blessing

Facade

~ Paul Phillips ~ Leave a comment

Dealing with disappointment is hard.

I had plans last week.  They were pretty specific.  We would start the week out with a yellow house but, with the help of a crew of skilled men, would end it with a green one (or, if I win the argument about what that color actually is, a gray one).

It didn’t work out.

The job foreman told me, as they began on Thursday, that he was certain the work would be finished that week.  That was before.

The men worked.  The old siding came off.  The new siding began to cover the walls.

On Saturday, it became evident they wouldn’t finish that week.  Not because they failed in their efforts, but because the boxes of siding were empty, and the front of our home was still covered only in insulation and house wrap.  The skilled men couldn’t put up materials they didn’t have.

What a disappointment! 

We had guests coming to dinner on Sunday!  The neighbors have to drive past the unsightly facade of our house, some of them several times a day.

I am not happy.  The job foreman and his scheduler came to see me on Monday afternoon.  It could have gotten ugly.  I know how to make people understand how unhappy I am.  I have words inside me to communicate that to them.  I have facial expressions to help with that communication.

I didn’t say the words.  I smiled at—and even laughed with—the men instead.

Dealing with disappointment is hard.  It is.  But this is simply an inconvenience.  Those men are human beings who feel and care.

And that stack of wood, rocks, and glass is just that.  Stuff. 

More than that, the man I want to be can’t say those hurtful words without diminishing any opportunity I will ever have to show the love of God to those people whose steps were guided right to my door by Him.

Our guests came to dinner on Sunday.  They walked right past the ugly facade of the house and into our home.  We laughed.  We prayed.  We broke bread together.  There was music.  And joy.

Inside our homes, we share the grace and the love of Christ.  The outside walls are just part of a structure, affecting the realities of life not at all, unless we let our disappointments change the course of our interactions with other souls who walk this dirt with us. 

And I don’t think we want to know what chaos is caused when we mistake the facade for the heart and soul.

I was wrestling with whether to write about this tonight when an email was delivered to my smartphone.  It was one of hundreds I receive in the course of any given week from other writers sharing their articles.  I admit that often I simply delete these messages.  I assume they do the same with mine.

But for some reason, tonight I hesitated as my finger hovered near the image of the trash can.  I breathed a prayer.

“Make this something, God.  Something I need.”

As I opened the email, the first words my eyes fell on were the familiar ones from Jeremiah that my father was so fond of.  I had actually considered them as I wallowed in my disappointment this week.

“‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'”  (Jeremiah 29:11, NIV)

It was something.  Yes, even something I needed.  But not for the reason you might expect.

They’re not words to make us feel all warm and fuzzy inside.  I know we use them that way.  But they aren’t.

God had just directed Jeremiah, His prophet, to tell the nation of Israel that they were going to be torn from their homes and live for years in slavery and want in a foreign land.  All because they needed to learn to trust Him.

The words of that verse are certainly words of promise.  They are words of encouragement.  But they would only come true in the middle of greater disappointment than most of us will ever experience.

In the midst of the wasteland we call failure, God promises success and blessing. 

Our disappointments are not where hope ends, but where our future is assured! 

I know many who read these words have other, more serious disappointments to deal with than my piddly little siding problem. 

Jobs have been lost.  Family members have walked away from them.  The doctor hasn’t given them any hope for things to get better.  Dreams have been altered or given up because of changing realities.

You need to know that even in this season of trial, our God is working out His plan for our lives.  

In the midst of pain, grace and mercy abound.

It’s not the time to give up, not the time to attack innocent bystanders.  Now is when we learn to walk with Him, in His strength, and in His love.  Even if we walk in the dark, we are putting one foot in front of the other, as He lights the path ahead.

We want the beautiful facades.

He’s working on the astonishing home inside.

The day is coming when there will be no more disappointments; when we’ll really be home.

Just not yet.

And that’s okay.  Because I trust the One who promises it.

Completely.

 

“Home is the best word there is.”
(Laura Ingalls Wilder)

“For it is God who works in you, both to will and to do of His good pleasure.”
(Philippians 2:13, KJV)

 

© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2025. All Rights Reserved.

In The Morning

~ Paul Phillips ~ Leave a comment
personal image

 

“Good morning.  Again.”

The pink lady smiled sympathetically as I walked past her station in the hospital’s lobby to the padded seat in the waiting area.  I’ve been there for several early morning sojourns in the last couple of weeks.

There are more to come.

I’ve mentioned that I don’t do early mornings before, haven’t I?  These haven’t been voluntary, but necessary.  I don’t volunteer for early mornings.

Oh, wait.  I did, didn’t I?  Volunteer.

And, I’ll do it again.

Tomorrow is another one.  An early morning.  That’s why this is going to be short. 

But, I thought you needed to know—you who do this all the time.  I’m talking to you who volunteer for the early mornings—and the long afternoons—and the interminably long nights.

It matters; what you do matters.  You matter.

A friend sent a note this morning, as I sat in one of those waiting rooms.  She wanted me to know that I was a blessing to the lady for whom I was biding my time.

I mentioned to her that I was simply doing what was in front of me to do.  Then I wondered if that’s what being faithful is about.

I’m still mulling that one over.  I may think about it in the waiting room of another facility tomorrow morning.

But, my friend who sent the note about being a blessing was the one who actually blessed me by writing the words.

So, I’m just passing it on. 

You know who you are.  In your homes—the hospitals—the nursing homes—the prisons—the hospices. 

You are a blessing.

You are.

I just thought you should know.

 

“Listen to my voice in the morning, Lord.
    Each morning I bring my requests to you and wait expectantly.”
(Psalm 5:3, NLT)

“Now it is required that those who have been given a trust must prove faithful.”
(1 Corinthians 4:2, NIV)

 

© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2024. All Rights Reserved.

I Recognize You

~ Paul Phillips ~ 1 Comment

“I must be Dorothy.”

I’ll admit it.  We had been ignoring the beautiful little girl.  In the room full of people, every one of us was looking at the window and offering an opinion about the shades being installed.  No one was focused on her in any way.

The sweet little girl sat on the cedar chest and swung her feet—thunk, thunk, thunk—against the sides, waiting for at least one of us to tear our eyes away from the window and speak to her.

It must have been a sore trial for the little tyke.  When one is used to being the center of attention, to be among a crowd of folks and not even be a part of the conversation would be most difficult.  Especially if you’re an almost four-year-old kid.

Then again, I don’t know.

This sixty-year-old man understands how she feels.  Anyone who’s spent time waiting while life goes on apace for others all around knows how the little girl feels.

Lonely isn’t only being by one’s self.  It’s not.

Lonely isn't only being by one's self. It's not. Share on X

Isolation isn’t primarily about walls and distance.

We might even need to remind ourselves once in a while of who we are.  And, who we were.

I must be Dorothy.

Into the dark room of loneliness,  sometimes a shaft of light—a blazing ray of sunshine— sneaks its way through the blinds we have lowered ourselves and illuminates the entire room.

How’s this for light?

He already knows my name! (Isaiah 43:1)

I’ll never have to stand and remind Him, I must be Paul.  He knows.

He knows.

We don’t need to jump up and down, waving to make sure He is aware of our presence.  We have His undivided attention.

But, perhaps it’s time I—we— who have been shown such love and lavish attention should begin to show love and lavish attention to those around us.

Many are lonely in the crowd.  Many sit, kicking their feet, waiting for someone—anyone—to notice them sitting there.

I’ve been in that crowd.  Alone.  Lost.  I will attest to the loneliness and pain.  But, I also remember the approach of a member of the crowd who says, You must be Paul, and then that feeling of relief and belonging spreading to every part of my being.

It is a wondrous gift to be recognized.

It is a wondrous gift to be recognized. Share on X

Who better to notice those who are alone than we who have been noticed when we were alone?  We have been recognized in a crowd.  Why would we not offer that same gift to others who desperately need it?

We are blessed so that we will bless.  It is a reasonable expectation.

I won’t deny it.  We laughed as we heard the words from the little girl’s mouth today.  And then, we paid attention to her.

But the truth is, most folks won’t ever say a word.  They’ll come into our lives and they’ll disappear just as quickly.  And, quietly.  If we let them.

Let’s not let them.

You must be         .  I was hoping you’d be here.

 

 

 

Only the lonely know the way I feel tonight.
(Roy Orbison ~ American singer/songwriter ~ 1936-1988)

 

All praise to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is our merciful Father and the source of all comfort. He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us.
(2 Corinthians 1:3-4 ~ NLT ~ Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004, 2007, 2013, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.)

 

 

 

© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2017. All Rights Reserved.