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  • Pamela J. Lantz

When spring arrives tightfisted and stingy.


Taking a break from my morning devotions, I step out side and turn my face up to the sky. The sun is bright and warm, the air is not. Spring is frosty this year. Snowflakes are still floating around. The trees are stubbornly holding their blooms in tight fists, seemingly shaking them towards the sky. I ask google for the forecast. Google disappoints.


I sigh. Sometimes hope delays. I'm annoyed as I scrape frost off the deck railing. "Lord, when are you going to move? I've been praying for some of these things for over 20 years." My own short-comings. Friends still struggling with broken bodies and tattered souls. Stubborn knees that refuse to take a bow. Naughty kids-now grown. Lukewarm spouses-still splashing in the stagnate shallows.


I've been reading through Exodus. I think about Moses and his staff. His stick-of- authority is fresh on my mind. The Lord's reply to the cry of Moses? "Why do you cry to me? Tell the people of Israel to go forward! Lift up your rod and stretch out your hand over the sea, and divide it." The Lord will fight for you, and you shall hold your peace and remain at rest. (Exodus 14)


Moses... Lift up your rod and relax... The Lord will fight for you.

So which is it? Do I do the fighting with my rod?- Or do I sit back and rest and watch God do it? Well...both I guess.

I feel silly, but I decide to follow Moses's lead. I live in the country, Trees separate me and my neighbors. I boldly take my walking stick and point to the sky. I declare the promises of God over my life and over my family and friends. I remind God of everything His word says about His kids. I remind myself that He is faithful, that He has and will continue to fight for me all the days of my life. I shout and declare the wonderful works of the Lord.


Throaty calls interrupt my display. The cranes are back, cackling and cooing as they gather in the neighbor's corn patch. Robins gather under trees that have released their berries. Bunnies venture beyond burrowed condos to meet up under the stand of pines. Gossiping, twitching their noses and making plans. I glance over to the perennial bed. Bright pointy tips, blades of promise, are poking through fresh cracks in the soil. Hope.


Chill- the Lord will fight for you.





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