There’s a book I read many years ago.   It’s called “Hinds Feet on High Places.”  It’s an allegory written about a little girl named, Much Afraid.   Much Afraid was a member of the Fearing family.   She had issues…some were physical but most of them were not.   Her name says it all.   Much Afraid worked for the Chief Shepherd who one day asked if she would like to go up the mountains to the High Places.   He told her He would give her two companions to accompany her.   Their names were Sorrow and Suffering.   He said He would be with her all throughout her journey and she need only call out to Him and He would be there.   In her heart, Much Afraid wanted to go but she was terrified of what could happen as she tried to climb with her disabilities, let alone hold the hands of Sorrow and Suffering.   Her Fearing family tried to prevent her from going and almost succeeded but in the end she broke free of them and started the journey.


Much Afraid encountered many obstacles as she climbed up to the High Places.   Her Fearing relatives pursued her and her worst fears became a reality.   Several times she tried to drop the hands of Sorrow and Suffering but each time she did, the fears would attack.   Every time she felt there was no way out, she called out to the Shepherd who came immediately to her side as He promised and His perfect love cast out all her fear. 


Oh, how I identify with Much Afraid.   I am that little girl who has been trying to climb the mountains of life to get to the High Places where there are no more tears.  The difference between us is that for most of my life I have refused to hold the hands of Sorrow and Suffering.   They’ve been with me all along but I felt that to embrace them would show weakness and admit defeat.   What I didn’t realize was how much I needed them to reach the top.   If you relate to this, you’ll know it’s not just a matter of embracing the pain and suffering in our lives but crying out to Jesus who will give us the strength to go through it.   


Personally, I am experiencing a season of incredible loss.   The grief is so intense that I don’t know how I’m going to get through it but when I look up and cry out to Jesus, I feel a comfort that I can’t explain.   I don’t understand why everything is happening all at once, but I do know that God knew it was all going to happen and has been preparing me for this time even though I don’t feel it.   


This week I flew out to Colorado.   I have family here that I haven’t seen in eight years.  We talked many times about me coming to visit but it never materialized until now.   I was originally supposed to come last month but life happened and my trip was postponed.   When I was on the plane, it felt surreal.  My family has a home near the foothills of Pike’s Peak.   If you go out on their deck, there is a spectacular view of the mountains.  In fact, I took the picture posted in this post.   On my second day here, I received the news that my dear friend had passed.   That, with some other loss was too much to bear.   I didn’t think I could handle it all.   I went to the window and looked up at the mountains and I heard this verse, “I lift up my eyes to the hills.  From where does my help come from?   It comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.  He will not let your foot be moved; He who keeps you will not slumber”  (Psalm 121:1-3).   Is it a coincidence that I am here at this exact moment of time?   What are the chances that I would be physically standing looking at one of the most breathtaking mountains in the country at a time of great sorrow and suffering?


I have gone out to look at those mountains many times this week when the grief was threatening to overwhelm me.   It’s been hard to wrap my head around the fact that God loves and cares about me so much that He would orchestrate time and events just to comfort me but He did, and He does, and He will.  Each time I look up at those mountains, it gives me hope.

 

In case you were wondering about Much Afraid, after a perilous journey, she reached the High Places where she was met by Jesus, the Chief Shepherd and Lover of her Soul.  She still bore the scars of the journey but she was transformed.  The Shepherd gave her a new name.  She was now Grace and Glory.   Her companions,

Sorrow and Suffering, also received new names.   They were now called Joy and Peace.   As she headed back down the mountain, she knew she’d never be the same.   She was a new creation.   


What I learned from this story was that Jesus always saw Much Afraid as the Grace and Glory she would become.   That’s how He sees me.  That’s how He sees you.   Years ago He gave me a new name but it’s only been as I’ve held the hands of Sorrow and Suffering that I’ve seen it coming to pass.   I am Freeindeed.   What’s yours?


He who the Son has set free is freeindeed.”  John 8:36

Reset

By Eileen Glotfelty • August 15, 2025
Recently I returned home after being away for a few months. It felt strange to walk into my own home. I wasn't accustomed to what should've been normal. That soon changed. The next morning I was at the kitchen sink and went to turn on the garbage disposal only to find it not working. Usually if it's jammed, you can still hear the sound of electricity but there was not a sound to be heard. My first stop was the circuit breaker box. Nothing was tripped so I moved on. As I stood in front of the sink, I knew what needed to happen next. That involved me kneeling down on the floor and looking for the brand and model number. I thought long and hard because after two knee surgeries, this was not a good idea. I did the next best thing…I called my sister for help. I wish we had a video camera, then again it was probably better that we didn't. She has a bad knee but that left her with one good one. She made it down onto the floor and got a picture of the label. We googled the unit to troubleshoot the problem. It turned out we needed to find the reset button on the bottom of the disposal. Easier said than done but we did it and power was restored. It needed a special wrench to unjam it but Amazon saved the day! Now why would I go on and on about a jammed garbage disposal? It's not about the fact it was jammed but that it could be reset. After that incident I was talking to my daughter and I heard myself say that I needed to push the reset button in some areas of my life. I wish it would be as simple as pushing the button on a garbage disposal but when you need a reset in life, it usually involves a long process. The areas I need to reset didn't get jammed up overnight. It took years of making excuses and wrong choices. The result of these choices found me powerless and stuck in a place I didn't want to be. As I thought about this, I looked up “reset” in the dictionary. One definition caught my eye. It said, “an act of fixing something in a new or different way.” That's what I need…a new way, a transformation. I don't know what the reset is going to look like or where it will take me but I do know that God made a promise. In Isaiah he says: “Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert. I know it has to be His way, not mine. That's where the power is. That's where I can move forward. With His power, nothing is impossible. I've wrestled with Him for many years and it was a waste of time. It will be a daily surrender to His will. I'm not going to dwell on the wasted time and say, “if only.” Instead I'm choosing to dwell on and be thankful that His mercies are new every morning. That is my reset button.

In the Midst of Chaos

By Eileen Glotfelty • July 30, 2025
“His way is in the whirlwind and the storm, and the clouds are the dust of his feet.” Nahum 1:3 Another word for whirlwind is chaos. That's a word I know well. From the moment I was born, I lived in a chaotic environment. Chaos continued to follow me as I grew up and finally into my own family. The funny thing is, I never recognized it. I thought it was normal and I learned to thrive in it. Left unchecked, chaos will take its toll. It attacks our nervous systems and spreads havoc physically and mentally. So how do we stop it? First, we stop and do a life check. This is when we take a long hard look at what's going on in and around us. Much of our chaos is caused by our response to our circumstances. For example, when I get caught up in someone else's drama, I create chaos in my own life. It's especially hard if the drama is going on under the same roof. I've had to learn that people will figure things out on their own and don't need me to be involved. As a fixer and a rescuer, that was an important lesson to learn. When it comes to faith, I've realized that when I jump into the chaos and try to fix it, I'm thinking that my way out is the only way and pridefully, the best way…even better than God's. The arrogance of it brings me to my knees. So now, I look at that verse from Nahum and I ask God to show me His way. If it's chaos that's out of our control, God's way is the only way out. I always wondered what it meant about the clouds being the dust of His feet. As I thought about it, I could see that clouds don't stand still. They move. The dust of His feet imply movement as well; so I think it's safe to say that God is on the move in the midst of the chaos. As I write this, I am over my head in chaos. It feels like a never ending battle. After reading that verse, I decided to take some time and see if there was any “dust.” It didn't take long to see it. God was moving through this storm. It wasn't the direction I would've gone so I almost missed Him. I don't know exactly what He's doing or where this is going but just knowing He's moving gives me the strength to hang on. Lord, when I get overwhelmed with the chaos, help me to see that You are on the move. In Jesus’ name. Amen

Even Though You Can't See Me

By Eileen Glotfelty • June 25, 2025
Over the past four weeks, I have traveled from California to Wyoming to Colorado. All had something special to see. California had hot air balloons floating over the vineyards. In Wyoming there were tumbleweeds, miles of prairie and horses being ridden through downtown streets. Both were fascinating but the scene that captured me most was in Colorado. My family's home overlooks a plain that runs over to join the Rocky Mountains. As beautiful as that is, nothing can compare with one specific mountain that rises taller than the others. Pikes Peak stands 14,000 feet above sea level and its presence commands a sense of majesty. Every morning as I stood there taking in its beauty, I would remember the words, “I lift my eyes up to the hills where my help comes from…” For me, it wasn't just a mountain, it was a revelation of the presence of God and I needed that reminder. There have been many times that I've prayed and prayed about a person or situation that weighed heavy on my heart. Most of the time it involved circumstances that were beyond my control. I knew what I thought needed to happen and happen quickly but it didn't. It seemed like my prayers fell on deaf ears. On my last day in Colorado, I went to look out the window to have one final look at that majestic mountain. To my dismay, the mountains were covered by a dense fog that made them invisible. If I didn't know better, I wouldn't know they were there. As I stood there wrestling with disappointment, I heard these words, “even though you can't see it, it's still there.” I knew this wasn't just talking about the mountain. God was letting me know that even if things aren't working out the way I want and I don't understand, He is still there behind the chaos and behind the doubt working to bring about His perfect plan…in His time, not mine. Now it's a matter of trust. Will I choose to let go and leave it in His hands? Will I choose to trust Him when I don't understand? And will I choose to believe that He has a good and perfect plan that surpasses anything I could imagine? This is a question I may have to ask myself every day in every situation. In my heart I want to so I'm choosing to lay the struggles at His feet. He'll take care of the rest.