One clear, warm early fall day in 2019, I drove out to the far western end of my local metro area to visit some old friends. It was my first time to see them again in a couple of years, to visit their lovely new home, and to meet their first child. Once their precious daughter warmed up to me enough to sit on my lap, I paused to absorb the tenderness of the moment. The sun was streaming in at an angle that warmed us comfortably, and a soft breeze drifted through the rooms carrying the scent of late flowers and a cool evening ahead.

I thought to myself, “How sweet life is. Only God knows what lies ahead, whether easy or difficult things. But for today, I will cherish this goodness.”

The next three years held many restrictions, lockdowns, and limitations. They bore sorrows and struggles. But they also carried growth, opportunities, and blossoming love.

Today, after rain clouds cleared and a moderate warmth returned to the air, I returned to that beautiful house to meet those old friends once more. This time, I met their second child for the first time and reveled in the happiness of earning her trust through smiles. And this time, they met my husband.

And we savored the taste of sweet cake and warm drinks, and the flavor of fellowship under the sun’s kind gaze.

Winter will come, and the spring afterward. Every single time. But before it all comes the fall: when we pause to step inside and draw near, surrounded by the bounty of goodness given by our mighty God.

It was a warm August day in 1996 — warm by British Colombia interior standards but still slightly brisk for a teenage girl from Missouri. All around the region, large and frolicking waterfalls abounded. What a lovely day to get out and see them. Or so it seemed.

My parents and I had made the multi-day drive up in Dad’s humble red Dodge pickup to visit our Canadian relatives: uncle, aunt, and cousins that I had only seen a few times over the years due to the great geographic distance between us. That day, part way into our visit, Uncle Lloyd offered to take the three of us on an invigorating nature tour. We drove around to a few locales with much more accessible approaches or viewing spots, cleanly cut bluffs or wooden decking and steps. But Uncle Lloyd saved a favorite spot for last.

When we stopped the car at that final location, I was immediately puzzled when I got out but could neither see nor hear any sign of rushing water.

“It’s up this way,” Uncle Lloyd called over his shoulder, taking his sturdy walking stick in hand and heading off on a gravel-strewn path, toward a thick grove of trees trailing down the mountain looming above. We followed him and walked on that path for many minutes, the way becoming progressively more winding.

As I kept my eyes fixed on the trail, I was surprised when the gravel covering evaporated and the way forward was apparently not well-established. It was harder to see as the tree coverage above became denser. Yet, Uncle Lloyd seemed to know right where he was going given how his steady pace didn’t miss a beat from the more refined surface to the utterly wild one.

He glanced back to check on us and paused fully when he saw I was not immediately continuing. “Tired already?” he asked with a small smile.

“No,” I said, a bit of shakiness in my voice. “I just didn’t know it was going to be like this.”

The further we climbed, the more fear-filled I became. The path was slick in places due to recent rain. There was nothing to hang onto for security apart from the occasional tree we passed that closely. By the time we reached the top of the ascent and stood in close-viewing distance of a scraggy, impish falls with brilliant, multiple tiers, my emotions were shot.

Uncle Lloyd turned with a big smile. “Was really worth the climb, eh?”

I burst into tears. And I found myself sobbing nearly uncontrollably for a moment. It was embarrassing and equally scary for me to have difficulty reigning in my feelings, when I’d been encouraged for so long not to display negative emotions so openly in the first place.

“What’s wrong?” my uncle asked, his brow now furrowed, with deep concern in his voice. He stepped closer and turned back and forth between me and the view, seeming genuinely puzzled over how all that rugged beauty could draw out such terror and discomfort in me.

When I could finally speak coherently, I tried to excuse my childish display. “All the way up here, I was just thinking about not falling on the path,” I mumbled in a raspy voice, “and thinking about how hard the way back down will be.” Only two summers previously, I had severely sprained my ankle and was still gun-shy of being too adventurous lest I should repeat my clumsy misstep and go through all that again.

Once more his gaze swept back and forth between the falls and my tear-drenched face. He reached out to touch my shoulder. “It’s okay. Let’s stay here and rest for a few moments and enjoy the view. We’ll be careful going down. You can hold onto me if you need to in the tricky patches.”

I took a deep ragged breath and swiped the back of my hand across each cheek in turn. The waterfall really was magnificent. I tried to focus on it and breathe deeply, to calm my heart and agree that all this had been worth it. No matter how awful it felt to be pulled right out of my comfort zone.

I didn’t know my uncle very well. In that moment, I didn’t understand that he wasn’t scowling at me in disapproval or anger. But later, as I came to know him more, I would understand that his heart felt my anxiety in those moments. He wanted to put me at ease to some degree. But he also wanted me to lay down my fears and be free to enjoy the beauty in the world. So much beauty in the world that he could see. He was eager for me to learn this lesson in trust.

True to his word, when it was time to descend, he kept a reasonable pace, slowing down in places where it was prudent to do so. More than once, he anchored himself with his walking stick and made sure I and my folks all made it over a challenging spot. By the time we reached the bottom, my legs were shaking from the physical demands of the descent. But my emotions were restored to a peaceful state, and my confidence was quietly lifted.

Uncle Lloyd knew the way up and the way down. He knew where he was going. He knew what awaited him — and us. And he was eager to take us and show us. He was confident and sure in a powerfully humble way.

We finished out our visit. We drove back to Missouri. I went to college and off to teach in a foreign land. I came back to attend grad school and later to work Stateside. And I joined social media platforms. Through the Facebook connection, I got to know my uncle again. And better.

Here was a man who gave his whole life to loving his family and ministering to others for God’s glory in several different roles and capacities. Here was a man who approached things and people with both wisdom and kindness while never neglecting what he knew to be truth. Here was a man who, though human, did his best by God’s grace to live an upright life.

By that same social media platform, the Canadian family communicated with us as Uncle Lloyd recently became increasingly sick. Then went to the hospital, then was moved to hospice care and quickly faded. Finally, on March 16th, he flew away to the arms of Jesus.

Where he’d always known he was headed.

There is a nearly indescribable blessing in seeing the beauty of a wild waterfall, completely untamed, while one drinks in the thin mountain air like a dehydrated person. There is an even greater blessing, however, in knowing the way out and the way home. In knowing where I will end up one day. For good.

It is a sweet thing to trust Jesus. To hold on to Him in the rough spots. And to follow Him both there and back again.

Uncle Lloyd taught me that. One summer’s day. And by the span of his whole life.

Rest in peace. I will see you again, Uncle. I am blessed to know it.

This coming week in the Nebraska Legislature, a judiciary committee will begin to hear testimonies and statements from citizens regarding opinions on LB781: Adopt the Heartbeat Act. This bill, if passed, will protect unborn children from the threat of legal abortion in our state once their heartbeat has been detected. While I personally believe that a conceived child is a true and unique life even in the weeks before a fetal heartbeat first occurs, I appreciate this bill and the good that it can do if the legislation is passed and enforced. There are so many tiny, precious lives to be saved.

I’m not the type to attend a lot of big protest rallies or get up in the faces of other people via obnoxious, disrespectful debates. But I do have very strong opinions on matters such as this one. I think I’d forgotten, in fact, just how passionately I felt about it.

Until the day a brother from church encouraged me and others to speak up, to speak out, in the forum we were welcome to join. And I thought to myself, “Well, I can’t attend the hearings directly because I have to work at that time. But he says we can submit written statements for the committee’s consideration. I can at the very least do that.”

So, I sat down this afternoon to start writing my statement. And the more I wrote, the more I felt the need to write–to speak and to be heard, for the sake of those who cannot yet speak with words we can understand. When I finished writing, I felt a bit drained for all the energy it had taken to formulate the words and for all the goodness I felt over the thought of sharing my thoughts in the days ahead.

The Bible urges people to “speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves…” (Proverbs 31:8-9). When we will do so, we can be a tremendous blessing to those poor, needy, and voiceless ones. And when we do so, we receive a blessing in return: a blessing in knowing we have used the voice and words God has given us to do something really important in the world. The things we have said may fall on deaf ears in a human sense, but they will still have never been spoken or written in vain. Because God, the greatest Judge and the Most Just One sees and hears. And He is the one who returns blessings for obedience, time spent, reputations risked.

Whether it be speaking against murder of innocents, standing up to a bully to protect a less powerful person, or taking part in similar activities, we must choose wisely when we will speak up and speak out. Let us do what we can in the days and weeks He gives us to bless others in this way. Use your voice, friends, and be blessed in return.

It’s time for a shout out. A love shout out, showering appreciation on those who mean so much to us. We can, and should, do this regularly. But I thought a bit of seasonal and encouragement might be in order.

So, a few weeks ago, I took to Facebook to announce a contest. I encouraged readers to reply in post comments or send me an email for a chance to have an affirming message to their loved one published here and also for a chance to win a copy of The Voice of Melody.

In terms of responses, I had a couple of initial great ones.

Charles McCoy wrote, “I love my wife, a living example of Genesis 2:18.” (If you don’t know the reference, that verse speaks of the creation of Eve as the suitable helper for her husband, made by God so that Adam did not need to be alone.)

And Chris Turack shared, “I love and appreciate God for giving me my husband John. And I love John because he has been so patient and encouraging in our forty years of marriage. He has never been critical of me and has cheered me through my hormonal/emotional ups and downs with ten pregnancies, two miscarriages, PMS, and now menopause. He has a great servant’s heart and I’m thankful to be married to him, my best friend.”

These are wonderful words, all.

I was encouraged by the start of the responses, looking forward to more. A short time before the submission deadline, I tried to share another post to remind people of the opportunity to participate.

That’s when things went haywire and I was temporarily blocked from Facebook. Apparently promotion of an activity that encouraged sharing such affirming words was going against their community standards. I have never thought of myself as a threatening person. And I have never thought that promoting loving words to bless those we cherish is an offensive act. I guess I was wrong.

After struggling to get past the block and sending feedback to protest their decision (which was received but not affirmed as valid…ironically), I chose not to try and promote the contest further. I saw that my original contest post had reached well over 100 readers. So, I just decided to wait and see what would happen.

The deadline came and went. No more responses.

Perhaps it is no longer the thing to publicly declare appreciation for another person for no other reason than just because we notice and cherish them, and want to let them know it.

Perhaps we have started to lose the ability to say something good about others in a genuine, selfless way: not doing it because we really want to draw attention to ourselves but because we really want to bathe that other person in the warmth of a loving spotlight.

Perhaps I would have gotten a greater quantity of responses if I had asked people to give a shout out to themselves. Or if I had asked people to tell us about the people and things that most often frustrate them.

As a culture, generally speaking, we speak far less love and appreciation than we should. We are given to focusing most on our own personal contentment, accomplishments, interests. We are quicker to speak what is harsh, critical, obscene, unverified, slanderous, manipulative, or self-serving than to speak what is thrive-promoting and praiseworthy. We want to focus on all the ways we have been hurt by others instead of affirming how others have helped us.

This is a great pity. Because a key way to promote goodness in the world and to really help “the community” is to write and speak more words of gratitude, appreciation, life.

And we fool ourselves if we think it is enough to say all the sweet things on one holiday a year and then go on with a nasty, selfish outpouring (or even just a neglectful silence) the other 364 days.

I am thankful for the answers that Charles and Chris submitted. Thankful not only for how they can each bless their spouse in this way this Valentine’s Day, but also for how they have each maintained healthy marriages for decades because they have chosen to speak words of affirmation and blessing on an ongoing basis, over the weeks and the years.

In the end, I will admit I didn’t enjoy my brief stent in Facebook “jail.” But that won’t make me stop sharing good words, encouraging good words. Let us all take the time to tell those around us more and more on a regular basis what we love about them, why we appreciate them, and how they have blessed us. We can start on Valentine’s Day…but let that only be the beginning!