I Know The Secret

 

Reflections: I Know The Secret

I have been reminded these last few months how words hurt. Someone makes an observation about another’s circumstances and shares it with their friends. Never bothering to check the facts or find the truth.  I have always wondered why people feel the need to run others down, is it to build themselves up?

My mother used to say, “Gossip is like letting the cat out of the bag one claw at a time.” As a young girl, I thought she was being funny. But as the years went by I saw the damage left behind, by the words others carelessly shared.

I watched as people would treat my mother with so little respect as they assumed they knew all about her situation.  But they didn’t know at all, or how hard she worked to put a roof over our heads and food on the table.  Never giving up or expecting handouts. people made assumptions we were poor, although I can’t say that we ever thought we were.

We always had enough, when we outgrew our shoes and clothing; she made sure we had something new to replace the old. I often wondered how she worked her magic with the budget, but as I look back I realize she went without so that my sisters and I would have more opportunities and a few extras. How we loved and admired her.  

I don’t ever remember her speaking unkindly about others, probably because she had personally known the pain it caused.

I have watched her invite people into her home, feed, care and buy groceries for those who had nothing or no one to care for them. Mother was never judgmental and would accept people just the way they were. But most importantly, she was never afraid or shy to tell anyone about God’s love. She never gave up, she was a survivor, joyfully serving God and touching lives with kindness and comfort

In her later years, she worked in real estate, and at times I would be fearful as she drove around the city, often going into dangerous areas. She always told us not to worry; no harm would come because God was taking care of her. And He truly did.   

Mother never cared about what others thought about her or what they said. She only cared about pleasing and honoring God and doing her best for Him.

Mother left me a wonderful legacy to remember, my heart needs to keep my eyes on the God who loves me, and not worry about hurtful words being shared.©

A troublemaker plants seeds of strife; gossip separates the best of friends.

Proverbs 16:28

Let your conversation be gracious and attractive so that you will have the right response for everyone.

Col. 4:5-6

Thank you, dear friends, for spending your time with me.

 I love you all and am praying. 
HUGS,
Lovingly, Karan
Have you experienced hurtful and unkind words, what did you do? How did you get through it?

Where did you learn this?

Happy Easter have a fabulous weekend with family and friends! Hugs

 

 

 

Where did you learn this?

I was standing before the window of an art store where a picture of the Crucifixion of our Lord was on exhibition.  As I gazed, I was aware of the approach of another, and turning, beheld a little lad gazing also intently at the picture.  Noticing that this mite of humanity was a street boy, I thought I would speak to him; so I asked, pointing at the picture, “Do you know who He is?”

“Yes,” came a quick response; “That’s our Savior,” with a mingled look of pity and surprise that I should not know what the picture represented.

With an obvious desire to enlighten me further, he continued, after a pause; “Them’s Roman soldiers, the Roman soldiers, and,” with a long drawn sigh, “that woman crying there is His mother.”

He waited, obviously for me to question him further, then thrust his hand in his pockets, and with a reverent and subdued voice and tear-stained face added, “They killed Him, Mister.  Yes, sir, they killed Him.”

I looked at the little dirty, rugged fellow and asked, “where did you learn this?’

At the Mission Sunday school,” was the reply.

Full of thoughts regarding the benefits of the Mission Sunday schools, I turned and resumed my walk, leaving the little lad still looking at the picture, I had not walked a block when I heard his childish voice calling, “Mister! Say, Mister! ” I turned.  He was running toward me but paused;   then up went his little hand, and with a triumphant sound in his voice and now radiant face, he said, “ I want to tell you:He Arose Again, He Is Alive!”   By  R.A. Torrey

This wonderful story reminds me the Grave is empty, and Jesus lives and is alive today. I know that my hope, salvation and constant care comes from Him. He loves me, forgives me and loves me.

He is my security, He is Enough!

Happy Easter, He Has Risen!

Lovingly, Karan

Thank you for sharing your time with me today dear friend. What brings delight and Joy to your life?

Do you have a favorite Easter story?

I would love to hear your thoughts as we share our journey.