Summary: Courage does not always ROAR! Sometimes real courage finds a quiet place, and rest, and listens for the quiet voice at the ending of the day, and purpose within the heart, "I WILL TRY AGAIN TOMORROW!"
HEAVY? LIFE SEEMS SO HEAVY?
By Wade Martin Hughes, Sr. Kyfingers@aol.com
Sometimes Christmas, sickness, and life can be SO HEAVY? WHAT CAN I DO?
Isaiah 61:3 (quickview)  To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they may be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, THAT HE MAY BE GLORIFIED.
5. For His anger endureth but a moment; in His favor is life; weeping may endure for the night, but joy cometh in the morning.
II. Heavy, life is so heavy. Why? Why is this so heavy?
Well, I can never understand? I just can’t figure it out?
Seems all I see is the little picture, and this piece to the puzzle doesn’t belong in my big dream? This little picture seems to hide or at least distort the bigger.
THAT HE MAY BE GLORIFIED ... is my heart today.
III. DEFINE HEAVY:
having great weight; hard to bear; of weighty importance; serious; deep; profound;
grievous; down by something oppressive; lackinfg sparkle; dulled with weariness;
IV. DEENNA’S POEM:
There is a poem that has ministered to me, and it came to me by a strange path.
There was a lady named Deenna. She was in the resthome.
She had cancer of the brain and they removed the right side of her skull and the
brain behind it. Her left side of her body was totally paralyzed, her left eye was blind,
and she would almost turn your stomach if you really looked at her.
She sang or read 10 hours a day. Her singing was not pretty to the ear, but she was special
to the heart. Her vision was so poor that the song book had to be in her face.
She would sing one song, flip the page and sing the next song. She would sing through the book.
The first song I heard Deenna sing was, HOW BEAUTIFUL HEAVEN MUST BE,
sweet home of the happy and free, fair haven of rest for the weary, how beautiful heaven must be.
I stood in the hallway of the resthome and cried. This lady was in a fetal position, and out of that
ball of human flesh came a sound that soothed a weary preacher.
I stood in the doorway on her blind side and enjoyed her high shrill voice praising God.
I started to speak to her, but she started singing another song, ONE DAY AT A TIME SWEET JESUS,
that is all I am asking from you ... teach me today, show me the way one day at a time.
I saw Jesus with Deenna and she ministered to my heart. Over the next 8 years Deanna became
a well of living water to me. Deanna’s husband left, her handsome son was in the Army and seldom,
very seldom came home. So, little cripple, singing Deenna was forgotten by the world.
But Deanna often refreshed me when I was tired and low in spirits.
Deanna quoted this poem to me many times, as her memory faded more and more,
Deanna would read this poem to me with the one eye focused on a big printed copy.