Right now I’ve been typing up a story called: Mr. Field’s Rosemary (one of my Jesus in disguise books). It takes place in an orchard field with a recently widowed woman on her way to Mr. Joshua Field’s cottage to cook breakfast for him and his six children. What Rosemary discovers is that Mr. Field’s is too going through pain. His beloved wife has run away from home again. This story has two big twists that leads to wholeness for Rosemary and the six adorable children she easily begins to love. I always ask the Lord to help me write and my prayer is that everything I publish leaves a deep, healing impression of Jesus’s love in the heart of every reader. I pray each reader comes to “see” the sweetly inconspicuous ways Jesus is hidden in plain sight in their lives and that they come begin to fellowship with Him daily. Enjoy:
While Joshua was gone Rosemary took some more sips of tea before admiring his kitchen again. She drank in the lovely decor and imagined his wife must have helped him furnish this room. Warmth from the pillar heat lamp rubbed her back like an expert massage therapist.
Rosemary spotted a bright gold chested hummingbird with shimmering emerald wings. It sucked sugared water from a feeder dangling from the paneled patio. The gold-flamed honeysuckle flowers glowed from the peeking rays of the sun. Their vines hung like a soft caress on the patio’s design. The edge of winter was waning and the waking yawns of spring echoed in the scenery.
Joshua announced his presence by softly clearing his throat. He headed for the cabinets, “coffee too?”
“No thank you Mr. Fields. Your tea is quite…perfect.”
Joshua grinned in delight, “I think you’ll enjoy the coffee more.”
Rosemary only stared…missing the taste of freshly brewed coffee on her palate.
“I feel like you’re a coffee drinker.” Mr. Fields stated before turning on the grinder. The inviting scents of the beans wafted underneath Rosemary’s nose.
“I do love coffee,” Rosemary confessed and then shrugged one shoulder, “but usually with a ton of whipped milk and sugar…among other things.” She blushed as she looked down at her belly and slightly patted it, “but I’m trying to lay low on some things right now.”
Mr. Fields gave a sympathetic look.
Tears threatened and Rosemary let out a cough to clear her throat, “I…I overate quite a bit after…” her voice broke. After my husband died, she thought. She shook her head before glancing up at him. His gaze was attentive but not forceful.
A long moment of silence filtered between them, with it, an awkward pressure to break it. Mr. Fields turned off the grinder and carefully made his way toward her.
All of the pain she was feeling was like an angry volcano in her chest. It threatened to squeeze through her throat. Rosemary gulped loudly and her bottom lip twitched. Mr. Fields stopped an arm length away.
She feared he would touch her…but more than that she feared the wrath inside of herself. She had never experienced anger when Richard died…only overwhelming sadness. The worst part was…she felt her anger was directed toward God.
What kind of Christian am I?
Shame flamed Rosemary’s already reddened face. Her jade eyes widened and she took a step back.
“Do you need to talk about it?” Mr. Fields asked gently.
Rosemary shook her head more violently than she intended, “it’s nothing I think would be beneficial to our working relationship.”
“But, would it be beneficial to you? That’s important too.” His voice was so soft it came out like a whisper.
She looked up and saw his beautifully warm eyes. There was genuine care sketched across his bronzy visage.
A thousand thoughts battled in her mind. But the longer she looked at him, the more her mind cleared. It was as if the soft peace she felt around him was being offered to her. “After…my husband died,” the words came out like the bite of an undying winter. Her shoulders shook and her trembling lips parted before a flood of audible cries came out. Joshua closed the remaining gap between them and wrapped her in his arms. She forgot herself and buried her face against his chest. He rested his chin on her head and embraced her firmly. She stood there in his shelter until she collected herself.
After becoming calm, Rosemary allowed herself to linger in Mr. Field’s supportive arms. She could hear his heartbeat against her ears and the faint scent of spikenard, saffron and calamus were blended like a colon bath on his clothes. Clearing her throat, she put a pushing hand against him and he released her immediately. Clear tears trailed her cheeks, dripped down her chin and splashed against her arms and shirt.
“I…”
He cut her off, “Don’t apologize. I’m glad you got that off your chest.”
She glanced away until he spoke again, “You don’t ever have to pretend you feel anyway other than what you do around me. I’m not unfamiliar with pain…or comfort.”
“Thank you, Mr. Fields.”
He held a hand up, “please call me Joshua. It’s more personable.”
She tilted her head slightly.
“It’s okay if you forget…but it’s another if you do it on purpose. I’m asking you to call me by my first name.”
Deciding not to make waves Rosemary nodded. “Okay,” she verbalized.
“Good,” He said and then only stared. The look on his face spoke volumes more. He desired to say things that she wasn’t ready to hear. Pain flickered in his eyes and then something else. A knowing she couldn’t discern yet it pulled on her soul like a magnet leading straight to his heart.
She sniffled and squinted her eyes in thought.
“I want you to feel like family with myself and the kids.” Joshua said and in her heart, she believed him.
“That is super kind of you to say that. I confess I think my time volunteering with you might unravel some of my emotions. I never meant to involve you in my grieving process, especially since your family is going through a difficult family time as well.”
“I believe this is a good thing,” he said confidently but not arrogantly. Rosemary waited for an explanation and when he offered none she shrugged, “maybe.”
Joshua turned away and went back to fixing his coffee. After pouring fresh water into a silver and black cappuccino machine he offered, “I can help you with breakfast if you like?”
There was something about him that made Rosemary suspect she would not be able to hide behind her self-imposed mask of calm. She trembled inwardly as she feared his peaceful presence would unravel the ugly things within her she had so desperately closed her conscious to. Vulnerability had never been her forte. Her history was marked with painful memories of rejection and scorn whenever she exposed the soft, throbbing, naked places of her soul. She couldn’t imagine Joshua would respond any different.
“No, thank you.” she said, wanting to put distance between herself and him.
Fear not, for you shall not be ashamed; neither be confounded and depressed, for you shall not be put to shame. For you shall forget the shame of your youth, and you shall not [seriously] remember the reproach of your widowhood any more.
For your Maker is your Husband—the Lord of hosts is His name—and the Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer; the God of the whole earth He is called.
For the Lord has called you like a woman forsaken, grieved in spirit, and heartsore—even a wife [wooed and won] in youth, when she is [later] refused and scorned, says your God. -Isaiah 54:4-6 AMP
As always, may you enjoy the warmth of Jesus’s love today in familiar and unexpected places! For a romantic fictional book on the bridegroom love of Jesus, check out my book, Romantic Rendezvous for The Soul!
“As I read, I quickly became enthralled with this book, so beautifully written in the language of love. Each of these short stories so accurately reflects the romantic and wooing heart of the Bridegroom which draws you to Himself into a deeper place of love and intimacy. If you have not yet experienced romantic intimacy with God, I’m confident that this book will set you on course. It’s bound to warm your soul and whet your desire for your own heart-to-heart conversations and experiences with God. The author creatively ministers to the soul, bringing truth to light in the most tangible ways; you will feel that God is speaking directly to you, and He most certainly is!
Some stories caused me to be drawn away into remembrance of my own experiences and conversations with God that have freed my soul; others caused me to reevaluate my heart’s commitment to my first Husband and cry out for forgiveness; and yet others simply took me on a delightful and exciting adventure of what the beginning of a holy, unadulterated love looks like – so refreshing to the soul! I commend the author for using her creative gifting to share personal reflections and heart intimacies which I know could only come from the deep well of Father’s heart. I highly recommend this book as a must read!” -Marina Garcia
But the Helper (Comforter, Advocate, Intercessor—Counselor, Strengthener, Standby), the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in My name [in My place, to represent Me and act on My behalf], He will teach you all things. And He will help you remember everything that I have told you. -John 14:26 AMP
Have you ever struggled to sleep because you lacked peace inside your heart?
I understand.
Because I’m there right now…
It’s late at night and I’m awake when I should be asleep.
I’m up because my day has had a draining undertow of anxiety strung like spinning thread inside the veins that flow blood throughout my body. I’ve felt so rushed in daily choirs, and I haven’t stopped to tend to the real needs of my heart.
I’m up late because my two young daughters are finally asleep and I find it hard to focus on my soul and healing subjects when they are awake.
I’m up late because there are no demands in this moment and the neglected pain, inward desire and questions that I have for God are surfacing to the top of my conscious mind like the swelling of a wave.
I’m up.
I’m awake.
And unmet desire raps at the door of my soul again.
I now clearly hear the steady beating that has been happening all day, but now instead of deafening my ears to it, I choose to listen.
“What do you want?” I ask my soul, already knowing the answer.
When the great longing of my soul is seen, like an emaciated person reeling with hunger, I freeze. Feelings of powerlessness overwhelm me because I know I cannot fill the aching, (seemingly abysmal) void.
The cold reality of my human incapability and poverty makes me want to swing the door shut again on my hungry desire and pretend I never saw it. But I know such carelessness wouldn’t be innocuous. My mind battles what to do.
I would just as soon ignore it, except I know it will persist.
I would just squish it, except I know it to be immortal and incapable of death.
I think to squelch it again, under the dulling drug of busyness, but I know it will only make my heart sick and heart ailment is a disease I find I can’t bear. Besides this, the chronic state of an ailing heart usually leads to an addiction of some form (in my case…the chocolate pantry).
The need of The Comforter rises from within me like a child’s whimpering cry to the peak of my throat. I can almost taste the unshed tears at the back of my tongue.
“Holy Spirit,” I whisper, “Help me. I cannot help myself. Father God, I’m so hungry. I’m hungry for your promises. I’m thirsty for things I know are coming but they have not manifested in my life yet. I’m hungry to see my dreams become reality and trusting You in the waiting is hard. I know your Word says that by faith and patience we inherit the promises…but the waiting is such a battle of faith somedays. I’m hungry to see your goodness and your kingdom come in the lives of several friends and family members. I know You have a much more wonderful reality for them than what they are living in. I know You have so much more for me…”
As I talk to God and give Him myself and all the loved ones who are weighing on my heart, I feel calmer. My tight chest finally begins to relax as I “expose” my natural weakness to the most loving, capable Father.
My daughter Elena is asleep beside me in a small netted rocker with metal polls for legs. She breathes softly under a knitted blanket made with cool blue and green tones with white in between.
I think of her own soul and her need for comfort when she is tired and ready to sleep.
When Elena (her name means radiant light) is weary, she doesn’t whisper, she cries with a fury and fever that won’t be denied. She doesn’t hide her pain or her need, like I so often do. She doesn’t fear her desires won’t be met or that she’ll be scorned because of them.
No, she finds me with her eyes and her whole face screws up, her nose crinkles like discarded Christmas wrapping paper, her face flushes with rogue hues and she wails for attention until she is comforted. She trusts me to soothe her when she is exhausted or hungry or emotionally hurt. Because she trusts me, she makes her emotions known with candid, innocent clarity.
I can still see her, trying to crawl over a plush pillow and brush past an arresting assortment of colorful plastic toys around her. I laugh because I know the couch pillow, which is fairly small, might as well have been a hill to her small ten month frame and limited mobil agility. She crawled with frustrating effort around the toy obstacles that were bought for her pleasure and enjoyment.
I saw her and took pity on her. The moment she recognized I would pick her up, her wails quieted and she looked up at me with anticipated calm.
Once inside my arms, she nuzzled her nose into my right breast and covered the tender skin with a curled, chubby hand.
She mumbled and cooed softly as I cradled her while she nursed and within a few short minutes, she fell asleep.
Her soul had cried for help, and I came.
Not only had I comforted her by holding her, but I nourished her through the milk my body created…just for her.
Now, I find myself, crying as well. Only my Helper is Someone I cannot see and sometimes cannot feel, yet He has assured me He is always there.
I confess, it’s not always easy to rest in His arms. It’s not always been easy for me to receive the heavenly and healing comfort that is always available to me. Because sometimes, it’s hard for me to trust a spiritual Father when my body wants my five senses appeased with tangible proof.
Even when I intellectually know He is Truth, even when I acknowledge with my mind that He cannot lie and his word is more sure than the sun’s rising every morning…sometimes faith still seems like an obstacle. Sometimes faith seems like an obstruction (like the toys that surrounded Elena), rather than what it actually is, a great gift from my loving heavenly Father.
And I’m tempting to feel condemned for that. But I won’t allow myself to be. He has told me far too many times that He doesn’t condemn me (John 3:16-17).
How I sometimes wish I were like Elena, and when I cry, Jesus would appear in the flesh and scoop me up in his warm, safe, loving and powerful arms.
I confess this to Him, probably for the thousandth time, and like a good Friend, He listens patiently and compassionately as if it were the first time.
As I pour out the internal floodgates of turmoil that had been mercilessly churning and pricking inside me all day, I relax even more, My breaths deepen and become longer and steadier in the atmosphere of his celestial and curative grace.
I find my desires being pacified, like a baby suckling on their mother’s milk until their belly is full, in the presence of his comforting love.
It takes me a moment to realize, my hear rate has dramatically slowed down.
All the tormenting doubt is silent now.
I’ve been in his arms and I didn’t even realize it!
And he said, “My presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.”-Exodus 33: 14
“The result of comfort is rest.” I felt the Holy Spirit say inside me.
I gazed at my daughter again, sound asleep, with no sign of distress on her placid, caramel colored visage.
Her rhymnthetic breathing is as sound and smooth as still crystal lake water. I watch the slow rise and fall of her small chest.
She is at peace.
She is resting because she had fallen asleep in the most secure place on earth to her, my arms.
She had drifted into subconsciousness under the shadow of my wings. The last thing she saw was the light of my face. My smile flamed like a life-giving image past her pupils and dove into her heart giving deep comforting, assurance to her soul. Her eyes fluttered closed, remembering my maternal smile and the love that inevitably poured through my eyes. Just like the sun stains my eyes when I stare at it too long so much so that even under my eyelids I can see embellishments of its sparkling orange and gold light invading the darkness, so my image branded Elena’s mind as she slept.
And through studying her, I realize, this is what the Holy Spirit has done for us. We can always have this sort of blessed assurance in our hearts. The light of God’s face is always shinning down on us in love. He is our Father, we are his beloved, precious children. Let Him hold you today and still your every fear. There is nothing He wants more, than to comfort you when you’re hurting :
Blessed are those who have learned to acclaim you, who walk in the light of your presence, LORD. -Psalm 89: 15
Whoever rests in the shadow of the Most High God will be kept safe by the Mighty One. -Psalm 91:1 NIRV
Many ask, “Who can show us the good?” Shine the light of Your face upon us, O LORD. -Psalm 4:6
For it was not by their sword that they took the land; their arm did not bring them victory. It was by Your right hand, Your arm, and the light of Your face, because You favored them. -Psalm 44:3
May God be gracious to us and bless us, and cause His face to shine upon us, Selah. -Psalm 67:1
Restore us, O God, and cause Your face to shine upon us, that we may be saved. -Psalm 80:3
I pray the “intangible” arms of God are palpably felt by you today. I pray you experience the sort of divine comfort that always gives rest. May his loving countenance shine through and still every raging storm in your soul, giving you the answers you need. There is no safer, securer or more peaceful place on earth than in communion with God the Father.
~If you would like to experience emotionally life-giving and mind clearing sessions with God about your future goals in the safe presence of another, I do prayerful life-coaching with my clients. I would love to walk alongside Jesus in providing you with the Comfort, inspiration, wisdom and guidance you desire. Click here to fill out a questionnaire and receive a FREE life-coaching consultation call! The first few clients will receive a limited discounted price!
“Healing is impossible in loneliness; it is the opposite of loneliness. Conviviality is healing. To be healed we must come with all the other creatures to the feast of Creation.” (pg.99, “The Body and the Earth”) ― Wendell Berry, The Art of the Commonplace: The Agrarian Essays
“People use drugs, legal and illegal, because their lives are intolerably painful or dull. They hate their work and find no rest in their leisure. They are estranged from their families and their neighbors. It should tell us something that in healthy societies drug use is celebrative, convivial, and occasional, whereas among us it is lonely, shameful, and addictive. We need drugs, apparently, because we have lost each other.” ― Wendell Berry, The Art of the Commonplace: The Agrarian Essays
~For a beautiful song on the light of God’s face by Misty Edwards, click here. I do not own any rights to this music. This was one of the 1st worship songs I listened to as a new believer.
~For more devotions like this, check out my book, Visions of Celestial Love (a journey back to healing grace) on amazon!
God bless you. He loves you with all of his heart!
“Visions of Celestial Love is a book of inspiring quotes and beautiful prose about God’s unconditional love for mankind. The insights of this book help us to understand that it was the Father’s great love for us that made a way for us to have life together with His Son, Jesus Christ. Through it we get a glimpse into the true meaning of Christ’s sacrifice of love expressed through His death, burial and resurrection as God’s magnificent gift of grace to us. His blood made it possible for all those who put their faith in Him to have fellowship with His Father again.
I am confident that at the completion of this book, you will also seek after God with your whole heart and want to be in His presence forever.” —Alice Paige
~The head photo of my daughter Elena was taken by Ruthy Esquivel Photography.
One thing I have asked from the LORD, that I shall seek: That I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, To behold the beauty of the LORD And to meditate in His temple. -Psalm 27:4
Father, I love your gentleness. The sweetness of your Presence is the healing balm to my heart. You are the perfect embrace and shelter for my heart. Your kindness is better than life. I taste You like the softest of fruits that melts into whip cream in my mouth. You are sugar within my soul. You are waves like air lapping at my feet, traveling like fragrant whimsical ripples from incense smoke around my ankles. You are softness. You are gentle love. You are romance in the best way. You are honey in the sun. You are like a cool, refreshing tropical breeze to the sweating, weary brow. You are my Romancer. My Bridegroom. My Daddy. My best Friend. My Master, and my Maker. My deepest conversations have been with You. You sing me to sleep with the music of your breaths and your stilling whispers. Your tangible arms are more pristine than peach and cream alabaster pillars. Your heart is like a fire that blazes and burns; like a warm campfire I long to linger near. I sit by your beating, consuming heart in a rocking chair and you sing over me—swaying me softly back and forth in your pleasure. I am most at home in You. You are my home. And I love the way You love me. Your love changes me. Your love transforms me…and I’m not the same. I’ll never be the same…so long as your love is before my eyes.
“Ashley McClelland presents us with a true cornucopia of modern psalms, personal testimonies, and short stories. She has set out to reveal and unravel some of the most complex heart issues mankind faces in our quest of understanding what true intimacy with God really looks like. Prepare to have your soul massaged and worked on as you read Visions of Celestial Love.” — Jeremy Minard, U.S Navy, Minister, Founder of Servant King Apparel
So you think you know how true growth is stimulated?
Contrary to popular opinion, no living plant grows by added toil and struggle; they grow by receiving. There is such a thing as becoming strong from enduring battles, but I am not addressing the subject of battle-tested; just simple growth.
The beautiful lilies and trees simply receive the water; they receive the nutrients, vitamins, and minerals, they receive the ultraviolet light, and they receive the carbon dioxide. Photosynthesis (the process by which green plants and some other organisms use sunlight to synthesize foods from carbon dioxide and water), even this process is not a toil or a struggle. This means it’s activated by the involuntary process hardwired into the plant through its genetic coding. Photosynthesis, this phenomenon, in which the elements are converted to food, is a response triggered by the presence of those elements and the intelligence present in the genetics of the plant. This is where I point out that it’s not troubles or hardships that activate photosynthesis, but simply the presence of the two contributors I mentioned.
The difference between us and plants, in this regard, is that we are self-aware and have the opportunity to frustrate the growth process by engaging every battle that does not belong to us via our fight-or-flight response. We have a tendency to allow every fire that is ignited by an intruder to become ours to extinguish.
Living our lives in this perpetual fight-or-flight mode (designed only for emergencies/imminent threat) is the most unidentified thief of growth and inner healing for our lives. We attempt to use the worry and anxiety born out of the fight-or-flight response to make or struggle ourselves into growth? This has the opposite effect unfortunately.
With this point made, what If it’s possible that we, in our revolving invitation to stress, actually have nullified of canceled our own spiritual growth? Has it occurred to us that plants do not grow in a hurricane or tornadoes, but are to preoccupied surviving the threat? “Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Casting all your cares (battles) upon Him because He (alone Has the capacity to fight for you) and provide for your circumstances.” (1 Peter 5:6-7)
Maybe this is the supreme reason as to why God seeks for us to give the battles, the fires, the problems, and the hurts to Him. Fighting battles all the time that do not belong to us come at a great cost….we are never available to receive any food from God. God Bless you!
“Therefore I say to you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink; nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing? “Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? “Which of you by worrying can add one cubit to his stature? “So why do you worry about clothing?
Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; “and yet I say to you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.“Now if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is, and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will He not much more clothe you, O you of little faith (little receiving)? “Therefore do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ “For after all these things the Gentiles seek. For your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. “But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you. “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about its own things. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.” (Matthew 6:25-34)
I have these moments where I just want to escape with Jesus. Right now I just want to have a nice warm cappuccino with caramel drizzle and frothy whipped cream on top decked with coconut flakes (and not worry about the calories… thank you very much). I want Jesus to be beside me with His own favorite hot cup. I dream of us in some quaint cafe having another deeply intimate conversation that leaves me feeling loved inside.
When I was first born again and Spirit filled, I used to go on “dates” with Jesus. I’m not kidding in the slightest. I was always a dreamer…but when my life became wholly His, He captivated my heart with imagery that left me feeling so peaceful inside. I discovered (through the aid of the Holy Spirit) the promised internal Kingdom of Heaven (Romans 14:17). That’s how my writing career started.
When I was unsaved my mind had a constant dark and gloomy undertow. But when Jesus came into my heart, my mind became so positive and vibrant as He showed me breathtaking landscapes. It was like my soul had entered into a personal garden of Eden.
The people closest to me (my family) took notice of my ability to tune out everything and everyone at the most “random” moments.
One night my mom and I were watching a dance movie and just before the scene we both really enjoyed…I felt the Holy Spirit calling me away. So without warning (as is my usual custom) I got up and went to the kitchen table. There I plugged in my headsets and began to write down what the Lord started to show me. A poem came out of that: Land of Peace. I published it in my book, Visions of Celestial Love.
A poetic, devotional book on returning to the life-giving, empowering grace in the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Another time I was play wrestling with my brother (we still wrestle today when we get a chance) and I felt again that Jesus was calling me away. So I stood up without saying anything, sat on the couch, closed my eyes and had a “date” with Jesus. My brother Alex and my sister Azania asked me if I was okay.
“I’m fine,” I said quietly and felt lost in the presence of God as I experienced the promised union of the new covenant. My poem: Jesus Replenishes in the Sacred Land, Meeting with my Soul and Spirit, came out of that encounter (again, I included this poem in my book, Visions of Celestial Love).
Because of these romantic, playful, and lovely dates with the Lord, my soul became like a well watered garden (Isaiah 58:11). It seemed no matter what was going on in my outward circumstances…I always had a positive outlook.
I often wondered what Jesus would do on the mountain top when He would spend hours praying by Himself to God? Sometimes I wonder if the Father just loved on Him and showed Him things to come for the upcoming day? I wonder if they had Father, Son dates together too?
Jesus wants to be so intimate with you. God wants you to know Him. Not just in doctrine or theology but in your heart and soul.
He created our imaginations, He created everything beautiful in this world. God designed you with a capacity to be loved by Him with your entire being. That doesn’t just mean your spirit…but it means your soul (heart, mind), your body (your strength) and all that is within you.
David, the man after God’s own heart, loved God with his imagination. The Psalms (or poetic songs) are filled with scripting so fluidly etched it sounds like love letters written between the two dearests of friends.
David had a beautiful imagination…and he took what he knew about God (the written Word, and creation) and experienced the Father. He spoke of seeking one thing, “to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord.” (Psalm 27:4)
God wants to be intimately acquainted with us…in every way that we will allow Him. It’s not a mystical relationship (pagans have that with their deities), but it’s as daily and natural as loving your spouse and choosing to put him/her first.
The more time you spend with someone the more you know and trust them. Jesus is no different. When I’m not actively aware of Jesus I begin to miss Him. The same way I would miss Stephen if I didn’t get to see him.
Jesus said this is eternal life, “that they may know You the Father, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent.” (John 17:3)
It’s in the knowing of relationship that we find the greatest beauty. You were made for such beauty
Imagining with Jesus is not, “escape from reality” but the perspective of a, “greater reality.”
Christ in you is the hope of glory. (Colossians 1:27)
Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. (Matthew 6:21)
“When I read Visions of Celestial Love, it is as if I am brought down to my knees to worship. What the Holy Spirit has done in and through Ashley, He is doing also in me. What a wonderful experience. It is very rich. Thank you for sharing the treasure.”—Riko Suci Alam, CEO of Ligar Jaya and owner of Clove Garden hotel in Bandung Indonesia.
~A universally relatable devotional, written by the truly beautiful Ashley Lande. (To visit her iridescent blog, click here: ttps://www.ashleylande.com/. I highly recommend signing up for her newsletters, you will be blessed !)
I recently read an aging supermodel’s post wherein she lamented becoming “invisible” at her age as her sex appeal has diminished. The hashtag “sexy has no expiration date” capped her elegy for youth, for attention, for both lustful & envious stares.
Is “sexy” really the highest to which we can aspire in the pantheon of human qualities, the top metric for womanly value, such that we should hang on to it doggedly even as it recedes farther and farther away, like the retreating creep of a hairline?
I kinda hope sexy does have an expiration date. I don’t really like the word at all. Much of my life it’s been a burden, a term freighted with both dire importance and impossible demands.
By fourteen I’d developed matronly hips and could be seen slouching sullenly in photos in a vain attempt to shrink my 5’9″ frame, which carried 20 extra lbs. When I finally “bloomed” 4 or 5 years later, the newfound prowess of attractiveness was an intoxicating drug, laced with danger and power.
My exterior may have garnered male attention at last, but inside I was still the same girl who watched all her friends drift away with boys at the dance while she hunched over in the corner and tried to figure out something to do with her too-long arms and tried not to cry. Ah, memories
Heartbreak and ruin ensued as I tried to magnify the “sexy” part of me, the part that was adored, the part that moved units and lured gazes. I hushed all the other parts, tamped them down unkindly.
I’d been indoctrinated by the world. “Sexy” was my paramount value. Without it, I was less than nothing. With it, I was invincible. So I thought. So Satan says.
But what is sexy? Sexy is cheap, profligate, ubiquitous. It screams from magazine covers, it hisses from store displays. You can be anything you want, the world cries, but you better be sexy while you’re doing it.
Sexy floats, for a time. It can even seem to fill you, for a time. But as a young woman, when the stagnant pall of despair set in and the very non-sexy parts of me demanded their reckoning, I learned it is a cold, cold comfort.
Now that I think of it, sexy definitely does have an expiration date: meeting Jesus.
Jesus doesn’t care if you are sexy. Jesus doesn’t care if you’ve outworn all your usefulness on society’s terms. Jesus doesn’t care if your skin is taut or crepey. Sexy has absolutely no currency with him. And that’s what both drew me magnetically in and filled me with terror.
This capital that I’d learned the dirty art of leveraging – this was trash to him. It meant nothing. I was naked before him, truly naked, and there was nothing sexy about it.
I was known without reserve, every part, even the decidedly unsexy ones where my worst fears festered, foremost that I would be met with disgust. There was no more hiding, no more withholding. It is a fearful and wonderful thing to fall into the hands of the living God. Because here, too, in the nakedness and trembling vulnerability of standing before blinding, dwarfing, stultifying holiness, here too was the miracle: I was loved without measure.
It still whispers and hisses and sometimes yells, the lie: you must be sexy, or else you won’t be anything at all. I hear it in the posh waiting room of a plastic surgeon where I go to get Botox shot into my jaw for the intermittently severe TMD I’ve lived with for years. Apparently my jaw takes upon itself all the stress and tension that might otherwise be evenly distributed in my body. After expensive dental work, many episodes of debilitating pain, a thousand chiropractic visits and fifteen gazillion doses of ibuprofen later, I am not inclined to look upon its noble sacrifice charitably.
He probes my masseter muscles with a finger, the doctor who is surprisingly down to earth and has not made any comments on how I might surgically enhance any other members of my body, as Steven had feared he would. He injects the botulinum toxin A with a tiny needle. I barely feel it.
In the next few days as I wait for my evil jaw muscles to slowly enter partial paralysis, I assess my face with a more critical eye. There is definitely a faint cleft developing between my eyebrows. My lips are less full than they once were. I got the Botox for legitimate medical reasons, yes. But maybe just a filler here, a relaxer there…
Steven says no. I play it coy, wait a few days, try a few more angles of asking. He looks me in the eye: NO. You’re beautiful the way you are.
I sigh. How easy it is to forget, to become ensnared by the temptation to play by the world’s rules. Must hang on. Must be sexy at all costs.
But we are bound up in and bound for a kingdom without end where sexy has expired forever and never had any currency to begin with. We are loved wholly and pervasively, from every angle, not only from that which that flatters our features most.
Sexy will expire. It already has. Jesus trampled it, along with every other false and soul-siphoning measure you’ve held yourself against as though it were sacred and not from the pit of hell.
Let it die. Let sexy expire. Real love, the kind you’ve always craved and always looked for in all the wrong places, is here at last. Jesus is here. . . . (Btw – I am not judging anyone for having cosmetic procedures. Heck, I wear makeup. I recently bought a moderately expensive face serum. It’s just always good to examine our whys, and remember eternity, and the reality of Jesus’ love).
Again, this beautiful article was not written by me, but by the lovely Ashley Lande. You can visit her inspirational blog by clicking here. Subscribe to her website to receive more of her work directly to your email!
~I wrote this reflection essay to fulfill a requirement for my New Testament Leadership class on the course, Pastoral Epistles. After sharing it with my husband, he encouraged me to make it visible to the public.
Paul succinctly described leadership best in 1 Corinthians 11:1 when he penned, “follow my example as I follow the example of Christ.” His words imply that a leader must first be submitted to Jesus as Lord and learn to be a follower of Him before they can rightly lead anyone. To be a true follower of Jesus, one must be a disciple. The Greek word for disciple is where we derive the word “imitator” from. The English equivalent for this could be an “apprentice.” Only disciples were called by Jesus to, “feed and tend my sheep” (John 21:15-17). For me, leadership is the shepherding of others who desire and are committed to following you. Like the old childhood rhyme, “we’re following the leader, the leader, the leader, we’re following the leader wherever he may go.” A true leader must be able to live by example and equip others to follow their example. Jesus is the ultimate example of a Shepherd, coach, mentor, trainer and teacher. All of these titles embody a form of leadership because each describe a role in which one is leading and another is following.
A couple of years ago, I had a different, more muddied view of leadership. I believed leadership was synonymous with servanthood. It had nothing, or very little to do, with follower-ship. My view was very narrow and limited. I was of the mindset that a true leader served others in meekness, and washed feet all day. For me a leader was a soft, tender-hearted doormat. This view reflected the lopsided way I saw Jesus. I took hold of certain scriptures that described Jesus while ignoring the others. Unfortunately, I added a little hippie flair to the Lord and sought to serve likewise. In truth, I was comfortable with this view of Jesus because it was my inner reality, thus I conformed Jesus to my image instead of allowing truth to transform my soul. As a result, I ended up in a place of burnt out bitterness years later after having served on the altar prayer team, the youth team, the children’s ministry team, the clean team etc. I blamed the church leadership for “using me” and felt more like a slave than a daughter. In truth, no one had really used me. I believed a lie and lived it and that led me to an internal wilderness, which later left me so thirsty I accepted mystical theology (false water) which spiraled me down into deep bondage. Thankfully, in my time of desperation I humbled myself and began to seek Jesus in truth. As I saw who He really was, my concept of church leadership changed too.
Later, I left for Charis Bible college after hearing Andrew Wommack speak online. The truth of God began to heal my heart and shortly after, I married my husband, who had a passion for building up leaders in the body of Christ. He quickly was promoted as a chair leader at the AWMI phone center office where he managed teams of people. During that time, he helped co-lead two small groups before finally becoming a home pastor. My heart was softened through my husband’s example of a godly leader. I saw my flaws in blaming my childhood church for becoming burnt out and forgave both them and myself. I witnessed how the love of the Father and the ease of the Holy Spirit through Stephen changed people’s lives. I saw how he used the prophetic gift in words of wisdom and knowledge to call out the gifts in other people. I saw how he encouraged those he ministered to with the truth and exhortation. As people experienced God, they began to follow him. He led people without using force. He was very straightforward and honest with those who chose to follow his example. I often heard my husband say, “God doesn’t have a money shortage, He doesn’t have a healing shortage, He doesn’t have a power shortage, He doesn’t have any other shortage but leadership in the body of Christ. He needs us to build one another up.” When I would ask my husband, what was the goal of all his ministry work, he would point me to Ephesians 4:11-13 and 2 Timothy 2:2:
So Christ himself gave the apostles, the prophets, the evangelists, the pastors and teachers, 12 to equip his people for works of service, so that the body of Christ may be built up 13 until we all reach unity in the faith and in the knowledge of the Son of God and become mature, attaining to the whole measure of the fullness of Christ.(NIV)
…and what you have heard from me in the presence of many witnesses entrust to faithful men, who will be able to teach others also. (ESV)
Many tears were shed during the first three years of my marriage as I watched my husband lead. My heart was rekindled with love for the Body of Christ with a fresh, tender love. I began to see the great importance and vital need of leaders in the Body of Christ. I began to have a passion to see the church as a whole shine and be equipped in grace, faith and truth. I began to look upon suffering believers as lost sheep, scattered with no shepherd. Near the end of three years, I was leading two young ladies. Later, I began to do what my husband was doing in leading future leaders. I began to disciple women as I wholeheartedly sought to follow Jesus. I don’t fully grasp the concept of leadership to this day (that’s why I enrolled in this school). As I continually seek Jesus, I pray I am able to be someone others can follow in such a way that they are aided in their journey to reaching the “fullness of the stature of Christ” in all truth.
Recently, I began to understand the deep and sweet intimacy in comfortably communing with Jesus at the table of his sacrificial love. I have a human tendency to run from pain (and sacrifice)….but this time, I savored Jesus in the darkness.
During the weeks preceding Good Friday, I felt like my heart went on an inner pilgrimage with Jesus. Worship seemed to pour from my soul like perfumed waters. I would sing to the Lord when I woke up and drift to sleep singing to Him.
I began to taste something like sweet, rich wine in my spirit from Him. I felt a newfound connection with the Lord and it was almost as if my heart pined for Him. I felt swept up in a Song of Songs romance. I felt a mutual love between us that kept building and building throughout the weeks (this could also have been because a ladies group and I were studying Song of Songs. For the first time…I felt like my love for Jesus was as heady as those succulent, passionate, and dare I say it, intoxicating words. It was like a blend of holy wine mixed with sacred spiced herbs).
One night, after a Passover celebration, I found myself so physically tired that I laid on the floor in the living room after the guests had left. I had planned on going to bed but my mom started playing worship music. Immediately my heart desire for Jesus roused the rest of my body. It was as if someone had blew on internal embers inside my chest. Warmed by an inner fire, I stayed awake until almost 1am in worship… adoring Jesus.
During that time, I wrote this in my journal (I hope you enjoy it):
“I’m learning to be okay with the darkness of the night and the pitch deep blue of dawn before sunrise. Like Mary, I want to wait in the cold stillness of early morning while all else seems to sleep. In the quiet morning, the young hours of a new day, Mary was the first to see the resurrected Lord.
These past few days have been emotionally worshipful for me. The suffering of “Good Friday” awakened my soul in a new way. I didn’t want to skip straight ahead to resurrection Sunday. I wanted to linger at the most intimate table: The Last Supper.
This is where Jesus symbolically and spiritually ate the Passover meal with his closest friends. This is where Jesus offered them the deepest love before the greatest pain. This is where he served them by washing their feet, tearing bread, pouring wine and singing a worshipful hymn with them.
As he broke the bread, he knew his own flesh would be broken for them soon. Although, whether they realized it or not, he had already wholly given himself to loving them. His life among them was a daily sacrifice to feed them and others. As he poured the wine, he knew his lifeblood would spill to cleanse them. What sustained life for his body, would spill out of him, thus draining him of all strength, in order to cleanse them of all sin and give them life. As he washed their feet, it was as if he was anointing them.
I can almost see his eyes. luminous by the flickering of candles against the black, azure night. The soul of him shining through like starlight…like a taste of heaven. He never withheld anything from them. He gave himself completely to them, fearless, eternal, shameless, selfless, passionate love.
This is how he gives himself to everyone of us.
For now, l lay upon his breast like John at the Last Supper and listen to his beating heart…knowing the pain that will pierce it. May my life forever be like the expensive anointing oil Mary poured upon his feet in preparation for his suffering. My soul poured out in worship. His life laid down. It’s strange…but this Friday I take just as much delight in the darkest hour as I imagine I will in the brightest hour (Sunday resurrection). Because in it all…He’s there. And He’s the essence of all my life and devotion and eternal desire.”
“Ashley McClelland presents us with a true cornucopia of modern psalms, personal testimonies, and short stories. She has set out to reveal and unravel some of the most complex heart issues mankind faces in our quest of understanding what true intimacy with God really looks like. Prepare to have your soul massaged and worked on as you read Visions of Celestial Love.” — Jeremy Minard, Servant King Apparel
Trust in the LORD and do good; dwell in the land and cultivate faithfulness. Delight yourself in the LORD, and He will give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the LORD; trust in Him, and He will do it.…Psalm 37:3-5 BSB
“The proof of desire is pursuit.” -Paul Milligan
What do you dream about?
I mean really dream about?
In your heart of hearts, what makes you come alive?
This evening I found my old business school bag from Bible college. Inside a folder I saw my business vision scribbled on a piece of paper. I remembered with fondness how my professors had ignited my dreams by encouraging me to prayerfully create a vision with practical steps.
I dug in my business bag more and discovered my old “desire” list. As I looked over it, I realized everything on it has either been complete or it is set in motion right now. I smiled as I thought about God’s faithfulness and my #1 exhorter, the Holy Spirit.
Recently I had a dear friend ask me, “how do you manage to do everything that you do?” I had a feeling she, like many other people, believe that successful stories are quick. I responded with, “I just did a little every day.”
Big stardom-like breakthroughs are rare. After all, “success is where preparation meets opportunity.” -Unknown. All of my successes have required meticulous excellence and an increase in responsibility.
She asked me what motivated me (she hasn’t been the only lovely friend to ask me that). I paused for a second even though the answer was clear in my heart. I was hesitant to answer her frankly.
“Pain.” I said honestly.
I could tell my response surprised her because she didn’t speak. After a few voiceless seconds, I explained myself.
“Unmet desire will always bring pain. If I dream something and then do nothing about it, I will live in pain forever. Most people die with regrets and dreams locked up inside of them. I fear that kind of pain most of all. If I do the hard painful things needed to see the vision I have come to pass…then my pain is only temporary. I know my visions will become reality as long as I don’t give up. I know God created everyone with gifts, talents and a purpose. And I just can’t live not giving my all. I have too much hope and too much passion.”
My friend was silent before giving an airy response. She told me later, that she wasn’t ready to hear that “pain motivated” me. Only after her own long wilted dreams began to revive with hope did she call me on the phone and say that she “came to understand” and share in the same motivation.
I think she, like me in the past, had been afraid to hope, because hope deferred makes the heart sick. No one wants the pain of a sick heart. No one wants to be disappointed again and again. However pain/hunger is a sign of healthy, growing life. Only sick and dying things lack hunger. Revived dreams that haven’t become reality…will always bring some measure of hungry pain.
The goal is not to focus on the pain, but the sweet satiation of the dream coming true. After all: a longing fulfilled is a tree of life and is sweet to the soul (Proverbs 13:12, 19)
I used to feel selfish for dreaming so much. Every time one dream would get answered, it wouldn’t take long before I’d, “dream a new dream.”I used to think, I should be content to just stay put and relish in one dream coming true, but then I realized, God is a Creator and I’m made in His image. Nothing that’s alive stays put. Life moves and grows and flourishes. For me, creating a vision and seeing it come to pass is an exciting partnership with Him. It’s being a co-laborer (1 Corinthians 3:9).
I’m slowly finding out that being a co-laborer with Jesus requires a lot of intimacy with Him, hope and character. We cannot build anything that lasts without Him and we cannot be truly fulfilled apart from Him.:
Unless the Lord builds the house, They labor in vain who build it; Unless the Lord guards the city, The watchman keeps awake in vain.
It is vain for you to rise early, To retire late, To eat the bread of anxious labors— For He gives [blessings] to His beloved even in his sleep. -Psalm 127:1-2 AMP
I’m grateful for a God who dreams BIG. The evidence of His imagination and heart fill the earth and universe. He is wonderfully extravagant, beautiful, and majestic.
As long as the heart is alive, dreaming never dies. 💗
God has made so many of my dreams come true. I don’t think there’s one dream that I’ve yet to have answered, or that isn’t in progress right now (granted some dreams got answered differently than I expected).
Today, I have seen God’s grace work within me in a way that has opened favorable doors: I now run an in-home daycare, I recently acquired a literary agent for my book, Romantic Rendezvous for the Soul, and after completing an intense training program, I have become a certified Christian Life Coach.
I would love to help coach you through:
-Clarifying your dream/vision.
-Identifying and removing any mental or emotional blockages.
-Praying with you that the power of the Holy Spirit and the love of God propel you with mighty grace and wisdom toward an abundant life!
For more information on my life-coaching, click here to fill out a small questionnaire. My desire as a life coach is to help you pursue your God sized dream. He has so much goodness in store for you!
Here is an old journal entry I wrote back in 2018:
Dr. Seuess wrote: “You know you’re in love when you can’t sleep at night…because reality is finally better than your dreams.”
I’m learning what it means to trust God with the desires of my heart because of His great love for me. In my 3rd year at Bible college I received two words from different people saying, “God says ask what you will and He will give it to you.” I had been going through a season of battling hopelessness and was giving up on my dreams. But God is like the warm spring wind blowing the snow of winter off the seeds of my dreams & I want to give a praise report of His immense goodness. These are the dreams He has answered:
1) I asked for a baby and now Stephen and I have Eden (she’s one of the greatest and most immense treasures in my heart..the apple of my eye)
2) I asked to publish my second book (the ebook is finished and now the printable version is on its way and looking so beautiful!)
3) I asked to not have to work so that I could stay home with Eden (God and my husband are such faithful providers).
4) I asked to finish up my Early Childhood Education classes before Eden so that I could just focus on being a mom (and they were completed about 2 weeks before her birth)
5) I asked for Stephen and I to have our own place before Eden was born so that I could have quiet time with the Lord and Stephen/Eden and I could live as a family (we live in a lovely cottage, next to a flowing stream in a bed and breakfast retreat! God is crazy good!)
6) I asked to move back to California because i missed my family and friends and we are headed back in a few weeks!
7) I asked for my hair to grow longer and stronger (and now it’s the longest and strongest its been in years).
8) I asked to be able to live my dream and run my own Christian preschool and my parents have just agreed that I could use part of the house to do that!!!
9) I asked for my midwives to be able to deliver Eden, and even though I had a hospital birth the doctors let the midwives lead me through delivery without my even asking.
10) I asked to be able to travel more and within a few short months I had visited like 4 different places around the country and even outside of the country.
~God is such a good and loving Father. I pray you recount the blessings in your hands that He has given you. I pray He rekindles any fading hope in you. I pray you, ask and receive so that your joy may be full.” -Jesus.
There is no God more kind and generous than this.
“I will sing unto the LORD, because he hath dealt bountifully with me. … … I have trusted in Your lovingkindness; My heart shall rejoice in Your salvation.” -King David in Psalms.
p.s: if you have a praise report I’d love for you to share it below. Let us celebrate the Lord together and speak of His goodness!
~This snippet is taken from my upcoming book, At The Time For Love, a romance novella based off Ezekiel 16:6-14. This story is meant to introduce teenage girls to romantic purity and the Bridegroom love of Jesus.
My family’s truck, Old Faithful, weakly trodden through the thick, crunchy and pristine snow. I thought he was just having a hard time and patted the dashboard as if comforting a person, “Sorry old buddy, I know it’s hard. But you can make it.” Just then the engine coughed dryly and then Old Faithful stopped. My eyes widened in disbelief. “What?!” I turned the keys back before turning them forward again. The car tooted a few times but then it died. “No,” I said in denial and tried again. Each time I received the same result, “this can’t be happening!” I exclaimed and prayed before trying again. This time the engine didn’t even make a sound. Just then it came to me.
The gas!
Remind me to fill Old Faitfhful up when we get into town okay? David’s words came back like a flood. I hadn’t remembered, and neither had he.
Did he remember now?
The heater had only been off for a few seconds and already the inside of Old faithful was growing cold.
I was about ten miles from home and about fifteen from work. I had no cell phone and no means of communication. I was also on the long stretch of the road that was mostly abandoned. The bulk of Pomeberry was five miles or so back. The snow was heavy and falling steadily. Apart from my warm clothes I had nothing to keep me warm but a mug of hot chocolate. I pressed my back against the seat and thought about my options.
It was probably around 6:45, I needed to be at work by 7:10. If I went back to town I would have to find a payphone or ask somebody if I could use there’s and call in for Danielle or somebody to come pick me up. My family wouldn’t be able to get me because Old Faithful was the only vehicle we owned and I doubted anyone would ride our horse Embers to come get me. It would be foolish to do so. I could walk back home but then I’d be super late for work.
I exhaled slowly and said a prayer, “God…please help me. Send help somehow, someway.”
A spark of determination went off on the inside of me and I decided that I would walk to work.
I couldn’t tell if it was from God or from my own self-determination but I went for it. I knew the logical thing for me to do would be to stay in the truck and at least wait until daylight before attempting to walk but I was anxious to be on time. And for some reason I allowed my anxiety to override common sense.
“Help me get there,” I said and grabbed my keys before stuffing them in my coco colored purse. I slung my purse strap across my shoulders and opened the door. A wave of icy cold air slapped against my face and pushed my body. Shivering I closed the truck door.
It was dark and cold. Glinting stars could still be seen in the sky but I saw a royal blue line along the horizon which promised sunrise in forty minutes or so. The rest of the sky was black. After zipping up everything that could be zipped on my coat, I fastened the furry hood over my head, hugged myself and started off.
To keep from being scared from the dead silence around me, I hummed to myself.
I sang an old hymn I remember my grandmother singing on Sabbath mornings, “God is good, all the time. He put a song of praise in this heart of mine, God is good, all the time. Through the darkest night His light will shine. God is good, God is good, all the time.”
After about an hour of singing I began to realize just how foolish I had been to leave Old Faithful. My lips were parched dry and felt like they would peel at any moment. I licked them constantly to keep them warm but that only served to make the brisk hair harsher when my tongue retreated back in my mouth. My nose felt like it was freeze burnt and I was sure it shone like Rudolph’s. My legs had painful goose bumps on them that protruded so sharply that every brush of my jeans against them hurt. My muscles were achy from shivering and I was thirsty. I had finished off my hot coco after five minutes or so of walking. The sky was lighter and the horizon bled deep orange despite the puffy clouds that covered the hemisphere. Unfortunately, the wind was restless and it pressed against me as I walked.
I continued on for about ten more minutes before exhaustion took over. My face crinkled and I wanted to cry. Why did I leave Old Faithful? How far along was I to work? Should I go back? I looked up at the falling snow and my boots sunk a little into the crunchy snow.
“What am I going to do?” I cried looking up to heaven, “please help me God.”
Powdery snow rested gaily on my eyelashes blinding me temporarily.
My eyes moistened and hazed my vision. With aching muscles, I continued to walk.
About twenty more minutes passed by and the rose red sky was streaked gold along the horizon, a pretty blue lifted above it and an orange cream rested atop.
My lips trembled uncontrollably as I walked, my arms were stiff and hugged my chest tightly. Pain enveloped me like a heavy coat and my knees felt like they were about to crack. All my muscles felt like giving in but I gritted my teeth and told myself I could either collapse and potentially go into hyperthermia or I could press on and get help.
A faint rumbling noise caught my ears like a wisp of wind.
What was that?
I looked to the left and to the right and saw nothing. My eyes brows creased, oh great, I’m hallucinating!
Somewhat saddened by the thought I continued walking.
I glanced at the trees around me. Their branches were drooping down with snow and the sight reminded me of soft pillows piled atop each other or white shirts stacked atop one another in a laundry basket.
My ears perked up and I thought I heard a rumbling noise again…only it sounded louder.
I looked around me again and saw two yellow lights in the distance.
I squinted my eyes and realized it was headlights.
My heart leaped and I weakly turned around and began walking toward the vehicle.
“Help,” I mumbled queasy to my stomach.
My legs sloshed over layers of snow and fresh tears rolled down my eyes, “h-h…help…me.”
Pain kicked up my arm as I lifted it and waved.
The vehicle…which was going at a slow pace seemed to speed up. Within about two minutes I saw a gleam of cherry red.
James! It was his truck!
My lips cracked into a smile until I realized I must have looked like a horrid mess.
I pushed aside the thought quickly and couldn’t believe that even in a dire situation like this I would be concerned with such a feminine thing.
Typical woman, I thought dryly to myself.
The truck stopped a few paces in front of me and James leapt out. His eyes wide. He was wearing a winter beanie, a jacket, jeans and thick wool boots.
“Autumn!” He cried rushing toward me. My body gave in at that moment and I collapsed to the ground. Powdery snow lifted as I crashed into it and for a moment I thought I would go unconscious. My body shivered violently.
“James,” I sighed sheepishly as he leaned over me.
“Your lips are blue!” he exclaimed.
“You’re so beautiful…” I said my voice trailing into a drool.
Did I just say that?
James bent down and secured his arms under me before picking me up igniting, everywhere he touched with pain. A sharp cry escaped my lips.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured warmly, his voice coated with tears.
“I…it’s o-okay.” I told him, “my body hurts all over.”
As gently as he could he placed me in the passenger’s seat before closing the door behind me.
When he got into the driver’s seat and closed the door I whispered weakly, “I-I can’t buckle myself in.”
“I know you can’t. I wouldn’t expect you to.”
He turned down the heater and I wondered why. “You can’t take in too much heat at once. It could put your body in shock.”
His eyebrows wrinkled and I saw he fought tears.
He turned to me and saw how I shook. He seemed so serious, and yet so concerned about something.
“I have to get you out of some of your clothes,” he said calmly…though his eyes were not equally as relaxed.
“My clothes?” my eyebrows rose.
“Yes. They are cold as brick, we need to get…s-some off. Do you understand?”
I nodded slowly.
“Okay…t-thank you.”
He moved closer to me and before long he was right beside me.
“Can you rest your arm here? …uh huh…and the other one here. I’m going to try to do this as gently as I can.”
Unzipping my outer coat, he moved slowly to free my arms from the sleeves.
I cried as he did for the pain was almost unbearable. I saw how it hurt him to do it and to see me in so much torture. “God help me,” he prayed, “help her.” My jaw trembled so much it was sore. Tears trailed down my icy pale cheeks. James moved to take my boots off my feet, then he removed my socks and massaged my stiff toes which were like ice. When I screamed as he helped the blood to start flowing again he withdrew. He looked up at me…a pained expression on his face.
“I have to. I’m so sorry Autumn.” His voice broke.
I sucked my bottom lip and closed my eyes. As he worked I bit my lip and tongue…puncturing my skin and releasing a slim stream of blood.
When James sat up again he saw it trailing down my lip and reached to grab a napkin. Voicelessly he gently patted it against my lip and wiped the trail of blood from my skin.
I inquired about my feet and he said with a sigh of relief, “your feet are going to be fine.”
“They sting like needles.”
“That’s normal. It means your tissues are warming up…and blood is flowing.”
I nodded.
When he was done patting me he took a tube of chopstick from his pocket and applied some to my lips.
He looked down briefly as if embarrassed and then back up at me again.
“Do you have on an undershirt?”
I felt a flood of heat rise to my cheeks and I slowly nodded.
“How about tights?”
“Yes,” I breathed.
“…okay. Can I?”
He didn’t have to explain…I already knew.
I nodded and slightly hesitant at first, he began to raise my sweater dress over my head. He made sure to only keep his eyes on my face the whole time.
Tossing the cold garment aside he asked me if I could unbuckle my pants.
I tried but my hands were stiff and in terrible pain.
Tears pricked my eyes as I tried to loop the button out of the hole.
He saw my pain and put a large warm hand over my pale cold one. “It’s okay. I can…” He silently prayed as he unbuttoned me and then lifted one leg at a time as he pulled the jeans down and then off. It was a slow and tear-jerking process. I was so grateful I had put on tights and an undershirt…otherwise I would have been stripped down to my bra and hole-spotted panties.
When it was done he stripped himself of his outer coat and then his sweater. He gently draped the inside part of his jacket over my legs and then he rested his sweater in front of me…using the head of the seat behind me to tie the arms to. He then carefully buckled me in and handed me a cup of room temperature water. “Drink as much as you can.” He said gently.
He buckled himself in and then promptly started off, “I’m taking you to the hospital.”
“No…work?”
“Forget about work Autumn. I will contact Carol.”
I began to drift to sleep. Pain racked my body and suddenly I felt so heavy with sleep. James pulled out his cell as he drove. I heard him talking to my mom and then David.
The road, and his dashboard blended together and I fought to stay awake.
“Yes, I have her…. she’s dehydrated…cold….in pain…. praise God He helped me find her…. we’re off to the hospital…. yes…yes…see you there.”
I felt the truck speed up. And I began to hear James pray in tongues and English.
“God, please help her. Send your warmth throughout her body…give her body the strength she needs, speak peace and comfort into her soul…”
Finally, everything went black and I drifted to sleep.
I woke up momentarily when a shock of cold blew in the truck. My eyelids lifted and I saw we were at the hospital. James had opened up my door and was unbuckling me. The blistering wind howled outside. James took me in his arms and held me close to his chest like a baby before closing the door with his back.
I shivered and my teeth chattered.
“Hold on my sweet one,” he whispered warmly, and my heart melted at his endearing term for me.
Sweet one. It was the first time he used a pet name for me.
I nestled my head under his chin and closed my eyes.
Suddenly heat kissed my skin and bright lights beckoned me to open my eyes but I felt so weak I kept them closed. We must have entered in the hospital. My guess was soon affirmed as I heard James tell somebody, “please, my friend is suffering from hypothermia.”
“Right this way sir,” a feminine voice replied.
“Thank you,” James said and I felt his pace quicken.
I blacked out again.
Hours later I woke up feeling like I was floating on a cloud below a sunny waterfall of wind. I felt rejuvenated, replenished and peaceful.
My eyes fluttered and above me were concerned familiar faces. My entire family was in the hospital room.
“She’s awake,” Thomas said and I heard movement as everyone gathered around. Someone was holding my hand. I looked around and saw that it was Mama. David was holding my other hand.
“Thank God,” Kendell said relief flooding his voice. His dark chestnut eyes lit up and behind them I saw a gleam of glass…. had he been crying?
“Yes,” I said slowly, “I’m awake.”
“Oh Autumn,” Mama said reaching her hand to cup my cheek, “we were praying for you.”
“Worrying our heads off!” Kendell stated.
“How are you feeling?” David asked as Ginger went to sit beside me, her icy blue eyes fixed on my rosy face.
“…happy,” I said surprising them all.
I saw David’s eyebrows lift in amazement, then they relaxed and a small grin lifted his right cheek, “I’m glad to hear that.”
“What are you so happy about?” Paige asked, her silky light brown hair was tied to the side and dangled gracefully over her delicate shoulder. She was wearing her pretty pearl fur coat, and her lips were stained lavender.
“To be alive…” I said slowly, “I felt like God was talking to me while I was asleep…or rather…holding me.”
“Holding you?” Thomas inquired.
I nodded sheepishly, “uh huh…. some place…beautiful.” My body relaxed and I let out a long quiet sigh.
Paige walked forward and kissed my forehead. I smiled sweetly as her lips met my skin and I moved my arms to hug the nape of her neck. She smelled like a fresh bed of flowers spiced with cinnamon apples. Only when I went to do so did I realize IVs were in both of my hands. I hesitated and then slowly lowered my hands.
“How much longer do I have to wear these things?” I asked a little disgusted. I never liked needles.
“Not any longer,” an unfamiliar voice said. Everyone turned.
“Doctor Flores,” mama said greeting an olive face with ebony black hair and sparkling dark brown eyes.
Doctor Flores greeted me, “good to see you awake Autumn, you gave your family here quiet the scare.”
I nodded and thanked her for helping me.
“My pleasure hun,” she said and checked my vital signs, “perfect…” She then moved to take out the IVs and I closed my eyes tight. To my surprise it didn’t hurt at all. Dr. Flores applied some alcohol to the area and then taped some gauze on.
“How soon can I leave?” I asked.
“Right now, if you’d like…but I think you should eat something right away and we’ve already got a gentleman fetching you some soup.”
“What kind of soup?”
“He said creamy tomato was one of your favorites?”
I nodded.
“Great. Well he should be here soon,” Dr. Flores said before addressing mama, “may I have a word with you ma’am?”
Mama nodded and went off with the woman.
While they were away I asked, “Who went to get me soup?”
“Who do you think?” Paige said with a grin.
“James…” I breathed.
“I’m so happy you’re okay Autumn,” Ginger said and then spread her body next to mine. I giggled and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
“I’m glad I’m okay too.”
Ginger kissed my neck multiple times and before long everyone dispersed in the room and began to relax.
Paige picked up a book and began to read it out loud to me. David, Kendell and Thomas engaged in hushed conversation, and Ginger lay peacefully by my side fiddling with my hair between her fingers.
Eventually James walked in carrying a bowl of soup in one hand and a beautiful bouquet of wine red roses and a stuffed teddy bear in the other.
My heart leaped at the sight of him and I sat up without knowing.
“James,” I breathed as he neared me. He walked past everyone and leaned over me pressing a kiss on my head. I titled my head up and went to kiss him before stopping myself. My eyes widened when I realized how natural it felt to just reach to kiss him. My hand made its way atop his as he rested his on the bed. I smiled brightly and he withdrew his hand. It all happened so quickly, yet so slowly at the same time.
“It’s good to see you awake and well,” he said gently.
“Thank you so much,” I sang.
He breathed, “thank God.”
David stood to take the roses and put them in a vase. “They are beautiful,” I remarked taking a closer look at them. Delicate petals flowering open in layer after smooth layer of ruby hills. “Not as beautiful as you,” James said and I blushed.
If you’ve enjoyed this sneak peek of, At The Time For Love, you will likely enjoy my book, Romantic Rendezvous for The Soul. To find out more about it, click here. To purchase a copy, click here.
“For centuries, the female heart has melted with desire for the lasting pleasure of unchanging love. In the course of time, civilizations have risen and fallen, yet the single longing for tangible intimacy has never faded. Millions of lyrics have been written to the passionate tune of this fluid yearning and more are being written every day. Unfortunately, few people find the lasting love that they longed for as children.
Life, education, and societal pressure transform what was once a tangible hope, into a mythical fairy tale. Industries have reaped unlimited monetary gain from the erosion of this waned hope. Billions of girls grow up into women who have long since tossed their dream of true love in the trash bin of responsibility and cynicism. Countless others, have buried their ache of unmet desire under the disappointment of failed relationships and hopelessness.
Despite most women’s’ best attempts, this starved craving remains alive, like a faint stimulating aroma.
This ethereal hope goes back to the first relationship…in a place of being so “seen” and “lovingly known” that “she” was naked and unashamed.
This novella was not written to add salt to the gaping wound of unsatisfied need. It was written to satisfy the need completely. Let Romantic Rendezvous for the Soul introduce you to a lasting relationship with Transcendent Love where reality becomes sweeter than your dreams.”
