Back in 2010 or so, I had been receiving hand written letters from a dear family friend, Elsie Froese. These letters were written on the back of printed emails from Helen Dowd, a dear friend of their family. I got on Helen’s email list and quite enjoyed many Christian based inspirational and encouraging emails. Elsie passed away in 2011, so these emails were a bit of a cherished reminder of her. Although Helen does not send out an email list anymore, I had saved many of her writings in a special folder.
2021: I have gone through that folder and collected my favorites here to share with you. These writings are so reminiscent of my childhood upbringing, my grandma, and of course Elsie.
If you enjoy these writings, be sure to check out Helen’s website at http://www.occupytillicome.ca/
HIS SMALL ANGEL
By Helen Dowd
He looked in the mirror, repelled by the sight, a constant reminder of his last fire-fight. ‘Though he’d rescued a man, a dog, and a boy, his fame as a “hero” brought him little joy. For his wife had now left him for a more handsome man. She said, “Care of an invalid was not in my plan.”
As he stood there bemoaning his unhappy state, he was filled with self-pity, with anger and hate. His dreams for the future now turned upside down, he limped to the park, on his face a deep frown. As relief for his mind, he sat down to read. To the movement around him he paid little heed. Then out from a group of some children at play a ragged young girl approached, her head turned away. Standing close to his side, her eyes to the ground, she stretched out her arm and said, “Look what I found!” She held in her hand what looked like a weed, all wilted and brown, its flower gone to seed.
The man growled in answer, “Just leave me alone. Get on with your playing, or run along home.”
But the child was undaunted. “I picked these for you. They’re awfully pretty, and I think you are, too.”
The man was annoyed, for her eyes seemed to shift. He pushed her aside, refusing her gift. He thought that she mocked him, as others had done–the object of ridicule, the target for “fun”.
And then something happened. God opened his mind. A new look he took: the wee girl was blind! He reached out and touched her. He patted her head; then accepted her flowers, although they were dead.
His anger and hatred had started their melt. God’s love, through this child, he knew he had felt. The man turned to thank her, but she wasn’t there. She seemed to have vanished into the noon air. Although day after day to the park the man came, he never did see his small angel again.
But the child had awakened in him a desire to start a new life, to forget that last fire. He went to the hospital, where once he had been. He stood there and stared at familiar scenes. He watched the burn patients in their therapy. In some he saw anger, in some, agony. Remembering so vividly the pain he’d endured, he knew that the “inside” was the hardest to cure. From that moment on, he knew what he’d do. He’d help these folks heal. And his soul would heal, too.
© Helen Dowd
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Each Day is Like A Butterfly
Each day is like a butterfly,
It’s never here to stay.
Its bright and cheery presence
Is bound to make your day.
So on this day remember,
and ponder what I say:
forget about your worries.
they, too, will pass away.
Just take some time to revel
in pleasantries enjoyed.
For one small fleeting moment
may you life’s trials avoid.
But like a fleeting butterfly
one’s life must move along.
The day’s a lovely memory
enjoyed, and then it’s gone.
Helen Dowd
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OCCUPATION
May your mind be never idle.
May your tongue have on a bridle.
May your ears be tuned to listen for the good.
May you occupy your fingers
Doing kind deeds that will linger.
May your feet be brave to go where few feet would.
Helen Dowd
Don’t Count The Years
Don’t count the years … they go so fast;
Just count real friendships made … they last.
Then count the memories of the past.
Don’t count the years. Just think of days
That you have tried your best always …
That’s how a youthful spirit stays.
Don’t count the years. Just count good things
That you have done, that each day brings,
You’ve helped someone and your heart sings.
Don’t count the years now gone before …
Just look ahead, look through life’s door,
And count God’s blessings still in store.
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The Flowers Cry Out
Helen Dowd
There are many types of flowers
That bloom in early spring,
Announcing that the winter’s gone.
What joy their presence brings.
First there are hardy snowdrops,
Shyly peeping through the snow.
They silently are whispering:
“Old Winter, you must go.”
Next pops up lovely crocuses.
They bravely show their face.
While winter snow’s still melting.
They now the landscape grace.
There are golden ones, and purple,
Mixed in with pink and blue.
Their brightness lifts the spirit.
They give us hope anew.
The grass, once brown and soggy,
Is turning Irish green.
Oh look! There are new flowers coming!
“Forget-me-not!” they scream.
Now all around, you’ll notice,
Other growing things.
All nature starts a’shouting:
“St Patrick’s Day! It’s spring!”
Oh look! Now yellow daffodils
Fill up the flowerbeds.
“Wake up! Wake up!” they’re saying.
It’s time to show our heads.
Rise up, you lazy violets.
Come on, you buds and blooms.
Burst forth and show your color.
It cannot be too soon!
Now watch in all the valleys,
And down around the streams.
It’s like a resurrection.
For everything’s Irish green..
Just hear the frogs all croaking.
They’re happy spring is here.
All nature sings in harmony.
The springtime brings such cheer.
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When sorrow nearly breaks your heart,
When you feel lost and alone,
When trouble hurts too much to share–
It’s yours, and yours alone.
Amid your fears, your pains and woes,
How good to feel God cares, God knows!
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WHAT ARE YOU HANGING ON TO?
The cheerful girl with bouncy golden curls was almost five. Waiting with her mother at the checkout stand, she saw them: a circle of glistening white pearls in a pink foil box.
“Oh please, Mommy. Can I have them? Please, Mommy, please?” Quickly the mother checked the back of the little foil box and then looked back into the pleading blue eyes of her little girl’s upturned face.
“A dollar ninety-five. That’s almost $2.00. If you really want them, I’ll think of some extra chores for you and in no time you can save enough money to buy them for yourself. Your birthday’s only a week away and you might get another crisp dollar bill from Grandma.”
As soon as Jenny got home, she emptied her penny bank and counted out 17 pennies. After dinner, she did more than her share of chores and she went to the neighbor and asked Mrs. James if she could pick dandelions for ten cents. On her birthday, Grandma did give her another new dollar bill and at last she had enough money to buy the necklace. Jenny loved her pearls.
They made her feel dressed up and grown up. She wore them everywhere – Sunday school, kindergarten, even to bed. The only time she took them off was when she went swimming or had a bubble bath. Mother said if they got wet, they might turn her neck green.
Jenny had a very loving daddy and every night when she was ready for bed, he would stop whatever he was doing and come upstairs to read her a story. One night when he finished the story, he asked Jenny, “Do you love me?”
“Oh yes, Daddy. You know that I love you.” “Then give me your pearls.” “Oh, Daddy, not my pearls. But you can have Princess – the white horse from my collection – the one with the pink tail. Remember, Daddy? The one you gave me. She’s my favorite.”
“That’s okay, Honey. Daddy loves you. Good night.” And he brushed her cheek with a kiss. About a week later, after the story time, Jenny’s daddy asked again, “Do you love me?”
“Daddy, you know I love you.”
“Then give me your pearls.”
“Oh Daddy, not my pearls. But you can have my baby doll. The brand new one I got for my birthday. She is so beautiful and you can have the yellow blanket that matches her sleeper.”
“That’s okay. Sleep well. God bless you, little one. Daddy loves you.”
And as always, he brushed her cheek with a gentle kiss. A few nights later when her daddy came in, Jenny was sitting on her bed with her legs crossed Indian-style. As he came close, he noticed her chin was trembling and one silent tear rolled down her cheek. “What is it, Jenny? What’s the matter?”
Jenny didn’t say anything but lifted her little hand up to her daddy. And when she opened it, there was her little pearl necklace. With a little quiver, she finally said, “Here, Daddy. It’s for you.”
With tears gathering in his own eyes, Jenny’s kind daddy reached out with one hand to take the dime-store necklace, and with the other hand he reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue velvet case with a strand of genuine pearls and gave them to Jenny. He had them all the time. He was just waiting for her to give up the dime-store stuff so he could give her genuine treasure.
Jenny’s father is like our heavenly Father. He also is waiting for us to give up our dime store stuff and seek Him first … so He can fling open the windows of Heaven and pour us out such a blessing that we will not have room enough to hold it.
What are you hanging on to?
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FORGIVENESS
Corrie Ten Boom shares this true story in her book, “The Hiding Place”…
It was a church service in Munich that I saw him, the former S.S. man who had stood guard at the shower room door in the processing center at Ravensbruck.
He was the first of our actual jailers that I had seen since that time. And suddenly it was all there — the roomful of mocking men, the heaps of clothing, Betsie’s pain-blanched face.
He came up to me as the church was emptying, beaming and bowing. “How grateful I am for your message, Fraulein,” he said. “To think that, as you say, He has washed my sins away!”
His hand was thrust out to shake mine. And I, who had preached so often to the people the need to forgive, kept my hand at my side.
Even as the angry, vengeful thoughts boiled through me, I saw the sin of them. Jesus Christ had died for this man; was I going to ask for more? Lord Jesus, I prayed, forgive me and help me to forgive him.
I tried to smile, I struggled to raise my hand. I could not. I felt nothing, not the slightest spark of warmth or charity. And so again I breathed a silent prayer. Jesus, I cannot forgive him. Give me Your forgiveness.
As I took his hand the most incredible thing happened. From my shoulder along my arm and through my hand a current seemed to pass from me to him, while into my heart sprang a love for this stranger that almost overwhelmed me.
And so I discovered that it is not on our forgiveness any more than on our goodness that the world’s healing hinges, but on His. When He tells us to love our enemies, He gives, along with the command, the love itself.
Corrie Ten Boom
“The Hiding Place”
www.corrietenboom.com
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Soaring
I’m just like a bird
Flying high in the sky:
My soul’s not in bondage,
So neither am I.
‘Though walls may enclose me,
I’ll always be free,
For my God is with me,
And he holds the key.
Each day in the morning
I rise up to pray.
I ask God in heaven
For grace for this day.
I know He will help me
Stay free in my heart,
No matter what hardships
This day may impart.
Helen Dowd
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Where Eagles Fly
By Helen E. Payne Spencer, Cherokee
The coolness of the mountains
And the deepness of the sea,
The blueness of the sky,
The eagles fly – they do not flee.
The long amber grasses
Floating in the breeze,
The smell of sweet flowers
Are just thoughts inside of me.
Where people never venture,
That’s where eagles fly.
On top of purple mountains
You can hear their shrieking cry.
In the mountains are their nests
Hidden from the prey.
They won’t be fools or victims
Or fall along the way.
They fight for life,
These large, strong birds.
They won’t let it pass them by.
Examples in our life should be
To fly where eagles fly.
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BIBLE STUDY: What In The World Is Going On?
What In The World Is Going On?
Helen Dowd
The complaint: “Oh Lord, I speak on behalf of the many righteous people in the nation. We cry out to You: Don’t you see all the violence going on in our land? All the robberies, the looting, the embezzlement, the immorality? Don’t you care that there is constant battling among the people? Don’t you care that the innocent and the little ones are suffering? There is no justice. The law is powerless. The righteous are surrounded by the wicked. Judgment is perverse. Aren’t You going to do anything about it?”
God’s answer: “Oh yes, I do intend to do something about it. Just watch. You will be amazed. I am going to do something that you won’t believe. I have raised up an incredibly wicked and violent nation, to sweep across the whole world to seize places that they do not own. These people are hated and feared. They make their own laws. They are infamous. They use swift weapons. They are like vultures, swooping down to devour. They are determined to destroy. They capture innocent people. They laugh at the rulers of the world. Their work is swift. They go on and on. They are wanted, arrogant men who boast about, and worship, their own strength.”
The protest: “But God, you are eternal, omnipotent, omniscient. Why are You going to use a nation more wicked than ours to punish us? Surely you would not allow this to happen. How could You! But, I guess You have. But since Your eyes are too pure to look on evil, why have You chosen a nation more evil than ours? In fact, there is not a more wicked nation in all the earth than the one You have chosen to punish us? You are so pure, how can You tolerate this wrong, this treachery? Why do You stay silent, while these wicked people destroy the righteous? They have made us like flapping fish out of water. We have no defense. We are dragged up, helpless, into their nets. Our captors laugh, while they gorge themselves on their prey. They carry on, destroying the nations without any mercy…
“Now I will wait to hear what You have to say, Lord. I am expecting an answer. I have my notepad all ready. Speak to me.”
God’s reply: “All right. You write this down. I will tell you in plain words so that everyone may know what I plan to do. And then you go and tell it to My people. You may think that my decision to use an extremely wicked nation to punish My people is unjust. Well, you just wait. The judgment on that nation is yet to come. You may think it is taking a long time. But I say to you, ‘Judgment on those who become wealthy on the looting and plundering of others, who build up cities by shedding blood; who establishes towns by committing crimes. Watch out. Your day is coming, and when it comes, it will be swift and final.’
“But as for you who are just, you must live by your faith. Don’t despair. The Lord is still on the throne. Eventually, all the earth will be silenced by Him.”
The Triumph: “Oh Lord. I am awestruck! I am ashamed that I questioned You. I remember all the times in the past when You have delivered Your people. I remember Your wrath at the nations, Your mercy to Your people. But keep reminding me. I remember the times Your glory spread across the heavens. You gave us the rainbow as a promise during one of those times. You parted the waters and delivered Your people; then You drowned a wicked nation who was pursuing. You made the sun stand still while You fought a battle for Your people. You defeated a wicked nation. You rampaged through the nations while you came out to rescue Your people…
“Yes, Lord, I remember those times. I will wait patiently for the day You destroy the enemy for the last time. It may seem right now that things are terrible. Jobs are diminishing; there is drought in many places, causing crops to fail. Trees are dying because of insect infestation; cattle and fowl are being destroyed because of disease. But in all of this, I will praise you. You are my Lord and my strength. Though I feel weak and frightened, I will run like a deer, and jump like an impala. In all this, I will sing praises to the Most High God.”
My conclusion: What did you think? Did you think I made all this up? I didn’t. Read a similar version for yourself. I have quoted just a portion, but read the whole book. Habakkuk is a book of the Bible that a lot of people do not pay much attention to. At least I never have. But I read it recently. Yes, the whole book. It is only three chapters. I was amazed at what I read. It was like reading today’s newspapers.
Habakkuk 3:17, 18
“O Lord, how long shall I cry. And You will not hear? Even cry out to You. “Violence!” And You will not save. Why do You show me iniquity, and cause me to see trouble? For plundering and violence are before me: there is strife, and contention arises. Therefore the law is powerless, and justice never goes forth. For the wicked surround the righteous: therefore perverse judgment proceeds.”
Habakkuk was a prophet during the time when the nation of Judah was nearing its end, possibly during the reign of King Jehoiakim, 609–597 B.C. King Jehoiakim was a godless king. He led Judah down a destructive path. Habakkuk called to the people of Judah continually, to repent, but their sins kept piling up. They repeatedly ignored the prophet’s warning.
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Though the fig tree may not blossom,
Nor the fruit be on the vines;
Though the flocks and herds be cut off from their own fold,
Yet still will I rejoice in the Lord of my salvation.
I will put my trust in Him. He is Divine.
© Helen Dowd
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The Potter
Based on Isaiah 45
Helen Dowd
Woe unto him that striveth with his Maker!
Let the potsherd strive with the potsherds of the earth. Shall the clay say
to him that fashioneth it, What makest thou? or thy work, He hath no hands?
Woe unto him that saith unto his father, What begettest thou?
or to the woman, What hast thou brought forth?
Do you ever stop to question the real reason you’re on earth?
Do you wonder why it is that you were born?
Do you feel you’ve been a failure, and your life has little worth?
Do you view yourself with ridicule and scorn?
Do you look around at others, wishing you could be like them,
When you see the mark in life they seem to make?
Then you gaze into the mirror, and that fellow you condemn;
And you say, “Oh God, You’ve made a grave mistake.”
But remember, God’s the Potter. You are just a lump of clay.
You must never question what He has in mind.
He has formed the earth, the heavens, and the night, as well as day.
He’s created living things of every kind.
Whether you be dull or brilliant–a workman, king, or maid–
Whether you be plain or handsome, short of tall,
It is still the Potter’s doing: He has formed you without aid.
It is God who holds the pattern for us all.
He has made you for a purpose, and He’s called you by your name.
He has formed you by the will of His own hand.
So just look up to your Maker as His greatness you proclaim:
HE’S THE ONLY GOD THERE IS IN ALL THE LAND.
© Helen Dowd
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When we become Christians we can say “Our Father,” for those who receive Christ have the right to become children of God (John 1:12). So then we can look to God as our Father. We are to put our trust in Him in the close, intimate companionship of father and child. We can have a personal sense of His love for us and His interest in us, for He is concerned about us as a father is concerned for His children.
WHO IS YOUR DADDY?
A seminary professor was vacationing with his wife in Gatlinburg, TN. One morning, they were eating breakfast at a little restaurant, hoping to enjoy a quiet, family meal. While they were waiting for their food, they noticed a distinguished looking, white-haired man moving from table to table, visiting with the guests.
The professor leaned over and whispered to his wife, “I hope he doesn’t come over here.” But sure enough, the man did come over to their table.
“Where are you folks from?” he asked in a friendly voice.
“Oklahoma,” they answered.
“Great to have you here in Tennessee” the stranger said. “What do you do for a living?”
“I teach at a seminary,” he replied.
“Oh, so you teach preachers how to preach, do you? Well, I’ve got a really great story for you.” And with that, the gentleman pulled up a chair and sat down at the table with the couple.
The professor groaned and thought to himself, “Great… Just what I need another preacher story!”
The man started, “See that mountain over there? (pointing out the restaurant window). Not far from the base of that mountain, there was a boy born to an unwed mother. He had a hard time growing up, because every place he went, he was always asked the same question, ‘Hey boy, who’s your daddy?
“Whether he was at school, in the grocery store or drug store, people would ask the same question, ‘Who’s your daddy?’ He would hide at recess and lunch time from other students. He would avoid going in to stores because that question hurt him so bad.
“When he was about 12 years old, a new preacher came to his church. He would always go in late and slip out early to avoid hearing the question, ‘Who’s your daddy?’.
But one day, the new preacher said the benediction so fast he got caught and had to walk out with the crowd. Just about the time he got to the back door, the new preacher, not knowing anything about him, put his hand on his shoulder and asked him, ‘Son, who’s your daddy?’
“The whole church got deathly quiet. He could feel every eye in the church looking at him. Now everyone would finally know the answer to the question, “Who’s your daddy’.
This new preacher, though, sensed the situation around him and using discernment that only the Holy Spirit could give, said the following to that scared little boy… “Wait a minute!” he said, “I know who you are, I see the family resemblance now. You are a child of God.” With that he patted the boy on his shoulder, and said, “Boy, you’ve got a great inheritance, go and claim it.” With that, the boy smiled for the first time in a long time and walked out the door a changed person.
He was never the same again. Whenever anybody asked him, ‘Who’s your Daddy?’ he’d just tell them, “I’m a Child of God”
The distinguished gentleman got up from the table and said, “Isn’t that a great story?”. The professor responded that it really was a great story!
As the man turned to leave, he said, “You know, if that new preacher hadn’t told me that I was one of God’s children, I probably never would have amounted to anything!” And he walked away.
The seminary professor and his wife were stunned. He called the waitress over and asked her, “Do you know who that man was who just left that was sitting at our table?”
The waitress grinned and said, “Of course, everybody here knows him. That’s Ben Hooper. He’s the former governor of Tennessee!”
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A WORD WITH YOU
about Easter Eggs
By Ron Hutchcraft
It’s a true story, courtesy of Ida Mae Kempel. The names have been changed. Jeremy was 12 years old but he was only in the second grade, seemingly unable to learn. His body was twisted… his mind was slow… and his teacher, Doris Miller, often became exasperated with his squirming and his grunting noises. But at other times, he spoke pretty clearly and distinctly, as if a spot of light had penetrated the darkness in his brain. No one could have guessed that Jeremy would end up teaching his whole class — and his teacher.
Well, I’m Ron Hutchcraft, and I want to have A Word With You today about “Easter Eggs.”
Doris Miller finally became so exasperated with Jeremy that she asked his parents to come to St. Theresa’s for a consultation. When she explained that it would be better for Jeremy and the other students if he were in a special school, his mother begged for Jeremy to stay where he felt safe.
After they left, the teacher struggled with what to do. She wanted to sympathize with the parents — after all, their only child had a terminal illness. But what about the other students? Well, God did something in her heart that day. She ended up praying for the patience to be what Jeremy needed. From that day on, she tried to ignore his noises and blank stares. One day he limped up to her desk, dragging his bad leg behind him. And out loud, Jeremy exclaimed, “I love you, Miss Miller!” The other students snickered and she was a little embarrassed.
As Easter approached, Doris told her students the story of Jesus, and she emphasized the idea of new life. Then she gave each child a large plastic egg and assigned them to bring it back the next day with something inside the egg that showed new life. The children were all excited — except for Jeremy. Doris saw no signs that he understood. She was going to call his parents that night to explain the assignment — she forgot.
The next morning, 19 children came to school, laughing and talking as they placed their eggs in this large wicker basket on Miss Miller’s desk. Then came the time to open their eggs. One had a flower in her egg, another a plastic butterfly, still another had a rock with moss on it – all symbols of new life. When Doris opened the fourth egg, she just quietly gasped. The egg was empty! It must be Jeremy’s. She was going to quickly set it aside when Jeremy suddenly spoke up. “Miss Miller, aren’t you going to talk about my egg?” Doris said, “But your egg is empty, Jeremy!” He looked into her eyes and said softly, “Yes, but Jesus’ tomb was empty, too! Jesus was killed, but His Father raised Him up!” The recess bell rang… the children ran out to play… and a teacher cried.
Three months later, Jeremy died. Those who paid their respects at the funeral home were surprised by what they saw there. On top of Jeremy’s casket, there were 19 eggs – all of them empty.
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This message from The Daily Encourager was a blessing and an encouragement to me. In childhood I was like Eric Plumb, whose teacher bombarded him with “Eric Plumb is Plain Dumb.” He overcame this remark with an encouraging word from someone else. Words thrown at me in my childhood by teachers often plagued me, too.
But I overcame them. And so can you. Read this poem of mine: MY word of encouragement to you….Helen
When The World Is Turned Against You
When the world is turned against you,
And you think there’s none to care;
When it seems you’re all alone, and feeling blue;
Keep your eyes upon the Shepherd.
You will find Him standing there.
He is waiting: He has always been with you.
When the devil comes to tempt you,
Or he’s caught you in sin’s snare;
When he says that he will never let you go;
Then just turn your back on Satan,
Simply leave him standing there.
The Shepherd waits: He’ll snatch you from your foe.
When you feel your life is hopeless,
Filled with trials and with care;
When you’re burdened down with problems and with stress;
Then just look up to the Shepherd,
Let Him your burdens bear.
He is waiting: He will give you happiness.
© Helen Dowd
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Sometimes It Takes A Dream
Isaiah 44:22 – “I have blotted out, as a thick cloud, thy transgressions, and, as a cloud, thy sins:”
Isaiah 1:18 –– “Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.”
Sometimes it takes a vivid dream to help us see reality. It did for me, not long ago. I had had a bad day, and was extremely tired when I went to bed.
As a child I was plagued with nightmares. They were always the same. I was brought up in a very godly home. My mother was a gentle woman. Her actions, rather than a lot of words, shouted her Christianity. My father, on the other hand, drilled into his children what would happen if we did not follow the Lord. In other words, he was a “hellfire preacher” to us children. We always had prayer before going to bed. And time and time again I would wake up trembling, and in a cold sweat. I dreamed that Jesus had come, and I was left…Even after I had given my heart to the Lord, at the age of eight, I had these nightmares. I would stand at the top of the stairs, afraid to go down, in case my parents had “gone up to heaven”, and I had been left. On a few occasions I got the nerve up to call out to Dad. He always came. We would kneel by my bed and he would ask God to take my nightmare away. Then I would go to sleep, reassured that I was still a child of God.
When I became an adult those nightmares faded out. But on this occasion I woke up in the same old cold sweat. It was then that God gave me the same old assurance that I was still a child of God.
This poem was born as a result of this recent experience.
I had a dream last night.
I stood before the throne.
And on a great wide T.V. screen
My whole life there was shown.
My name was in plain view.
To ALL, God made me known.
I saw before my very eyes
The wicked seeds I’d sown.
I hung my head in shame.
I didn’t like this show.
I saw there all the hidden things
I thought folks didn’t know:
The private, secret thoughts,
Deceits from long ago,
The mean and selfish things I’d done.
The list began to grow.
But then the picture changed.
And on the T.V. screen
I saw Christ walking toward the Throne:
He’d come to intervene.
When God called out my name
I saw Christ step between.
I heard Him say, “I’ve paid the price.”
He’d wiped the record clean.
And now another scene:
The screen was filled with light.
Again my name was written there.
But Christ had set things right.
I stood before the Throne,
Pure in a robe of white.
A lasting memory will remain
Of the dream I had that night.
© Helen Dowd
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Oh God, in Thee I’m trusting,
Trusting in Your Word.
You’ve promised to be near me,
To be my Shield and Guard.
I know that You will keep me
Safe, in Your strong arms.
You’ll shelter and protect me
From danger, and from harm.
So as I journey onward,
With Your hand holding mine,
‘Though life may bring its sorrows,
You’re with me all the time.
Don’t forget, as your walk through life, that Jesus is holding your hand.
© Helen Dowd
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If I Can Do It, So Can You
Psalm 32:8 “I will instruct thee and teach thee in the way which thou shalt go: I will guide thee with mine eye.”
When I started school, I did not know what was expected of me, so I would sit at my desk and cry, or chew on a pencil, an eraser, a ruler, or a crayon. I was what someone once called a “crayon eater.” In other words, I began school not “understanding the rules.”
But whose rules? Do you need rules to become an artist, a musician, a writer?
On my first day of school, not understanding what the teacher expected of me, I just cried, and ate the chalk. Then, as I proceeded to the higher grades, I still did not understand what it was that my “betters” required of me… In the second grade the teacher shook me because I didn’t understand how to add. Well, let me tell you, Mrs. White, since becoming an adult, I have worked as a bookkeeper; and even now, as a senior, I do people’s income tax…. In the fourth grade I was told I read too slowly. Too slowly for what? Did it matter Mrs. Robinson? I still can tell you exactly what grade I was in, and where I was sitting in class, when a certain piece of knowledge entered my brain. Slow to get there? Perhaps, but the knowledge was permanent.
It was in the seventh grade that the teacher told me I gave up too easily, and would never amount to anything. Thanks Mr. McKenzie! But because of a supportive husband, who will never let me give up, I have been able to prove you wrong…My grade eight teacher flung my book across the floor, after reading one of my GOOD stories, telling me that I must have cheated. That couldn’t have been MY story. I wasn’t bright enough to compose anything that intelligent. Well, Mrs. Jordan. If you were living, and I could find you, I would tell you that you were wrong. I have not only composed many stories, but I have written a book, and I write poetry on a regular basis.
In the tenth grade my typing teacher told me I would never make a typist. Wrong again. Not only have I worked as a secretary, I am typing now. Where are you, Mrs. Yand? In heaven, I hope.
I could go on, but the point of this essay is not to tell the world about my accomplishments: they are few. It is to encourage anyone reading this that YOU CAN DO IT. Don’t let anyone discourage you from fulfilling your dreams.
If I CAN DO IT, So Can You!
When life throw its daggers and arrows your way,
Never stagger, nor falter, nor weakness display.
Stand up to your foe. Look him straight in the face.
Don’t let problems beat you, nor cause you disgrace.
It’s YOUR life to rule, so YOU take control.
Keep your eyes straight ahead. Don’t lose sight of your goal.
Psalm 123:1 – “Unto thee lift I up mine eyes. O thou that dwellest in the heavens.”
© Helen Dowd
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When The World Is Turned Against You
When the world is turned against you,
And you think there’s none to care;
When it seems you’re all alone, and feeling blue;
Keep your eyes upon the Shepherd.
You will find Him standing there.
He is waiting: He has always been with you.
When the devil comes to tempt you,
Or he’s caught you in sin’s snare;
When he says that he will never let you go;
Then just turn your back on Satan,
Simply leave him standing there.
The Shepherd waits: He’ll snatch you from your foe.
When you feel your life is hopeless,
Filled with trials and with care;
When you’re burdened down with problems and with stress;
Then just look up to the Shepherd,
Let Him your burdens bear.
He is waiting: He will give you happiness.
© Helen Dowd
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If Only!
by Helen Dowd
If only I could see! If only I could walk, could hear, could enjoy life as others do! If only I could get rid of my disability! If only! If only!
I had a blind friend who expressed to me his desire for sight. He said to me: “I wonder if by putting my faith in God’s hands I might be able to walk without a cane or my guide dog.”
That would be wonderful. And we all have disabilities of one sort or another that we would desire to be free of. And of course, God can and does perform miracles, but on the other hand, He also gives us ailments for a purpose. Even the great Paul, the apostle had a “thorn in the flesh” which he asked God to take away. But God didn’t. He just helped Paul become more dependent on Him because of his weakness, what ever it was. Some people think that Paul’s ailment was an eye problem. The reason they think that is that he had to have someone else write some of his letters. However, what ever it was, I believe God didn’t deliver him from it so that he could be an encouragement to millions down through the ages that have disabilities.
Yes, all things are possible. God can heal us from our disabilities. But what is more important is, He wants us to rely on His love for us to guide us through things. Christ calmed the waters when there was a storm. He could have made it so that there wasn’t a storm in the first place, but He didn’t. He allowed the storm so that He could teach His disciples that He was with them in the storm…And God is with you in your disability, whether it is blindness, deafness, being lame or without useable limbs, or whatever it is. He will always be with you. Although we cannot know why at this time, we will some day know why God allows sickness and disabilities.
I have known a few blind people. Some were great blessings. I knew one woman who lost her sight about 12 years before she died–at nearly 90. Instead of being bitter about it, or moaning the fact that she could no longer see, she SAW things that those of us with eyesight could not. She saw the thoughts of God, as we could not. She saw God’s beauty. She saw the message as she listened to Billy Graham, or other of God’s great servants. She gave off the light of the Lord and she was a blessing to all those around her in the nursing home. And I remember one woman who had never walked, nor talked in all of her forty-five years; yet, she had a constant smile on her face and she would reach out and grasp your hand as you passed by, on your way out of church.
So, despite a physical disability that you may be suffering, you can be a blessing to many. Let God’s light shine from your soul.
May God bless you.
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Thank You, Lord, For Life.
Helen Dowd
Does it often make you angry when the morning alarm clock rings?
If it does, then just remember: What joy your hearing brings!
There are many who are deaf.
Do you close your eyes in the morning, shutting out the daytime light?
If that’s so, then be reminded: Thank God you have your sight!
There are many who are blind.
Do you hug your bed in the morning, pulling the blankets up over your head?
Well, listen to the voice inside you: “You at least can get out of bed!”
There are many who are bedridden.
When your day starts out to be hectic: toast burned, tempers short, voices shrill;
When you long for peace and quiet, remember: “You have your family still.”
There are many who are lonely.
Perhaps your meals are sometimes unbalanced, and your table looks like a fright!
But at least you have food for your stomachs, never going to bed hungry at night.
There are many who are starving.
If you feel your work is monotonous, and you’re often tempted to shirk,
Well then, be reminded: It’s a privilege to be given the opportunity to work.
There are many who have no jobs.
If ever you are tempted to grumble, desiring for riches and fame,
Remember to count all your blessings. If you do, you will then be ashamed.
Thank you Lord, for life.
Every day, be thankful for what you have and who you are.
© Helen Dowd
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The Praying Hands of Durer
Many of us would have seen the picture of The Praying Hands, also present in many Christian homes, but would almost certainly not have heard the moving story behind this popular picture.
Here is the story.
THE STORY BEHIND THE PICTURE OF THE PRAYING HANDS
Back in the fifteenth century, in a tiny village near Nuremberg , lived a family with eighteen children. Eighteen! In order merely to keep food on the table for this mob, the father and head of the household, a goldsmith by profession, worked almost eighteen hours a day at his trade and any other paying chore he could find in the neighborhood.
Despite their seemingly hopeless condition, two of the elder children, Albrecht and Albert, had a dream. They both wanted to pursue their talent for art, but they knew full well that their father would never be financially able to send either of them to Nuremberg to study at the Academy.
After many long discussions at night in their crowded bed, the two boys finally worked out a pact. They would toss a coin. The loser would go down into the nearby mines and, with his earnings, support his brother while he attended the academy. Then, when that brother who won the toss completed his studies, in four years, he would support the other brother at the academy, either with sales of his artwork or, if necessary, also by laboring in the mines.
They tossed a coin on a Sunday morning after church. Albrecht Durer won the toss and went off to Nuremberg .
Albert went down into the dangerous mines and, for the next four years, financed his brother, whose work at the academy was almost an immediate sensation. Albrecht’s etchings, his woodcuts, and his oils were far better than those of most of his professors, and by the time he graduated, he was beginning to earn considerable fees for his commissioned works.
When the young artist returned to his village, the Durer family held a festive dinner on their lawn to celebrate Albrecht’s triumphant homecoming. After a long and memorable meal, punctuated with music and laughter, Albrecht rose from his honored position at the head of the table to drink a toast to his beloved brother for the years of sacrifice that had enabled Albrecht to fulfill his ambition. His closing words were, “And now, Albert, blessed brother of mine, now it is your turn. Now you can go to Nuremberg to pursue your dream, and I will take care of you.”
All heads turned in eager expectation to the far end of the table where Albert sat, tears streaming down his pale face, shaking his lowered head from side to side while he sobbed and repeated, over and over, “No …no….no ..no.”
Finally, Albert rose and wiped the tears from his cheeks. He glanced down the long table at the faces he loved, and then, holding his hands close to his right cheek, he said softly, “No, brother. I cannot go to Nuremberg . It is too late for me. Look … Look what four years in the mines have done to my hands! The bones in every finger have been smashed at least once, and lately I have been suffering from arthritis so badly in my right hand that I cannot even hold a glass to return your toast, much less make delicate lines on parchment or canvas with a pen or a brush. No, brother ….for me it is too late.”
More than 450 years have passed. By now, Albrecht Durer’s hundreds of masterful portraits, pen and silver-point sketches, water colors, charcoals, woodcuts, and copper engravings hang in every great museum in the world, but the odds are great that you, like most people, are familiar with only one of Albrecht Durer’s works. More than merely being familiar with it, you very well may have a reproduction hanging in your home or office.
One day, to pay homage to Albert for all that he had sacrificed, Albrecht Durer painstakingly drew his brother’s abused hands with palms together and thin fingers stretched skyward. He called his powerful drawing simply “Hands,” but the entire world almost immediately opened their hearts to his great masterpiece and renamed his tribute of love “The Praying Hands.” The next time you see a copy of that touching creation, take a second look. Let it be your reminder, that no one – no one – ever makes it alone!
Dear One
Dear one, we do not weep for you.
You’re safe in Jesus’ arms.
You’re walking, talking with your Lord,
free from this world’s harm.
Someday we’ll meet with you again—
when Christ comes back to earth
to claim the souls that, through His blood,
He’s granted his New Birth.
‘ Til then we’ve said our last “goodbye.”
We’ll miss your smiling face.
Your presence added “spice” to life,
your death, a vacant place.
© Helen Dowd