Daily Abiding with Granny -Trusting God

Daily Abiding with Granny
"Trusting God"
"For I have learned, in whatever state I am,
therewith to be content."
(Philippians 4:11)

Granny hasn't had an easy life. She lost her son to illness when he was young. Her daughter moved out West to the Territories. Her husband died, leaving her with the farm. On top of all this, she has lost her sight in her old age.
But we find that Granny has accepted her life as it is. Granny has learned that God has a reason for everything in her life. She may not understand it, and it may be hard, but she trusts in God and looks for His blessings in whatever He brings her way. 

 Granny's Home
           Phoebe scurried upstairs and then stopped. In her hurry this morning, she hadn’t really looked around. At the top landing, the door stood slightly open. Phoebe gently pushed it and saw a large soft bed with its bedding pulled down over the footboard. The white lacy curtains swayed at the open window. There was also a chest of drawers with a round looking glass. Phoebe wrinkled up her nose and stuck out her tongue at her reflection. A painting of a man and woman with a little girl and boy hung on the wall.
            Granny hobbled and huffed up the last step. “Land sakes! Those stairs get harder to climb everyday. I can’t wait ‘til the Lord comes and gives me a new glorified body! Let’s plump up the feather mattresses and pillows now that the breeze has freshened the sheets.”
            “Who are those people in that picture?”
“Oh, I almost forgot it was there. It’s my husband, Henry; myself, when I was younger and a bit more slender; and our daughter, Emma, when she was about your age.” Granny sighed and brushed her fingers across it. “And my little boy, Charlie. I wish I could see it again. I miss them so.”
“Granny, why can’t you see?”
“Heavens t’Betsy! I guess the Good Lord took away my sight because He wanted me to understand things in a different way. Sometimes I see better by listening with my ears and feeling with my hands.”
            Granny shook and slapped the pillows and mattress until they were round and puffy. Then she pulled the sheets and blankets up, and topped it with a colorful quilt.
           “I made this quilt while I waited Henry Mackmin to finally get the courage to come courting. We were married forty-two years afore he died. I surely miss him.”
            She lowered the window sash, and they proceeded to where Phoebe and Maseppa had slept. Phoebe ran to open the window and pulled back the blankets, just as she had seen Granny’s bed.
         “Oh dear! You do learn quickly, Child, but next time, do it as soon as you awaken, so it will air out while you eat your breakfast." After they made up the bed, Granny closed the window against the cool autumn air.  “This was my Emma’s room.”
In the hallway, Phoebe pointed to the closed door. “What’s in there?”
            “I’ll show you." Granny led the way along the stair railing. She had to push the door with her shoulder.
          The air smelled musty, and a fly buzzed at the window. There was a low, small bed and big chest at its foot. The walls were bare except for a painting above the bed of a little boy and his black puppy.
            Granny was unusually quiet, “It’s been a long time since I’ve been in here.”
 “Who slept here?”
            Granny sighed. “Little Charlie was always sickly. He suffered so with coughs and fevers. One time, it grew into pneumonia, and … and now he’s in heaven with the Lord.”
            Phoebe wrapped her little arms as far as they could reach around Granny’s middle. She tipped her head up to look at Granny's face. “Maybe the Good Shepherd is taking care of your little boy.”

Join me here as we study Granny's ability to live her life, 
daily abiding in the power of the Holy Spirit.

Love and Prayers,

If you haven't read A Home for Phoebe yet, 
you can order it on Amazon
or you can contact me for a signed copy.

Also, the sequel Going Home with Phoebe is now available.
You can order it on (Amazon)    
or you can contact me for a signed copy.

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