Graham Cooke tells us that our words have power…that finding our identity in Christ will change us and our circumstances and our perception of what is happening around us… Listen…. It will change you if you choose to apply the Words to you…
By Doug Creamer
Sometimes it’s too Much
What did you do last weekend? I went to two funerals. The first was for my brother’s mother-in-law. The second was for my Dad. It was a tough and long weekend. I am glad they are behind me, but there are still feelings that I need to process. There is my own pain and loss, and then I think about my brother’s family, who lost two parents in a matter of days. About a month ago, my sister lost her father-in-law, so her family has also had to deal with two losses very close together. To say that we are tired and weary is an understatement.
My brother hosts most of the holiday gatherings at his house. The main ones are Easter, Fourth of July, Thanksgiving, and Christmas Eve. Every one of those gatherings included my brother’s mother-in-law. She had a laugh and a hug for everyone. She wanted to make sure that everyone was included in family gatherings.
Her memorial service on Saturday was a great reflection on her family life. Several family members shared great stories. I really enjoyed the music. We sang a hymn I have never heard, I Danced in the Morning. It’s a great old hymn. They ended the service by singing Silent Night while we all held candles. It was beautiful.
My Dad’s memorial service was on Sunday. I thought we would have a small service with mainly family members. I walked into a full room. There were people there from his church, community, bridge club, and his golfing buddies. I was impressed by the big turnout. Everyone was kind and supportive.
I spoke about how one life can have a huge impact. My Dad had been to 15 different countries in his lifetime. His children and grandchildren have lived in 18 states and the territory of Puerto Rico. There were over 26 different careers represented between the children, grandchildren, and their spouses. That created quite an impact on our world. I ended my portion of the memorial sharing the fact that his children and grandchildren have been on mission trips or supported missionaries in 14 different countries. That means his legacy includes missionary work on 6 of the 7 continents.
One other interesting thing my brother thought of for our dad’s service was an opportunity for people to share why they came to his service. We gathered and read what people wrote after the service. Some people wrote funny things, others were heartfelt, and still others were words of comfort and support. It was very comforting to our family.
It was a long weekend for our family. I really feel for my brother and his wife who were dealing with two losses. The stress level has been high for about a month now for all of us. I hope things will gradually quiet down into a normal routine soon.
I have heard the old expression that God never gives us more than we can handle. A friend said that they heard it differently. They heard that God WILL give us more than we can handle so we will turn to Him for the help and guidance we need. I am not sure I like that, but I have found myself turning to Him often over this last month. There have been a number of sleepless nights over the past month. My body is exhausted but my mind is racing.
I have been pressing in to get closer to God because I am desperate to know Him in the middle of this difficult time. I talk to Him while I am lying awake in bed. I am thinking about and meditating on His Word and His promises to me. I am worshipping Him in the midst of the questions and struggles. He has been drawing close to me. He has given me His peace and comfort. He is my ever present help. He is my peace. He is my joy. He loves me.
If you feel like you are struggling with “too much” right now, then I want to encourage you to draw closer to God. Push yourself closer. Seek Him in His Word and in your prayers. Worship Him because of who He is in spite of your circumstances. Trust Him even through you don’t know the way He is leading you. Open your heart to Him. Expose the pain and hurt and allow Him to lift you up and bring healing and peace. I do know it is a process and I believe He will help you and me through it. I bid you His peace, grace, and love.
Contact Doug Creamer at PO Box 777, Faith, NC 28041or doug@dougcreamer.com
By Roger Barbee
Twenty five years ago this morning I awoke in an ICU ward in Fairfax Hospital. The night before I had had two nineteen-inch titanium rods screwed to my back because that afternoon a building I was taking down collapsed– pinning me beneath it. My broken back had to be stabilized, thus the rods.
I remember a little of that morning: Seeing through the fog of morphine a friend who had flown on a red eye from California to see me; The ICU nurse’s long, black, curly hair that fell over my face when she leaned in to ask me a question; My body still carrying the dust and dirt from the collapsed building; My family huddled in fear and worry; But not much more. Snippets in memory that may or may not be accurate run together with what I know to be true. But what I know to be absolute is that that morning and many after it held doubt and fear and dread until I, as Mary Oliver writes, realized.
Like the narrator in her poem, The Journey, I realized one morning or at one moment or with a particular encounter that it was time—time for me to expel all the bad that I had allowed to enter into my life. I realized that at times during those four years, my dark time, I ignored what I knew to be the truth and allowed the voices to continue tugging at “my ankles.” But as Oliver writes, “One day you finally knew/what you had to do, and began,…” And like most beginnings, mine was full of slow progress, but “Little by little” I improved, and I eventually left the “Old man” that Paul writes about behind. But like all journeys, mine was not just me placing a foot in front of another. I had begun journeying, but I was not walking alone.
After I set aside the leeches in my life, I was able to reckon myself and take an honest sounding. This sounds selfish, but when you find yourself so miserable that the only option seems to be to continue your denial or to admit that you have been at the bottom of a dark hole, digging and digging, all the while wondering why you cannot escape and see the sunlight and feel its warmth, it is then that you set aside the shovel those takers had given you and deeply consider where you are. Finally able to lean the shovel against the hole’s side, I began to stop going down and began to move up, ever so slowly. It was on that going upward that I saw my true friends and learned to allow them to help me.
One of the best advantages of any journey is the people you will encounter. You will meet them in unlikely places and in unusual circumstances. Because your journey is one of renewal, you will move slowly, so you will see and hear more. While your journey may not be one of steps, you will still discover that your frantic pace to satisfy others has ceased, and you now see and hear what you had not experienced before. The ground you are traveling over becomes a sharing place for you to hear the stories of others, to smell the air of an autumn day, to feel the sun’s warmth through a window, to hear a child’s laughter, and more. You are alive.
My journey continues because of family and friends. While I could list all of them, there is no need to because they each know what they did to help me as I finally leaned the shovel against the hole’s wall. The hole, by the way, is still there, however, and it will never go away. It is a reminder of life’s danger, but I have learned to accept its existence and walk around it.
When measured in years, twenty is many. But when measured as a journey, it is short. Therefore, wherever you are on your journey, enjoy each step that brings more people to share it. They are the balm for your sore and tired feet.
By David Freeze
I thought I had my ducks in a row for a very challenging day on Saturday, August 2nd. I stayed up way too late and had a plan for getting to Mackinac Island, the premier tourist attraction in Michigan and possibly on the Great Lakes. I spent the night in Cheboygan, Michigan at Johnson’s Motel. Cheboygan was the right choice, but Johnson’s wasn’t my best motel. But very little was available in the area and prices of $200-$250 were common. I paid about 40% of that in my ongoing fun battle to find the best motel for the least price. Mine was a room for four with two bedrooms. Too many of my neighbors stayed outside talking late and I slept in the back room. All good.
First up was trying to find the best lighthouse in Cheboygan on my early run. I knew it was in a park on the water. I followed the main road to the water where dozens of trucks and boat trailers were already there. I saw the lighthouse but didn’t want to chase it in the dark and through the sand in my running shoes. I ran back, packed up and drove back and found a truck path to the Cheboygan Lighthouse while being eaten by huge mosquitoes.
That project done, I drove to Mackinac (pronounced Mackinaw) City in about half an hour and looked for the Shepler Ferry Terminal where thousands of people would board ferry boats today to go to Mackinac Island. The first huge parking lot was full by 8am and I was sent to a secondary and bigger lot. I found it, parked my truck and took a shuttle back to the original terminal where boats were loading as fast as possible, maybe 300 per boat. I paid $53 dollars for admission and parking and got in line with a backpack, some snacks and my camera.
Last night in my planning, I found answers to lots of questions about getting to the island and how to make the best of it once there. I planned to take my bike to the island where bikes and horses, both ridden and pulling sightseeing tours, were the only transportation. People could take their bikes on the ferry but were charged $21 to take it. I didn’t take mine and figured I would just walk and see what I could see.
On the way over, we rode under the spectacular Mackinac Bridge, just 28 feet short of five miles long. The modern bridge connects the lower and upper Michigan peninsulas.
Mackinac Island is incredible in some ways. It has been a home to the wealthy for at least 200 years. Huge houses and the grandest hotels imaginable have been there for years. When my boat unloaded, the morning was still young, and we could walk easily enough. From the ferry, we were told that Fort Mackinac and the Michigan Governor’s summer home shared one bluff. The Grand Hotel and its golf course took another. There is an eight-mile road around the island. Goods were being delivered to all the businesses by horse drawn wagons. These horses are huge and well-kept draft horses.
Thousands of bicycles lined the streets on both sides waiting for people to rent them and rent them, they did. For an hourly fee, visitors could rent the bike style of their choice. By mid-morning, the major roads were full of horses, wagons, bikes and people. Everyone had to be alert. Those walking were encouraged to stay on the sidewalks where there is one. All the horse manure on the streets is cleaned up as quickly as possible.
Very early, I found out most things on the island cost considerably. Horse tours were as high as $71. I took a map and walked to the things I wanted to see and read about them in the visitors’ guide. I knew that Fort Mackinac was calling my name when they fired a cannon, so I paid the $17 fee to see inside the walls, and it was the best buy I made all day.
Fort Mackinac was originally a British Fort and begun in 1779. The US Army finally took it over in 1796 and established a post there until British forces captured it in 1812. They lost it when the Americans won the war. Then in 1875, it became the second National Park behind Yellowstone. Soldiers did park work as well but got an extra stipend to do it. In 1895, ownership of the park was transferred to Michigan, and it became a state park.
I saw a cannon demonstration as soon as I entered the fort. A dozen or so buildings in the fort are all in good repair and much the same as they were when occupied by the US Army. All had great exhibits, some interactive. Visitors could even put on period uniform jackets and play drums after hearing military drummers play. The hospital had amazing explanations of medical practices during the busiest times at the fort.
Various demonstrations continued all day, with one including the advantages of the breech (rear) loading rifle used in 1875, just 10 years after most soldiers finished the Civil War using muzzle loading single shot rifles. Two soldiers began throwing a baseball from the post-Civil War period and we enjoyed an impromptu discussion with them about baseball at that time and other exercise options for the soldiers. No physical training was required in 1875. The best views of the harbor are from the fort!
I walked to the other major place on the island, the Grand Hotel. Incredible in size, it is the grandest and by far the largest of all the hotels on the island. It opened in 1887.
I left at mid-afternoon, took a quick ferry ride back to Mackinaw City and found a room in Newberry, the Moose Capital of Michigan. A 90-minute drive, beginning with the Mackinac Bridge, has me well positioned to drive to Lake Superior and visit two interesting things tomorrow morning. I can’t wait. I hope you’ll join me for tomorrow’s report.
By Lynna Clark
A thunderstorm rocked our house last night. It was so close and so loud that my kind neighbor Carrington sent me a text. “Ms. Lynna, you okay?” “Yes dear.” I replied. Her answer came quickly. “Okay, I’m always here.” I smiled at my phone as I thought of this young single mother who reached out to me in the middle of a terrible storm. It felt good to know she was near. I thought about the neighbor between us who is also a widow. Her comforting phrase to me several times now has been, “I’m only steps away.” Both these women were here only a year ago when there was a terrible shooting just the other side of Carrington which took two lives. Each could have found a different place to live, or could have given in to the fear that clawed at us during that terrible time. But they didn’t. Instead, they often extend comfort to me in my new season of living alone.
Proverbs 18:10 says “The Name of the Lord is a High Tower; the righteous run to it and are safe.” That verse has always reminded me of our principal in the school where David and I worked for twenty years. His last name was Hightower and he was our three a.m. friend; the one we always knew we could call in a crisis. His wife Becky, who also taught at the school began to recognize the growing need to help children with dyslexia. So she trained to become an advocate/teacher/safe place for these little ones who often get overlooked. How fitting is the name Hightower for this couple.
The July 26, 2025 devotional in Our Daily Bread really stood out to me. The writer pointed out these things about God being our safe place. I loved it.
Psalm 27 comes to mind as I think of the Lord’s great love and protection. “The Lord is my light and my salvation- so why should I be afraid? The Lord is my fortress, protecting me from danger; so why should I tremble?”
Ohhh the messes we’ve been in and the troubles we have seen. Praise God He has always, always been our safe place to run.
Do you keep track of all the books you have read? Steve Hartman tells the story of a man who read quite a few books and kept track of them. See what happens in this beautiful story…. ENJOY!
By Ann Farabee
Powerful Privilege
‘Be strong and work for I am with you’ are words from Haggai 2:4.
They give us a daily plan to follow.
We do not have to do it alone.
The Lord is with us.
Maybe we need to put those words on our refrigerator, in our pockets, and on our hearts.
The glory of God – the presence of Jesus – is in our midst – at all times.
We are blood bought.
We are born again.
Jesus thought we were to die for – and He did.
God gave us two hands that are connected to our body by two arms.
For that, I sure am grateful.
A few years ago I had an injury causing temporary loss of mobility in my arm.
I needed that arm – and the hand that was attached to it.
It was difficult.
I no longer felt strong.
I could not serve my family.
I could not serve others.
I could not do simple tasks I had taken for granted.
I could not lift my arms in praise.
I could not be the hands and feet of Jesus.
How could I serve Jesus – as I tried to do when I had strength?
I bowed my head and asked the Lord that question.
I waited for the response, not realizing it would bring tears along with it.
The answer came into my spirit, “Don’t you remember? When you are weak, I am strong. Life will not always be about spiritual weakness, but may also be about physical weakness.”
“Yes, Lord,” I cried, “That is where I am. My physical strength in my arm is gone.”
That was when the Lord spoke these words into my spirit, “Not only are you my hands and feet, but I am also your hands and feet.”
It was simply stated. It took me a second to understand, but I knew it was from the Lord.
I can do nothing on my own – but through the hands and feet of Jesus – I can be the hands and feet of Jesus.
Not only am I to be strong and to work for Him, but Jesus is my strength and He works full time on my behalf.
Jesus walked from town to town each day, sharing God’s Love by not only using words, but also by using His hands and feet, showing us the power and importance of serving with humility. Jesus touched lepers. He touched criminals. He touched the poor. He touched the powerless. He knelt beside the little children. He was often on His knees.
Jesus worked.
Jesus got dirty.
Jesus got tired.
The same opportunity is offered to us.
We can serve others with love and compassion – like Jesus did.
Not just with words – but also with our hands and feet.
It is a powerful privilege.
By Ashlie Miller
Recently, dear friends allowed me and my youngest two children to use their place at the beach for several days. It was to be a refresher for us, while my husband was on a mission trip with two of our teenage children. It can be difficult for little ones when a parent is away for several days. Tears can flow when they begin to miss Daddy. A good distraction is always a welcome thing, and can anything be more welcome than a trip to the beach?
Though it was only three of us, it looked as if we had packed for 7! Back seats down, the trunk of the Odyssey was filled with floats, crafts, games, books, and our luggage. Usually, we have to be very minimalistic in our packing. Not this time! I had a crafty little plan to take advantage of the days there with field trips and what we call “funschooling.” Little did they know, the crafts we would make, the books on the ocean and sea shells we would read, the stories we would hear, the podcasts on nature we would tune into would all help us begin our homeschool year.
It worked like a charm! Instead of loathing the activities and the learning, the children actually asked to stay inside most days during that especially hot, humid, and often stormy last week of July at Holden Beach. We opted to enjoy the sand and surf in the evenings.
Embracing school days, though cloaked in the guise of fun, was not the only difference I took note of during our stay. I notice that when we stay at someone else’s home, cleaning seems like less of a chore and more like a gift. At home, completing the same tasks that week would feel laborious and tedious, with no end in sight. Then, there is rage-cleaning, which you may have heard about – the cleaning many moms (and dads) do when they are sick and tired of the mess, making sure everyone hears about it as they clean. “I have to do EVERYTHING around here. I guess no one else can see this?! I suppose it must be nice to rest and relax while watching me work.” (Anyone ever guilty of this one? I’m a recovering rage-cleaner.)
Although no cleaning list was posted or expected as part of the gift of staying at a friend’s place, the desire to express gratitude through an act of service was tangible and longed to be expressed. The children picked up sticks fallen from storms in the backyard while I swept, mopped, and even dusted. As the children realized the great gift given, they, too, asked how they could help. When cleaning and chores are an expression of gratitude rather than a list of expectations, the heart and energy that goes into them are different. One may argue that the cleaning is more thorough when done from a place of gratitude.
That provoked me to think, “What would happen if I carried that same gratitude to my home?” Thanking God for the many dirty dishes means that many good meals are enjoyed at the family table. Conquering Mount Never-rest (my name for our laundry pile) means we were busy working, playing, or doing, and have plenty to change into. Helping pick up toys implies that someone has been making memories rather than being sucked into entertainment onscreen. More than a temporary place at the beach, the Heavenly Father has blessed and entrusted me with an earthly dwelling. Surely, there are more profound lessons than that, but for now, I’ll try to be more expressively grateful and less complaining when I clean. (And, no, let’s be honest. The children didn’t bring that same lesson home with them from the beach.)
By Doug Creamer
Memories
Many years ago when I was a young teenager, my sister worked as a lifeguard for the National Park Service near Nags Head. I think she did it for a couple of summers. My family would rent a cottage in Nags Head for a week and we would spend time on the beach with my sister as our lifeguard. It was a great week and we had some great family time together.
My sister was living in a trailer provided for the workers in the National Park Service. One time she invited me to come down and stay with her while her roommate was away. I couldn’t believe my luck. My sister made it a very special time together. I was staying at the beach, who could ask for anything more?
One night my sister said we were going to get up in the middle of the night and go outside to watch a meteor shower. I thought she was crazy. But she woke me up and we went out and lay on the picnic table and watched the sky. The first thing that caught my attention was how many stars were visible. I don’t remember ever having seen that many stars before. We could also see the Milky Way, which was incredible.
We talked, watched the sky, and saw many meteors that night. There was one I will never forget, right over our heads. It was a brilliant, bright meteor. We looked up about thirty seconds later and could still see the smoke floating in the sky. We have talked about that night watching the meteors many times over the years.
There are several times a year that we will get meteor showers. I will almost always go out and see how many shooting stars I can see. I have seen some great shows over the years, but nothing compares to that night with my sister.
I went out several evenings over the past week to watch for a meteor shower. It’s quiet in my neighborhood late at night. The peacefulness snuggled into my soul. I watched the night sky hoping to catch a glimpse of a shooting star, and I wasn’t disappointed.
What I found on my trips outside was not the excitement of catching a shooting star but the satisfaction of finding a few quiet moments. I made myself slow down and take some deep breaths. It’s been a bit crazy lately trying to do life, deal with a few minor health issues, and trying to navigate my emotions over the loss of my father. In the stillness I sighed a few quiet prayers and talked with my Heavenly Father.
It’s hard to find peace in some moments of life. Revisiting great memories with my sister helped. There have been times of insomnia in recent weeks and I find myself revisiting other memories with my family. Some of the stories I wrote about in last week’s column, others are more for our family. I have tried to remember good times spent together and moments of laughter and cheer. The memories bring a sense of comfort, familiarity, and peace…like a warm blanket on a cold winter’s night.
Some friends have reached out and offered comfort and words of encouragement, which have been much appreciated. Some have shared their path through this process. While it is comforting and helpful to hear the stories, I am learning a new lesson. I think that this path is one that I must create on my own. I must sort through the memories and learn to cherish the good ones and forgive for those that aren’t so good. I have to learn to let go of the pain and find the peace and comfort that only my Heavenly Father can bring. These are not easy lessons and I am figuring out that this process is going to take some time.
I want to encourage you if you find yourself on a similar path as me to open the boxes of memories, sort them, discard those that are filled with pain, and cherish the ones that bring joy. It’s good to review the good ones, like watching reruns of your favorite TV shows. Give the bad ones to Jesus and ask Him for peace in return. Allow the Holy Spirit to do His job as the comforter. Spend some time with your Father talking things through and allow Him to lead you down the path. Trust Him because He knows the way. He is the Way, the Truth, and He offers you the Life filled with His presence and peace.
Contact Doug Creamer at PO Box 777, Faith, NC 28041or doug@dougcreamer.com
By Ed Traut
1 John 5:14 This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us.
Prayer: Lord I do want to pray according to Your will for my life and Your purposes. Holy Spirit I pray that You will guide me and show me His will that I will pray correctly. Amen.
Ed Traut
Prophetic Life