Carolyne Aarsen

Looking Beyond the Present.

Christmas is past us and I know some of us are breathing a sigh of relief. Relief because when life is hard, Christmas only seems to underline the difficulties. When you're in a valley, it seems that Christmas is a light we'd just as soon not spend much time looking at because it seems so far away.

The picture I have attached to this blog is of my mother's family. I got this picture in a collection of old family photos for heritage scrapbooks I am putting together for each of my children. I am working on the fourth scrapbook now for the fourth child, but each time I pasted this particular picture in the scrapbook, I would look at it and wonder why everyone looked so sombre. Especially my Oma who loved a laugh and was always smiling. In other family pictures everyone looked so happy. I asked my mother about that picture and she gave a melancholy smile. That picture, she told me, was taken only a few months after Holland, where my mother's family lived, was invaded by enemy forces. Knowing that, I looked more carefully at my Oma and wondered what was going through her mind when this picture was taken. How many worries and concerns did she have for this family that she and my Opa were in charge of. I'm sure she wondered what kind of future awaited them? What would happen to her children, to the grandchild one of her children was expecting in this picture? Huge thoughts for parents to have to deal with. She didn't know what awaited her in the valley she knew they were going down into. She didn't know if they would come out the other side.

I grew up hearing stories of the hardships, they faced. The people they hid, the risks they took. The privations they endured. The losses they suffered. I'm sure there were many times during those long dark years that my Oma felt as if her prayers went nowhere and I'm sure she wondered many times, How long oh, Lord?

However, we know how the story ended. We know they made it through so we look at it differently and with assurance that they managed.

Many people I know are in a valley right now, we've gone through many ourselves. But when you're in the dark and lonely places, you don't know how to find your way out. I just want to encourage you that valleys do have an end. That things change. That other people have gone through sorrows and valleys and have come out. I pray the same for you.

Trust - Carolyne Aarsen

Everyone says that trust is an important part of any relationship. Usually, in the stories I write, it's the point where the hero or heroine finally dares to trust the other that a huge shift occurs in the relationship. Barriers are broken down and secrets are laid bare and the one person becomes vulnerable to the other. In my own, ongoing relationship with my husband, trust is integral. I trust him with my deepest secrets and fears. He does the same with me. But in spite of being married for many, many years, there are times that I still have to learn to trust him for different things.

We went on a hike this summer in the mountains and after hiking up and up for about four hours came to, what I thought, was an impassable creek - a raging, boiling mass of water tumbling over rocks down the mountain for hundreds of feet. One slip and I would have gone down, down, down. That was the point of the hike where I stopped. I'm afraid of heights and not real impressed with water so I was done. Finished. My husband and son had their eyes on the next hill that they wanted to check out. I said go ahead. But they wanted me along because they didn't know how long they would be gone. Besides, the blood we saw on the trail meant there was probably a grizzly somewhere in the vicinity. I was adamant. So were they.

Then my husband crossed the creek and came back. "I can carry you," he said. That sounded even worse than braving the creek myself. We argued back and forth a bit. Then he laid it out. "Don't you trust me?" That was a kicker. I looked at him, then at the creek and said, with great reluctance, "Okay." And I got on his back, closed my eyes and began praying while he began walking. (this has often been our deal - he works, I pray). And next thing I knew we were on the other side.

Even after all the years we've been married, I'm still learning to trust him and he's still showing me I can.

commit to be being committed

My church is doing r12. No, we're not insulating the attic, that's already been done. (And it saved us a bunch of money, but that's beside the point)
Nope, we're doing Romans 12, a spiritual journey of surrender, by Chip Ingram.
So you ask, what's that got to do with writing? After all, surrender to me conjures up non-action, compliance, sitting down and giving up. Certainly not characteristics of my heroines! (I really have to rein them in sometimes. They act like me with PMS!)
Why don't we, instead, change the word to Commitment. Committing yourself to God, for His best. That's what I'm doing. I'm committing myself. And part of that is to writing. I pretty much took the summer off, enjoyed the hot weather, participated in a mission trip to Bolivia, and grew vegetables. Now that fall is here, I am committing myself to writing. To trusting in God that He will guide my words and allow me to deliver books that speak to us about God and how to draw closer to Him.
By committing to trust God, I'm also committing to write more. To get more out to agents, editors, even get it to my printer every once in a while. It's going to take some trust, some work and more than a little prayer. I'm inherently lazy, I admit it.
Is there anything speaking to you about commitment? Is there anything you need to commit to, in order to trust God more? We don't need to be a Super Christian in matters of commitment. We can start in little ways, such as praying as we cook supper, or reading the Bible for five minutes on our break, or writing out a passage of scripture and tacking on the bathroom wall. Or turning off the TV for half an hour.
Are you willing to commit to something to help draw you closer to God? Even something small?

I've climbed a mountain

Quite literally, folks. And it was awful. Brutal, painful, dangerous to an old wimp like me, but in an odd way, it was good. I'm glad I did it. I saw stunning scenery, and pushed myself to the very limit. I prayed and God answered my prayers. We all made it up and down safely.

It was only Mount Katahdin, in Maine, but we climbed from about 500 feet above sea level to near 5,000 feet.

I learned to trust God and myself and better understand what the Apostle Paul said about perservering. I'm proud of myself.

I'm only just getting the feeling back in my legs, but hey, I'm still proud!

Read some more at
http://barbphinney.blogspot.com/