"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...
Tuesday, January 19, 2016
Sunday, January 3, 2016
Home for Christmas
"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...
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...
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