My husband was privileged to travel to Israel in with Dr. Wilbur Williams of Indiana Wesleyan University in 2012.
In 2019, Phil and I went with Lifeway/Lisa Harper/Lysa TerKeurst.
We pray we are able to go to Israel again in September 2024 with a group from Guatemala, Canada and the USA.
My heart was instantly connected to Israel upon entering the Ben Gurion International Airport. The beauty of the Holy Land is difficult to describe in a few sentences. The history, the rituals, the people, the sights, the markets, the food (oh, my, the food), the architecture, the Dead Sea, Qumran, the Jordan River, the Sea of Galilee, the Mediterranean Sea, Jerusalem, Capernaum, the Mount of Olives, The Temple Mount, the Eastern Gate, the Western Wall, the Jewish Quarter, the Bethlehem, Masada, the city of David, the Garden of Gethsemane, The Via Dolorosa, The Garden Tomb, and so much more. It is a beautiful country rich with history of God’s provision and protection.
One of the most moving sites for me was Golgatha, the Place of the Skull, where Jesus was crucified. Even though there are several places various groups claim as Golgatha, the fact remains that Jesus was crucified on a horrible wood cross, died and rose again. Whether it was in this location or that one is not as important as the fact that He died for me and for you and for the world. His body was broken on our behalf.
Our youngest son Alex, his wife Elena and their four kids recently moved to a larger home in Litchfield Park. This wall hanging with the distance to Golgatha was something they asked the previous homeowner to leave. My heart is stirred each time I see it – such a beautiful reminder of Jesus’ love.
Yes, my heart is breaking for the people of Israel. They have experienced betrayal, fighting and killing since the beginning of time. Oh, Israel, may God’s presence and peace reign over you, God’s chosen people and over all of us who have been grafted into his family. I wonder if Jesus’ heart is breaking, too? May we all “Pray for the peace of Jerusalem. May they prosper who love you.” Psalm 122:6
Phil and I were with two of of employees at our office in Laotto – glued to the television. Watching in disbelief as the twin towers and the Pentagon were attacked. I’ll always remember. It was a devastating day with thousands of lives forever changed.
There are some occasions that we will always remember. Every detail. Every word. Every smell. Everything.
September 4, 2023 will be a day I will always remember.
Phil, Paula Kimmel Fenn and I went to visit my childhood friend Donna Beaver Arthur. She was at St Mary Healthcare Center in Lafayette, Indiana.
I’ll remember her smile, laughter and hugs that day. I’ll remember her slowly becoming less verbal after the morphine kicked in. I’ll remember her last words to me, “My babies. My babies”. I believe she wanted me to know she was concerned about her daughters Megan and Rachel, their husbands, her three grandsons and her first granddaughter to be born in October.
I’ll remember the many baseball games with the neighborhood boys on the empty lot next to my house on Nolen Drive. I’ll remember playing army in the ditch and on the hill next to Becky Mersereau’s house. And the many days and nights I spent at her house across the street from mine, hanging out in her awesome tree house and the hours we talked, laughed and cried together. I’ll remember the times we cut and “frosted” each other’s hair. I’ll remember when her mom was extremely angry with me because I gave Donna a pixie cut. But, hey, she asked me to do it. I’ll remember the summers we spent basking in the sun at the Westlake Beach Club and prepping for the dances on Sunday and Wednesday nights. I’ll remember the countless hours talking about the boys we liked. I’ll remember my first kiss in the 9th grade that happened at her house. I didn’t like it and told Donna I never wanted to kiss another boy again. Obviously, that changed.
I’ll remember the countless slumber parties at Danielle Terry’s, Paula Kimmel Fenn’s and Cindy Masterson Soleri’s houses. I’ll remember going to football and basketball games and sitting together in the Giant Dolls cheer section. I’ll remember seeing Three Dog Night, Chicago and the Doobie Brothers with her at the Coliseum at the State Fairgrounds. We sang every song at the top of our lungs. I’ll remember our graduation day from Ben Davis High School. I’ll remember her visits to see me at Ball State. I’ll remember being bridesmaids in Cindi Bright Pokrana’s wedding and our many class reunions. I’ll remember not seeing each one another for months and when we would get together our hair cuts and color would be the same – and we hadn’t talked about it. Phil is still blown away by how many times that happened through the years.
I’ll always remember the day when Donna told me she had cancer. Honestly, I thought she would beat it. She had to. I mean I prayed for her healing and she has a new granddaughter coming in October.
But I also remember that I am not God. I don’t understand His ways but I trust Him. I trust Him because He loves Donna even more than I do. I trust that she is with Him and is no longer suffering. No more pain. No more procedures. No more morphine. No more chemo. No more radiation. Donna is free and enjoying being with her Savior.
Yes, I’ll always remember September 4, 2023 and my precious friend Donna.
May we always remember that Jesus died for me and you. May we remember how much He cares. May you rest in His sweet care, my precious Donna. I believe I see you again someday in His holy presence. I will always remember you.
It’s been an emotional few weeks. A childhood friend is been battling brain and lung cancer. Another friend’s young grandson has been in and out of the Cincinnati Children’s Hospital since January 2023. Still another friend’s grandson is facing the struggles of Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy. Another young person is undergoing tests to determine what is going on in their body. A broken relationship is still broken after ten years of praying for healing. A precious friend who shares my love of Jesus and Guatemala is undergoing treatments for breast cancer. A week ago, while knocking the spider webs off of our windows, I fell backward over a concrete step and hurt my ribs, arm, knee and toe. I cried. It hurt. Thank God the x-rays determined there were no broken bones. I feel like crying just thinking of the pain a week later. And the list goes on…
Maybe you are experiencing crazy emotional days or weeks – or even months or years. It’s not easy, is it? Sometimes you just need to cry.
A good cry can cleanse my mind and soul. Oh, does anyone cry pretty? Not me. Not even close but my puffy eyes, red nose and pile of tissues take me one step closer to my Heavenly Father.
After the cry, even if I don’t want to, I praise God and thank Him for His faithful, unending love. It is when I choose to praise that His healing begins. Praises like: Thank you, God, that it wasn’t worse. Thank you, God, for chemotherapy and medicines. Thank you, God, for hospitals and caring doctors and nurses. Thank you, Lord, for hospice care. Thank you, Lord, that my bones aren’t broken. Thank you, God, for your sweet peace in the midst of fearful situations. Thank you, God, for your Son Jesus. Thank you that He died for my sins especially since I don’t deserve it. Thank you for being fair, Heavenly Father, when life does not seem fair.
So, my friends, go ahead and have a good cry. Don’t be ashamed to cry. God loves you and your tears are precious to Him. In Psalm 56:8, David penned these words when he was going through a dark, difficult time in his life: “You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book” (NLT). Imagine that! God records our tears and keeps them in a bottle. He cares!
May you cry out to Jesus. May your tears bring healing to your broken, troubled heart. May you understand how much you are loved. By the way, I am encouraged by writing these words. It’s amazing how God can use our crying for our good.
Phil and I saw the movie the Sound of Freedom this past weekend. We’ve delayed seeing it out of fear it would be too emotional to handle. God had been nudging my heart to not let this opportunity pass so I had to see it.
It was horrifying and sickening. The language was as raw. There were violent moments, It depicted the reality of what trafficked people endure. Trafficking is ugly. I didn’t cry although tears welled up a couple of times during the movie. We left the theater dealing with a myriad of emotions. We felt sad, grateful and hopeful all at the same time.
Sad because of the events the young children and their father had to endure. Sad because people are purchased for other peoples’ pleasures or gain. Sad because there are still many people caught in the web of human trafficking. Sad because the hearts of men and women are hard.
Grateful because people like Tim Ballard are willing to risk their lives to rescue others. Grateful because this story had a “happy ending” for one family. Grateful because actions are being taken to crack down and stop human trafficking.
Hopeful because there are people who care and are doing something to change this situation. Hopeful because God can heal the hearts, minds and bodies of victims. Hopeful because God can use ordinary people like you and me to educate our circles of influence. Hopeful because there are organizations (IJM, A21, Unbound, Operation Underground Railroad, Purchased and Hookers for Jesus, Destiny Rescue, etc.) who are hell-bent on saving children, teens, women and men from the evils of trafficking.
I especially love this line from the movie, “God’s children are not for sale”. If you have not seen this movie, I encourage you to do so. Let Hollywood, social media influencers and the world know that you want trafficking stopped now and that “God’s children are not for sale!”
May we educate our children so they don’t fall prey to traffickers. May God save his children, young and old, from the evils of trafficking. May those who are involved be exposed and brought to justice. May we use our influence to uncover this hidden evil. May human trafficking end because we care.
Info: The National Human Trafficking Hotline number is 888-373-7888.
If you are wondering why I haven’t posted an Inspire essay for several weeks, here’s the reason why. Drum roll, please….I am working on my first book. Since April 2024 is a milestone birthday, my goal is to have a devotional in print to celebrate – 70 devotionals for the gift of 70 years of life. Yikes! I remember when I thought 70 year olds were ancient.
Your prayers are appreciated especially for God to give me words to inspire readers to love and follow him to the end.
Also, if you have a favorite Inspire essay, please message me so I can be sure to include it in the book.
And while I have you here, I can’t leave you without a dose of God’s Word. Let’s soak up and ponder these words from our Savior.
Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. ~ John 14:6. (No matter what others may say, Jesus is the only way.)
In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven. ~ Matthew 5:16. (No matter what others may do, let your light shine so others will see Jesus.)
May we follow hard after Jesus and shine like crazy because our world desperately needs him.
Remembering May 15, 1987. May God heal every broken heart who reads my story. He has healed mine.
Note: This post was originally written in 1987. I have re-written it over the years. God’s truth still stands. He is good and He is faithful. I pray my God-story will bring healing to anyone who has lost a baby, child or loved one. It is a long post but hopefully worth it.
Today is the anniversary of an event that feels like it happened yesterday. Thirty-two years ago, God worked in ways I did not anticipate or expect. Let me take you back.
Phillip Troyer and I had four children when we were blessed with the news of a baby to be born in September of 1987. I had a routine exam on Monday, May 11, 1987. Arriving at the doctor’s office for an early morning appointment, I was a pro at this routine check-up stuff. I’d been through it four times and new exactly what to expect. Weigh-in, blood pressure check, urinalysis, stethoscope, monitor to hear the baby’s heart beat – but today was different.
The nurse couldn’t find a heart beat. She repositioned me and repositioned me. I didn’t think too much about it until I looked at her face. She called in my doctor and he tried. Nothing. No heart beat. Dr. Graham asked his nurse to schedule an ultrasound asap.
I felt ill. I couldn’t believe this was happening. This had to be a nightmare and I would wake up to life as usual. There had to be a heartbeat.
The ultrasound was scheduled for three hours later. Those three hours were the longest of my life. I prayed. I cried. I begged. I cried more. I prayed more.
Then it was time. I entered the ultrasound room. The technician applied the cold gooey cream on my growing tummy and began the procedure. She gently moved the device across my mid section. I could see our tiny baby on the screen. The tech wasn’t allowed to tell me the results. But she didn’t have to. I saw. I knew. No movement. Our lifeless baby.
Dr. Graham came in and took my hand. His eyes said it all and then the words, “I’m sorry.” “Kathy, do you want to wait for the baby to abort naturally or do you want to schedule an inducement?” I could hardly take in what I was hearing. Naturally abort or be induced? I was suffocating. This didn’t happen to me – I got pregnant – I had babies – I took babies home – I held babies in my arms. That’s what is supposed to happen. Just not this time.
I called Phil at work from my doctor’s office. He asked if I was okay. I lied. I wasn’t okay. After we discussed our options, I asked Dr Graham to schedule the inducement for Friday, May 15. We chose this direction since we had four other children and did not want the loss to occur at a time when I was alone with the them.
Leaving the doctor’s office, I fell into the driver’s seat of my van, turned the radio to The WBCL Radio Network and sobbed. I heard a soothing voice on the radio. Dr. Chuck Swindoll was speaking. “Whatever you are hanging on to with a closed fist, let it go. Release your grip. It’s in the letting go that God can fill you up again.” I thought for sure he was talking directly to me. “Open your hands, Kathy. Open your arms.”
God ministered to me that day in 1987 through Chuck Swindoll via radio waves. “Let go, Kathy. Let go, of this little one that you have been carrying for five months. I love this child even more than you do. Your child is in my arms. Now let me fill your arms with my love and peace.”
I honestly don’t know how I drove back to our house in Laotto that day.
Later that evening, we gathered our children on the couch. Scott, Kelly, Matt & Eric cried when we told them. Our loss was their loss, too. My heart ached seeing their sorrow.
On Friday, May 15, 1987, Phil and I drove to Parkview Hospital on Randalia Drive. The 20-minute drive felt like hours. I don’t think we talked much that morning. We were numb. We were broken. We didn’t know how we would get through this painful event.
We checked in and were taken up to the maternity floor. Sounds of mothers, babies, fathers and grandparents filled the hallways. I was given an IV to begin the inducing process.
Eight hours later, Katie Lynn Troyer, was handed to us. She was so tiny. So fragile. Perfectly formed. A precious little girl.
Our nurse, Amy, who I swear was an angel, held my hand and cried with us. Dr. Graham sat on the edge of the bed and held my hand as well. He said, “We don’t know why this happened. Only God knows for sure.” He expressed sympathy and asked if we wanted to remain on this floor or move to a non-baby floor. We chose the non-baby floor for my overnight stay. I didn’t think I could handle hearing the cries of little ones when my arms were empty.
The next morning, we were dismissed and I kept thinking, “I can’t do this, Lord. I can’t leave here with empty arms. Why can’t we leave here with a healthy baby like the previous four times? It’s not supposed to be this way.” Phil was sent to retrieve our car. The nurse helped me into the wheel chair so I could be taken downstairs.
As I was being wheeled down the hospital floor toward the elevator, I cried out to the Lord, “I can not leave here with empty arms. Help me, please.”
We approached the elevator door when a young volunteer called out, “Mrs. Troyer! Mrs. Troyer! Wait, I have something for you.” She placed something in my arms saying, “I was worried I would miss you. I’m glad you are still here”.
Tears flooded my eyes as I read the little card. It said, “With much love and deepest sympathy from your Laotto Wesleyan Church family and friends.”
I held in my arms – a vase – filled with the most beautiful tiny pink rosebuds. Tears of gratitude to my Heavenly Father trickled down my cheeks. I let go of a baby girl and God filled my empty arms with His love in the form of tiny pink rosebuds.
That card along with her hospital bracelet and other memorabilia are tucked away in a small box as a reminder of God’s love.
Friends, I don’t know what you are clutching with your fist but whatever it is, let it go. It may be the toughest thing you’ve ever had to do – but release your grip. Open your hands. Let God fill you with His love. With His peace. With His care. Trust me, with His help and over time the pain will ease – the sorrow will lessen – the grief will subside.
May God comfort you, my sweet friends, in your difficult situation. I’ve found it’s in the letting go that we fully experience Him. May God help us let go of whatever is keeping us from knowing Him and living fully for Him. May He comfort us in our brokenness. May He fill our arms with blessings beyond our wildest dreams.
“And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 4:7
“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” Romans 15:13
While sitting around an outdoor table one evening at my son and daughter-in-law’s house in Indy, they seemed to be annoyed about something. They were hearing a horrible high pitch noise but Phil and I could not hear it. They couldn’t believe we couldn’t. Others there that night could hear it. Everyone except for Phil and me – the oldest persons there.
Two of my friends were recently fitted for hearing aids. Since wearing the devices, they are hearing sounds they’ve never heard before such as weird refrigerator noises and the ticking of a wall clock. They were surprised at how much they were not hearing prior to their aids.
Our family doctor recommended getting our hearing tested at age 65. Well, we have gone a few years beyond 65 and still haven’t scheduled those appointments. Not knowing much about hearing aids, I will rely on my friends’ advice when it comes to that time. According to Forbes Magazine the Jabra Enhanced are ranked #1 for 2023. Do you have an opinion?
Just like my friends’ ticking clock they had not heard, God can be speaking to us and we don’t hear him. Maybe it is because we are focused on the dailyness of life or we are choosing to not hear him. His voice is rarely audible but he nudges our soul and we know it. He speaks to us in a variety of ways. Through a Bible verse. A song at church. A pastor’s message. A devotional book. A movie. A friend’s laughter (or tears). A grandchild’s innocent “I love you, Mimi”.
He’s always speaking to us. While cleaning the house, taking a shower, riding a bike, walking along the rim of the Grand Canyon, at a funeral, sitting in the carpool line, at a wedding, at the hospital, weeding a garden, folding laundry, changing a flat tire, changing a dirty diaper, at the office weekly meeting, taking out the trash. Sometimes we hear him. And sometimes we choose not to.
Admittedly, I have turned off my listening at times and soon realize what a mistake that is. I want to hear him more. I want to be in tune with his voice. Hearing his voice over the noise of life can be a soothing salve. To be sure I am not missing anything, it’s necessary to turn off more.
“Whoever is of God hears the words of God. The reason why you do not hear them is that you are not of God.” John 8:47 “Therefore we must pay much closer attention to what we have heard, lest we drift away from it.” Hebrews 2:1
May our ears be tuned to hear him over the chaos. May we want to hear him.
Now, I think it’s about time to schedule that hearing test, How about you?
Some of my favorite places to listen to the sound of water are:
Lounging on a beach as the waves crash on the shore.
Sitting on our AZ patio next to the fountain as it gently splashes on to the rocks.
At a pool, watching the grandkids while they jump, dive and splash.
Relaxing in our daughter’s hot tub.
Rocking on our balcony while the Wigwam Golf Course sprinklers water the greens.
Laughing as the grandkids play in our “hillbilly pool” a/k/a Phil’s pick-up truck lined with a blue tarp.
Water is refreshing. Water is soothing. Water is cleansing. Water is life. In fact one of the most meaningful times in my life involved water. It was the summer of 1979 at my in-laws pond in Laotto, Indiana. I was baptized along with several friends from Laotto Wesleyan Church (now Cultivate Church). The sound of water as I went under and as I emerged was thrilling. I felt energized to live a life committed to Jesus. It’s a decision I’ve never regretted.
And guess what? God’s word tells us that there will be water in heaven. Isn’t he a good God!
“Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city.” Revelation 22:1-2
May our lives always be blessed by the sound of water. Even if it is in a bathtub! Have a great week!
March Madness. Exhilaration and disappointment. Purdue’s run to the Final Four is over. The Boilermakers were knocked out by 16th seed Fairleigh Dickinson University. Stunned, sad, maybe a little mad and definitely disappointed.
A mutual Purdue fan friend texted today to ask how I was doing after the loss. I told her how I felt. She and her husband did a “basketball free” Saturday after Friday’s loss. That was a smart move. I should have done the same but I couldn’t not watch the other games.
I’ve noticed: *Some people get quiet when disappointed. *Some people get angry. *Some people mope. *Some people pout. *Some people do something productive like my friends did.
Admittedly, I do not like being around the middle three types people. Angry, mopers, pouters. I prefer those who are quiet or busy being productive.
There are more serious life changing events that bring disappointment. Death, serious illness, divorce, bankruptcy, addictions, broken relationships to name a few. I’m learning to focus on the blessings God has poured on me and to thank Him for everything especially when I am disappointed. I choose to trust God no matter what. When I reach out to someone else who is hurting, I receive a blessing. Oh, I am far from being perfect dealing with disappointment and I’ve blown it many times.
So, how do you handle disappointment?
May we run to God in our disappointments. May we not be grumpy or mean. May we trust Him when our expectations do not become reality. May we extend grace to those who disappoint us as we pray they show us grace when we disappoint them.
Now, let’s go Michigan State – the only B1G team left in the tourney! Sorry little bro, Chris. I can’t cheer yet for your University of Tennessee Volunteers!
March Madness begins this week! It is my favorite time of the year as you probably already know. Purdue won the B1G tourney on Sunday and is the #1 seed in the NCAA east bracket. My basketball-loving heart is so happy.
Typically, I will be watching two to three games at the same time using my phone, laptop and television. I will be sporting my Purdue t-shirts and screaming for the Boilermakers. I will be keeping my bracket up-to-date. NCAA basketball is awfully dang fun but it is not the most important thing in my life today, tomorrow, this week, this year. When it comes to the end of the day, the only thing that matters is my relationship with Jesus and how I love/treat the people He loves – which by the way is everyone.
One of my beautiful daughters-in-law (a Purdue graduate) doesn’t follow basketball or any sport for that matter. It just is not in her wheelhouse. My husband watches games with me but he is not the one who keeps abreast of match ups and game times. It is hard for me to comprehend especially since they both hail from Indiana – the greatest basketball state (according to me). It’s probably a good thing he’s not a maniac like me. Someone has to remain calm.
I love that God has wired me the way I am with a passion for March Madness. I also love that He’s given me a boldness to be open about my faith in Him. I want to cheer for Him and to be grateful for everything that has happened in my life – the good as well as the bad. He has taught me much about His faithfulness, provision, mercy, protection, grace and redemption through it all.
Jesus replied: “’Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.” Matthew 22:37
So, dear friends, enjoy these next few weeks of watching powerhouses vs underdogs. Cheer on your favorite team and may the most important thing in your life be your relationship with our God. He is the champion and wins no matter who is playing.
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