He Busies Himself with my Every Step

Welcome friends...thanks for coming by. We're seeking beauty in all of creation... in our faith and our families; our art and our music; our crafts and kitchens, and even in our own backyard. We'll share a poem or a recipe, a picture or a memory; maybe a dream of how we wish our life could be. And though we acknowledge that the world can be harsh, we're keeping it pleasant in our little corner; endeavoring to keep the words from the Book of all Books: ...Whatsoever things are lovely; think on these things.

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Photo: Bee and thistle: Taken high in the Cascade Mountains where there is a bee buzzing on every thistle. by Debora Rorvig

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

He Busies Himself with my Every Step

Photo is my lovely daughter-in-law, Karen, and grandson Dane.

I have been meditating on Psalms 34:23 this week. In the King James version it says...

The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord; and he delighteth in his way.

As I thought about the meaning of this verse, I became confused about who he and his are. Who delights in whose way? Do I delight in God's way or does He delight in my way, or does God delight in God's way or do I delight in my way???

Thankfully, my wonderful husband bought me a comparative study Bible for my last birthday. It has the KJV, Amplified, New American Standard, and New International versions. I highly recommend it.

Just listen to the Amplified Version of this verse...

The steps of a [good] man are directed and established by the Lord when He delights in his way [and He busies Himself with his every step]

Reading on...

Though he falls, he shall not be utterly cast down, for the Lord grasps his hand in support and upholds him.

Many years ago, as a young mother, it was my delight to watch my children learn to walk. I would stand them on their little feet and coax them to come to me. They would take a few halting steps toward me, and sometimes run the last steps into my arms. Sometimes they tripped or tipped over on those wobbly little toddler legs; but I never let them fall onto something that would harm or injure them. Thinking back; those first steps are some of the most precious parenting memories I have.

My Heavenly Father is like that with me. He busies himself with my every step, and when it looks like I'm going to crash, he grasps my hand and supports me. Every step of the way.

What a wonderful Father!

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I Am From

I Am From...

by Debora Rorvig

I am from a lumber mill worker’s company house
with peeling paint and a sidewalk made of two by fours.
From faded flannel shirts that smell of pine and cedar boughs.

I am from Mason Jars of homed-canned pears,
from Dairygold milk with cream on top
in bottles on the porch.

I am from a garden plot with rows and rows of golden corn
that always wanted hoeing,
and from atop the highest branches of the Gravenstein apple tree in the Attolini’s orchard-
with apple juice dripping from my chin.

I am from saurkraut and wooden shoes-
the Millers and the Youngedykes,
and from the lively Scottish clan
who wear the McKinnon tartan.

From farmers and woodsmen
plain folk all,
who’s hands were calloused hard
but who’s hearts were tender-soft.

I am from ‘what will the neighbors think’
and ‘if you can’t say something nice,
don’t say anything at all.’

From saints and sinners who didn’t see eye to eye
but loved each other anyway,
and in their own way.

I am from the Western shores of Washington
strewn with agates, kelp and driftwood,
from Steelhead salmon, salty smoked
and chowder made from clams we dug
at Semiahmoo spit.

I am from my mother Ruby,
who taught me how to sew
on the old Singer treadle machine;
and told me all about my heritage.

And from my daddy, Raymond Claude
who took me nightcrawler hunting in the moonlight
and showed me how to bait my hook
and fish along the Nooksack River’s edge.

I am from an ancient, tattered Holy Bible kept safely on the upper shelf
with pictures of Jesus Christ
and a letter edged in black- carefully tucked inside.
There are births and deaths recorded there,
and a poem by great- great grandfather Alexander Laughlin Mckinnon
who I never met--and yet I know him
better than some I’ve met.

Precious is that Book to me.

And that is where I am from.

My Life List

*Seek first the Kingdom
*Never stop dreaming
*Make a difference in my students' lives
*Create alternate streams of income to fund my goals
*Dress with flair
*Master virbrato on my violin
*Try cross country skiing in Eastern Washington
*Lose those extra pounds and be healthy
*Be more active in my church
*Stop fearing things, people and confrontation; say what I think
*Stop Hurrying
*Inspire my grandchildren
*Own a Cottage on the Beach
*Live the Word
*Memorize the Book of Hebrews
*Find the perfect hairdo
*Be myself
*Look up old friends and make new ones
*Remodel the kitchen and bathroom
*Make my garden lovely
*Sleep under the stars in the desert and hear coyotes howl
*Write and publish a book(s)
*Travel toRio de Janiero, Cape Breton, South of France, Italy,Scotland, Wales, UK, Ireland, Norway, Turks & Caicos, New York City and the Eastern Seaboard; The Deep South, Africa

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

He Busies Himself with my Every Step

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