached into the eastern sky, the vista that didn't feature the main attraction but was still enriched with its remnants.

This is the season of waiting. It is the season of expectation.

But last night's sunset was a reminder to savor the journey. Would I have truly seen the sun's reflection in the field's shallow puddles if we hadn't experienced a summer of drought? Would it have made the same impression if it didn't come after several cloudy days when day turned into night with little fanfare?

I wait for the birth of a new baby in our family. But in my excitement, let me not overlook the birth of another baby, a Baby who changed the world.

For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given;
And the government shall be upon His shoulder;
And His name shall be called
Wonderful
Counselor
The Mighty God
The Everlasting Father
The Prince of Peace
Isaiah 9: 5-7

***

Yes, it's Thursday. But I linked to Tuesdays Unwrapped at Chatting at the Sky. I guess I had to WAIT until Thursday this week.

I'm also linked to Fresh from the Farm.

The Season of Hope

It seemed fitting to return to the Holy Family Shrine near Gretna, Nebraska, on the first Sunday of Advent.

Earlier in the day, we'd watched a family light the first Advent candle at Jill & Eric's church, The Water's Edge, in Omaha.

It was the candle of HOPE. Their pastor, Dr. Craig Finnestad, began his Advent series by preaching on hope. He admits that the story of Mary and Joseph is pretty familiar to people of the church. But he added:

"It may be familiar, but nothing about this story is ordinary. It is a prophetic and powerful story that applies to all of our lives. It is a story about hope. We learn from this story how to get along with others in difficult situations. And we learn to trust God and His ways.

"One day, God looked at the world and knew a better way existed. So He became human and lived as one of us. The world hasn't been the same since. For the optimist, the sad, the exhausted, the young, the old, the sinner, the saint, the poet and the athlete - the only things God really gives us are rest, peace, joy, hope, love, grace, forgiveness, healing and salvation - which is just as well because those are the things the world really needs."

We stopped as we were on our way home, after spending the weekend with Jill & Eric.


On a cold, blustery day in late November, the scenery wasn't as vibrant and colorful as it had been on our first visit in June. But, in some ways, it was more timely as I kept thinking about the message of HOPE as we entered the Advent season.

The symbolism of the mother and child is prevalent at the shrine.

This statue was titled, "Root of Jesse." As a blossom is the glory of a flower, so is Jesus the glory and fulfillment of the line of King David. In the sculpture, Mary and the infant Jesus appear as parts of an abstract flower. The metal folds represent roots, stem and blossom. The roots are planted in the earth, shown as a hemisphere.

The sculpture was inspired by a poem:

Lo, how a rose e'er blooming.
From tender root hath sprung.
Of Jesse's lineage coming.
As men of old hath sung.
It came as a flow'ret bright
Amid the cold of a winter
When half spent was the night.

Isaiah was foretold it
The rose I have in mind.
With Mary we behold it.
The Virgin Mother kind.
To show God's love a'right
She bore to men a Savior
When half spent was the night.

It was the perfect way to spend an Advent afternoon before a long ride home. There, with my family, the season of Advent truly began anew for me.


And I felt that glimmer of anticipation, separate from the huge to-do list of gifts to buy and goodies to make.

Bring on the season of HOPE!