"Praise be to the Lord, the God of Israel,
because He has come and has redeemed His people."
Luke 1:68
I have just returned from our youth mission trip to Chicago. Every June, about 140-150 students (grades 9-12) and 30+ adult leaders from our church load up on 4 tour buses and head out to a much-prayed over destination. Although Chi Alpha (name of our youth choir) has been one of the highlights of my summer for many years, last year I decided not to go, thinking it was time to "retire" and let parents of youth and maybe "less seasoned" (okay--younger!) adults go. Not sure now if I had prayed that through since I missed it terribly and asked as soon as they returned if I could go ahead and sign up for next year. How thankful I am that I did!
This week, a blend of mission work and concerts, provides an opportunity for students to share the gospel through service and through song. I was delighted to learn that our first stop would be in Indianapolis (the site of our trip two years ago) on the way to Chicago to host a block party for local children on Saturday afternoon. We gathered in a small park just a couple of blocks away from one of our 2014 mission sites-- a place known as Redemption House. Memories came flooding back: prayer walking through the neighborhood, weeding a community garden, gutting an abandoned house that we had affectionately called the "hoarder house." We were working with a young pastor there, a church planter who had moved into this rather rough neighborhood a year or so earlier. The church had bartered with city leaders who wanted to demolish this dilapidated house, asking if they could clear it out, gut it to its frame, restore it, and use it as part of their ministry there. This decaying house had not just been neglected for years, but it had been overrun with vagrants, rodents, and apparently most recently, a hoarder. Our team of students, donning gloves and masks, worked like trojans all week, filling 2 large dumpsters with some very nasty stuff. They shoveled out open cans of food, dirty air filters, broken furniture, old televisions, a freezer full of long-thawed meat, rat remnants... It was bad. But the beauty of it was how cheerfully these young people served. Yes, they were grossed out, but they didn't run out. (Well, maybe occasionally just to get a breath of fresh air!) Steadfast in their service, they stayed with their task until it was complete.
By week's end the house was finally empty--only the structure of wood floors and beams remained. Carpet had been ripped out and sheet rock torn down. Just as students had done at the end of each day, they boarded up the windows one last time to prevent any unwelcome overnight guests. Only this time they painted one board, naming the place "Redemption House" and recording the words from Psalm 40:1-3 on the board:
"I waited patiently for the LORD;
He turned to me and heard my cry.
He lifted me out of the slimy pit,
out of the mud and mire;
He set my feet on a rock
and gave me a firm place to stand.
He put a new song in my mouth,
a hymn of praise to our God.
Many will see and fear
and put their trust in the LORD."
We left Redemption House, thanking the Lord in advance for how He might use this place.
June 2014
Fast forward to June 2016 - We take a quick walk as we set up for the block party, turn the corner, and see this beautiful house...
June 2016
The renovation was breathtaking, yet as I looked upon this pristine house, the vivid truth of the gospel appeared. We come wretched, filthy, discarded, abandoned, broken, sometimes even considered useless--just like this house was two years ago. But God--in His great love and mercy, offers restoration to the most sordid and foul of us. Unknown atrocities may have occurred in this place, yet now it is completely restored. Once an eyesore, this building is now not only attractive but useful for ministry--weekly Bible studies are held here and ministry teams from all over the country stay here.The house did nothing to redeem itself but receive the gift of servant hearts; we can do nothing to redeem ourselves but receive the gift of Jesus' sacrifice on the cross--God's most magnificent act of love. Beauty from ashes.
Oh, that we believers might remember how the Lord has lifted us out of the mud and mire and given us a firm place to stand. We are that house! Would that we might never cast off anyone as worthless or useless. Look at this house! Love redeemed it. Other mission teams came in after ours-- cleaning, installing new sheet rock, painting, rewiring, plumbing ... Today it stands renewed. Restored. Redeemed.
And by His grace we, too, stand renewed. Restored. Redeemed. No one has roamed too far from our Heavenly Father's outstretched hand and boundless love. He longs to restore each of us to purposeful ministry. As I was looking through these pictures, I discovered one of the most poignant. Buried deep amid the rubbish, there were two Bibles.
Beauty amid ashes. Dirty, yes--but still the most powerful, life-changing words ever written.
"Let the redeemed of the Lord say so..."
Psalm 107:2
"For from His fullness we have all received, grace upon grace."
John 1:16
We are dog people. Always have been. Growing up, I don't remember a season that we didn't have a dog. Same with Jim's family. So when two dog people marry, it is inevitable that they're going to have dogs (especially when they have three boys!) Our first furry friend was Shelby-- a black lab given to us by Jim's cousin. We got her before we "got" Hunter--when Austin and Caleb were about 5 and 3. She was the best outfielder in our backyard baseball games and their favorite playmate in the plastic Walmart pool. When we moved to Birmingham in 2002, she was my companion those first lonely days when the boys were at school and Jim was at work. She saw more than one ugly cry, nestling up under me many days to offer comfort. Amazing how God created dogs to be sensitive like that--to know when we just need their presence to help us through a tough time. No words necessary. She didn't seem to mind that her home had changed; she still had her people. (The lessons that dogs teach us!) Three years later at age 11, there was a tumor, lots of tears, and sad goodbyes.
We waited a couple of months then decided we were ready. Dog people are like that--they find great comfort for their grief in the delight of a playful puppy. Jim saw the ad in the paper, and he and Hunter set out on their mission to choose "the one" from a rather large litter of boxer puppies. They brought home a precious bundle of brown fur, and we named her Magnolia--"Maggie" for short. (Probably an indication that I was still missing my home state a bit.) It was summertime, so the boys and I were home most of the time to help potty train and introduce her to Gibson life. On lake days she would curl up in a ball and sleep on the boat, oblivious to the squeals and laughter and water spraying around her. At home she would crawl under the ottoman in her own version of hide and seek. But not for long. She grew rapidly and within a few weeks couldn't squeeze underneath much of anything. What fun to watch her try though!
More than one Christmas morning has been sprinkled with laughter as she would play with her "gift." My favorite was a squeaky pig that entertained her (and us!) for hours. Skeptically she would approach the strange purple object, tentatively paw at it, fascinated that this produced a sharp, high-pitched squeal. Startled, she would leap back with a puzzled look on her face; then she would slowly move toward the purple pig again. This went on for hours until she overcame her fear and the squealing became continuous (and a bit annoying). The pig ended up in time out on top of the refrigerator, but it was released from time to time when we needed a good laugh!
Some years we have attempted to include Maggie in the Christmas card photo, but this has often been a challenge. One Thanksgiving afternoon a few years ago I was taking advantage of full tummies and happy boys, snapping some pictures in the backyard. Jim called Maggie over to join them. She darted across the yard, racing directly toward Hunter, running between his legs, and upending him. His long legs went flying through the air, and once we knew he was fine, the laughter that followed was priceless. You know--the "I can't breathe" kind that makes you smile upon remembrance years later.
Maggie was Jim's faithful walking buddy. She would eagerly await the leash, panting her anticipation until the door was opened. They had a four-mile path in the neighborhood with lots of steep hills, and occasionally I would join them. She loved it. Sniffing every yard, curb, fire hydrant, and leaf pile, she would eagerly prance along even as I trudged. In the summertime she delighted in seeing a sprinkler in action, especially toward the end of the walk. She would sprint to the water and try to catch a mouthful as it swirled around. Happy puppy!
Maggie enjoyed eight years of reign on her dog throne in our home when suddenly she was forced to share her space with Caleb's dog Linc after he graduated and moved home from Tuscaloosa. The transition was a bit precarious; she wasn't too sure about this vivacious "brother" with relentless energy. (She wasn't alone--neither was I!) Eventually they settled into a sweet friendship, often cuddling on the couch together. We learned they did not share bones or toys well, but otherwise they got along famously. (I might add that Maggie's face did gray significantly during his two-year stay though!)
This last year it's been Maggie and me.* After the wedding last May, Caleb and Linc moved to their new home with Dallas and Cooper (yes, my sweet daughter-in-love is a dog person, too!), and we settled into a routine--much calmer and slower than in her younger years. She has still enjoyed walks, though not so long as before. She has savored naps--they have been the centerpiece of her days. She has greeted guests with a bright smile and curling motion that resembles a cinnamon roll. Suddenly, a couple of weeks ago she began having problems keeping her balance, a result of low glucose level, the vet determined. He believed it was most likely a tumor on her pancreas. Last week, while Hunter was with her and I was at school, she had a significant seizure. Decision time. We don't want her to suffer. We have all shed a bucket of tears, for this is so much more than just losing the family pet. So much of her is connected to our memories of Jim--she was his dog. You know how dogs generally attach themselves to one family member. Maggie adored Jim and was often his shadow. Where he was she was. Precious memories...
Reflecting on this loss though, I have been reminded of God's infinite grace. He allowed this to happen now--during this brief two-week period that Hunter is home. (He leaves next Monday for a 10-week internship in Prague.) He was here to help me make that oh-so-difficult decision to let sweet Maggie go. Austin was home from Orlando last weekend for Mother's Day and was able to say his goodbyes. As I contemplated the possibility of surgery for her, I had asked the vet the average life span of boxers: 8-10 years. Maggie would have been 11 next month. So this last year was a gift of His grace--in a house that might have been empty He said, "Not yet. Enjoy this Magnolia." Surely He has made everything beautiful in its time. (Eccl. 3:11)
"What is man that You are mindful of him?" Psalm 8:4
I am still awed that we serve a God who is so intimately involved in the details of our lives. Indeed He gives us what we need at our point of need EVERY time. Probably the reality of Maggie's absence will not completely sink in until after Hunter leaves next week. Yet, I know that my God will continue to be my strength and my provision for every day. He has showered me with grace upon grace. And I'm pretty sure that before too long, there will be a puppy scampering about my feet. Dog people are just like that you know.
September 2011
May 2016
"He will cover you with His feathers,
and under His wings you will find refuge;
His faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.'
Psalm 91:4
Sometime back in high school, Hunter (Son #3)--needing funds to feed his Chick-Fil-A and Milo's habits--created his own dog/house sitting business: Hunter's Hounds and Homes. (He's got some great stories from these adventures!) Several families still call on him while he's home during the holidays to care for their pets while they are away for Christmas. On Christmas Eve about 9:30 p.m., he set out for one last check on the dogs. (He tells clients he's willing to stay any night but Christmas Eve--guess he thinks Santa might not leave anything if he can't find him!) I'm busy in the kitchen, happily preparing for dinner the next day. Out of the corner of my eye I see Austin reaching for the front door, and he stammers, "Um, Hunter just called and he's having a little trouble with the dogs. I'm going to help him." Probably my incredulous look caused him to revise his story right away. (Hunter may need help with lots of things, but not dogs--he's the dog whisperer!) "Well, actually, he's just run off the road a bit, and I'm going to check on him. But he's fine; he's fine." My heart began to gallop, my mind racing wildly, and I began praying fervently. In a few minutes I called Hunter who reassures me that he is fine as he tells me about the deer that darted out in front of him and how he swerved to miss it and ended up hitting a tree. All the while he's trying to ease my concerns. "Yes, the air bag went off... a kind man who lives across the road heard the crash, came out and stayed with me...Austin is here now... Yes, the car is pretty bad, but I'm fine, really--I'm fine."
At least somewhat convinced, I hung up and breathed relief. Within moments though, the "what ifs" charged in mightily. The tears stormed as my mind wrote a different story and then even went back to that terrible golf cart accident his tenth grade year. As I cried out to the Lord in my "what ifs," He seemed to say, "NO--you must look at what IS. He is fine; I, along with My army of angels, protected him. (Psalm 91:11) You must not consider what might have been--only what IS. And I AM." Yes, Lord. I did hear Hunter's voice; he is fine.
A little while later Austin called to let me know that the policeman was there and they were waiting on the tow truck as he reassured me yet again that Hunter was okay. I'm much calmer now, baking the traditional red velvet cake as part of my therapy, and thanking the Lord over and over that he was not injured. Suddenly, the jingle bells on my front doorknob begin to sound as the door opens. My heart somersaults, but this is where the comic relief begins.
Dallas and Caleb had come by to check on me. They had already been to the accident site and wanted to reassure me that Hunter was indeed unharmed. As they opened the door, a bird--one that apparently had been nesting in my wreath--flew inside! It whizzed right by my head into the kitchen where the counters were covered with food: three layers of red velvet cake cooling, bacon for the green bean casserole... Dallas starts tearing off paper towels and covering the food; I'm just wringing my hands and squealing; the silly bird is darting from the top of the kitchen cabinets to the top of the bookcase in the den and then back to the kitchen and then flitting all over the den. Meanwhile, we won't let Caleb come into the kitchen (he's banished to the dining room) because his large unwrapped Christmas present--a basketball goal--is sitting here. (There's rarely a surprise gift when your children are grown, and I didn't want to spoil that!) He can hardly breathe because he's laughing so hard. Doubled over in fact. We now have the front and back doors open. Dallas has grabbed the vacuum cleaner attachment (yes, I still had some cleaning to do before dinner guests arrived the next day) and is chasing our feathered guest with it, trying to swoosh it out. Ah--it is now in the foyer--almost to the front door! Caleb runs down the front steps and begins whistling, and the little bird flies out! Just like that. (I guess we now have a bird whisperer in the family, too!)
Now we're all laughing until Dallas points to the ceiling. There are a number of dark spots sprinkled around. Gross... Yes, that was my first thought, too, but thankfully, they were only tiny bird feathers! A kitchen chair, more paper towels, and a clean ceiling again. Whew--what a night! As we're still chuckling and shaking our heads in disbelief, Caleb mentions something about this resembling a Griswald Christmas. "Well, the Lord knows when we need a comic relief, and He must have thought this was a good time for one." Indeed. Not sure when I have run through such a gamut of emotions in one evening. I raced out to meet Austin and Hunter as they drove up, tears spilling out again. This time though, they are streams of gratitude. I am reminded of my many blessings: that Austin was home to go help his brother, that Hunter is without a blemish even though the car was totaled, that the newlyweds care so deeply (and are so quick-witted), and that a little bird has brought us laughter. God is so good to give us what we need in our time of need.
I saved one of these feathers, taping it to an index card with the caption: "Grace in time of need--December 24, 2015" and tucked it in my Bible. I always want to remember how grace showed up with feathers on this most memorable Christmas Eve. First, covering Hunter in his car and then covering the fear in my heart. Indeed our faithful Father covered us with His feathers and there we found refuge. He is so worthy of our trust. A little bird told me...
"Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in Me. In My Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with Me that you may also be where I am."
John 14:1-3
I love Christmas carols. They inspire and exude the spirit of Christmas, and I suppose since we only hear them one month out of the year, they never seem to grow old. As I was traveling back to my mom's in Fort Walton on December 9th, I sought the music of Christmas on the radio, longing for the holiday spirit. The familiarity of the tunes, "Walking in a Winter Wonderland," "Silent Night," "Mary Did You Know," offered a soothing balm to my aching heart. Then as Bing Crosby's voice began to croon, "I'll be home for Christmas," overwhelming peace emerged. At that moment the Lord seemed to say, "Yes, she will be HOME for Christmas." Even as the tears flowed, I knew this would be a most gracious gift.
Through these last weeks I have been reminded again that indeed our citizenship is not here. We were created for heaven. Most especially when one we love is suffering and we are assured of his/her eternity, we can pray for the Lord to take our loved one home--home where "there will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain" (Rev. 21:4). My mom was prepared; she was at peace, and the Lord was merciful. Five weeks from diagnosis to Jesus. We had prayed for discernment about chemotherapy, and He made it clear to all of us that at 78, the side effects would not be worth the potential benefit. We prayed that she would have minimal pain and not suffer. Only the last week did she need any prescription pain medication. Surely we saw the Lord's lovingkindness and faithfulness in every way as He answered prayers. The best gift of Christmas.
This holiday season has been filled with extraordinary gifts though none of these wrapped with ribbon and bows. One of the first was three weeks of radiation that restored my mom's speech and allowed opportunity for family and friends to visit and some of those relationships to be mended. How thankful we are! On her last day of radiation a fellow traveler who had already lost all of her hair, asked my mom for her name and address. A few days later a package arrived with several lovely scarves/head wraps--a beautiful gift from a virtual stranger. We were able to enjoy a family Thanksgiving dinner on the balcony of my brother's condo in Panama City since the Lord graciously gave us a 70 degree sunny day in late November. The two hospice nurses who cared for my mom were exceptional gifts: their tenderness and compassion revealed clearly that He had called them to serve others in their last days. On what was to be my mom's final night on earth, Rachelle, one of these nurses, walked in with a beautiful lighted tabletop Christmas tree and a homemade card. She said local elementary students had made cards for the hospice patients, and she had picked one up to bring to my mom. I smiled as I took the card out of the envelope and saw an adorable gingerbread man adorned with fabric cut-outs on the front. Then I opened it and gasped. Scrawled in what appeared to be a kindergardener's handwriting: "Warmest Wishes, Kaleb." I then explained through my tears that my mom had six grandsons--and one of them is named Caleb--and that I believed that this was not coincidence but the Lord saying, "Yes, I am still right here with you. I promised to never leave you nor forsake you" (Deut. 31:6). Immanuel--God with us. An indescribable gift! In the wee hours of that Saturday morning, sitting at her bedside, I read to her from the book of Revelation descriptions of her imminent eternal home. Indeed God's Word is one of the greatest gifts of all, offering peace and such assurance in our time of need. The prayers many of you have offered on behalf of our family have also been a most precious gift this season.
And though we grieve our loss, we rejoice over these lasting gifts of Christmas. Yes, this was a sad time to lose our mom, yet were it not for the birth of Jesus that first Christmas, we would grieve without hope. God gave us His Son by way of a manger and ultimately the cross that we might face death with the hope of eternal life with Him. Hallelujah! My mom was indeed able to be home for Christmas, celebrating with Jesus and my dad and Jim and many other loved ones. For her celebration of life here, she had selected some of her favorite hymns to be played-she loved the old traditional ones--and had asked specifically about the recessional: "I want it to be uplifting so that when people are leaving all they will be thinking is, 'She's home! She's home!'"
Home sweet home indeed. Surely tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy...
