All I Have Needed - Guest Post by Miriam Bradley

Today is different here at Speaking Hope.  Guest blogger and author Miriam Jones Bradley is sharing an excerpt from her newest book  All I Have Needed-A Legacy for Life.  It's a great book full of warm stories about her parents, grandparents and extended family and the impact they have had on her life. 

 

I met Miriam at a speakers' conference last year.  She has been very gracious and helpful to me as I continue on my journey of speaking and writing. 

 

There's a link at the end of the post that takes you to Amazon where you can purchase All I Have Needed - A Legacy for Life.  You'll also see Miriam's other books, the Double Cousins mystery series for young readers.

 

 

I have a favorite photo of my daddy. It reminds me of the phrase in Joshua when Caleb says to God, “Give me that mountain!” My daddy is a man of faith, a man of character. They say that girls get their view of God from their fathers. I am blessed that my daddy is a good example of the character of God.

 

 

In June I had the privilege of spending a day like no other with my family, including Daddy. We toured from my cousin’s house into the Sandhills of Nebraska to see three things. First we visited a barn which Great-Grandpa Jones built almost one hundred years ago. It has been moved off the original site to a ranch nearby and has been lovingly maintained.

 



 

The second place we visited required a bouncy, cramped ride over the hills to the site where the sod house used to sit. The sod house in which my daddy was born during the Great Depression. The sod house in which they burned dried cow manure for fuel.

 

There was nothing there except a flat spot, but the rancher who was guiding us remembered it. You see, the place my daddy was born was the place the rancher saw his first dead body when he was a kid. It was a memorable experience and every detail was etched in his mind, including where the sod house stood. Lucky for us.

 

The final place we visited was Jones Grove. Across the beautiful, now empty valley from the sod house site is an aging grove of trees planted by my grandpa, his siblings, and parents. It is also the site where the barn originally stood. Beside that grove we discovered the foundation of the barn.

 

I couldn’t help but think about the story of the wise man who built his house upon the rock.  When the storms came, his house stood. He had a solid foundation.

 

 I have been blessed with a great foundation. What kind of foundation am I leaving?  Maybe someday I will stand with my nieces and nephews at an old home place. More importantly though, I trust they will look at me and see a life that reflects a foundation of godly living, just like I see in Daddy.

 

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B005K91BJA

 

You can find Miriam's blog here:  http://www.miriamjonesbradley.wordpress.com

 

 

 

Broken Wings

Today’s guest blogger is my BFF Margaret Moore.  She is a retired English major, wife, mother & Grammy.  She loves God and looks forward to seeing Him in the afterlife, hoping to clear up a few nagging questions.  I hope you'll feel free to leave a comment for Margaret.  Thanks...

How does God speak to you?  He’s always speaking, you know, to His children. Sometimes it’s through what we see, such as intricate details or sweeping scenes in nature, sometimes in what we hear from other people, sometimes a whisper but other times a shout.  I’ve known a few lucky ones that heard Him audibly order them to “Pull over NOW!” or “Squat down”, and obeying Him has saved their lives. 

I’ve heard Him a precious few times through promptings or insights, even compulsions. Hearing from God seems often to come to me when I am desperately seeking direction. And I’ve found Him to use the fewest possible words (with one exception) to get the point across…things like, “Trust me”, “Go to that house”, “This is important”. He’s even caused laughter to bubble up in me in a time of deep despair. Boy, that was unexpected.  But God often does the unexpected.  Like the time he put a poem in my mind…

No, I assure you I’m not a poetry writer, never have done it (o.k., a few limericks way back), and never felt inspired to write verse.  But this time was different and I wasn’t the REAL author: I was having a meltdown, an anxiety attack I believe, but I just “happened” to be registered for a Silent Retreat the next day at a nearby monastery. The quiet days slowly brought peace into my whole being as I contemplated, prayed, and often just walked. 

One day I was walking by a neglected garden full of dead things. But there were many butterflies flitting around, most with pieces of their wings missing. Suddenly God filled my mind with a complete poem, not just an idea, and I almost ran to a nearby bench to write it down in my journal before I forgot any of it. Never have I experienced anything like it. It’s called “Broken Wings”.

I flee to here, a broken thing

In need of silence, guidance, calm,

rest from my turbulent emotions

seeking God’s unfailing balm.

The garden draws me.

In I stumble

blindly seeking some release.

God opens up my swollen eyes

to show me clouds of butterflies.

Resurrection, new life I now can see

in them…could this be, too, for me?

I closer look at God’s lovely things.
 

                     Why, some of THEM have broken wings!

                                  

Photo by Cindy West McGregor