Sofa Chats

By Valerie Bailey

In a fast-paced world, Sofa Chats invites you to slow down for a
few moments to think about life and the Giver of Life. You’ll enjoy
its honest, conversational, and poetic approach as Valerie candidly
shares her heart, her fi ctional & non-fi ctional stories, and devotionals.
Each one is intertwined with little

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trilogy Christian Publishing
• Release date: Dec 21, 2018
• ISBN: 9781640881709

Book preview

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Trilogy Christian Publishers A Wholly Owned Subsidiary of Trinity Broadcasting Network 2442 Michelle Drive Tustin, CA 92780

Copyright © 2018 by Valerie Bailey

All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise noted, taken from THE HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®, NIV® Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

Scripture quotations marked (KJV) taken from The Holy Bible, King James Version. Cambridge Edition: 1769.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, address Trilogy Christian Publishing

Rights Department, 2442 Michelle Drive, Tustin, Ca 92780.

First Trilogy Christian Publishing hardcover edition 2018

Trilogy Christian Publishing/ TBN and colophon are trademarks of Trinity Broadcasting Network.

For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Trilogy Christian Publishing.

Manufactured in the United States of America

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

ISBN 978-1-64088-169-3 ISBN 978-1-64088-170-9 (ebook)

Dedication

For the most interesting Conversationalist, who never runs out of things to say. Thanks for all the chats, God! See you in the morning for coffee.

Foreword

Let me be honest here. I didn’t set out to be a writer. I didn’t set out to write this book. The contents in here are really just one big journal of mine, and a glimpse of what you would see every morning at my house: me, my sofa, my coffee, and my Bible.

But let me back up to where it all began. It was a cold evening in November 2010. I was exhausted. I was frustrated with life. I was clogged up with emotions. And I was probably just about on the verge of giving up on God in my heart. I flopped myself back onto my oversized, soft sofa and thought, Oh, yes. This is what I need. A soft place to land. A safe place to rest this weary heart. A place that doesn’t judge. A place that lets me vent. A place that I can feel comfortable to be absolutely me. And then the thought came to me, I do know a place like that. I just hadn’t allowed myself to go there.

Then the idea seemed to come out of nowhere. A message whispered into my heart, Just start writing. I found myself picking up my computer and finding a free blogging website. Within minutes, I had an account created, a title, and my first entry on sofachats.blogspot.com. That became day one of my renewed hope. Every day from that point forward became a new adventure, as I had the freedom to create and say whatever I was feeling and thinking, and to let God help me process it all. I was finally letting Him in and letting His Word wash over me. My entries would often sound like I was trying to convince my readers of the truth. But in reality, I was telling myself far more than I was telling anyone else.

Fast-forward eight years and almost six hundred blog posts later, and I have now found myself swept up in the next adventure: this book, a compilation of everything I have written. The words on these pages are the result of a beautiful partnership between me and the One who loves to talk to His people. My prayer is that you will discover, the way I did, that Jesus loves sofa chats.

Acknowledgements

A big shout-out to the following folks:

Trilogy Publishing, for their excellent work and for taking me on as one of their authors!

All those who sowed into this book project, both financially and in prayer. You know who you are! May your generosity return back into your lap a hundred-fold.

Angela Burns and Stephanie Crowley, for inviting me to your little get-togethers every week so many years ago, when I first started writing. And I’m so thankful also for my other gal hang-outs with Angela Burns and Stefanie Griffin. These will remain some of the best sofa chats of all time!

All the individuals and ministries who sowed into my Christian life through the years. Ralph and Billi English, who showed me at an early age what fellowship and worship look like. Mike Horan, for giving me my first Bible that I actually read (and still have on my bookshelf) and Michael W. Smith tape. Lori and Mark Bunnell, for encouraging me to bravely believe, for all things are possible with God. Cheryl Adels, for showing me that laughter is truly the best medicine. Simona Rodriguez, for putting up with me as a college roommate and showing me what a hard worker looks like. Ed and Alison Ciccone, for laboring tirelessly on campus with us young Christian students hungry for more. Fred, Stefanie, John, and Lisa, who helped me spread my wings for the first time. I will hold it in my heart forever. Les and Carol Cool, who are just that—so cool. Thanks for taking the broken pieces and applying some glue. Peter and Wendy Young, who arrived on the scene just in time. You reminded me again how real God is, and that it’s okay to smile, relax, and look for good things from an incredibly good God.

All of my amazing friends from over the years. You each play a note in the symphony of my life!

My very precious family, who each mean so much me. Too many names to list here, but included are Bob and Theresa Winters (Mom and Pop) and Alfred VonDran II (Dad), who gave all they could to love me and launch me. I’m forever grateful! Kirsten VonDran and William VonDran, the best siblings in the world. So proud of both of you and proud to be called your sister. Melissa, Ethan, Emma, Will, Paige, Charlene, John, Samantha, Johnny, Anna (Grammy), Bob and Mickie, the Sochkos, the Maceikos, the Redicks, Doc and Barbara, the VonDrans, Billi, Ralph, Michael, Mary, Sterling, Brandon, Christian, Jill, Jerry, Jack, Kelli, Bailey, Amber, Trey, Grayson, Adye, Matt, Kylie, Allison, Andy, Chelsea, Bubba, Lori, Hezekiah, Asher, Ruth, Sarah, Wyatt, JT, Jane, Scott, Tom and Sue, and the rest of the Baileys and Carters!

And especially my daughters, Bryana and Makenna, who light up my life and mean more to me than I can ever express on this page. You girls are so beautiful! I’m so glad God chose me to be your mom.

And last but not least, my awesome husband Bryan, who keeps me laughing and feeling loved and protected all the time. There’s no one else I’d want to do life with! I love you!

Introduction

Sofa Chats is not your typical inspirational book. I tried hard to categorize and organize its contents into a nice little standard devotional. But just like most chats we have with our friends, we can’t try to fit something that is supposed to flow naturally into a square, organized, and predictable box.

Some of the entries are straightforward devotionals. Some are observations I’ve made about all kinds of topics in life. Others are personal stories. Still others are metaphorical concepts and fictional stories. And some talk about my conversations I’ve had with God, and the things I’ve learned when reading His Word. In penning this out, I’ve learned one major thing: Jesus is the great Teacher and is constantly wanting to show Himself to us throughout our day, using anything He can. Anything.

Jesus didn’t come to earth screaming and yelling His message at us. He didn’t blast it in our faces. If He had, we may have only paid attention for a short time and then stopped listening when we got tired of all the yelling. Instead, He chose to sing his loving message to us in the form of parables, metaphors, analogies, and stories. He used the simple, everyday things in life that people could relate to, to show them what the kingdom of God is like. And in doing so, He drew many to Himself. His song has continued on for generations, and He still speaks to us this way. His sweet melody draws us in, making us never want to leave and hungry for even more.

Me, the Splinter, & the Birds

I am enamored by birds. I can’t take my eyes off of them when they fly, especially when they are all carpooling south. It’s so fascinating... their strength, their freedom, their carefree living, their sense of community, their gracefulness. It’s like they say to me, Wanna come up here and join us? It’s where freedom lives and worry loses its foothold. It’s where trust steps in, and faith knows that the wind is strong enough to hold you. 

But, I have a splinter. 

I didn’t even realize it. I just knew my hand was irritating me, but I got so used to the irritation that I never really looked down to see what was bothering me. It was on the side of my palm near my pinkie, where I couldn’t see it. When I did realize it though, I was too busy to stop and take care of it. So, I lived with the irritation and the limitation. I figured it would work its way out on its own. But it didn’t, and I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I had to stop and ask for help. It only took two minutes for my husband to gently remove it. Ahhhh... what freedom from something so small! 

That’s how worry can be (or, really anything that bothers my heart can be). It keeps me from flying. It’s a constant nagging. It steals my joy and peace. But I realize I just need to slow down and let it be addressed.

And it is then that I’m able to take flight and accept the birds’ invitation.

Seventh Note

She was doing a beautiful job playing her song. Every note was accurate, and the timing was perfect—except when she got to measure twenty-two. She completely dismissed the left-hand chord altogether. 

Audrey, why didn’t you play that chord? I asked.

I don’t like it, she said. It doesn’t sound right, and it makes me feel weird.

I looked closer. It was a combination of the notes G-B-D-F. 

Oh, I said, that’s a seventh chord. It’s supposed to sound dissonant. It might feel weird for two beats, but look: it resolves at the next chord, and then it will feel better.

She wasn’t persuaded. She grabbed her pencil and began scribbling out the F note (the seventh note), the part that caused the clashing sound in her ears.

I tried again. Audrey, that’s part of what makes music beautiful and interesting: the feeling of suspense and resolution; tension and release. It’s what adds flavor to what otherwise would seem ordinary. It’s part of the journey of the song.

I could hear my words bounce back at me off of the wall. I secretly agreed with Audrey. How I hate the seventh note—not in music, but in life. Why can’t everything just always work the way I want it to? And why do some seventh notes seem to last so much longer than just two beats? Where is the resolution? Why can’t everything in life be pleasantly harmonic? 

My husband, on the other hand, loves the seventh note. He doesn’t mind the challenge. To him, it becomes an adventure—something to mix life up a bit. Who wants to always be in the same old predictable progression and boring pattern anyway? Isn’t the seventh note just part of the journey of the song?

Finding the Rainbow

I remember two specific times I saw a rainbow. Both were when my family and I were traveling in our car.

One time was when my husband and I were having a discussion about life and the future and our purpose here on planet earth. I have to be honest, it wasn’t a feel-good conversation. We were in a slump about things. Questioning our worth, our contribution to society, the path we were on, etc. At the height of our conversation, I could feel my heart sinking into a hole and my eyes beginning to tear. I couldn’t deny the place of despair that I had gotten into, in general. I was looking in the mirror at myself and didn’t like what I saw. 

Then, I looked up. 

Cars were pulled to the side of the turnpike, and I could see cameras flashing. To my left was the biggest, brightest, fullest rainbow I think the sky could ever give the earth. We had to stop. We had to take it in. Our conversation ceased. We stood in awe. 

The other time I saw a rainbow was during the most uncomfortable car ride I had ever experienced in my life. We were on a five-hour ride, coming home from visiting relatives. My children were very young, and on such a long car ride I had to squeeze myself into the backseat of our small Ford Escort between both their car seats, so I could care for them during the long ride. It was on one of the hottest days of summer, and we had no air conditioning in the car. Suddenly, it began to downpour. We were forced to roll up our windows which, of course, caused our car to become a sauna on wheels. Both girls started crying and wailing. It really couldn’t have gotten any worse, I thought...

 ...until the car accident.

Just a fender bender. A result of hydroplaning. Now, we were at a standstill as my husband exchanged insurance information with the other driver. My oldest child had to go to the bathroom, everyone was sweating, and my legs started to fall asleep from being in such an awkward position for so long. When would this trip end? We started back down the road in search of a rest area. The rain finally stopped. 

Then, we looked up. 

There it was, cascading down through the clouds of such a terrible storm. A faint but beautiful rainbow. What an odd thing to see on such a terrible ride. It seemed out of place at the moment. I was in no sentimental state of mind. But, there it was, regardless. It’s as if it waited for us to lift our eyes to see it smiling on us. 

I guess a rainbow is like that. It decides to show itself in moments when we don’t expect it in life. 

It’s just waiting for us to

Look Up.

Cyst

Several years ago, I had a cyst. It was located deep inside my lower back and was a painfully intense experience for me when it surfaced. I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t sit. I couldn’t do anything. And, though I tried to avoid it, it got to the point where I knew I needed to get help. The problem was that because it was in such an embarrassing place on my body, it seemed better to live with the pain than to allow myself to be vulnerable and be examined, receiving the aid I so desperately needed.

It took pure desperation and running out of all options for me to get myself to a specialist. Apparently, I was not the only one who procrastinated in receiving help. When the doctor took a look at me, the first words out of his mouth were, Why do people take so long to take care of this? 

Little did I know that this kind of cyst could only truly be taken care of through outpatient surgery. He had to go deep, deep inside to get to the root of the cyst and make sure all the junk got pulled out.

Though I hated having that experience, it has become a picture to me of what’s going on inside my heart. My Doctor needs to go deep, deep inside to the origin of some issues in my life. But, it’s requiring my willingness to be vulnerable and to open up to let Him in. I am thankful, though, that He is not here to push Himself on me. He is patient with me. He knows that the process of opening up can be difficult. And, though He has the ability to help me, He waits for my nod before He touches me.

Bring Your Dirt

It’s happened to me before. I’m stomping around in the dirty, filthy mud somewhere and take half of it with me on the bottom of my shoes. I might be mindful about it at first, being careful to make sure I take them off when I get inside. But then in my haste, the next day I put them on and walk out the door, forgetting completely about the now dried and caked-on mud on the bottom of my shoes.

What’s terrible is that now, I’m taking that dirt and leaving it everywhere I go! I visit a neighbor and dirty her front carpet. I go to the bank and leave a trail from the front door to the teller. I get in my friend’s car and leave nothing but big clumps of mud. What a mess. And what a burden for others to clean up.

Though there’s never a great place to bring our dirt, there is one place we can bring our dirt—yes, where we are even encouraged to! Our Father’s house. 

Colin did.

He came into the Sunday school classroom, his boots caked with three inches of dried mud. He probably didn’t even know just how dirty his shoes were. No one did—until halfway through the class. I looked down, and his chair looked like it was sitting in a dirt pile.

Wow, Colin, I said.