promises

Let us hold tightly without wavering to the hope we affirm, 

for God can be trusted to keep his promise.  

Hebrews 10:23


I love dandelions.

A few weeks ago, I saw a single dandelion, near the lovely maple tree out my front door. 
This week, in the same spot, after the fallen tree was removed and the stump ground down, the hole filled, the earth covered in mulch—there were two dandelions growing together.

They spoke of hope to me, pushing through the rubble of destruction.
They spoke of God’s promises multiplied.


Buying our home was an act of obedience for me. I wanted to continue renting, and I had a list a mile long to prove why I was right. The Lord wasn’t having it, though. I argued and reasoned and used solid logic. Then I bowed down in obedience and He promised me He would take care of my home and my family.

Believe me, I still struggled. The first year here was not an easy one. The second year wasn't a lot better, if I'm honest. But in the midst of many trials, I called out to Him and claimed that promise to care for my home and family.

As a close friend reminded me, He is Jehovah Jireh, the Lord who provides, and He cannot break a promise. He has solidly met our every need. Does it always look the way I want or expect? No, of course not. But that does not negate His provisions.

Last week, a storm raged all around our home. Outside, our beloved maple tree crushed my husband’s truck. Damaging limbs crashed to the ground in the back. Inside, we sang praises, filled with peace. I could see the enemy attacking my home from every angle, yet the winds obeyed Him. God stood guard and protected my family and our dwelling place.

It did not end there.
Later in the day, my father fell and rolled beneath a moving pick-up truck. Mostly deaf, even his hearing aids couldn’t help him hear the driver speak, nor the truck’s engine, above the noise of tree removal going on next door.

I saw him fall and ran, screaming. When the truck stopped, my father rolled out, praising the Lord. Before I could call 911, a paramedic neighbor arrived—God answered before I could call. My dad had nothing more than a bloody lip and some bruises. Again, God’s deep protection surrounded us.

Do I have moments of grief over the changes?
Sure.

Have I needed to process the trauma of seeing my father beneath a truck?
Of course.

But do I see the promises of my Father’s protection and provision? His faithfulness?
Without a doubt.

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