Devotional Samples from Karen Rabbitt
Posted by Karen on Monday, February 23, 2009 at 9:35am
Holding On I've been waiting a long time for my book in my hand. What I'm waiting for is just around the corner. I've been here before, in other times of waiting. This is the time when I get tense and wish it was here, already. It's a familiar time, but not welcome. Small things frustrate me. I want to eat chocolate. It is that time when I can finally let myself feel the anticipation/fear/excitement/frustration and whatever else vies for expression. I know the time is short. Unlike a year ago, when I was also waiting. Then, I couldn't let myself feel anything. I had to keep on, keep plugging away, keep believing the goal would really be realized. Now, however, I can afford the luxury of feeling. I won't wear myself out, like I would if I'd let myself feel all year. Now, the time is soon. The intensity of feeling won't be much longer. Relief is coming. We're all waiting for something. We're waiting for the Kingdom to come. Waiting for a wedding. Waiting for a child. Waiting for a job. Waiting for peace. Waiting for joy. Waiting for hope. I'm enduring. We are enduring. Some days, that's all we do. We hold on--to the one who has hold of us. Beginning to Believe I’m fifty-eight. I’m beginning to believe in myself. One of the results of childhood abuse has been a difficulty with believing in my own judgment. My childish belief, “I should have known not to go with my father that terrible day,” has warped my self-image. The length of time this healing has taken is a measure of the depth of the infirmity. God has taught me, with patient and persistent repetition, to recognize my decision-making abilities. (I just edited the second sentence, from “one of the results is” to “one of the results has been.” That says it all.) How hard it is to see oneself with God’s objectivity. The sin against us, especially against our vulnerable child selves, leaves subtle and lasting marks. Those who’ve been neglected often feel worth less than their parent’s time: worthless. Those who’ve been bullied by classmates struggle with powerlessness. In this fallen world, we struggle with the many consequences of others’ sin. And yet, God. God, who is making us into the image of Jesus. God, for whom nothing is too difficult. God, who promises never to leave or forsake you. God, who believes in you. That God is healing us, making us fit for his kingdom. Father, show us today how to cooperate in the healing you are working into our hearts. Kingdom Taste at Shelbi Street Cafe "You hug that grandbaby now," the grandmotherly waitress called after us as Jerry and I opened the door to leave the Shelbi Street Cafe in Indianapolis recently. When we'd entered, the restaurant was nearly empty but for a group of five at a burnished stainless steel table. The host who led us to our booth upholstered in soft purples and greens commented on Jerry's lack of coat in the cold weather. "Oh, we've just come from across the street. The fellow at the paper store recommended you." The smiling waitress (who didn't announce her name) brought our water and took our order of sandwiches and a cup of soup for Jerry. When she brought the soup, along with warm bread, she placed a smaller cup of the velvet chicken soup in front of me. "Here's a taste for you, too." "My, how sweet." I looked at Jerry after she left. "When has that ever happened? "It's really good, too. They're not just trying to get rid of it!" When we told her we were flying out that afternoon to see our 6 month old grandboy and asked about the weather, she said she thought the predicted freezing rain wasn't going to hit until after rush hour. Later she came back to fill our water glasses. "What time was your flight?" "5:00." She disappeared behind the counter then, off to our right. "I wonder why she asked the time." I raised my eyebrows. Jerry shrugged his shoulders, absorbed in the grilled portobello and philly steak sandwiches we were sharing. Soon she returned. "The manager checked the computer. The storm shouldn't hit until 8:00." She smiled at us as she cleared our bread plate. "Thanks!" I stared after her, on the edge of tears. We were two in a thousand people she would serve that month. Free soup and personalized weather. Such kindness to strangers. She was rinsing glasses behind the counter when we passed her on the way out. "The food was delicious and you treated us like family." Shaking my head, I smiled at her, again feeling the tears behind my eyelids. "Oh, well... After her warm good-bye, we walked down the icy sidewalk to our car. I thought, when the Kingdom comes, kindness will be our everyday experience. Every encounter will be joy. Every interaction, a means of grace. Just like this taste of the Kingdom at the Shelbi Street Cafe. To read more: www.karenrabbitt.typepad.com
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