Category: Spirituality - trish hermanson

We Watched Life Swept Away by the Current

7/5/2021

Duane and I marveled at the sight of a fledgling as it launched out of a cottonwood and wobbled through the air on its first flight. But then it landed in the nearby creek, flapping its baby wings frantically to escape. Duane hustled down to the water’s edge and reached in to rescue it, but the fast-moving current swept it downstream.
     Gone.
     Drowned.
     And I sobbed. Such a waste of a beautiful life that had only begun to fly. But it landed in a place it should never have gone and was swept into a current it could never handle.
     As can happen with us. Sometimes we’re fledglings in relationships. Or careers. Sometimes we fly into places we should never go or aren’t ready for. Then the current sweeps us away.
     Downstream, Duane and I searched the creek bank, but didn’t find the little bird. Then I remembered Jesus’ words that God knows even when a sparrow falls to the ground, and that I’m worth more than a flock of sparrows. So when I make disastrous landings, I can reach up toward heaven, and God will pluck me out of the current.
  I’ll still be soaked with the consequences of my choices, but I’ll be back on safe ground.

Sanding Out Gouges in My Life

6/18/2021

When I was refinishing an old oak table recently I ran across a gouge left decades ago when one of our little girls was exploring that forks could be weapons. Could I sand it out? No, that would leave an ugly divot. Besides, the pockmark is part of the table’s history.
     I carry gouges in the tabletop of my life, too. I became aware of a particular one when Duane and I bought that table unfinished and I spent hours sanding it. The process of smoothing it raised some grain in my emotions - a scar from a job where my boss wielded authority in such a way I was left emotionally abused. As I sanded, anger and grief rose in me, and my tears spattered across the unfinished wood. Was reconciliation possible? I didn’t think so, but I asked God for compassion and forgiveness for her. Years later with trepidation I hosted her for a meal at that table. The conversation was cordial - but not honest. Unsatisfying.
     More years passed. The woman died. Here I was sanding the table again, and the old pain surfaced. My former boss still wields power over me from the grave. How much better it would have been if we had come clean with each other.
  A gouge remains in me. But the hurt is less. The scar is smaller. And in the unfathomable way that God turns the tables on our troubles, it reminds me of how important it is to forgive because I have been forgiven much.

How I Discovered Treasures in Darkness

3/19/2021

Following cancer surgery recently, I recalled my exploration in South Dakota’s Jewel Cave, the third largest underground chamber in the world. As I descended into the damp cavern, gloom wrapped around me - nothing but darkness and eerie silence. Then a guide shot a beam of light at a cave wall, and calcite crystals sparkled back - treasures in darkness.
     Lately I’ve experienced so much confusion with cancer. How does this impact my future? How should I treat it? Lots of contradictory advice.
     Yet occasionally gems sparkled in the darkness. Like the time a friend said I’d been on her mind, so she prayed; she didn’t know I was undergoing grueling medical tests. Another day a neighbor left a bouquet of flowers on our front step. A cheery card arrived in the mail. An encouraging email popped up. And supportive comments poured onto Face Book. I’m humbled by such kindnesses that inched me forward through the dark tunnels of cancer.
I remember God’s statement to the king of the Persian Empire more than two thousand years ago: “I will give you the treasures of darkness, riches stored in secret places, so that you may know that I am the Lord.”
     Perhaps this is one reason I experience dark times - to discover that when all else is murky, I can be confident that God still rules.
You’ve shown me great compassion during this time. Thank you. I hope to pass it along to others when they are trapped in darkness.

My Blizzard Miracle

2/19/2021

This week I called my friend Dale in Texas where her city is in a deep freeze. No answer. So I shot up a prayer, asking God to bounce a miracle down to her. Her situation reminded me of when my young girls and I were trapped in a blizzard. We were lumbering along a lonely Colorado road in our station wagon at twilight when we hit ice that spun us into the ditch next to a frozen lake.    Stuck.
     An SUV approached and stopped. A man in a parka hopped out and ran down to us while I cracked opened my window.
     My mouth dropped open. “Are you Frank…?”
     He grinned. “I’ll get in front of the car and rock it.”
     The car inched out of the snow bank and backed up the slope, and the man jogged easily back to his SUV and drove off.
      “Who was that?” my girls asked.
     I exhaled. “We had a world-class rescue. That was none other than Frank Shorter. He launched America’s running craze when he won the Olympic gold medal for the marathon and the silver four years later.”
Some may call this a coincidence that Shorter arrived when I needed help, but I think, Who made the incident “co?”
     So when I shoot up a prayer for Dale, I’m asking God to send a miracle her way, perhaps even before she gets an S.O.S. off our lips.
I'm reminded that I scratch my head about unanswered prayers, but forget the “unprayed answers” that come my way.
  Have you had any?

Is God a Vending Machine?

2/12/2021

Recently seven members of my family have suffered from COVID, a daughter is scheduled for surgery, my toddler grandson broke his wrist, another grandson is starting vision therapy, and I’m being treated for cancer. In times like this, I wish God were a vending machine and I could insert a coin, punch a selection, and out would drop whatever I ask for.
Some folks tell me that’s all I need to do. Just pray the right prayer, or pump up enough faith, or live a good enough life, or name it and claim it. Then the divine will be my genie-in-a-bottle and grant my wishes.
This is not the deity I know. He’s completely good. And wise. And powerful. But He’s not my celestial butler. “God is not the supporting actor in my life movie,” says Dr. Michael Horton, a California professor. “I have been cast as a player in His unfolding story of redemption.”
That redemptive story is way bigger than my story, and the all-supreme is not my Mr. Fixit. His renewal of all things may or may not include what I hope for and on my schedule. What I want may be shortsighted. So I still pray, but I can’t presume how God will answer. It may be different than I ask. And difficult as it is to grasp, the trials that come my way may bring heaven’s mercy in disguise, as Laura Story sings here