Shelter

https://youtu.be/IoHHsQg8pYY?si=AUUa9z61zKQvgrxw

“Lord, you have been our dwelling place throughout all generations.”
~Psalm 90:1~

“And so there would always be more to remember
that could no longer be seen.
This is one of the things I can tell you that I have learned:
our life here is in some way marginal to our own doings,
and our doings are marginal to the greater forces that are always at work.
Our history is always returning to a little patch of weeds
and sapling with an old chimney sticking up by itself.
And I can tell you a further thing that I have learned,
and here I look ahead to the resting of my case:
I love the house that belonged to the chimney,
holding it bright in memory,
and I love the saplings and the weeds.”
~Jayber Crow, Wendell Berry~

And so it is complete. We have leaped into this long-prepared for landmark, from our past into a new present. My parents are now residents of a new neighborhood and a new community, relatively far from their native land. From farm to condo community, from … well, their world’s large country vista to looking out across fields and toward the world’s largest letter “M.” Our local farmers have just recently harvested their corn fields this past week, so they will be looking over fields of shorn corn; later, a sea of a snow-laden field.

In speaking of the spare room at Green Gables in past-tense sentiment of regret, Anne concludes, “So passes the glory of this world … It is never pleasant to have our old shrines desecrated, even when we have outgrown them” (Lucy Maud Montgomery, Anne of the Island. New York: Bantam Book, 1987).

No, things won’t quite be the same, nor are we supposed to stay the same. We ought to change and grow, like fine wine, like aged cheese, or like a cast iron skillet. 2 Corinthians 3:18 refers to a “progressive, continuous transformation where we grow from “glory to glory,” moving toward maturity in Christ in various aspects of our personhood and character:

^“And we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory,
are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory,
which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.”

When we embark on a trip or to a new place, we can go and explore, expand our horizon, meet new people, experience new cultures, and add to our memory bank the wonderful world our God has made; we expand our selves. We add to our learning, mature in our understanding (hopefully), and grow in compassion; hopefully, we also bring out the deeper flavors and nuances of our character.

But we will always have our favorite places and spaces.

When I was a little girl, I remember laying in bed, waiting for Mom and Dad to come home from bowling or square dancing. I would see their headlights move across the the wall and ceiling of my bedroom as they turned into the driveway. I would hear the garage door close. I would smell Mom’s Mary Kay emollient cream as she came in to kiss me good night. Those are sweet memories, and they can only be relived in my memory. Even as I have outgrown that generation in real time, I still love the light, and the sound, and the smell of that memory, and I will always love the house that belongs to that memory. I know, too, that God dwelt in that place even as he dwells in my present.

Now is the time to pass from the glory of one era into another glory of another era, one in which we will explore and make new memories. One thing is constant in this new space:  That God dwells here, too. In the new seasons, He is here. And the cool thing is that He is quite beyond our sphere of time, so I imagine it is fair to say he is still very much a part of my past memories and future ones, too, for He will carry us through to those in the new seasons. He is our shelter in every generation.

As a footnote to this major life change, I received an email that caused my heart to do a happy somersault:

“Your book, A Thyme to Grow, is scheduled for release on 10/30/2025.
On this date, your book’s detail page will become visible to readers to purchase your book on Amazon.”

You are welcome to read a sample of it here:

To echo Wendell Berry’s words, “our life here is in some way marginal to our own doings, and our doings are marginal to the greater forces that are always at work.” This devotional has been the “working out of my faith” amid the emotional places in life I’ve found myself sheltering in. We are all set here in the sphere of our influences for an established period, and no matter where that is, may we acknowledge God as our true shelter through each of our generations.