Fierce Beauty (14 page)

Resting in God’s peace is like being in a shark cage or the eye of a hurricane. It doesn’t mean we will be spared from those who wish to harm us or from the storms of this life. It means that because of our King’s great love for us, we can go
through
the storms together, in peace: “I am leaving you with a gift—peace of mind and heart” (John 14:27). Because of our Lord, we
can
be peaceful in the face of serious illness or
injury, we
can
be peaceful in the collapse of a family, we
can
be peaceful in financial crisis, and we
can
be peaceful when facing death—if we choose to place our peace in Him.

So if we don’t feel God’s peace, it’s only because we’ve chosen not to. Inadvertently or not, we’ve left the Plexiglas box and are swimming with creatures that can destroy us. If this is true for you, there’s no time like the present to call on His name and return to His presence and peace.

David once sang, “But when I am afraid, I put my trust in you. O God, I praise your word. I trust in God, so why should I be afraid? What can mere mortals do to me?” (Psalm 56:3–4). Because our eternal life is secure, we can relax in any circumstance. We already know that—no matter what—we will soon be with Christ
forever
. This life isn’t our end, and this world isn’t our home. We’re living in a tryout, a practice run for eternity with our King.

The simple truth is this: when we really
know
who God is, we will fear
nothing
. Because “nothing can ever separate us from his love. Death can’t, and life can’t. The angels can’t, and the demons can’t. Our fears for today, our worries about tomorrow, and even the powers of hell can’t keep God’s love away” (Romans 8:38). Since our lives are in God’s hands, we’re immune to death until we arrive at His appointed time.

My friend, even in the worst-case scenarios known to humankind, God is right beside us. He is our shield. He is our shark cage. He is our shelter in the stormy times. He is the light that pierces any darkness, “and the darkness can never extinguish it” (John 1:5). He has
already
overcome every fear we will ever face.

This world defines peace as the absence of conflict, but God’s peace is confident assurance in
any
circumstance.

Real peace doesn’t come when God takes our problems away. It comes when we firmly, deeply, genuinely put our faith in Him.

It’s time for us to stop choosing to live in fear.

Be encouraged. His peace is a box, a space that no fear can penetrate: “I prayed to the L
ORD
, and he answered me, freeing me from
all
my fears.
Those who look to him for help will be radiant with joy; no shadow of shame will darken their faces. I cried out to the L
ORD
in my suffering, and he heard me. He set me free from all my fears. For the angel of the L
ORD
guards all who fear him, and he rescues them. Taste and see that the L
ORD
is good. Oh, the joys of those who trust in him!” (Psalm 34:4–8).

Because of our Lord’s great love for us, He has prepared a place where we can come out of the storms, heartache, and hardship of this world and into His all-consuming peace. It is not found in a box or in a cage. It is found only in His very presence, which knows no boundary at all.

Often my life feels like a treasure chest. Hardly a day goes by that I don’t reflect on the incredible gifts I’ve been so honored to receive. My home is filled with cards, photographs, drawings, hand lotions, quilts, treats, jewelry, and outdoor gear—all evidence of the kindness and good wishes of others.

Their generosity and imagination seem boundless. Occasionally I receive items that appear to have been the resourceful combination of what could be found under the backseat of the family vehicle. These crusty creations usually consist of leftover Happy Meal parts, petrified french fries, and other unknown mummified objects all ingeniously held together with wads of chewed gum. They’re amazing! The sheer inspiration behind such gifts makes me crack up with laughter.

Upon one such presentation I caught the horrified stare of a visiting adult. Her expression declared, “I wouldn’t be caught dead touching that rotten thing!” I’m grateful I don’t feel the same way. It won’t surprise me a bit if one of these days I’m found passed out on my ranch, wearing a big dumb grin on my face while clutching something really gross.

A gift is
a gift
, and it doesn’t matter whether it’s a crushed bunch of flowers yanked from my own garden, a half-eaten cookie, or color-smeared little hands dropping M&M’S directly into my mouth. The presents I receive are always a reminder of how much I’m loved.

No matter the gift, the old adage still rings true: it really
is
the thought that counts.

With this fact in mind, I knew the upcoming day would be incredible. Not because it was August or even because the weather was beautiful. It was the perfect day because it was my birthday.

Most people didn’t know it was my birthday, which I like since folks then don’t feel obligated to give me anything other than a genuine hug. I love a warm embrace. My grandmother taught me that no matter how hard times get, it’s something everyone can afford to give.

Throughout the day as I was showered with cards, simple gifts, and a full bottle of water poured down my back, I knew that something else, something extraordinary, was on the way. It wasn’t intuition. My friend Cheree had called to tell me her daughter, Jenna, had done something remarkable for my birthday. Cheree was so thrilled about the gift that she called to tell me how excited I soon would be.

Every time I thought of Cheree’s call and the pure delight in her voice, I nearly felt like crying. Cheree was a single mother who had done her best to raise her daughter. This family of two worked remarkably hard simply to cover the basic necessities, things others don’t give a second thought to. In years past this mother and daughter had used finances allotted for Christmas gifts to pay the mortgage. Their gift to each other was the opportunity to continue living in their modest home.

Each did her best to make ends meet. Cheree was employed by an insurance company, and Jenna balanced finishing her senior year of high school with working at our ranch. Despite all the challenges mother and daughter faced, their faith remained firm in Christ. Their finances were skinny, yet He’d never let them down. I was moved by their tenacity to keep pushing forward no matter what the world told them they couldn’t do. Quite simply, they just
did
.

For me, being able to call them my friends was plenty gift enough.

It wasn’t until the celebration of another ranch day was coming to a close that Jenna sought me out. Her faded jeans were a canvas of the work and fun she’d combined throughout the afternoon. Dirty circles on her knees told a tale of pulling weeds, while multicolored spatters of paint on
her legs revealed she’d helped a little “artist” who’d delighted in making her horse a rainbow Appaloosa. Water marks from a recent run through the sprinklers completed Jenna’s ranch fashion.

Together Jenna and I walked up the grassy hillside that leads to my home. She carried a beautifully wrapped box of substantial weight. Contemplating what could be so special and so heavy launched my curiosity into overdrive.

I held the front door open for Jenna as she led the way into my sunny kitchen. Standing between one wall that resembles a deep desert sunset and another colored to look like old parchment, she laid the package on the counter and indicated that I should open it. With a slight lift of her shoulders, my quiet girl said in a small voice, “It’s something I’ve been working on for a while.” The smile that followed was a sweet mix of shy and radiant excitement.

Jenna’s clear blue eyes danced with anticipation as I began to unwrap her gift. Pure, innocent expectation filled the room like a rushing mountain stream. Whatever this item was, I knew that it meant a great deal to Jenna and that she loved it as well. The deeper I delved into the package, the more I felt her enthusiasm swell. My little kitchen was awash in a sloshing wave of eagerness that I would cherish her gift as much as she did.

Fully aware of her intent gaze on my face, I understood how enormously important the following moments would be. Whatever was about to happen clearly meant far more to her than simply giving me a birthday present. I knew this would be a very special moment between us.

Once the wrapping paper was off, I cut the heavy tape that held the package closed. I opened the box and was greeted with carefully placed crumpled wads of newspaper. This gift was heavy and breakable. Lifting out the last remaining layer of newsprint, I finally saw it. Recognition shot through my heart like an electric current! My voice collapsed beneath a tide of emotion.

I couldn’t
believe
what I was seeing! I couldn’t
believe
that Jenna
was able to part with this beloved treasure! I couldn’t
believe
that she was giving this honored prize
to me
!

Instantly I was transported to a scene that had occurred two months earlier. Together Jenna and I strode down the halls of her high school. She had invited me to attend an art show hosted there. This special night was marked by the awards ceremony. Her entry had won its category; soon she would be stepping up in front of a packed house to receive her award. Jenna also planned on giving a small presentation about Crystal Peaks and receiving a donation for the ranch from the school’s art department.

As we walked shoulder to shoulder, I was pleasantly aware of just how beautiful she looked. Dressed in a simple light skirt, sleeveless top, and sandals, this tall, thin girl looked more elegant and striking than nearly any girl I’d ever seen. She was happy. Interestingly enough, it was her joy that transformed her. She was far beyond beautiful. She was radiant.

We entered the art department, where the show was being held. I walked behind Jenna as we carefully wove a serpentine path through the milling crush of students, parents, and art lovers. Once we reached the back wall, Jenna asked me to look through the pottery section.

It wasn’t long before my attention was drawn to a lovely collection of wheel-thrown plates and bowls. What initially caught my eye was the color. Half the entry was a vibrant hue that looked like adobe, the other half a cobalt blue. Each piece was embedded with the same hand-stamped Aztecish pattern. Because the stamp was pressed into the surface of each item, the glaze pooled within the design, making it slightly darker than the rest of the piece. The effect of the artistic arrangement of the plates and bowls was absolutely charming. I noticed a handmade tag that identified the collective masterpiece as Jenna’s.

“You made these?” I inquired and declared at the same time. Jenna was standing slightly behind me when I turned to look into her face. Sunlight bouncing off water would’ve paled in comparison to her smile. It didn’t really matter that her entry had won. What she’d made was beautiful. She knew it was special. She knew that what was displayed
before us was her absolute best. This young woman, who possessed so little by worldly standards, had created something truly extraordinary.

Now, inside my kitchen, lovingly cushioned by secondhand newspapers in an old cardboard box, were Jenna’s beautiful plates and bowls.

To some, her gift might not have had any greater value than a widow’s mite. But to me it was absolutely priceless. I don’t remember the words that passed between us during the moments of freeing her gift from its newspaper cocoon. Whatever they might’ve been, I know they were paltry compared to the weight of emotion I felt. I knew what this gift meant to Jenna, and I knew what it cost her to give it up.

Even though this was the very best and most beloved thing she’d ever created, she willingly gave it all—to
me
.

Now I was the new keeper of the gift.

After that, whenever I entertained company or the ranch staff came up to the house for dinner, I used Jenna’s lovely plates to serve snacks. Her largest bowl was set in a place of prominence in my kitchen so its decorative grace could bless everyone who entered. And since I was the one who entered most often, I was the one who was most blessed. Hardly a day went by when I wasn’t deeply moved—again—by the significance of this remarkable gift.

I couldn’t have known it then, but the impact of Jenna’s gift was about to increase beyond anything I could have imagined.

Several months after I received the gift, my phone rang late one night. The news was horrific. There was a fire.

Though firefighters did all they could, the simple home that Cheree and Jenna shared was completely destroyed by flames. A faulty strand of Christmas lights was to blame. Thankfully, Cheree and Jenna were not home when the fire broke out, so neither was harmed. The same could not be said for the small manufactured home they had worked so hard to maintain. The inferno destroyed everything. Jenna shared how hard it was to sift through the charred remains of all they loved: “You don’t even realize how much you’ve lost until you find a fragment of a childhood toy,
a scrap of a cherished photograph, or the blackened remains of prize ribbons you won on your very first horse.”