Wounded Soldiers

With Veteran’s Day barely behind us, I found myself watching a special on TV this week about wounded soldiers.

At the close of service at church last Sunday, our pastor honored the men and women who have fought for our freedom as well as those whose children have gone off to war.  Some returned scarred both internally and externally; others did not return.

Pastor became emotional as his words failed to express the deep gratitude his heart could not contain.  Those of us who have never fought for our country have much to learn from our war veterans.

As I sat watching the veteran’s learn how to fly fish in Yellowstone National Park, my respect rose to new heights.  The guide shared how fly fishing puts salve on the wounds of the wounded soldiers, giving their minds a place to find peace.  

The wounded soldiers were a diverse group of men.  Some had lost an eye, fingers or their voices.  Others without limbs were carried through the sand on their wheelchairs.  Some were visibly still mourning the loss of what had once been as they tried to believe that life could still be good, albeit different.  Others showed no expression, choosing instead to live life with no emotion or feeling in an attempt to deal with their pain.

These men, all once physically strong, were now broken, weak and humble.  As I continued to take in the stories held in each soldier’s eyes, I was given a picture of a new definition of tough.  Each man exhibited strength and fortitude, though trapped within a body that convinces otherwise.  

Many volunteers helped in the fly fishing outing; wounded soldiers of a different kind.  The volunteers simply cared for the soldiers and in the process their own wounded hearts found healing.  For a moment all felt right with the world as I beheld ordinary people who saw past the outward appearances and into the brave hearts and souls of the wounded. 

On this journey we call life; we must care for one another.  Whether we have been on battle fields fighting for our country’s freedom or on battle fields fighting for our family, our children or our own lives, we are all wounded soldiers.  We are all deeply flawed and broken; there are no exceptions.

As the TV special came to a close, the words “The Fight is Not Over” flashed onto the screen. 

As the Lord continues to give us insights into the hardships we all must endure as good soldiers, let’s remember that we need each other.  Our fight is not over until at last we meet the Commander in Chief face to face.

Stay the Course...

Sheila Cote

Be Still

Over the last several months there has been a recurring theme in my life in regard to my relationship with God.  As I fumble and strive to make heads or tails out of what my life in Alaska should look like, something has changed.

“Be still and know that I am God” has become the continuous, repetitive live stream of conversation with my Father.  Everywhere I turn, every time I am anxious, every time I attempt to make something happen, at the beginning and end of each day and everywhere in between-- He whispers for me to be still.  The literal translation for “be still” is “shut up!” God is telling me to shut up and to listen.

My personality despises being still.  Everything I have strived for and attached my name to pushes against being still.  Being still is what happens when you sleep or when you die; and in between you wear yourself out doing great things for God and leaving your mark on the world.

I have been angry, impatient and hurt in my attempts to be still and obey His one request.  I have felt benched, forgotten and insignificant. I have pretended to be still so that He will allow me to jump back into the flow of life; but He is no fool who knows my heart.

However, as weeks have turned into months something has been slowly happening within me.  I’m not certain how to put words to my lessons in stillness.  My mind is going through a renewal process; at times I can feel it happening in the stillness.  The worries of the world have decreased as my faith in God has increased.  

In the tiny moments He is beside me, within me—His breath so close in the stillness that I want to reach out and touch His face. So present is He at times, I am afraid to speak for fear that He may speak back and I will not be able to breathe under the weight of His voice.

As I continue to be still and know that He is God, I find myself caring more about people, more specifically those who do not yet know this God of the universe. My heart is heavy, my desire to reach the lost greater than my desire to have a career, make a great salary, or make a name for myself.  The only mark I want to make on the world is to allow the river of life within me to flow out of me into a parched, thirsty world.  His desire is that none should perish; in the stillness I pray that my desire would match His.

Instead of wondering what I can be or what I can do, in the stillness Father is showing me who I am.  I am His; I have been bought with a great price.  He gave His son so that I might have real life.  Real life is found in the stillness of His presence.  Real life is found when I shut up and listen.

I know that this season of being still, as all seasons have a way of doing, will change. 

But for now, I will remain still, covered with His feathers under His wings tucked away in His faithfulness somewhere in the mountains of Alaska.

Stay the Course...

Sheila Cote

Abandoned House

Isn't it ironic how sometimes we need to go backward before we can move forward? I wrote this piece several years ago when we lived in the beautiful farm country of Wisconsin.  This was the day I decided to trust that God's plan for my life was better than my own plans.  Revisiting our altars of remembrance--line in the sand moments--is necessary, as life likes to throw us curve balls.

I have my very own abandoned house.  It happens to be an old country home on a beautiful piece of property with a winding driveway with pine trees lining the drive.  I found it, a fact which kind of makes it mine.  Because it’s on my running route on a back country road, I have slowly claimed it, little by little, as I waited patiently for a For Sale or No Trespassing sign to be posted, to no avail.

This summer the grass grew high, and sometimes I would walk part way up the driveway just to take a peek at the unmaintained beauty of the place.  Once I took my husband, and we ventured all the way up to the house where I persuaded him to pick a few lilacs from the lilac tree for a party I was hosting.  It seemed a shame to let their beauty go to waste where no one could see or smell them.  It appears that I am both a trespasser and a thief!

As the months have passed, my bravery has grown.  Yesterday on my fall run, I was drawn to the abandonment of the place.  I made a sudden change of plans and turned into the driveway, crunching pine needles underfoot as I ran all the way to the house.  I needed to be alone, needed to hear silence, needed to feel abandonment from my own self.

The long grass had fallen over and was turning brown, so I crunched my way through the back yard.  I dared myself to enter the rolling woods with yellow, red and orange leaves softly blowing from the towering oak trees creating a blanket of beauty on the forest floor.  Entering my new world of abandonment felt both dangerous and freeing.  I turned off my iPod so I could hear every noise (and for the slim chance that I might have to defend myself should a person mysteriously appear and scare me half out of my mind.)

This afternoon I was drawn back to my abandoned house.  I realized that I am wholly free from restraint, just as the property is, when I am in its presence.  I ventured further into the woods, coming upon two of the largest oak trees I have seen.  As I lay on the green moss next to a blanket of colorful leaves, I stared up at the size and strength of the trees.  I found it impossible to not worship God as His presence filled me with awe and wonder.

I realized more clearly that God is asking me to live my life in total abandonment of self and, instead, in total surrender to Him.  I realized that true abandonment requires me choosing to give up myself, unequivocally, to the control of God, never again claiming a right to what has been given up.  A true abandoned house in the hands of a faithful Owner.

As I left my abandoned property this afternoon, I secretly acknowledged that it did not belong to me.  It had not chosen to be abandoned, it belonged to no one.  I, on the other hand, had a choice to make as I clicked on my iPod and shuffled back down the crunchy pine needled drive.

Stay the Course...

Sheila Cote'

Sarengeti

Between latitudes 1 and 3 degrees south latitude and  34 and 36 degrees east longitude, spanning 12,000 miles in north Tanzania extending to southwestern Kenya lay the Serengeti Plains; one of the ten natural travel wonders of the world, renowned for its large lion population.  The Serengeti Plains is the best place on earth to observe prides in their natural environment.

I have never seen the Serengeti Plains in person, only in pictures.  My mind cannot conceive the sense of freedom, adventure and danger lurking over 12,000 miles of plains in beautiful Africa.

Most of us will never experience such a sight first-hand.  However, if we stop long enough and hit “pause,” we will discover the Serengeti Plains.  

Serengeti Plains is the place we find freedom of spirit.  It’s that place that causes us to forget about the pressures and burdens of life, even if just for a moment, and enter into a place that supersedes reality.

We each have a Serengeti Plain.  One need only stop and reflect upon that which brings freedom of spirit; that experience which makes time stand still.  That place where beauty and awe and wonder replace worry and fear and pain.

Serengeti Plain need not be a literal place, as it also embodies anything that brings the spirit to full attention.

A swim in the ocean, perched on a deer stand in the woods, singing, a prayer from the heart, dancing, running, beholding a sunset, holding a child, flying a plane, looking into the eyes of the aging and seeing the beauty of another’s life—Serengeti Plain.

Serengeti Plain is where we go to escape where we are, who we are, and all that is wrong in the world.  It is a place of forgetting and it is a place of remembering.  It is a place to behold beauty and it is a place to embrace pain.  It is a place like nowhere else.  It is a place we long for and a place which may require the courage of a lion to enter.  Either way, the experience makes it impossible to leave the Plains the same person you were when you entered.  

When I am in my own Serengeti Plain, the world comes to a slow spin, I am able to feel each breath.  I am aware of who I am—the real me.  Peace replaces worry, calm kicks out fear and stillness becomes my closest companion.

If you find yourself struggling with your purpose and wondering about your true identity, it’s time to visit your Serengeti Plain.

Upon exiting the Plains, make sure to take your real self with you back into the merciless world of chaos and pretense.  

Stay the Course...

Sheila Cote'

Such a Time as This

The story of Esther is powerful.  Whenever I question the power of fasting and prayer, or my purpose, I turn to Esther to be reminded of the power of our awesome God.

Esther is a beautiful young lady, adopted and raised by her cousin, Mordecai.  

King Xerxes issued a decree to search for a beautiful virgin to become his new queen.   Esther was taken to the king’s palace, instructed by Mordecai not to let anyone know that she was a Jew.

As the story goes, “The king was attracted to Esther more than to any of the other women, and she won his favor and approval more than any of the other virgins.  So he set a royal crown on her head and made her queen.” (Esther 2:17)

This is the part of the story where we want to sigh, imagine how romantic that moment must have been, and assume that the King and Queen lived happily ever after.  However, Walt Disney is not the creator of the story of Esther, so let’s enter back into the true purpose of Esther’s favor and reign as Queen.

The king’s highest ranking noble, Haman, was enraged because Mordecai refused to kneel down and pay him honor.  Haman convinced the king to issue a decree to kill all Jews.  

Mordecai sent word to have Esther approach the king to “beg for mercy and plead with him for her people.” (Esther 4:8)  However, unless a person was summoned by the king to approach him, he or she would be put to death.  Esther feared for her life.  

Mordecai said something that made Esther remember who she really was, “And who knows that you have come to royal position for such a time as this?” (Esther 4:14) Esther realized that her life was not her own.  However, she also understood the power of prayer and fasting.  

With great courage, Esther sent word to Mordecai saying, “Go, gather together all the Jews and fast for me.  Do not eat or drink for three days, night or day.  I and my maids will fast as you do.  When this is done, I will go to the king, even though it is against the law.  And if I perish, I perish.” (Esther 4:16)

Desperate people are hungry for God and hungry people are desperate.  Esther realized that the life or death of an entire nation rested on her shoulders.  

Fasting opens us up to receive all that God has for us.  He is longing to reveal Himself to us when we surrender our lives to Him, desperate and hungry.  Perhaps we are alive for such a time as this.  Perhaps the life or death of our nation rests on our shoulders as well.  

Stay the Course...

Sheila Cote'

Today’s Prayer:  “Father, thank You for giving us the story of Esther, a woman of courage.  Just like Esther, we know that our lives are not our own.  As we fast and seek You, would You please reveal Yourself to us today?  Show us the purpose that You have created us.  We ask for courage to say “yes” to whatever You ask.  We trust You.  We are desperate and hungry for Your will to be done.  In Jesus name we pray, amen.”