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Upside Downy {A Devotional}

January 6, 2017 By Joy Dekok 20 Comments

I was in my photo fort hoping for a stellar picture. It was cold, but the shiver in my heart wasn’t from the wind. A recent hurt rumbled around in my mind. Sitting there, I questioned myself and the calling I had been so sure of and now doubted.

I wanted to hide and take my purpose in life with me. To bury the talent in a deep dark place where no one could see it. Or me.

Life had an upside-down feeling to it, and my confidence was singed by the flames of fear.

When a female downy woodpecker landed on the suet feeder, I was delighted. My camera was ready, the light was right, and the focus was clear. I clicked away certain I had at least one good shot.

She stayed long and preferred the underside of the suet. My delight waned when I was distracted by doubt and fear snared my heart again.

Determined not to give in to it, I took a few deep breaths and kept my eye on the lovely upside-downy and wondered what I could learn from her.

A verse I’d been re-memorizing came to mind, and I told God, “I love that passage, but it’s not the lesson I want to learn today.” He had other plans, and I couldn’t resist the words from His Word.

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 4:6-7

I kept my eyes on the downy, still feeding in her belly up position. I thought she seemed so vulnerable until I realized she leveraged that position to keep an eye on any predators that might come in from above her or at her from behind. She had no fear the little birds beneath her.

She had a safer perspective perched under the suet.

When she fluttered away, I capped my camera. I was done taking pictures for the day but was not ready to go in, so I walked. And I prayed Philippians 4:6-7. No named requests – He knew them all.

“Father, help me to be anxious about nothing, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present my requests to You. And may Your peace, which transcends all understanding guard my heart and mind in Christ Jesus. Amen.”

A bird lesson was cool and all, but I wanted something from God. Along the way, I stopped, opened my arms to the sky and said, “Please!”

My heart stayed uncomfortably upside down for days until I read this, “For the Lord will be your confidence, and will keep your foot from being caught.” Proverbs 3:26 (NKJV)

The Word of Truth extinguished the flames of my hurt feelings. Clarity replaced the chaos, and fear took a hike, and doubt fled as I put my confidence (my firm conviction and belief) back where it belongs – in the Lord.

And I thought about that beautiful upside down Downy and smiled. Because like her, even under life’s circumstances, I can be safe when I trust not what I’ve been told, but the One who knows His plan for me.

Cool Downy Fact: Because they are smaller than other woodpeckers, they can eat bugs living on or in the stems and the dried blossoms of wildflowers/weeds. They are often spotted on the undersides of slender branches – where the bugs often hide.

Until Next Time,

Joy

In case you’d like to read more bird devotionals, there’s this one: (Click the cover to see it on Amazon)

And if you’d like to share this devotional, a tweet would be appreciated!

I kept my eye on the lovely upside-downy and wondered what I could learn from her. #Devotional #BirdWatching

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. . .fear took a hike, and doubt fled. . . #Devotional #BirdWatching #LessonLearned

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Leaf Landings {A Pondering & Praise Post}

October 27, 2016 By Joy Dekok 6 Comments

For me, walking is more than exercise. It’s one way I spend time with my dogs, fit in my love of photography, and because I’m a slow walker, taking steps is a pondering time.

In the past couple of weeks, I’ve been fascinated by leaf landings.

Really fascinated.

I love fall and especially leaves, but this was more than that.

A few days ago, the dogs and I were walking and playing in the leaves, and I wondered again why I was so focused on leaf landings.

When I found this treasure, I thought God wanted me to see the hidden things I’d missed all summer.

And then, I thought He was confirming that when I found this:

I was certain these discoveries were part of the adventure, but not all of it because my excitement wasn’t settled – it was growing.

So, I kept walking and taking pictures and continued to ask, “God – what’s up with this?”

We were in the wildflower garden when I started to ponder some things about God. It started with: He knows the number of every hair on my head and on everyone’s.

Not a single sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it. And the very hairs on your head are all numbered. Matthew 10:29b & 30 (NLT)

He knows everything about us and always has. (Psalm 139)

Standing there I knew God was illustrating that He knows.

It was an exciting moment for me. I raised my arms and opened them wide. Sophie and Tucker are used to these things happening, but my movement startled a small flock of juncos, who were resting in the garden after their migration, and they took flight. I was sort of sorry I’d disturbed them, but also delighted to know they were back. These sweet little birds come to Minnesota in the fall when so many others leave.

Plus, there was the immediate thought about God and sparrows. (Matthew 10) And that tie-in was so cool.

As we walked some more, God reminded me of other truths in His Word and I knew that the adventure was about more than hair, sparrows, and leaves.

It’s also about stars. Psalm 147:4 says that He placed every star in the heavens their names.

And our sorrows. Our tears matter to God. Every one of them.

Psalm 56:8 (NLT) says, “You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.”

And according to Hebrews 4:13a, nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight.

He knows us. He knows everything. Even where every leaf lands in the whole world – which might seem like nothing much at all, but to me, these leaves holds great significance.

He knows!

Until Next Time,

Joy

In the past couple of weeks, I’ve been fascinated by leaf landings.#FallLeaves #Pondering&Praise

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Standing there I knew God was illustrating that He knows. #GodKnows #Pondering&Praise #FallLeaves

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They Picked Him

March 2, 2016 By Joy Dekok 6 Comments

After seventeen years together, we had to let our old friend Bandit go. He was sick, weak, and getting worse. We stayed with our friend until the end and grieved him deeply. We walked to the to the car without him, our faces soaked with tears, and Jon said, “It’s going to be awhile until we get another dog. If we ever do.”

After four years, without a dog, I yearned for a wagging tail (or 2!). We took care of friend’s dogs, and I tried to let that be enough. But it wasn’t.

So, I asked Jon if we could just please look at the pups a local breeder had. He said yes, but warned me, “We aren’t bringing a dog home.” Except I saw him put his checkbook in his pocket – something he didn’t always do.

That simple act made my heart jump.

The breeder had a lot of pups, and while I was busy greeting them all, a little brother and sister team attached themselves to Jon. Literally. The cute little girl took the cuff of Jon’s shirt in her mouth and the little boy held Jon’s thumb gently in his mouth.

Our eyes met over the determined duo and Jon nodded at the two still hanging on to him and said, “Pick one.”

I shook my head. “I can’t choose. You have to.”

He smiled down at them. “I can’t either.”

The breeder shook his head. “I’ve never seen anything like this. They picked him.”

After waiting and watching for a few minutes, I asked him, “How much for two?”

The two men agreed on a price; Jon wrote a check, and then he carried them both to the car. We stopped off to show my mom our babies. Her words surprised us. “These dogs are going to be such a comfort to you.”

We had no idea how right she was.

Although he resisted getting to like them too much, the pups continued to woo Jon. Finally, one day with both of them resting their heads on his shoulders he grinned at me, sighed, and said, “I’m a goner.”

Two little tails wagged. Two adults smiled as our hearts opened wide.

Since then, Sophie and Tucker have done just what Mama said they would; through the deaths of Jon’s parents and Mama herself, they have rested beside us, licked our tears, and wagged their tails at just the right times. They willingly take long walks, listen to our aching hearts, love Gator rides, and can talk Jon into rides in the car at least twice a week. Their favorite thing is simple: to be with us.

We miss the dogs that came before them. We always will. Daring to love again didn’t mean we found replacements or substitutes. It doesn’t work that way. We love these two the way we did the others: for who they are and they return the love with enthusiasm.

When I remember the day we first saw them, and I’m thankful they were as ready for us as we were for them – even if one of us didn’t know it yet!

And I thank God that He created them to be ours and that when Jon least expected it, they picked him. Besides, I get that. I picked him too!

Until Next Time,

Joy

He shook his head. “I’ve never seen anything like this. They picked him.” #DogStory #PuppyLove

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Two little tails wagged. Two adults smiled as our hearts opened wide. #PuppyLove #DogStory

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NaNoWriMo 2014 {Writing Life}

February 3, 2015 By Joy Dekok Leave a Comment

I signed up for NaNoWriMo in the past, and then didn’t participate. The challenge seemed too big and sort of restrictive. Until this past November.

Because everything about this month was different and always would be.

There was a certainty in my heart that my life, as I’d known it for fifty-seven years, was about to change, and there was nothing I could do about it. Except write. Not about the coming sorrow, but driven by it.

I wrote as I have never written before. The words came so fast; my keyboard was hot. That’s not an exaggeration. The keys were slippery with the sweat of my fingers. (Don’t worry – I cleaned them!) The story raced out of me with an abandon I’ve never before allowed. I didn’t get to write every day, but on the days I did thousands of words at a time poured out.

And even in the face of the unstoppable sadness, I was in a new stage of my writing adventure. On the 28th, after adding 56,000 plus words (I’d already written 40,000) to the manuscript, I wrote, “the end” and completed the NaNoWriMo challenge.

On November 29th, the great sorrow arrived as Mama passed from here to heaven. (Yes, even at my age, I called her Mama most of the time – it was our way.) I was beside her as she breathed and then didn’t. Ever again. An ache I had no idea was possible took up permanent residence in my heart.

Since then I’ve written blog posts and I’ve read the whole manuscript and have done a bit of rewriting. But not so much. The story is still talking to me (no – I’m not crazy – it’s a writer-thing) and I’m confident that today or tomorrow I’ll return to Oak River, Olivia, the other characters, and the mystery.

I can hardly wait, but wait I must. Grief is exhausting. But I will return. . .

. . .because something happened in November besides Mama’s passing. I found something precious and priceless and hope-filled. Some writers call it the zone and others the flow. I call it my writing way. It’s not a tangible thing like goals, although I have a few of those of the gentle kind. And it’s not an inner determination even though I have a bunch of that. I discovered it in my November 2014 writing spree when I wasn’t with her or worrying about her or writing about her or praying for her.

In the heat of that writing I was at home in the process and in the deepest places of me. I’d found my writing way.

I’m a good girl kind of woman. If there are rules, I try to obey them even when they chaff. My rebellion has usually been internal. If I’ve let you see it externally, I must trust you a great deal because I prefer to keep that part of who I am between God and me.

There were rules to follow if I was going to write 50,000 plus words in less than 30 days. But instead of holding me back, they set something inside me free. Something vital. Something fearless.

In early December, the NaNoWriMo team sent me an email with a banner in it that said I was a winner. In the midst of the tears that turned easily to sobs and the loneliness I was unprepared for and the relief that she was no longer suffering and the guilt I felt over the relief. . .was an accomplishment Mama would have been proud of. Her daughter was a winner.

Because she suffered from dementia, she couldn’t comprehend what I told her about my second novel, Between the Lies. I tried, but it didn’t go so well. So, I kept writing the third one to myself. The not being able to tell her hurt. Because that was the way it was with us too – I told her almost everything.

But back in the day, she would have been so proud of these books and of me. I hang on tightly to that part of our history.

And gratefully accept the banner’s message from NaNoWriMo. I did the thing and won.

Is the book a winner? I have no idea, but I gotta tell you. . .in reading it from start to finish, I like it. It’s raw, but it’s a good story. I am praying I can do it justice.

And guess what else? In all that free, fast writing, I’m not doing more editing and rewriting than when I was carefully watching – I’m probably doing the same, but it feels like less. That is so cool!

The story went places I wasn’t expecting, and I didn’t take the time to second guess any of it, and all of it fits the way a puzzle comes together. I love that crispy feeling and every satisfying snap.

In the days of impending sorrow, I found my process. In the days since, I’ve been wandering a bit in the land of grief. But as the story beckons, I am ready to return to my writing place. So very ready. Since Mama was as do-er, I know she’d be good with that, and words she often said to me echo in my heart. Mama would say, “Well, Joy! Get to writing!”

“Okay, Mama. I will.”

What does your writing way look and feel like?

Until Next Time,

Joy

I’d found my writing way. #Writing #NaNoWriMo #November

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I did the thing and won. #NaNoWriMo #WritingLife #AmWriting #November

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It Will Be All Right {A Mama & Me Post}

December 16, 2014 By Joy Dekok 22 Comments

Mama went Home on November 29, 2014. I was privileged to be with her. It seemed so right – she was there for my first breath, and I was there for her last.

I know this post will elicit your sympathy for us, and I’m grateful for that. But the point of this post isn’t a plea for comfort. I am trusting and believing in God. My faith isn’t rocky although the road is. I realize my words are raw, and some of you are facing a similar future. And that will make this very difficult for you to read. It’s okay if you stop here.

I promised God and Mama I’d be honest about the journey, and this is me keeping my word. Do tell me your stories, but please – no pep talks or advice okay? I know my pain is not the worst ever suffered, but it’s the worst I’ve ever suffered, so don’t put me down for putting it out here. In the darkness of my sorrow, I am keeping my eyes on the One who is the Light – trusting His will and His Word. I greatly appreciate your prayers and your stories about trusting Him in the middle of your pain.

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, ⁴who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.

2 Corinthians 1:2-4 (NIV)

This post is about one of Mama’s rough mornings a couple of months ago when she took a turn for the worse. She was tired and slept on and off – more restless than restful. Each time she woke she was delighted to see me and childlike (transparent and honest) in her surprise. Each time she said, “Oh there are you!” as if she’d just found a great treasure or something valuable she’s misplaced.

I knew she was in pain, but she resisted help. She told me at one point, “I need to feel the pain.” Then she tenderly reached out for my hand because she could see the grief in my soul.

In a very clear moment that morning she said, “I hate what’s happening to my brain.”

I responded, “I hate it too, Mama. And I hate your pain.”

She looked at me quizzically and said, “What pain?”

Either the pain was gone or she didn’t remember that I knew about it. Most likely, it was the dementia. Truly, I hated the dementia, but never Mama. And that day, she was with me – alive, holding my hand, and even though I knew we were approaching the end of her life, I had her. Thoughts beyond that were too heavy to bear.

She watched me closely that day and told me to get back to work. As my fingers worked my laptop keyboard, I stole glances at her. She watched me in that way she always did- as if seeing someone beautiful and to her, I was.

Before she nodded off again, she asked, “What are you doing?”

“Writing,” I said.

She smiled. “Of course you are.”

I stored this conversation and many others in my heart because I knew that one day, when God called her Home, they would end, and I’d still need them.

We put off some things that day. I looked at her fingernails, and she said, “Oh please, not today.” She wasn’t in the mood for a manicure. Instead, we held hands and listened to Elvis for a while because it was the desire of her heart. And it was fun to give her what she wanted.

Later, we read Psalm 122, and she said, “That’s a good one.” I said to God, Oh Lord, she is right. Our help comes from You.

While she slept, I watched her wondering, what God’s plan in all of this was. Surely He has one. I asked Him to show me. Because I needed there to be value in this journey; in the story of a woman who rarely said I can’t and whose life was now full of them.

I know God gave her a number of days before she was created in her mother’s womb. I knew He wouldn’t take her a second too soon or too late based on His plan. I believe that with all my heart. But still, even believing, this hurts. The void where she was is huge.

On that fallish day, I wrestled with my desire for her to stay even as I knew she was suffering mentally and physically. I told God I trusted Him, and when my soul rebelled the truth coming at us, I begged Him to help me trust Him more. On my own, letting her go to Him made me want to stomp my foot and demand a healing. Because He could have, and I knew it. But He didn’t. And there has to be a more to it right? A reason that will glorify Him and give those of us left behind a better understanding – an answer to our whys.

As I battled these things out that day, Mama watched me. I could feel the gentle, weight of her eyes. After what seemed like a long time, she said, “Joy, it will be all right.”

It is one of the last times she called me by my name. The one she gave me. Her mother’s name and now mine. I had no idea how much names mattered until I stopped hearing her say mine.

It is also the last time she comforted me. And I knew she wasn’t talking about the dementia – she meant it was going to be all right forever.

Visiting her grave the other day, I knew Mama was right – she usually was. About almost everything. God. Boys. Writing. Love. Generosity. And the rest. Even this and especially this.

The wind blew cold and harsh, but the truth in my heart was warm and tender. For her, it is all right. She is with God and is fully healed.

It is hard, lonely, and terribly sad on earth without her. To be honest, I had no idea how much it would hurt – the pain still takes my breath away, and I think it always will. Grieving is like that. It will get easier to handle, but it will hurt until I see Jesus and her where they are.

In the second it took for her to leave here for there, Mama was more than all right.

And there is great value in her life – including the dementia. I have no idea what it is, but that’s not my job. That’s completely up to God. He will use it all for His glory.

Mama loved Romans 8:28 passionately. To her, it was the truth spoken to us by the One who is Truth. For me, in these dark days of sorrow, I cling to these verses like a child who has lost her mother, but not her way. I believe this with all my heart, mind, and soul: Because He is God and she is with Him and although the pain is intense, it really is going to be all right. Forever.

Romans 8: 28, 37-39 (ESV – italics added by me)

²⁸And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.

³⁷No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. ³⁸For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, ³⁹nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Until Next Time,

Joy

I promised God and Mama…#KeepingMyEyesOnJesus #Sorrow #Grieving

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In the second it took for her to leave here for there, Mama was more than all right. #Heaven #Dementia #Mama&Me

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I lost my mother, but not my way. #Faith #Grieving #Heaven #Dementia

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It will be alright. #Mama&Me #Dementia #Heaven

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