Water of Life

by Linda Hagen

I know a truth. You probably know it as well. God is always with us. He is there when we don't or can't see, when there is loss and lack. When we can't reconcile the circumstance, He is still with us.

Around the time that our son died, during our great grief, this region of the country experienced what was deemed an exceptional drought. The worst kind. The great storehouses of water that God has collected below the Earth's surface seemed to be slowly failing.  We couldn't actually  see there below, but we lived with the consequence. Fear, doubt, suffering, searching. A creeping desperation slowly drying up hope and faith, and all the while wondering, " Where is the good in this?"

Because water is essential for life here on Earth, humans notice immediately when there is not enough. We suffer, we fear for our lives. Oh, that we would regard the "Living Water",  Christ himself, with the same desperate need.

We often take both waters for granted until there is a drought of circumstance or soul.

Here in Hagens Holler, our water comes from a spring down the hill below our house. Water comes from the great storehouses below that we cannot see and then "springs up" to the surface. We did not have to dig or drill. It has just been provided for the taking, like a gift. Life itself.  Living water.

For as long as anyone around here could remember, a little stream of clean, pure spring water flowed out of a cavelike hole in the side of the mountain. At the opening of the cave, a small pool lined with rocks, like a sink , had formed.

We placed the end of  a waterline into the little  pool and the water flowed through the line into a 700 gallon tank. A  pump placed in the tank pumped the water uphill through another line into our home. Not until you could actually see the water all collected in the tank,  could you really appreciate the enormous volume of water that was provided, year after year. It only had to be collected in the one vessel in order for us to use it. In fact, the spring would fill the collection tank to overflowing. We placed a short overflow pipe into the tank wall on the other end, near the top. When the tank was full to overflowing, the water would shoot out of the overflow pipe onto the ground and on down the hill. We could not actually see the water flowing through the line into the tank,  so in order to check that the water was flowing properly into the tank, we only had to look to see that it was flowing out of the overflow pipe on the other end. Water out means water in.

Then came the grief of an exceptional drought. The worst kind.

The small stream flowing from the cave gradually slowed. The collection tank often was only half full. No overflow. Our closest neighbor on down the mountain ran out of water when his own spring completely dried up. The creek that runs through our property dried up. How could it be that the great storehouses of water below are failing?  Fear and doubt increased as the water decreased. We ourselves were drying up,  just waiting for the rain.

Just as we got to the desperation point of rationing water on a daily basis and buying drinking water from the store, my husband came into the house and said. "I have discovered a new spring. It doesn't look like much, just a muddy hole about 100 feet from the old spring, but when I dug it out with the shovel, water came right out of the ground."

We dug it out some more, forming a new little sink and lined it with rocks. We went to look at it every day, and every day the little sink was full of the life giving water springing up right out of the ground. (This water ignored the fact that there was no rain and that this was an exceptional drought. A  demonstration of true and humbling  power.)

So we took the end of the water line out of the old spring and moved it to the new spring. The water flowed through the line into the collection tank. Truly a miracle. Once again the tank was filled to overflowing, shooting  out of the overflow pipe on the other end. We attached another waterline onto the overflow pipe and connected it all the way down the hill into our neighbors collection tank, providing him with essential water that gives life. The new way to check and see if water was properly flowing into our tank was to look at the overflow pipe on our neighbors tank. If the water of life was flowing out of our neighbors tank, it told us that life was flowing in to our tank. Water out means water in.  Do you see it?

Eventually, the drought ended, but the old spring never came back. To this day, the new, little spring provides all our water and plenty for the neighbor. Without fail.

When we are suffering and can't see the sense of a thing and certainly not the good, God is there. In the drought, he is there. I always wonder if that little, muddy spring just came up from the earth right then, or had it always been there, unnoticed,  until our time of desperate need?

Over time, the eternal Living Water continues to heal our souls, and everyday we are reminded joyfully of His ever faithful Presence- just by turning on the faucet.

Road Revealed

by Linda Hagen

I found a new road last week. More accurately, I discovered an old road that I had not seen before. While on a walkabout, I paused to catch my breath, and there it was. Revealed.

Sure, there were big trees and brush growing within its boundaries, but the old wheel ruts were still faintly visible. The natural slope of the mountainside subtly interrupted. Yup. It was a road alright. Like a truth revealed, once I saw it, I could not "unsee"it. "Come and follow me," the road beckoned. "Have courage. Have faith."

This was not the first revealed road in my life here in this mountainside "kingdom." There have been many. Some remain from when the property was timbered decades ago. Others, much older and only faintly visible, are left over from times past when there were vast orchards tended by men with mules and two wheeled carts. In some places there are stones piled up just so, used to provide stability along the roads where fruit trees grew. It is said that the stones may have been placed there by slaves so long ago. And of course, everywhere are the wildlife trails traversed daily by the natural inhabitants.

Who has gone here before, I wonder as I wander. Loggers, mountain folk, laborers, freemen and slave, and before that, The Native American hunter. Sometimes, I find evidence of them left like little signs along the way. A rusty rifle barrel, an iron wheel, a stone foundation. What joys were theirs to discover? What obstacles were theirs to suffer?

The mountain has been here from the beginning. 

Trekking ever upward, one notices that the roads crisscross back and forth over each other, forming intersections of old and older, the narrow way and the wide open, the obvious and the obscure, the sunlit and the shadowed. The wanderer must decide-left or right? Forward or turn back? Standing at an intersection, there is no clear indication of all that lies ahead in any direction.

I have come to think of these roads as chapters in a life. The glorious, the shocking, and the everyday. But never what you expected when you started out. I have, however, learned a profound truth. All roads  in the kingdom eventually lead to the top of the mountain; an otherwordly place graced with ancient trees, giant rock slabs, and cushions of grass. On the top there is rest for the body and relief for the soul. Peace floats in on the breeze like a gift , carrying with it hope for God's eternal plan, in defiance of everything going on down below.  His presence is thick all around. I don't yet make my home on the top, but I visit often. I look forward to the day when all who lived and died here in the kingdom will gather there.

In the winter when all seems bleak and lifeless is actually the best time for a liferoad walk. One sees further and more clearly through the trees. What might be revealed? Sometimes, I like to go "offroad" and just take off across the mountainside, exploring as I go.

Once, coming across the faintest of game trails, I followed it to discover a secret clearing known only to the deer. Perfection complete with a rock cliff, trickling waterfall and green moss carpeting.  Circle depressions in the grass told of the deer that had slept there the night before.

A glorious secret. Revealed!

Another time, following a beckoning life road, the road abruptly ended. I went on a good ways through the trees expecting to find a cross road, a way to the top, but rock cliffs blocked the way.

I turned back, intending to return to the road, but absolutely could not find it. Being strong, I decided to go straight up. Slippery slopes, hidden holes, sliding rocks, and saw briars that tear at the flesh met me at every step. Losing my footing, I slid out of control down the steep and rocky slope. Stomach churning, head spinning fear took over. My descent ended abruptly at a tree. Fear and Regret  said, "How did this happen? You have never been in this situation before. You have lost your way! What will happen now? How will you find your way?  You should have turned left early on, not right. Maybe this wouldn't have happened at all."

Getting up (you've got to get up) I tried to collect myself, but the shock of it all caused me to lose my bearings. The familiar landmarks were not where they belonged. Taking a new direction, I found a crossroad. All roads in the kingdom eventually lead to the top, and I found myself there.   ( It was not far at all.) I arrived battered and bruised, cut and bleeding, but reassurance waited for me there. Hope floated in on the breeze. Bearing and perspective slowly returned, though scars remain.

Having lived in this kingdom for many years, I still don't know the answers to some of the basic questions. Do I claim a victorious road and exult in my cleverness (a gift from God) at the revealed secret place of the deer. Did I choose the path or was I led there, allowing the gift of discovery.

On the other hand, how do I explain being blindsided by loss and falling so far? Did I choose that road, or was it chosen for me? Why?

This I do know. All roads in the Kingdom eventually lead to the mountaintop.

So now, I am contemplating this newly discovered road. I cannot know what glorious secrets or grave dangers wait. Who has gone before and what signs did they leave along the way to cheer me on? "Have courage, have faith" the road beckons.

Yes, I will explore the newly revealed road. I know where it ends.

The Buddy Beagle Song

This is the absolutely true story of Buddy the Beagle. It was originally written as lyrics to a spoken song, in the style of Johnny Cash. When you read it to the children at Christmas time, try to use your very best Southern accent. Christmas Blessings to you and yours from Hagen's Holler, NC.  -Linda Hagen

I was drivin' on Vashti Road one night, in the cold and blowin' snow. It was Christmas time and I was tryin' to git home. I come 'round the curve, and what's that I see? A little bitty pup, a shiverin' in the cold, just a settin' on the double yeller line. Right there in the middle of Vashti Road.

It was Christmastime. What else could I do? I parked my pickup on the double yeller, got out and knelt down, and tried to coax him near. Well that was one scared pup-he backed away. It was then I heard, comin' round the curve, a big semi truck just a bearin' down on us. "That driver cain't see!" I said to the pup."This is your last chance! You better come with me, or we'll both be mashed on this double yeller line! Right here in the middle of Vashti Road."

Well, I guess that pup understood my meanin'. He jumped in my arms, I jumped in my truck, the big rig drove past, and we were on our way home. Me and the Beagle. Buddy Beagle.

Have dead from the cold, he wouldn't eat, so I wrapped in a blanket and put him by the heat, and I asked the Lord to keep him through the night. And then I said, "Little Buddy-you're in His hands now."

Come next mornin', I didn't know what I'd find. I unwrapped that blanket and I had to smile. There were two little Beagle eyes a lookin' back at me.

Well, Buddy grew strong. He became my friend! The best little dog I ever did have. We walk, and talk, and play together. Sometimes we sing! (He likes to be tenor.)       He never chews stuff up nor pees on the rug. Oh, once in awhile he smells a little bad, but so do we all. So I forgive him, 'cause he's my buddy. Buddy Beagle.

Now the funny thing 'bout this story is- the night before I found Buddy, I made a Christmas wish list, just for fun. And on the top o' that list, #1, I wrote down - PUPPY!

Now a beagle is not what I had in mind. I wanted a dog more elegant in kind. One with tall long legs and a matchin' pedigree. But that ain't what was settin' on the double yeller line.  Right there in the middle of Vashti Rd.

There's a lesson here, I learned from Buddy. I'll tell it to you, if you're ready, and you got ears to hear. Are you ready?

When you pray and God gives you a Beagle, don't pass it by 'cause you want somethin' better. The Lord knows you, and what you need right then. So be thankful! Be greatful! And keep your eyes open! You never know what you might find just a settin' on the double yeller line. Right there in the middle of Vashti Road.

Cat Wisdom

by Linda Hagen

I accidently eavesdropped on a discussion the other day, between my dog and my cat. They were lazing about on the big front porch in the sun, and didn't know I was listening from just around the corner.  I've been favored before on rare occasions, to hear such conversations amongst my animal friends. I've always felt privileged to share in their secrets and am always stunned by their perspective and wisdom.

Unity On Division Street

by Linda Hagen

As you read this story (which is true by the way, as are all my stories), you might think to yourself, "Obviously this is a story illustrative of the illegal immigration situation, or the end of Apartheid in South Africa, or Christianity in America, or the children of Israel wandering in the desert, or New Life Church, or life controlling additions.

And you could be right.

Free Your Navel

by Linda Hagen

I have been enJOYing what seems to be the newness at New Life recently.  I find the teachings about being the blessing particularly refreshing.  Serving others goes a long way towards freeing the mind from the culture of navel gazing ad nausem, so popular today, especially in modern church culture.

McAngels

by Linda Hagen

My wait at the traffic signal seemed interminable. Sweat ran down my face on this, the fifth day in a row of suffocating July temperatures.  My water jug was empty, my truck's AC was on the fritz, and my mood was growing more foul by the moment. I endured my time in the red light purgatory by studying the McDonald's billboard across the road.


There, featured in all its glory was... a chocolate shake.  An extreme close up of the twelve foot tall shake showed little rivulets of water running down the outside of the cup. So cool to the fingertips. Inside the cup, well, inside was that heavenly, chocolaty, thick, cold creamy shake, guaranteed to slake the thirst and soothe the soul. And there was the McDonald's, right around the corner.

Why Are You a Christian?

by Linda Hagen

We met Martin at one of our prison ministry meetings.  There was something about him—a certain  humble, inner confidence.  The kind that comes from knowing.  Uncommon in prison.

We structured our meetings much like a home group, pretty casual, and not too "churchy."  Martin seemed genuinely pleased and eager to see us and added a real depth of spiritual insight to our discussions about the Kingdom of Christ. Over time, we learned that he was a college educated man.  Although born and raised in the USA, he read, spoke, and wrote two middle-Eastern languages. 

Clarity at the Clothesline

by Linda Hagen

Twitterin' birds and buzzin' bees inspired a foray through the junk drawer to find the old clothespins.  This perfect spring day called for hanging freshly washed white sheets outside in the backyard-something I don't normally do.

Morning sun was making its way through the trees on the mountain as I completed my sheet hanging task and propped up the line with a pole.  Warming, soft breezes came to help and swayed the line gently back and forth.

Obedience Training

by Linda Hagen

During my many years as a professional dog trainer, I once had the privilege of teaching Amanda Grace Woods how to train her lovely little Sheltie dog. Amanda is the daughter of New Life's own Dave and Sandra Woods. (Sandra is now living in the presence of the Lamb.)  Amanda was a good student and trained her dog well.  Now grown and raising her own family, she was and is, a Godly young woman. (Nice training, Dave and Sandra)

After each of our dog training lessons, I would give Amanda a homework sheet to use and keep as a reference.  Here is the homework I assigned on the occasion of her thirteenth birthday.