Sensing God

On this Mother’s Day, I want to talk a little bit about how my mom lived and how she taught me to live. I am rewriting something I wrote 14 years ago. (My edits will be in italics and in yellow.) At that time, my own kids were still all at home, but my mom had been gone for just over five years. Now the kids are all living on their own and Mom has been absent from my life for nearly 20 years. On days like this I think about her legacy.

First of all, you need to know that my mom was a kindergarten teacher. (Most of you already know that, of course!) She lived her life through the wide eyes of five and six year olds.  She often sang little songs that embarrassed me, did finger plays for no apparent reason, and told grown people to learn to use their inside voices. (Yes, I realize I have become my mom, and it’s funny how that embarrassment has changed to pride.) She loved smelling burning leaves in the fall, hearing songs sung by her beloved Tennessee Ernie Ford or Bing Crosby, tasting new desserts for the first time, seeing the tell-tale signs of a blizzard that might be powerful enough to call off school, and feeling the soft warmth of a kitty on her lap. Though she didn’t write much poetry, I think much of the poet in me comes from her. She had a knack for observation of things around her that still astounds me. I remember sitting with her on the back porch in late summer, looking up at the stars and finding constellations. I always felt as though she and I were discovering things for the first time together. 

Picture of our family, as drawn by a young me

I find poetry in the world around me, and my senses help me do that. I had a few favorite smells as I grew up.  My mom’s chocolate cake baking in the oven was always a winner. I also loved to smell the changing of the seasons.  Each change had its own welcome scent. My favorite tastes would probably be ice cream sundaes and homemade chicken soup. (Hmm, I think that has changed. I would say dark chocolate and pork roast.) Sounds that intrigue me include that little trickle of water, flowing under a crust of ice and into storm sewers as spring melts away the last of the winter snow – or the crackle of a warm fire on a cool fall evening. One sight that always warms my heart is that of a sleeping child, snuggled up in his mommy’s arms. And I can’t get enough of summer sunsets over the lake where I’m on vacation! Touches that set my heart a-tingle are holding hands with my husband of over 21 years (now almost 36 years) and the fresh-from-God skin of a newborn baby. I am fascinated with the way God has made our bodies to interact with the world around us. The smells, tastes, sounds, sights, and feelings of so many things add depth of meaning to our lives. God has created us this way for a reason.

I think the reason is that God is a poet. He sees this great and expansive world He has created as poetry in motion, and He gives us our limited senses so we can glimpse that poetry as well. He gives us nature, not only to amaze our senses but also to teach us important lessons. Are the stars less beautiful on the nights when it is cloudy? No. Does our perception of God’s presence (or absence) in our lives change the reality of God’s presence? I say no. I say, to quote a Tracy Dartt in her gospel song called “God on the Mountain,” that “the God on the mountain is still God in the valley.... The God in the good times is still God in the bad times. The God of the day is still God of the night.” So, if you can’t sense God, if He seems to be leaving you alone when you need Him most, you need to remind yourself of the reality of Who He is.

I was reminded of the reality of Who God really is just recently (now 14 years ago).  My dear sister-in-law Becki passed into heaven after her fight with breast cancer just this past January 21 (this was in 2005). The cancer spread to her lungs, and in the end she fought for each breath she took. Becki used some of her final words to bring comfort to her loved ones. Family went in a few at a time to keep her company. (I hold dear the memory of a long-ago conversation between Becki and Jessica, my sweet niece, who was herself stricken with a progressing neurological condition. Jessica always asked questions, always wanted to know about others. She asked Becki, “What is your favorite time of day?” Becki, from her prone position in a hospital bed, replied, “Right now.” Her breathing was labored but her heart sincere.) We gathered around Becki and let her know we were praying. We prayed for a miracle, for her to be healed. It might seem as though God did not answer our prayers for Becki, but to say that would be to contradict what she knew to be true. It was a surreal sort of experience to spend time with her, as she slipped from one world to the next.  When someone told her that Jesus was right there with her, holding her up, she replied, “Oh, I know. He’s behind me, beside me, above me, below me. He’s everywhere!” And when we said we were praying, she responded that she knew Jesus heard every prayer. I personally believe He was right there with her, telling her so.

I miss my mom, and I miss Becki. Those of us left behind here on earth might ponder God’s wisdom in taking two such delightful individuals from us. It is reassuring to note that God’s wisdom and faithfulness are not dependent upon my ability to sense them. However, prayer is a vital tool in these times when my assurance in the faithfulness of God might otherwise be rocked. The way we pray in Moms in Touch (now Moms in Prayer) helps me to remember Who God is, even through the most difficult of days. To begin with praise of our Heavenly Father, to transition into confession of my own short-comings, then to focus on thanksgiving, and finally to move to intercession – these simple steps often lead me to a place where I am willing to listen to what God has to say to me. They help me sense God, when His presence in my life might otherwise seem silent.

God has given us the tools in our own senses to find Him in the world around us. He is present in the sights, smells, tastes, sounds, and touches of this earthly world. As we interact with Him through prayer, we can be confident that He is always faithful, always honorable, always wise, and always God. My mom and Becki knew this, and I honor them most by living accordingly. The world around us reminds us of all God’s promises.

Sweet goslings snuggled in their mama

A Mother's Day bouquet

God, I am eternally grateful for Your faithfulness, Your character, and Your wisdom to handle all the things I call problems.  You are a God beyond compare. Thank You for giving us all of creation to teach us about You. Thank You for caring about us and for providing prayer as a way we can talk directly to You. I love you, Lord! Amen and amen!

(And here's a bit of poetry from me about spring, one of my four favorite seasons. Ha! I wrote this one in 2017.)

The Arrival

By Elizabeth Traff

Spring arrives almost imperceptibly,

A subtle greening…

Is it there, or isn’t it?

 A single bud, opening,

A single leaf, unfurling,

A single flower, blooming:

One plus one plus one

Equals a beginning,

Equals an expectation,

Equals hope.

Spring sets the table.

It waits for the sun.

It waits for the rain.

It waits for the warmth.

It is ready.

Then, in a magical week…

The sun comes.

The rain comes.

The warmth comes.

Spring explodes

From the end of every bare twig,

From the bulbs resting in the ground,

From each blade of grass.

It brings a kaleidoscope

Of vibrant colors,

Of powerful scents,

Of abundant life.

Yesterday, it wasn’t spring.

Today, it is.

The world is brand new.

The world is ready.

The world is HOPE.