Colleen James

Blog

  • Lessons from a Soccer Field

    Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com of a soccer ball in a soccer field

    The coach was no nonsense as he strode onto the field, promptly beginning a warm up and practice drills. I didn’t blame him for his all-business attitude. He was without his usual two assistants that day, and given the fact that he was coaching a group of six-year-old boys, he had his work cut out for him. They had already proven to the three men what a challenge they would be in the few weeks they had practiced together. Many times, they would form a stampede around the ball, stumbling over each other in their over eagerness to kick it despite the fact that the coaches kept telling them to spread out and work as a team. That, or they would abandon the game altogether for some other distraction, such as when one of the boys caught a cricket, eliciting the excitement of his teammates and their desire to catch their own. The coach and assistants would often find themselves calling out the names of the boys two or three times before getting their attention at any given moment. It’s not that they were disobedient for the most part. They were just acting their age. With the coach alone this time, however, some of the teammates wanted to test his limits.

    That particular evening, as the dragonflies hovered over the field, their translucent wings shimmering in the soon-to-be-setting sun, I watched the coach lead his young team on a jog as punishment for the bad behavior of a couple boys. Then, when one same teammate continued to misbehave, he decided that only that boy would jog the field as he jogged ahead of him to forge the path they would run.

    I intently watched as the two began to jog, skirting along the edge of a scrimmage a more advanced soccer team was holding. It didn’t seem fair that the coach should have to take on the punishment of his player. At the age of these children, however, there wasn’t any other option but to run ahead. The players needed his instruction and guidance. They needed someone to lead them so they knew where to go.

    That evening, I realized what a western view of discipline I must have. When I discipline Liam, it generally involves a trip alone to his room. Even CJ, as he is entering the toddler years, has been placed in his crib for disobeying. And perhaps, as I discipline my children a certain way, I have had some wrong ideas in my subconscious as to how God disciplines me. The coach shed a new light on God’s discipline for me that evening, however. Much like this man led the boy through his own punishment, God leads us in His discipline of us. He never leaves us nor forsakes us. He walks us through it like a loving Father, forging the path we must take and then guiding us through it. He is always with us, showing His love and goodness to us even then,

    “For the Lord disciplines the one he loves,
        and chastises every son whom he receives.”

    Hebrews 12:6

  • White Chocolate Peanut Butter Latte

    Pictures of sweet white chocolate and creamy butter mixed into rich coffee make for a cozy, fall drink!

    The smell of peanut butter wafted from my stovetop espresso maker while I was brewing coffee several mornings ago, which was the oddest thing since the coffee grounds were not peanut butter flavored (does such a thing even exist?). The scent made me curious about what peanut butter flavored coffee would taste like, however,  so I stirred a little bit of peanut butter into a small amount of coffee, then added sweetener and half and half for a tasty end result! Within a matter of minutes, I was making myself a full-sized cup of peanut butter flavored coffee, this time adding white chocolate to sweeten it since I had some on hand.

    I’ll tell you right now that, if you don’t like peanut butter, this coffee is not for you. But if you do enjoy it, you’ll find this to be such a deliciously cozy drink. It’s great for cooler mornings as we head into the fall on this side of the world, but it would also make for a great afternoon coffee with friends served with oatmeal jammy cookies for a peanut butter and jelly theme.

    No matter where or with whom you drink it, I hope you like it as much as I do!

    WHITE CHOCOLATE PEANUT BUTTER LATTE

    Ingredients:
    1/2 c espresso or strong brewed coffee
    1/2 heaping tablespoon peanut butter
    2 small squares white chocolate baking bar (I used Ghirardelli)
    1 c milk of choice (I used oatmilk)

    Instructions:

    Stir the peanut butter together with the coffee in a saucepan over medium heat until dissolved, then add the chocolate and stir until also dissolved. Add the milk and hear through, then serve. Makes 1 big cup.

  • Dwelling Place

    A house ornament

    My family and I recently came home after an extended stay out of town, and although the time away was pleasant in general, I felt homesick towards the end and looked forward to getting back home. Now that we’re here, however, I’m acutely reminded of the stresses and struggles that come with living in this space.

    We’ve been in this apartment complex for over two years now, and as the boys grow, this place gets smaller. The items in one of the kitchen cupboards are a haphazard heap, threatening to cascade to the counter below, and an avalanche of plastic cups, plates, and other containers is often unleashed by my toddler in yet another cupboard within his reach. This apartment is virtually impossible to childproof, and I find myself longing for a house of our own all the more as a result.

    There’s so much I want for my family that could potentially be fulfilled in a home. I want my boys to have a backyard in which to play and a neighborhood where they could freely ride bikes. Furthermore, I want to be able to throw Christmas parties and baby showers and to comfortably host out-of-town guests. But those dreams feel a long way off with no viable options in town, and I’m left longing for something better and wondering when things will change.

    JJ often reminds me to be grateful for what we have, which is a response I’m generally not too fond of. He’s right, though, and we have had special moments here that will make leaving this place bittersweet when that time comes. Nonetheless, I live under the constant stress of containers strewn across the floor and lack of storage space, and all I can do is bring my complaints before the Lord. And as I do, King David comes to mind as of late.

    The prophet Samuel anointed David as the next king of Israel fourteen to fifteen years before he would ever assume that position, and as David would wait for his role as king to become reality, he would face many hardships, often dwelling in caves and on the run for his life from the present-king Saul who sought to kill him. How must David have felt about his own waiting? Did he ever question his future or the timing of what God had shown him?

    While we aren’t necessarily given any answers to those questions, we certainly can read about all that he experienced in the book of 1 Samuel, and we are given access to his thoughts and feelings throughout that time in many of the Psalms that he penned.

    What most stands out to me in his Psalms is that, although his own feelings of sadness and discouragement are present, he never lost sight of God. He reminded himself of how God was his refuge and stronghold and deliverer. He saw God’s goodness in the midst of his trials.

    I originally thought to write this blogpost sharing about how David’s season of waiting (and all the hardships therein) prepared him to be king. I also planned to write about how, in that season of waiting, God would use him to bless and strengthen future generations in the faith through the Psalms that he would write. His wait was certainly not a waste of time, and neither is ours.

    As I write today, however, I feel most impressed by David’s hope in the Lord and not in any other thing. The words he penned in Psalm 16:11 are words I want to live by.

    You make known to me the path of life;
        in your presence there is fullness of joy;
        at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.”

    -Psalm 16:11 ESV

    My mindset begins to shift when I think of David’s attitude throughout his lifetime. God’s presence was with David, and he found fullness of joy in it. Similarly, God’s presence is with me in this place. His Spirit abides in me, so in essence, He has chosen to dwell with me here.

    All the sudden, this apartment becomes a place of worship. It is a place I can offer to the Lord, with all its imperfections and irritations, because everything belongs to Him in the end. I can pick up the plastic containers a second, third, and fourth time of the day knowing that I do it as unto my King. I can clean and organize as best as I can to worship Him and show gratitude for His providence and His continual presence with me here. And I can ask God again and again to help me let go of the trivial hardships of this place and to help me to focus on what He wants to do in and through me here. There is a purpose for me in this place, and God is not withholding good from me in setting me here for this season. May I learn to seek and to see Him all the more in this dwelling place and to understand the good work that He is doing in and through me specifically because I live here.

  • Beauty in the Midst of Wild Things

    The garden outside the library

    I was instantly enthralled with the garden outside our local library the first time I saw it over two years ago. With varying shades of green and vibrant pops of yellow, orange, and red flowers mixed throughout it, my oldest son and I soon found ourselves walking along one of the dirt-packed pathways, where we watched butterflies flutter by and saw lizards scurrying about as they looked for a place to hide.

    Our short journey took us further into the garden and to a wooden bench where we rested for a short while under the covering of shrubs and trees. That day, the garden felt magical to me, as if there were secrets within to discover and behold. Although I have not spent much time in that garden since then due to the often-insufferable Texas heat, my children and I still generally take the garden path that leads to the library whenever we go. And we still see the butterflies and pops of color as the lizards scurry below.

    As winter gave way to spring this year, I noticed how much the garden had been neglected during one library visit. Weeds covered the walkways, and the shrubs were overgrown into a tangled mess. It was sad to see what had become of it. We didn’t take the garden path that time. We couldn’t with everything so overgrown. With my oldest son busy with school and my own busyness after having begun a part-time job later that spring, we didn’t make it to the library much after that. We’ve been to the library a few times this summer, however, and the most recent time we went, I noticed that the garden looked less unkempt this time. Someone had trimmed back the plants a bit, and although the weeds were still running wild, there weren’t as many. The garden was starting to get the care it needed.

    Although I do not know if the garden will ever be restored to its former glory, I see the beauty of it in this stage—in the midst of wild things. The trees and shrubs are still vibrant alongside the pops of color from the flowers. And the butterflies are still enjoying this garden along with the lizards that find shelter under the shrubs. There is beauty in the life that is teeming within this place. The wildness and weeds haven’t taken away from that. But I also see the beauty of this place because I know what this garden once was and what it could once again be. It has a lot of potential. With the right care, this garden could become a place of solace once again with areas to explore and secrets to unfold.

    When I think about the garden in this way, I recognize how good it would do me to view people like this, especially the ones that are rough around the edges—the wild ones.

    We all have inherent value and beauty because we were created in God’s image. But how much potential we all have to become even more lovely when we surrender to our Maker and allow Him to prune and weed us, planting seeds in us that will ultimately cause us to look more like Him!

    I want the garden at our local library to represent that to me. I want to see people through the lens in which God sees them. And, in recognizing their potential, particularly for the ones that are a little harder to love naturally, I want to find myself showing greater compassion and kindness to them. To see their value and realize what a treasure they are to God. Because ultimately, we are all gardens in progress. So, let’s express God’s love to each other, asking Him to help us to further surrender to the work of His hands as He tends to the garden that is our lives.

    He has made everything beautiful in its time.”

    Ecclesiastes 3:11a

  • A Season For Butterflies

    Photo from two summers ago of a butterfly on my fingers

    The butterflies are back this summer, fluttering about in seemingly directionless circles, although that must not be entirely true since they somehow move southward come fall. Two years ago, they showed up right after the Robb elementary tragedy, filling the sky and fluttering around town all summer long and even after the new school year started. At the time, a store-front displayed a banner of twenty-one butterflies with the names of each victim underneath them, so seeing the real-life butterflies everywhere brought a sense of comfort to my heart as our town grieved. It was a reminder to me that God was ever present in our community. He had not turned a blind eye on us.

    I grew to appreciate butterflies much more that summer and all that they represented to me, but my admiration of them stemmed long before that. I came to love them as a woman in my late twenties when I started going to counseling for the first time.

    I had spiraled into a state of severe loneliness and a fear of rejection within a matter of months, and I knew that the lies I had been believing were affecting me. Ironically, however, I was afraid to let them go. Up until then, I had been choosing the comfort of their familiarity, but God was calling me to faith. As He drew me back to counseling every week and invited me to lay down the lies through reading His Word and in prayer, He gave me hope of what life could eventually be. I was left with the image of a cocoon in my mind’s eye, and just as the caterpillar-turned-butterfly has to wrestle against the cocoon to strengthen its wings and finally break free, I felt God encouraging me to continue to wrestle against the lies I believed until I, too, could break free. It was the only way that I could live the life God intended for me, soaring on wings of faith as I more clearly viewed myself as God saw me.

    Today, as I look at butterflies, I feel this sense of hope rising within me. They represent new life to me. They represent the resilience to overcome struggles from within. But, most importantly, they represent a rising out of the darkness to what God has ultimately called them to be.

    As they fill the skies this season, I pray that we, as believers, would choose to live life outside of the cocoon. May we strengthen our own wings as we fight against the lies that are so intensely penetrating our world today. And as we wrestle, may we catch a vision of the wondrous transformation that God is creating within us. He is making us new. He is making us into the image of His Son. And He is giving us wings of hope so that we can soar to new heights with Him.

    Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.

    2 Corinthians 5:17

  • Change of Plans

    Picture of a statue anchor outside a restaurant

    The heart of man plans his way,
        but the Lord establishes his steps.”

    Proverbs 16:9 ESV

    We would have been to the island and back by now. We would have enjoyed several sun-soaked days on the beach with my younger sister, been given an informal tour of the school where my brother-in-law is studying medicine, and enjoyed JJ’s birthday to the max, complete with the coconut cake that my sister was going to make him.

    Since it takes over an hour to get to the airport and our flight was scheduled to leave at 5 a.m. the following morning, we checked into a hotel that Saturday night. Everything was ready to go and we were about to turn off the lights. But then JJ saw a notification on his phone from the airline. Delayed. Our flight would leave three hours past the initial departure time, resulting in a missed connection and a flight to the island a day late. Neither JJ nor I were thrilled about the idea of such a long layover with two young children in tow, but just as we were trying to figure out what to do about it, JJ received a second notification. The flight was postponed altogether at this point. We would now be leaving at 5 a.m. on Monday.

    JJ and I were notably upset by the news, but we tried to make the most of the situation, taking care of some odds and ends the following day as we awaited our new flight. A new suitcase to swap with the one that was suddenly starting to tear. Some more sandwiches and snacks to replace the ones we already ate before our travel. And to end the day, an impromptu dinner with my parents in their cozy abode before another early night at a different hotel preparing ourselves yet again for a flight before dawn.

    We quickly got ready for bed and settled in for the night, and this time, the boys even fell asleep. Things were looking good. But then JJ thought to check his phone one more time, and the flight was once again delayed, resulting in what would now be an arrival to the island on Tuesday.

    Since we were only supposed to be on the island until that Thursday, we decided to cancel the trip altogether, and JJ quickly jumped online to finalize the cancelation with a travel agent and to try to recover our funds. It was a long, drawn-out process, and Liam woke up at some point throughout it all and bitterly cried when he realized we would no longer be taking our trip. We were all upset and perplexed by what had just happened.  Still, we were grateful to God in the midst of it all because we had asked Him to protect us on this trip, and we believed this was His way of answering that prayer.

    I told JJ that night that I would rather be disappointed than devastated. As sad as I was that evening and for several days later, I was so thankful that my family and I were safe and well and that God was protecting us from unknown dangers.

    With canceled plans, the promise of a refund in our bank account, and still a few free days for JJ from work, we ended up driving to a beach here in Texas, where we enjoyed a morning of ocean waves and sand and then ate a delicious seafood lunch overlooking the sea. It was a much simpler trip than the one we had originally envisioned, but the kids had fun, and JJ and I were content, too.

    I’ll probably always wonder the exact reason as to why we couldn’t take that trip to the island where my sister lives. What might have happened had we gone? But as those questions come to mind, I hope I forever remember the comment I made to Liam for instances such as these—the most important thing is that the four of us (in our nuclear family) are together. And as of now, we are.

  • Every Good Gift

    Liam made this painting for the neighbor boys earlier this year. It’s him (in the middle) with them. The picture is compliments of the neighbors, as I didn’t think to take one myself.

    Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.”

    James 1:17 ESV

    Our neighbors left last week. They finished their teaching contract and moved back to Spain, where they are from. It was bittersweet having to say goodbye. Liam has cried about it at different times ever since we learned that they would be leaving earlier this year, asking me if I will miss them too through tears. I always tell him I will, but I’ve said goodbye so often that I didn’t expect this farewell to be so hard. It is only now that they are gone that I am recognizing how much they’ve left a void in our lives.

    Lately, I miss the pitter-patter of tiny feet as the young neighbor boys chased after each other in the apartment above us. JJ and I would often encourage Liam to follow suit and run around too, although he has always declined the suggestion until recently, as little CJ is becoming more mobile.


    I’ll also miss the conversations we had in passing at the bottom of the stairs or in the parking lot as either of us families were coming or going. Although these conversations never lasted for long, they certainly were never shallow. We shared about the joys and sorrows of life together, supporting each other through the hard times and celebrating the good ones.

    Just this year alone, the neighbors joined us for Liam’s birthday party, then we joined them for their oldest son’s party a month later. And then there were the times when the neighbor boys would play outside of the apartment complex under their parents’ watchful eye, and Liam would eagerly ask to join them, often resulting in me hoisting him over our patio railing so he could catch bugs with them or play chase. And when bubbles would lazily cascade down to our side of the patio from above, Liam was quick to step outside and have little conversations with the neighbor boys, who were playing on their own patio with their bubble machine.

    The best memories, however,  were all the meals we got to share together in their apartment or ours. JJ and I enjoyed an authentic Spanish meal at their house at one point (among other meals), and they seem to have enjoyed the meals we provided too.

    We shared a lot of life together as we dealt with similar challenges in raising young boys, and I immensely feel their absence in light of it all.

    Nonetheless, I know that God gave us the good gift of these sweet neighbors in the first place, and He is a generous God that still has many good gifts to give.

    A few days ago, as we were preparing to go out of town and I was lamenting over the loss of our neighbors to JJ while we were eating dinner, Liam surprised me by his own optimism and hopeful spirit.

    “Maybe we’ll have new neighbors when we get back!” he interjected.

    Maybe we will. Regardless, I trust God will continue to bless us with wonderful friendships just as He already has with so many beautiful people right here in our small town.

  • In Season

    I’ll eventually put another plant in the pot, but for now, the fake flower will do! 😀 Picture of three plants and a fake, purple flower.

    For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.

    Ecclesiastes 3:1 ESV

    My tulip bulbs didn’t bloom again. It’s not too surprising, however, since I didn’t do any research to know when and how to plant them. I simply stuck them in a pot of dirt on our patio when Liam and I were planting seeds over a month ago. Then I watered them and hoped for the best.

    Now, weeks later, the rest of the plants have sprouted and are really starting to thrive, but the bulbs remain a potted patch of dirt. Come to think of it, I vaguely recall reading about planting them in the fall when I was originally researching how to take care of the bulbs after their first blossoms. Apparently, timing really does make a difference. Timing and the right kind of care, in this case.

    Being greeted by that barren plot of dirt each day as I water the rest of the patio plants has made me consider the importance of planting in season. This is certainly true for gardening, of course, but I can’t help but think it applies to so much more than that, too.

    Lately, JJ and I have been talking about some dreams that we would like to pursue in the near future. God seems to have planted certain desires in our hearts,  and those longings only appear to grow as we ask God to mold our hearts to His.

    Nonetheless, it is not quite the right season to plant in the physical world the desires that have been planted in our hearts, so we hold onto these hopes like seeds, watching and waiting for God to direct us to when planting season is here.

    Thinking about the dried-out bulbs is the encouragement I’ve needed these days to trust God when I grow weary of this watching and waiting. JJ and I could try to force things to conform to our desires now, but we know it would be foolish. Much like the tulip bulbs, our efforts would render little result if we didn’t let God determine the right season. Our labor would be in vain of God wasn’t in it (Psalm 127:1).

    Knowing that the good gifts God wants to give us will flourish in the right, God-ordained season brings me a sense of stillness, and as we wait on Him to receive these God-given dreams, I can rest assured that He is preparing the soil and climate of our lives to entrust us with those good gifts in due time. He is the Master Gardener; He does not plant a seed simply for the soil to remain barren. So, as I stare at this “patch of dirt” in my own life, seeds of hopes and dreams in hand, I’ll keep looking to Him and trusting that He will show both JJ and me when to plant. And I’ll trust that, in due time, we’ll have a beautiful garden by God’s help because we waited on Him for the right season.

    Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!”

    Psalm 27:14 ESV

  • Ebbs and Flows

    Photo by Ben Mack on Pexels.com of the ocean waves rolling into the shore

    “The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.”

    Job 1:21b ESV

    My oldest son suffered a concussion in late March. He was in PE at school when it happened. Apparently, he got a little carried away with the activity at hand and slipped backwards, impacting the back of his head on concrete.

    The school nurse called to let me know, explaining that she had put ice on the area then later sent him back to class after the pain had subsided. Although it didn’t sound like he needed me to come get him, I decided to pick him up anyway. I figured he probably needed the emotional support if his fall was as bad as it sounded.

    He was called to the school office after I arrived, his eyes bloodshot from crying.

    “Can I see you, Mom?” he then asked.

    I chuckled nervously at such a bizarre question, but then grew concerned.

    “I don’t know. Can you see me?’

    He kept pointing to his right eye, so I covered his left one and asked him again, to which he responded that he couldn’t. Soon after, we were on our way to the emergency room after a quick detour to leave the baby with JJ, who was fortunately home that afternoon.

     The ER was packed that day, and I feared we would have a long wait. Thankfully, we got into triage soon enough, and the medical staff put Liam into a room right away thereafter. Soon, he was taken to get a CT scan. As we waited for the results in his assigned room, he experienced a host of other worrisome symptoms. His arm felt weird and his mouth felt soft (his descriptions), and he all the sudden felt hot, was drowsy, and at one point wanted to throw up. Fortunately, all of these symptoms, alongside his eyesight, cleared up before we left the emergency room that day, and his CT scan did not show any brain injury either. The medical staff diagnosed it as a concussion and gave us precautions to follow for the rest of the week. He stayed home from school the following day.

    On Wednesday, I hesitantly took him back to school, making sure that his PE coach and teachers knew he was not to run or be too active per the doctor’s orders. Although he seemed to be just fine after school that day, he got sick with something unrelated that night and had to stay home the following day. Fortunately, he recovered quickly and was back to school by Friday.

    We had a fairly normal weekend, but then CJ got sick on Monday night with the stomach bug, and I caught it from him that Tuesday. A few days later, JJ started to feel sick, too. CJ developed an ear ache around this time and started antibiotics, and we all were starting to feel well once again. I was glad to have this all behind us. But the following weekend, Liam was not feeling himself, and he caught what seemed to be yet another stomach bug just a few days later. And just as he had recovered from that, he caught pink eye and had to stay home from school once again. During all this, I took CJ back to urgent care, as his ear infection did not resolve itself through his initial round of antibiotics, and as of last night, it was determined at the ER that he must be allergic to the new antibiotics he just started, as he developed a rash and has been having stomach pains also, which may or may not be from the allergy. Time will tell.

    It has been a hard season, and lately I have been feeling discouraged and depleted.

    Back in January, as my family and I were experiencing a different set of inconveniences, I was tempted to peg this year as a bad one. Fortunately, I have lived long enough to recognize that, as hard as a year may be, it’s not all bad. Each year has its set of joys and sorrows. Much like the ocean, life is full of ebbs and flows.

    Lately, as we experience this waning as a family—as the “tide” recedes beyond our reach, I think of how much I need to release to God what I’ve only ever had an illusion of grasping. Now is the time to surrender to Him once more. It’s the moment to ask Him for the willingness to be flexible and for the desire to do His will. Moments like these make us remember that all good things come from God and belong to Him in the first place. Am I willing to surrender these good gifts back into His hands?

    I won’t lie. I don’t really like to be in this place. But while I’m here, I hope I can make the most of it. I pray I can seek to worship God in it. And as I learn to surrender to Him in this season of ebbing, I trust that His love, joy, peace, and so many other good gifts will flow into my life from His good hand.

    “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.”

    James 1:17 ESV

  • Stories of Redemption and Chocolate-Covered Pretzels

    Picture of chocolate covered pretzels. I made these so I could have a picture for this blogpost, and then I ate too many. My sweet tooth is alive and well, folks!

    This is a story about my favorite bag of chocolate-covered pretzels, which is somewhat similar to the last story I shared.

    It starts one evening years ago when I was preparing a dessert for a meal I would be hosting the following day. I had already started making the dessert (if I recall correctly) when I realized I was missing a few necessary ingredients, so I was soon off to the store to buy them. While there, a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels caught my eye, and since I have such a huge sweet tooth, into the shopping cart they went.

    Back at home fifteen minutes or so later, as I was talking to my younger sister on the phone while putting my groceries away, I stopped our conversation mid-sentence.

    “I can’t find my chocolate-covered pretzels!” I complained.

    By now, it was getting late, and the city where I was living at the time wasn’t so safe. In some ways, it was tempting to simply forget about those pretzels and stay home. But I just couldn’t. Those pretzels were mine! I had paid for them fair and square, so there was no way I was going to leave them behind!

    I shortly got off of the phone with my sister and made my way back to the store once again, and as I drove there in the dark of night, I sensed God reassuring me of a truth I already knew–that He would never abandon me. I was His, and He would never leave me behind.

    I also couldn’t help but think of the parable that Jesus told of the lost sheep, as follows:

    So he told them this parable: “What man of you, having a hundred sheep, if he has lost one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the open country, and go after the one that is lost, until he finds it?
    And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and his neighbors, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.’ Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance.

    Luke 15:3-7 ESV

    The mundane task of retrieving those pretzels all the sudden became this meaningful moment as I meditated on God’s Word and the fresh perspective my “lost” bag of junk food was giving me.

    There is something really beautiful in knowing that Jesus doesn’t just settle for the 99. It’s precious, because we were all the one lost sheep at some point in our lives. We were lost, but Jesus knew we would be found. He would seek us out and draw us to Him, and there would be much rejoicing in heaven over our own repentance.

    I realized that,  if I could go back to the store that late of night to claim a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels that only cost a few dollars, then how much more would Jesus seek out His lost sheep and never abandon those who were part of His fold, because He paid for them all by His very own blood. I’m so grateful that He doesn’t leave the one lost sheep behind, and I’m especially grateful that He sought me out and brought me into His fold.

    To conclude my story about the pretzels, I got to the store a few minutes later, and the cashier had my bag on hand and readily handed it to me as soon as I approached her. Fortunately,  the rest of the evening was uneventful as I made the dessert and munched on those pretzels. Ironically enough, I don’t even care for pretzels that much, but those chocolate-covered ones were irresistible that night, and they were all the tastier after my effort to retrieve them and because of the deepened appreciation of the gospel they caused me to have.

    I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat chocolate-covered pretzels without thinking of this incident and the lessons it taught me that evening, and I’m thankful for that. The gospel is worthy of reflecting upon every day, so I’m happy to have another thing to remind me of it.