Respite for the Remnant

Encouragement in such a time as this

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  • Honoring Old Sam the Poetry Man

    It is the glory of God to conceal a thing: but the honour of kings is to search out a matter. (Proverbs 25:2 KJV)

    As I recall,

    his name was Sam.

    He came to the neighborhood prayer group

    once in awhile,

    slow on his cane,

    gnarled fingers clenching

    a well-worn KJV

    mottled and creased, yet

    kept safe from

    time, tempest (and tears?)

    –one could only imagine

    his years.

    When the rest of us had finished

    laying down our aches and pains,

    prodigals and praise,

    on the altar of the

    community room sanctuary,

    Sam carefully

    peeled open

    a creased paper

    wedged in the pages of the book.

    His verses

    –etched by fading eyesight–

    came from some recent revelation

    in Psalms, epistles,

    Numbers or narratives,

    wherever his ear

    was attuned that week.

    Like a modern Job, I thought,

    fresh from listening

    to God unfolding the

    mysteries of the universe

    that any of us can hear

    when we draw near

    with calm eye and

    quiet ear

    –amid pain like Job

    or not–

    stilling the sights and sounds of

    wars and rumors of wars,

    without and within,

    to see and hear God

    for a spell.

    When it was his turn,

    Sam read his simple poems in sotto voice

    inspired by a verse or two from his little black treasure chest…

    where that other poetry man,

    the Poet of poets,

    dwells “yesterday, today, and forever,”

    binding together every page and book

    into the story of our salvation

    writ in blood on coarse timber,

    impaled by 3 rough-cast nails,

    crowned with thorns

    of cruelty and of pain

    as He allowed Himself, God’s only perfect Son,

    to be the Unblemished Sacrifice

    for blemished humanity.

    Selah

    Those many years ago,

    with fading voice and faltering hand, Sam

    brought the “apples of gold in settings of silver”

    he had discovered that week in his old KJV, ready

    to share then.

    And even today.

    Although the poetry man

    is long, now, walking streets of gold

    the Fatherload remains for us.

    And I discover another

    of his and His treasures to share with you,

    dear reader,

    mined between the lines of the treasure book,

    underneath creek beds,

    above the exosphere bound only to God.

    What I bring today is from Proverbs chapter 25, verse 2

    where it is revealed that even paupers are honored kings,

    rheumy eyes see clear,

    tired ears hear,

    and the glory of matter

    (and of a matter)

    is gifted us, too, when

    we make our requests known to God,

    inclining eye and ear to Him

    until we feel His breath,

    know His smile, and

    comprehend

    a little bit more

    about His love for us

    –line upon line, precept upon precept,

    book upon chapter and verse.

    Thank you, poetry man

    and Poetry Man,

    from here to then

    and eternity.

  • Everyday Epiphanies

    According to merriam-webster.com/dictionary definition #3, an epiphany, besides being the name of a Christian feast day (the one with a capital E), can be: “a usually sudden manifestation or perception of the essential nature or meaning of something,” (small e).

    That’s what I’m talking about here, today.

    And aren’t you glad?

    The focus of today’s post of encouragement, also from my cache of former posts, concerns definition #3 and describes a (small e) epiphany I had some years ago on a train ride.

    See what you think and take a minute to remember one of those you’ve probably had in your life, too.

    It just took me a few minutes, but reminds me, to this day, that all kinds of small events, like small beautiful things featured in the last post, can open new vistas to prompt us forward, too.

    And to remind us as long as we are choosing to not be engulfed in the doom and gloom all around, there are still events and realizations to keep hope up–and keep us on track.

    Epiphany (Devotional)

  • On Everyday Valentines

    Right?

    Why save chocolate and roses and cards for just February 14th?

    So many beautiful small things can trigger a smile, a tear, a moment of the kind of soft relief that interrupts the gloom–if just in that moment.

    Better yet, beautiful small things might get the eyeballs glued to some small electronic gadget to look up and around for a minute (miracle of miracles).

    But no time for cynicism here, just to offer this, today from my cache of posts from 2013 that I still think about up here in 2026.

    I hope you may be encouraged–maybe even inspired–by the experience and thoughts offered here, too.

    From the Archives: “On Valentines and Kindness,” 2013

    The story a local resident told in his letter to the editor went something like this:

    I went to the window of my office to stretch a bit and watch the goings-on in the street below. It was cold outside. A disheveled looking guy sitting on the curb, a homeless man I’d seen before, sat with his arms wrapped around himself to get some warmth, I suppose.

    As I was watching, a well-dressed man with an attaché case stopped by. He sat down on the curb next to the homeless guy and talked for a few minutes. Before he got up and went on his way, he took off his gloves and gave them to the other.  

    Neither man knew, of course, I witnessed this simple act of kindness. It kind of restored my faith in mankind, you know?

    On this Valentine’s Day when, with a little help from Hallmark, the flower shops, and the candy stores we celebrate love, I am reminded of the kind of love that gilts the gold, ices the cake—restores the heart.

    It’s not necessarily bright, shiny, brave, or beautiful as we sometimes imagine love to be. It resembles more a few minutes’ chat in a lonesome place; the warmth of compassion, of a sudden, on a cold curb. The best of who we can be offered to someone else with or without a return.

    Here are some other thoughts on this, I believe, most potent form of love:

    “There is nothing so rewarding as to make people realize that they are worthwhile in this world.” (Bob Anderson)

    “Nothing,” wrote Tolstoy, “can make our life, or the lives of other people, more beautiful than perpetual kindness.”

    “Sometimes it’s easy to lose faith in people. And sometimes one act of kindness is all it takes to give you hope again.” (Randa Abdel-Fattah)

    And this little gem:

    “Life is mostly froth and bubble,

    Two things stand like stone.

    Kindness in another’s trouble,

    Courage in your own.” (Adam Gordon)

    Take heart. Give heart. Happy Valentine’s Day.

    .

  • Respite for the Remnant–Introduction

    My prompt to begin this blog just now is to encourage all who may stop by for a reminder–or perhaps to hear for the first time–that a certain gift of peace bequeathed by the Prince of Peace some 2000 years ago is still available—even in such a time as this.

    I invite you to pause here for whatever brief rest my posts may provide in the (real) existential battle of battles, because it is ultimately good that overcomes evil even though evil often seems bigger and more powerful.

    Consider a few lessons from nature, for example, how tender seedlings grow to towering redwoods and how a certain little bird perched on a frozen branch still warbled some hopeful message in “the dregs of winter,” as poet Thomas Hardy suggests in his poem, “The Darkling Thrush”:


    …So little cause for carolings

          Of such ecstatic sound

    Was written on terrestrial things

          Afar or nigh around,

    That I could think there trembled through

          His happy good-night air

    Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew

          And I was unaware

    Or perhaps in some mind-boggling epiphany of a moment in a physics class or some other experience you became aware of the power in each tiny, invisible-to-the-naked-eye atom.

    So take heart.

    For even in this time into which we were born, you and I, too, have some message of hope to broadcast to those who, like the poet coming upon that little thrush, might also feel there is little cause for “carolings,” let alone respite, amid what would smother our peace today. If we let it.

    Whether clad in mortal or immortal armor, on the ground or in the spirit, we can offer prayers to sustain and restrain and anthems and hallelujahs to raise high flags of thanksgiving, truth, comfort, guidance, and wisdom–while we yet may, as we may.

    Welcome.

    Be encouraged.

    Be comforted.

    Carry on.

    ~~~~~

    See 1,200 related posts and more topics on my other blog here: https://pnissila.wordpress.com/

    P.S. Update, 4/16/26– Oh, by the way, the beauty of a personal blog is that one can update here, change a word there, so if you like something and might just want to get another view, you might see some change, if just a punctuation mark or two. This will mostly apply to my “poetry” which is always a work in progress for me, my always and current writing quest.

    Permission to share, updated 2026, is:
     
     CC BY-ND 4.0

    That is, my work is free to re-post or use in some other way without altering the content and by citing this source.

    I make no money on this project.

    Certain posts from my other blog may show up here, too. pnissila | For Such a Time as This