"Do you Trust ME?"

"Do you trust me Kelly?" Nothingistoodifficult_1600width It wasn't an audible voice per se, but clear as a bell for me. Because the impression came "out of nowhere" and it was peaceful I knew it was my heavenly Father's voice. I do know it well. His voice never brings fear, confusion or chaos.

The interior of my car was warm. Early for my meeting, I asked if it was Him. No angel appeared, windstorm,  burning bush, just the still small voice. "Trust ME."


From that moment about one year ago, my life has been turned upside down, inside out and life has dug in it's heels to get me to NOT trust. But, years of  seeing God respond in sometimes miraculous ways gave me pause before questioning God. It's fruitless. And, I want to be fruitful in my labor.

Like the dwarves in The Hobbit, there is a Germanic bent in me to grit my teeth, clench my jaw and stick it out when I believe in something...sometimes this trait has helped. Like going through cancer when some words were thrown out at me like "indomitable." I get that. All I need really is a scripture from God to stand on and it will take more than something in this world (or the next) to knock me from my stand. And, truly God designed me like this so it only stands to reason that HE knows what I can handle.

The other day I talked to a friend about my dad. She wanted to know what he did when I pushed my sister into the pool at age 10. Sis goaded me into it, so my childish logic said, "Push her." It wasn't just any pool either. It was a pool positioned next to a wall of glass that led into the grand dining room of the five star restaurant in the Hotel Europa in Killarney, Ireland. 

You know that great feeling when you give into temptation and you get to see that bossy, older sister swimming in her Sunday best in the pristine water you so badly wanted to swim in? Back in the 70's we wore dresses, lace tights, patent leather shoes and hats.  And it was hot...my sister was now swimming in the pool and I was happy for her.

Until I turned to see the entire dining room of people on their feet with horror on their faces. Apparently, they didn't get this great thing I had done for my sister.

IMG_3397So, I ran to our bedrooms. There I found my dad reading the Sunday paper on the bed. He took one look at my red tear streaked face as I recanted the terrible thing I did. Then he did the best thing. He pointed to the place under the bed and said, "hide".

After my mother received the tongue lashing of her life from my aunt, the rest of the family came to look for me. Instead they found my dad who had planted himself on top of the bed, casually reading the paper and covered me.

How cool is that?

I love that picture of God the Father with His foolish children. He knows we are made from dust doesn't He?

As the storms rage in my little life, I continue to "hide" under my Father and wait for the sun to shine again...He surely is alive just as my own flesh and blood daddy was back then.

I haven't always felt that way about my daddy God. But, that's another story for another time.

Praying you know Him intimately today. No matter what you are going through, He is covering you with His love. He does things like that. Our dad's bigger than whatever you're facing.

DSC_0162Psalm 18 1-2 I love you, God    you make me strong. God is bedrock under my feet,     the castle in which I live,     my rescuing knight. My God—the high crag     where I run for dear life,     hiding behind the boulders,     safe in the granite hideout.

Your turn~ how do you picture the Heavenly Father?