"Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, and give thanks in all circumstances, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you."
I Thessalonians 5:16-18
These are uncertain days. We go to bed hearing the latest guidelines for social distancing, new closures and cancellations and then awaken to new ones the next morning. On Friday we learned that we would be out of school beginning Thursday, March 19th. On Saturday we received an email saying the break would begin on Monday. On Monday we learned that this break might well extend beyond the April 6th return date. Swirling changes with no end in sight. Our routines have been disrupted; our recreation has been dissolved. All the things that we think keep us grounded have been uprooted. And it's all happening so fast. We feel as though the world is tumbling out of control. Yet there is One to whom we can turn to for rest: Jesus. The immovable, steadfast Rock who is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow.
This morning I read from Find Rest Journal:
"Our God loves us. He will not always take us out of our circumstances, but He will always meet our needs in those circumstances. To believe and trust in Him, to be intentionally grateful even in legitimately difficult times, is one of the highest forms of praise and thanksgiving. It produces joy."
The phrase "intentionally grateful" echoed. Often gratitude flows naturally when life is going well. But purposed thankfulness makes us dig deep in the midst of these tumultuous times. Giving thanks IN all circumstances on this day might indeed diminish anxiety and replace it with joy. So I set out to complete neglected tasks--the first, raking leaves. And as I raked, I began to whisper my gratitude. For the sunshine after so many days of rain, for good health that enables me to rake, for this unexpected gift of time... And then it went deeper. I began to thank the Lord for all the people who have taught me about Him--His trustworthiness and His goodness and His faithfulness. The wonderful pastors, Sunday school teachers, and Bible study leaders. An indelible image from my 30s is a Tuesday morning Bible study leader at Temple Baptist holding out her hand and saying, "Anything that happens in this world has first been filtered through the loving hand of our sovereign God." I am so thankful that this was etched on my heart almost 30 years ago because I can REST in that truth today. (And I'm thankful for memory that enables me to revisit those words!) My gratitude then moved to all those who had helped teach my children who God is, providing them with a foundation to endure troubled times as well. So many faces and names who poured truths into their tender hearts. Praying then that He would also bring remembrance and REST to them amid this turbulence.
This followed by thankfulness for the living testimonies of people that I have seen go through incredibly difficult circumstances and still proclaim God's goodness. One friend who is currently in a valiant cancer battle uses a hashtag "givethanksinallcircumstances" on her Caring Bridge site. Another closes her posts with God's promises: "I will strengthen you; surely I will help you; Surely I will uphold you with My righteous right hand." And another who unexpectedly lost her brother still affirms her trust in Him, reminding others of His great compassion in the storm of grief. So many whose stories reveal His faithfulness. Yes, how grateful I am for how their stories strengthen me today and remind me He is still on His throne. None of this took Him by surprise. He is a good and loving God who knows the end from the beginning. (Isaiah 46:10) His plan is to work ALL things together for His glory and for our good.
When I finished bagging all the leaves, I counted--there were 12. I immediately smiled and thought of the 12 baskets left over after Jesus fed the 5000. Remnants of His faithfulness, His power, and His provision to do so much more than we can even imagine. With that backdrop I eagerly anticipate seeing what He will do both during and beyond this crisis.
We have a choice during these difficult days to stay constantly connected to the news outlets which can exacerbate our fear and anxiety or to stay connected to the One who can give us rest as we pray. I am thankful for His Word that draws us into His presence and silences the voices of gloom. Today may we choose intentional gratitude that will invite peace into our souls in spite of empty shelves and empty classrooms. There is always, always, always something to be thankful for. Make a list. Reread it. Share it with a friend. Add something new each day. Peace will win!
"Fear not, for I am with you." Isaiah 43:5
Tuesday, March 17, 2020
Friday, July 1, 2016
Return to Redemption House
"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
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.
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...
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.
"Let the redeemed of the Lord say so..."
Psalm 107:2
Tuesday, May 17, 2016
Magnolia Grace
"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.
May 2016
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
Tuesday, January 19, 2016
Feathered Grace
"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...
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...
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...
Thursday, November 19, 2015
Giving Thanks In All Things
"But you are to hold fast to the LORD your God, as you have until now."
Joshua 23:8
That awful word has entered our family yet again--cancer. My mom was diagnosed last week with stage IV lung cancer that has metastasized to the brain and liver. My priority prayer is that she will not suffer. For now her symptoms are only related to the brain tumor--difficulty speaking, some confusion, and weakness on her right side. Remarkably, miraculously, she is experiencing no pain at all right now. She has made it through the first five (of 14) radiation treatments with no side effects other than expected fatigue. For this I am so very grateful.
Holding fast--clinging--holding tight to God, the anchor of my soul, is the only way to describe my response in these days. I am claiming Him as my shield from the pain of former days and as my strength for this day and the days ahead. (Psalm 28:7) The distance is especially difficult since my mom lives in Fort Walton Beach, Florida; I live here in Birmingham, and my brother lives in Baton Rouge. We are tag teaming right now; I will return on Friday, most thankful that our Thanksgiving break is a full week.
Many of you have already expressed your concern, and I so appreciate it. Your prayers are the best gift of all right now. Please pray for these:
* for minimal pain
* for wisdom for my brother and me in upcoming decisions regarding chemotherapy and care
* for discernment/safe travel in the coming and going for all the family
* for peace amid this trial
* for God to be glorified during this journey
Thank you for praying with us.
As I was driving to school last Tuesday, having been out for a week and praying about how to share with my students, the Lord spoke clearly: "This affliction is for My glory; this affliction is for My glory." And so I spoke candidly to them about her condition and my assurance of her ultimate healing. Please pray that the Lord might use this time to communicate His truths and the hope we have in Christ. Although I have grieved over this diagnosis, I do not grieve without hope. Healing will ultimately be hers. For this I am most thankful.
Just this morning our pastor reminded us of the words in I Thessalonians 5:18: "Give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." So on this day I am thankful for...
* the excellent care my mom received at Fort Walton Beach Medical Center--incredibly compassionate nurses day and night
* the efficiency of health care in FWB--official diagnosis on a Friday; mapping and first treatment on Monday. This oncology clinic even offers transportation to treatments as a courtesy to patients.
* for my precious cousin and aunt who have been right there by her side
* for my dear brother and his leadership in this situation
* for my extraordinary sister-in-law who, the day after their son's wedding in New Orleans on Nov. 7th, drove to Baton Rouge and then to Florida and has been there helping out since
* God's timing--that this did not happen last year amid wedding planning or
any point before now
* God's Word--reminding me that even when I feel like curling up in a ball
under a blanket and closing all the blinds, I don't have to act on my feelings.
The Lord is on my side, and He will give strength equal to each day. (Deut.
33:25)
* three wonderful boys/men who showed up--each driving to Fort Walton from Orlando, from Birmingham, and from Auburn to be with my mom and me
* newlyweds in the family whose hopes and dreams always brighten the days
* Gem Day project planning that helps me focus on others
* text messaging that facilitates clear communication
This plaque sits in the front of my classroom as a reminder that in every season, not just Thanksgiving, there is ALWAYS something to be thankful for. Above all else I am thankful for our hope in Jesus! He still reigns with love and mercy and grace in all seasons.
* Update: I actually wrote this on Sunday but just now posting. Now 9 radiation treatments down, 5 more to go. All is still well. So thankful!
Joshua 23:8
That awful word has entered our family yet again--cancer. My mom was diagnosed last week with stage IV lung cancer that has metastasized to the brain and liver. My priority prayer is that she will not suffer. For now her symptoms are only related to the brain tumor--difficulty speaking, some confusion, and weakness on her right side. Remarkably, miraculously, she is experiencing no pain at all right now. She has made it through the first five (of 14) radiation treatments with no side effects other than expected fatigue. For this I am so very grateful.
Holding fast--clinging--holding tight to God, the anchor of my soul, is the only way to describe my response in these days. I am claiming Him as my shield from the pain of former days and as my strength for this day and the days ahead. (Psalm 28:7) The distance is especially difficult since my mom lives in Fort Walton Beach, Florida; I live here in Birmingham, and my brother lives in Baton Rouge. We are tag teaming right now; I will return on Friday, most thankful that our Thanksgiving break is a full week.
Many of you have already expressed your concern, and I so appreciate it. Your prayers are the best gift of all right now. Please pray for these:
* for minimal pain
* for wisdom for my brother and me in upcoming decisions regarding chemotherapy and care
* for discernment/safe travel in the coming and going for all the family
* for peace amid this trial
* for God to be glorified during this journey
Thank you for praying with us.
As I was driving to school last Tuesday, having been out for a week and praying about how to share with my students, the Lord spoke clearly: "This affliction is for My glory; this affliction is for My glory." And so I spoke candidly to them about her condition and my assurance of her ultimate healing. Please pray that the Lord might use this time to communicate His truths and the hope we have in Christ. Although I have grieved over this diagnosis, I do not grieve without hope. Healing will ultimately be hers. For this I am most thankful.
Just this morning our pastor reminded us of the words in I Thessalonians 5:18: "Give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." So on this day I am thankful for...
* the excellent care my mom received at Fort Walton Beach Medical Center--incredibly compassionate nurses day and night
* the efficiency of health care in FWB--official diagnosis on a Friday; mapping and first treatment on Monday. This oncology clinic even offers transportation to treatments as a courtesy to patients.
* for my precious cousin and aunt who have been right there by her side
* for my dear brother and his leadership in this situation
* for my extraordinary sister-in-law who, the day after their son's wedding in New Orleans on Nov. 7th, drove to Baton Rouge and then to Florida and has been there helping out since
* God's timing--that this did not happen last year amid wedding planning or
any point before now
* God's Word--reminding me that even when I feel like curling up in a ball
under a blanket and closing all the blinds, I don't have to act on my feelings.
The Lord is on my side, and He will give strength equal to each day. (Deut.
33:25)
* three wonderful boys/men who showed up--each driving to Fort Walton from Orlando, from Birmingham, and from Auburn to be with my mom and me
* newlyweds in the family whose hopes and dreams always brighten the days
* Gem Day project planning that helps me focus on others
* text messaging that facilitates clear communication
This plaque sits in the front of my classroom as a reminder that in every season, not just Thanksgiving, there is ALWAYS something to be thankful for. Above all else I am thankful for our hope in Jesus! He still reigns with love and mercy and grace in all seasons.
* Update: I actually wrote this on Sunday but just now posting. Now 9 radiation treatments down, 5 more to go. All is still well. So thankful!
Saturday, June 20, 2015
A Time to Dance
"To every thing there is a season,
and a time to every purpose under heaven...
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance."
Ecclesiastes 3:1, 4
For the past couple of years my refrigerator has been blanketed with Save the Dates, bridal shower/tool and gadget invitations, and wedding invites. I love looking at them as each is unique in reflecting the personalities of that couple. Family, friends' children, children's friends, former students-- an honor to be included in these most special occasions. Tis the season! Our own family joined in this delightful time of celebration as Caleb (Son #2) and Dallas (my now daughter-in-love) got married last month. After a year-long engagement, lots of planning, countless decisions, and a few tears, the much anticipated day arrived.
I will admit there were some challenging days in the planning. Poring through photos for the rehearsal dinner video and a memory table honoring Jim was especially difficult. I wept when Caleb announced that he wanted both Austin and Hunter to be his best men "because they both represent the best of what was in Dad." I knew this was a tough time for him, too. After talking one evening, Caleb proclaimed, "We will not let Satan hijack our joy," and that became our mantra. My daily prayer was that joy would prevail for everyone in the wedding party as well as all the guests. As He sometimes will, the Lord answered that prayer in an extraordinary way. One day I just happened upon one of those Facebook posts of a mother/son dance, and that prompted the plan. Sometime during the Christmas holidays I asked Caleb if he might consider doing one of those non-traditional mother/son dances at the reception. (I am certain that the Lord inspired this idea because this is way out of my conservative comfort zone!) I just didn't want anyone to look at me at any point in the evening with sadness; I knew that Jim had loved Dallas too, and she and Caleb had been through so much... I so desperately wanted joy to reign on their wedding day that I was willing to risk dignity to preserve it! I must say Caleb gave me a rather puzzled look, laughed, and said, "Why not?!" And so the secret journey began...
The groom pieced together snippets of some crowd favorite songs, and I enlisted the help of a sweet young friend at church to choreograph the steps, asking her to keep our plan confidential. (Thank you, Lindsay!) She gave up an hour one Sunday afternoon in mid-March to teach us--what patience displayed since I was a bit rusty with my dance moves! Caleb made a few changes; then he and I practiced intermittently once or twice a week here in the kitchen and a bit more frequently as the big day approached. These "rehearsals" were often sprinkled with laughter as Caleb's rambunctious boxer Linc would jump in between us or I would turn the wrong way or we would just act silly and exaggerate the moves. Precious memories made as joy reigned in our hearts. Prayers being answered...
Wedding week arrived, and the best men did, too. Austin drove in from Orlando Tuesday night, and Hunter got in from Auburn after his last final on Wednesday.
So Thursday night to the basement we go! Caleb had decided that he wanted to include his brothers in the last song, so we needed to teach them the steps. (This warmed my heart more than words can express--surely my favorite part of the dance!) More laughter. Friday night, after we got home from rehearsal dinner, Caleb called us all back to the basement for a final practice. Laughter echoed and this time a lot of sweat appeared, too! Sweet joy...
Now we had agreed to keep this our family's secret. (Of course, the groom had told the bride, but she wanted to be surprised and hadn't seen the dance before the reception.) I did insist that Caleb ask Dallas' parents if they would be okay with a bit different mother/son dance, and they graciously said, "Sure!" I had not told even my closest friends. (Maybe because I wasn't sure that I might back out at the last minute? I did have occasional days of doubt...) But I was so convinced that this is what God would have us do. It was as though I kept hearing Him say, "This will bring joy and smiles to everyone." So as Caleb and I began the traditional part of the dance to Louis Armstrong's "What a Wonderful World," I smiled at him and smugly said, "They don't have a clue. No, not a clue..." After a few measures the music abruptly stopped; I kicked my shoes off; and the rest, as they say, is history.
This verse in Ecclesiastes seems perfect for this season in our lives: we have wept; we have laughed; we have mourned; and we have danced. How thankful I am for a Savior who loves so deeply and intimately that He would make clear the path to joy! A few weeks before the wedding I was struggling--feeling a bit overwhelmed by it all and missing Jim profoundly. Fresh grief seemed to resurface amid the planning and decision making. One Sunday evening I just spilled out my heart, along with the ugly cry, to the precious ladies in my small group, asking them to please pray. And pray they did--right then, surrounding and even laying hands on me. I am convinced that this night was a turning point. Nothing had changed, yet everything had changed. Oh, may we never lose sight of how powerful prayer can be! My spirit was refreshed, and I was reminded of how important it is to be vulnerable with those we love and trust. Without even knowing it, they helped give me the courage to do the dance!
The blessings of the entire wedding weekend were abundant--I must save those for another day. There were so many glimpses of God's grace and His goodness. The prayers of many were answered as joy triumphed. All seemed to delight in our surprise.
It was indeed a time to dance.
(I am attaching the video in hopes that it brings residual joy and smiles. Unfortunately, we kept such a sound secret that no one captured the entire dance! Most were in such shock that we were midway through before they grabbed their phones!)
and a time to every purpose under heaven...
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance."
Ecclesiastes 3:1, 4
For the past couple of years my refrigerator has been blanketed with Save the Dates, bridal shower/tool and gadget invitations, and wedding invites. I love looking at them as each is unique in reflecting the personalities of that couple. Family, friends' children, children's friends, former students-- an honor to be included in these most special occasions. Tis the season! Our own family joined in this delightful time of celebration as Caleb (Son #2) and Dallas (my now daughter-in-love) got married last month. After a year-long engagement, lots of planning, countless decisions, and a few tears, the much anticipated day arrived.
I will admit there were some challenging days in the planning. Poring through photos for the rehearsal dinner video and a memory table honoring Jim was especially difficult. I wept when Caleb announced that he wanted both Austin and Hunter to be his best men "because they both represent the best of what was in Dad." I knew this was a tough time for him, too. After talking one evening, Caleb proclaimed, "We will not let Satan hijack our joy," and that became our mantra. My daily prayer was that joy would prevail for everyone in the wedding party as well as all the guests. As He sometimes will, the Lord answered that prayer in an extraordinary way. One day I just happened upon one of those Facebook posts of a mother/son dance, and that prompted the plan. Sometime during the Christmas holidays I asked Caleb if he might consider doing one of those non-traditional mother/son dances at the reception. (I am certain that the Lord inspired this idea because this is way out of my conservative comfort zone!) I just didn't want anyone to look at me at any point in the evening with sadness; I knew that Jim had loved Dallas too, and she and Caleb had been through so much... I so desperately wanted joy to reign on their wedding day that I was willing to risk dignity to preserve it! I must say Caleb gave me a rather puzzled look, laughed, and said, "Why not?!" And so the secret journey began...
The groom pieced together snippets of some crowd favorite songs, and I enlisted the help of a sweet young friend at church to choreograph the steps, asking her to keep our plan confidential. (Thank you, Lindsay!) She gave up an hour one Sunday afternoon in mid-March to teach us--what patience displayed since I was a bit rusty with my dance moves! Caleb made a few changes; then he and I practiced intermittently once or twice a week here in the kitchen and a bit more frequently as the big day approached. These "rehearsals" were often sprinkled with laughter as Caleb's rambunctious boxer Linc would jump in between us or I would turn the wrong way or we would just act silly and exaggerate the moves. Precious memories made as joy reigned in our hearts. Prayers being answered...
Wedding week arrived, and the best men did, too. Austin drove in from Orlando Tuesday night, and Hunter got in from Auburn after his last final on Wednesday.
So Thursday night to the basement we go! Caleb had decided that he wanted to include his brothers in the last song, so we needed to teach them the steps. (This warmed my heart more than words can express--surely my favorite part of the dance!) More laughter. Friday night, after we got home from rehearsal dinner, Caleb called us all back to the basement for a final practice. Laughter echoed and this time a lot of sweat appeared, too! Sweet joy...
Now we had agreed to keep this our family's secret. (Of course, the groom had told the bride, but she wanted to be surprised and hadn't seen the dance before the reception.) I did insist that Caleb ask Dallas' parents if they would be okay with a bit different mother/son dance, and they graciously said, "Sure!" I had not told even my closest friends. (Maybe because I wasn't sure that I might back out at the last minute? I did have occasional days of doubt...) But I was so convinced that this is what God would have us do. It was as though I kept hearing Him say, "This will bring joy and smiles to everyone." So as Caleb and I began the traditional part of the dance to Louis Armstrong's "What a Wonderful World," I smiled at him and smugly said, "They don't have a clue. No, not a clue..." After a few measures the music abruptly stopped; I kicked my shoes off; and the rest, as they say, is history.
This verse in Ecclesiastes seems perfect for this season in our lives: we have wept; we have laughed; we have mourned; and we have danced. How thankful I am for a Savior who loves so deeply and intimately that He would make clear the path to joy! A few weeks before the wedding I was struggling--feeling a bit overwhelmed by it all and missing Jim profoundly. Fresh grief seemed to resurface amid the planning and decision making. One Sunday evening I just spilled out my heart, along with the ugly cry, to the precious ladies in my small group, asking them to please pray. And pray they did--right then, surrounding and even laying hands on me. I am convinced that this night was a turning point. Nothing had changed, yet everything had changed. Oh, may we never lose sight of how powerful prayer can be! My spirit was refreshed, and I was reminded of how important it is to be vulnerable with those we love and trust. Without even knowing it, they helped give me the courage to do the dance!
The blessings of the entire wedding weekend were abundant--I must save those for another day. There were so many glimpses of God's grace and His goodness. The prayers of many were answered as joy triumphed. All seemed to delight in our surprise.
It was indeed a time to dance.
(I am attaching the video in hopes that it brings residual joy and smiles. Unfortunately, we kept such a sound secret that no one captured the entire dance! Most were in such shock that we were midway through before they grabbed their phones!)
Wednesday, February 25, 2015
Lessons in the Race
"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us."
Hebrews 12:1
Almost two years ago a dear friend was suddenly stricken with a debilitating condition known as Guillain Barre Syndrome, a rare disorder that causes the body's immune system to attack the nerves. In just a few short days she went from running a couple of miles every morning to being completely bedridden and unable to walk. Throughout her time in the hospital waiting on a diagnosis, receiving treatments, and her grueling therapy at a rehabilitation facility, Paula's faith did not waver. Simple daily tasks like feeding herself or drying her hair were beyond her ability. Certainly there must have been days that she wondered why, but most often gratitude spilled out: thankfulness for family and friends' support, for the multitude of prayer warriors, for the assurance that God would work this trial out for good.
During her hospital stay, another friend, in a beautiful act of faith, encouraged Paula with an offer to run the annual Mercedes Half Marathon with her after her recovery. Surely the Lord's miraculous hand would have to intervene for this to happen, but Susan claimed Luke 1:37--"For nothing is impossible with God"--believing that complete healing would come.
I clearly remember that first walk around the track at South Shades Crest Elementary after Paula had shed her walker and received clearance from her doctors. Our pace was slow, but I was completely awed by God's healing power and this strong woman's perseverance. Just a few weeks before she had been unable to take one step and now... She talked about the other patients at the rehab center and how blessed she felt compared to many of them--and how thankful she was that the Lord had brought her this far.
Gradually over the last year full mobility and strength have been restored. Indeed the Lord has healed. Hallelujah! And so to honor Susan's promise and celebrate this triumph, seven of us (plus a few children) ran/walked 13.1 miles last Sunday. Now to make this clear--I am not a runner. (I've always claimed it might betray my heritage since my maiden name is "Walker"!) But I was inspired to try to keep up with Paula as I continually witnessed the manifestation of God's grace--mile after mile.
Thousands of people line up in downtown Birmingham at 7:00 a.m. in the misting rain--our group behind the "13+ minute mile" sign. (Yes, this is for the slowest participants!) People of every shape, size, age, ethnicity--dressed from professional running attire to mere gym shorts and t-shirts. Our goals are surely as diverse--some to win, some to claim a personal best, and some just to finish. Lots of rain ponchos at this point. The music is loud; the adrenaline palpable. Legs are eager to get moving. Within the first 2-3 miles we break into groups of twos and threes according to the pace we want to keep. (My goal is to maintain a 15-minute mile throughout the course.) At Mile 5 my dear daughter-in-law-to-be is handing out water and cheering with her PT classmates from UAB. Then I see Caleb, Son #2, among them holding a sweet sign of encouragement for Mama. A glimpse of grace.
We alternate between a brisk walk and a steady jog, the three of us catching up on life and children and giving thanks that the rain is not torrential. The miles seem to go by fairly quickly. (Perhaps because many of my training miles were solo on the treadmill at the Y or on the steep hills of Russet Woods.) No monster hills and the fellowship of friends--the keys to a sense of swiftness. Approaching mile markers is invigorating since we know there will be people cheering/encouraging while offering cups of water or Powerade, fresh orange quarters, half bananas, or a handful of gummy bears... One of my favorite groups was South Highlands Presbyterian members who stood in front of their church holding signs reading, "South Highlands is praying for your endurance." Although we had surely interrupted the normalcy of their Sunday morning, they embraced the race and created a ministry opportunity. A glimpse of grace.
I'll admit the last couple of miles were especially challenging. Diana, Paula, and I are encouraging each other: "We can do this; yes, we can do it. No, I don't know how these marathon runners did this course twice-no way, but we can do this..." Then I see a man in front of me who has a vertical message written on his calves: the left one says "PHIL" and the right one "4:13." Love that! He certainly couldn't have read it while running so he had printed that Scripture reference clearly to encourage those following him, reminding us from Whom we could get our strength to finish. A glimpse of grace.
As we near the final mile, Paula tells us that we must sprint after we turn the last corner. Yes, Paula--the one who could barely walk two years ago--urging us to finish strong. She's just in front of me, and the tears well up as I observe God's grace still in motion. Lyrics emerge: "Lord, You are good and Your mercy endureth forever..."
Then sprint we did as we turn and see the sidewalks lined with cheering supporters and hear the voice over the loudspeaker announcing congratulations to runners as they cross the finish line. Exhilarated and exhausted, I see Caleb and Dallas and beside them Hunter--Son #3-- who has driven up from Auburn that morning to surprise me. I could hold back the tears no more. Grace upon grace.
Reflecting on this first half marathon (yes, I believe I will do it again!), I begin to understand better why Paul so often used the analogy of runners in a race. It requires discipline to train and perseverance to finish. All of us finished, cheering all the while for the next one to cross the line. I am reminded of the immense power of encouragement--from friends, from family, from strangers--as we ran this race and as we run this race of life. I will always cherish the words of my children after the Mercedes as they each said, "Mom, I am so proud of you!" As sweet as that was, I long for my Father's voice at another finish line: "Well done, my good and faithful servant." And so surely this day brought some of the good that the Lord promised from Paula's trial-- fresh reminders of His ever-present grace, His goodness and power to heal, and His voice that prompts us to press on for His glory.
Hebrews 12:1
Almost two years ago a dear friend was suddenly stricken with a debilitating condition known as Guillain Barre Syndrome, a rare disorder that causes the body's immune system to attack the nerves. In just a few short days she went from running a couple of miles every morning to being completely bedridden and unable to walk. Throughout her time in the hospital waiting on a diagnosis, receiving treatments, and her grueling therapy at a rehabilitation facility, Paula's faith did not waver. Simple daily tasks like feeding herself or drying her hair were beyond her ability. Certainly there must have been days that she wondered why, but most often gratitude spilled out: thankfulness for family and friends' support, for the multitude of prayer warriors, for the assurance that God would work this trial out for good.
During her hospital stay, another friend, in a beautiful act of faith, encouraged Paula with an offer to run the annual Mercedes Half Marathon with her after her recovery. Surely the Lord's miraculous hand would have to intervene for this to happen, but Susan claimed Luke 1:37--"For nothing is impossible with God"--believing that complete healing would come.
I clearly remember that first walk around the track at South Shades Crest Elementary after Paula had shed her walker and received clearance from her doctors. Our pace was slow, but I was completely awed by God's healing power and this strong woman's perseverance. Just a few weeks before she had been unable to take one step and now... She talked about the other patients at the rehab center and how blessed she felt compared to many of them--and how thankful she was that the Lord had brought her this far.
Gradually over the last year full mobility and strength have been restored. Indeed the Lord has healed. Hallelujah! And so to honor Susan's promise and celebrate this triumph, seven of us (plus a few children) ran/walked 13.1 miles last Sunday. Now to make this clear--I am not a runner. (I've always claimed it might betray my heritage since my maiden name is "Walker"!) But I was inspired to try to keep up with Paula as I continually witnessed the manifestation of God's grace--mile after mile.
Thousands of people line up in downtown Birmingham at 7:00 a.m. in the misting rain--our group behind the "13+ minute mile" sign. (Yes, this is for the slowest participants!) People of every shape, size, age, ethnicity--dressed from professional running attire to mere gym shorts and t-shirts. Our goals are surely as diverse--some to win, some to claim a personal best, and some just to finish. Lots of rain ponchos at this point. The music is loud; the adrenaline palpable. Legs are eager to get moving. Within the first 2-3 miles we break into groups of twos and threes according to the pace we want to keep. (My goal is to maintain a 15-minute mile throughout the course.) At Mile 5 my dear daughter-in-law-to-be is handing out water and cheering with her PT classmates from UAB. Then I see Caleb, Son #2, among them holding a sweet sign of encouragement for Mama. A glimpse of grace.
We alternate between a brisk walk and a steady jog, the three of us catching up on life and children and giving thanks that the rain is not torrential. The miles seem to go by fairly quickly. (Perhaps because many of my training miles were solo on the treadmill at the Y or on the steep hills of Russet Woods.) No monster hills and the fellowship of friends--the keys to a sense of swiftness. Approaching mile markers is invigorating since we know there will be people cheering/encouraging while offering cups of water or Powerade, fresh orange quarters, half bananas, or a handful of gummy bears... One of my favorite groups was South Highlands Presbyterian members who stood in front of their church holding signs reading, "South Highlands is praying for your endurance." Although we had surely interrupted the normalcy of their Sunday morning, they embraced the race and created a ministry opportunity. A glimpse of grace.
I'll admit the last couple of miles were especially challenging. Diana, Paula, and I are encouraging each other: "We can do this; yes, we can do it. No, I don't know how these marathon runners did this course twice-no way, but we can do this..." Then I see a man in front of me who has a vertical message written on his calves: the left one says "PHIL" and the right one "4:13." Love that! He certainly couldn't have read it while running so he had printed that Scripture reference clearly to encourage those following him, reminding us from Whom we could get our strength to finish. A glimpse of grace.
As we near the final mile, Paula tells us that we must sprint after we turn the last corner. Yes, Paula--the one who could barely walk two years ago--urging us to finish strong. She's just in front of me, and the tears well up as I observe God's grace still in motion. Lyrics emerge: "Lord, You are good and Your mercy endureth forever..."
Then sprint we did as we turn and see the sidewalks lined with cheering supporters and hear the voice over the loudspeaker announcing congratulations to runners as they cross the finish line. Exhilarated and exhausted, I see Caleb and Dallas and beside them Hunter--Son #3-- who has driven up from Auburn that morning to surprise me. I could hold back the tears no more. Grace upon grace.
Reflecting on this first half marathon (yes, I believe I will do it again!), I begin to understand better why Paul so often used the analogy of runners in a race. It requires discipline to train and perseverance to finish. All of us finished, cheering all the while for the next one to cross the line. I am reminded of the immense power of encouragement--from friends, from family, from strangers--as we ran this race and as we run this race of life. I will always cherish the words of my children after the Mercedes as they each said, "Mom, I am so proud of you!" As sweet as that was, I long for my Father's voice at another finish line: "Well done, my good and faithful servant." And so surely this day brought some of the good that the Lord promised from Paula's trial-- fresh reminders of His ever-present grace, His goodness and power to heal, and His voice that prompts us to press on for His glory.
Saturday, January 10, 2015
HE > i
"He must become greater; I must become less."
John 3:30
Last July I had the wonderful opportunity to go visit Hunter (Son #3) during his week off from his summer job. (Pretty cool gig-YMCA camp counselor on the island of Oahu!) On the Sunday I was there we found a wonderful church to attend--North Shore Christian Fellowship in Haleiwa. The service, held in an old unairconditioned gym, was delightful--welcoming, worshipful, and biblical. Surely the presence of the Lord was in this place. Afterwards, as we walked out to the car, I noticed almost every car in the parking lot had the same window decal: HE > i. Immediately I told Hunter I wanted one, and he pointed across the street. "There's the store right there!" Yes, there is a HE > i store in this little surfing community, but it was closed (as it should have been!) on Sunday. We returned another day and I bought a handful of stickers, thinking what a great visual reminder that God is indeed greater. At the time I just didn't know how the Lord would use the HE > i sticker to affirm His sovereignty and His greatness.
A few weeks later, on Wednesday of the first week of school, Hunter called to let me know that he might not be able to make his flight home that Saturday because of the hurricanes that were headed for the Hawaiian Islands. "Whaaaat?" I responded. With the demands of school (and my old body readjusting to the 4:45 a.m. alarm), I hadn't even watched the local weather that week, much less national. He shared the tentative plans to send the kids home early that week and then the staff would hunker down there in the cabins. (Did I mention that the camp is bordered on one side by the Pacific Ocean?) They would wait for the Honolulu director's call to evacuate to a shelter if need be. Now the Lord had graciously given me such peace all summer with this child being 4000+ miles away, but that phone call shook me. The "cast" and "grab" volley ensued. "Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you." (I Peter 5:7) I would follow His command and give it over, reminding myself that He had my child in the palm of His hand; then I would grab it back, imagining all sorts of outrageous things. Thursday afternoon I decided a brisk walk would help alleviate my growing worry. Neither of my two regular walking buddies could go, so I ventured out alone, fairly certain that the Lord wanted this time with me to Himself. So as I began to walk and spill out my concerns to Him-- when barely two blocks from home--He reminded me of the decal. "Yes, I AM greater. What is the name of this hurricane?" I abruptly stopped and gasped--Iselle! The first hurricane, the one of greatest concern, was named Iselle! HE > Iselle! The wave of peace that swept over me at that moment is indescribable as I sensed the burden of anxiety lifted. The world might say coincidence, but I say not a chance. Our great God cares so intimately for us that He will speak peace when we most need it. Instead of fretting the next two days, I was able to share this story of God's continued faithfulness.
Iselle's strength was diminished by the volcano on Big Island, and Julio (the second hurricane), changed directions and missed the islands entirely. God knew that end from the beginning (Isaiah 46:10). Hunter made his flight home that weekend, a bit weary but with yet another story to add to his summer adventures. And every time I see HE > i on my back windshield, I am reminded of His constant provision and mighty power.
"How great is our God... sing with me
How great is our God... and all will see
How great, how great is our God.
Name above all names
Worthy of all praise
My heart will sing
How great is our God."*
from Chris Tomlin's "How Great is our God"
John 3:30
Last July I had the wonderful opportunity to go visit Hunter (Son #3) during his week off from his summer job. (Pretty cool gig-YMCA camp counselor on the island of Oahu!) On the Sunday I was there we found a wonderful church to attend--North Shore Christian Fellowship in Haleiwa. The service, held in an old unairconditioned gym, was delightful--welcoming, worshipful, and biblical. Surely the presence of the Lord was in this place. Afterwards, as we walked out to the car, I noticed almost every car in the parking lot had the same window decal: HE > i. Immediately I told Hunter I wanted one, and he pointed across the street. "There's the store right there!" Yes, there is a HE > i store in this little surfing community, but it was closed (as it should have been!) on Sunday. We returned another day and I bought a handful of stickers, thinking what a great visual reminder that God is indeed greater. At the time I just didn't know how the Lord would use the HE > i sticker to affirm His sovereignty and His greatness.
A few weeks later, on Wednesday of the first week of school, Hunter called to let me know that he might not be able to make his flight home that Saturday because of the hurricanes that were headed for the Hawaiian Islands. "Whaaaat?" I responded. With the demands of school (and my old body readjusting to the 4:45 a.m. alarm), I hadn't even watched the local weather that week, much less national. He shared the tentative plans to send the kids home early that week and then the staff would hunker down there in the cabins. (Did I mention that the camp is bordered on one side by the Pacific Ocean?) They would wait for the Honolulu director's call to evacuate to a shelter if need be. Now the Lord had graciously given me such peace all summer with this child being 4000+ miles away, but that phone call shook me. The "cast" and "grab" volley ensued. "Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you." (I Peter 5:7) I would follow His command and give it over, reminding myself that He had my child in the palm of His hand; then I would grab it back, imagining all sorts of outrageous things. Thursday afternoon I decided a brisk walk would help alleviate my growing worry. Neither of my two regular walking buddies could go, so I ventured out alone, fairly certain that the Lord wanted this time with me to Himself. So as I began to walk and spill out my concerns to Him-- when barely two blocks from home--He reminded me of the decal. "Yes, I AM greater. What is the name of this hurricane?" I abruptly stopped and gasped--Iselle! The first hurricane, the one of greatest concern, was named Iselle! HE > Iselle! The wave of peace that swept over me at that moment is indescribable as I sensed the burden of anxiety lifted. The world might say coincidence, but I say not a chance. Our great God cares so intimately for us that He will speak peace when we most need it. Instead of fretting the next two days, I was able to share this story of God's continued faithfulness.
Iselle's strength was diminished by the volcano on Big Island, and Julio (the second hurricane), changed directions and missed the islands entirely. God knew that end from the beginning (Isaiah 46:10). Hunter made his flight home that weekend, a bit weary but with yet another story to add to his summer adventures. And every time I see HE > i on my back windshield, I am reminded of His constant provision and mighty power.
"How great is our God... sing with me
How great is our God... and all will see
How great, how great is our God.
Name above all names
Worthy of all praise
My heart will sing
How great is our God."*
from Chris Tomlin's "How Great is our God"
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
The Bear Hunt
"Blessed are those whose strength is in You,
who have set their hearts on pilgrimage."
Psalm 84:5
With a broad smile I recall those precious preschool programs--my boys among those adorable 3 and 4-year olds singing so proudly. One song is especially vivid in my memory-- "We're Going on a Bear Hunt." The Bear Hunt was more of a chant with motions as Mrs. Sandy led them through the search and the children echoed her path: through long wavy grass, thick oozy mud, a deep cold river, a big dark forest, and a scary dark cave. (No, I really did not remember all those lyrics. Thank you, Google, for your help!) The only part I did actually recall was the refrain: "We can't go over it; we can't go under it; we've got to go through it!" Perhaps those lines have stayed with me all these years because there is profound truth in these simple words. Some circumstances in our lives, such as illness or grief, cannot be circumvented. We cannot get around them. We simply have to go through them. Ugh.
But the good news is... the good news. Yes, the gospel is our way through. Jesus Himself said, "I am the way, the truth, and the life, and no one comes to the Father except through Me." (John 14:6) His way through was brutally suffering so that our way through would be simply believing. God sent His Son so that we could have a way through to Him. Although Jesus returned to sit at the right hand of His Father after His resurrection, He left us with the Holy Spirit who "will remind you of everything I have said to you." (John 14:26) These reminders, often the precious promises of God, are our way through. "I will never leave you nor forsake you." (Joshua 1:5) What reassurance to know we go through nothing alone! Sometimes He sends His people to your doorstep or a text to your phone or a card to your mailbox. How many occasions in the past two and a half years has He "shown up" in my life this way! But sometimes He doesn't. Sometimes it is simply in the dark, quiet, tear-filled night that our Father of compassion softly whispers, "I am here. Cry on. I understand." The intimacy of those moments is immeasurable. Maybe these painfully sweet times are the "treasures of darkness, riches stored in secret places" that the Lord speaks of in Isaiah 45:3.
Another encouraging promise is also found in Isaiah: "For I am the LORD your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, 'Do not fear; I will help you.'" (41:13) I need Him to take my hand, especially when I don't know which way to turn. (Navigation has always been a serious weakness.) On our "bear hunts" that mud can be really thick, making us feel stuck--almost paralyzed. His mighty hand is there to pull us out. That river is so cold that our bodies are trembling. He will tuck us under the shadow of His wings until we are warm and calm again. Yes, that forest is dark, but He is the light unto our path who will show us the way. The cave, too, is dark and scary, but with the LORD at our side, declaring to rescue us, we need not be afraid. (Jeremiah 1:8) Alas, whatever obstacles we encounter on our journey, our compassionate and loving
Guide is right there waiting. All we have to do is reach for His hand and ask for His help.
At some point in our lives we will all experience a bear hunt: tall grass, thick mud, cold rivers, dark forests, and/or scary caves. No way around them; we have to go through them. May we rest in knowing that our faithful Father is taking every step alongside us, holding our hand all the way. He will see us through!
.
who have set their hearts on pilgrimage."
Psalm 84:5
With a broad smile I recall those precious preschool programs--my boys among those adorable 3 and 4-year olds singing so proudly. One song is especially vivid in my memory-- "We're Going on a Bear Hunt." The Bear Hunt was more of a chant with motions as Mrs. Sandy led them through the search and the children echoed her path: through long wavy grass, thick oozy mud, a deep cold river, a big dark forest, and a scary dark cave. (No, I really did not remember all those lyrics. Thank you, Google, for your help!) The only part I did actually recall was the refrain: "We can't go over it; we can't go under it; we've got to go through it!" Perhaps those lines have stayed with me all these years because there is profound truth in these simple words. Some circumstances in our lives, such as illness or grief, cannot be circumvented. We cannot get around them. We simply have to go through them. Ugh.
But the good news is... the good news. Yes, the gospel is our way through. Jesus Himself said, "I am the way, the truth, and the life, and no one comes to the Father except through Me." (John 14:6) His way through was brutally suffering so that our way through would be simply believing. God sent His Son so that we could have a way through to Him. Although Jesus returned to sit at the right hand of His Father after His resurrection, He left us with the Holy Spirit who "will remind you of everything I have said to you." (John 14:26) These reminders, often the precious promises of God, are our way through. "I will never leave you nor forsake you." (Joshua 1:5) What reassurance to know we go through nothing alone! Sometimes He sends His people to your doorstep or a text to your phone or a card to your mailbox. How many occasions in the past two and a half years has He "shown up" in my life this way! But sometimes He doesn't. Sometimes it is simply in the dark, quiet, tear-filled night that our Father of compassion softly whispers, "I am here. Cry on. I understand." The intimacy of those moments is immeasurable. Maybe these painfully sweet times are the "treasures of darkness, riches stored in secret places" that the Lord speaks of in Isaiah 45:3.
Another encouraging promise is also found in Isaiah: "For I am the LORD your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, 'Do not fear; I will help you.'" (41:13) I need Him to take my hand, especially when I don't know which way to turn. (Navigation has always been a serious weakness.) On our "bear hunts" that mud can be really thick, making us feel stuck--almost paralyzed. His mighty hand is there to pull us out. That river is so cold that our bodies are trembling. He will tuck us under the shadow of His wings until we are warm and calm again. Yes, that forest is dark, but He is the light unto our path who will show us the way. The cave, too, is dark and scary, but with the LORD at our side, declaring to rescue us, we need not be afraid. (Jeremiah 1:8) Alas, whatever obstacles we encounter on our journey, our compassionate and loving
Guide is right there waiting. All we have to do is reach for His hand and ask for His help.
At some point in our lives we will all experience a bear hunt: tall grass, thick mud, cold rivers, dark forests, and/or scary caves. No way around them; we have to go through them. May we rest in knowing that our faithful Father is taking every step alongside us, holding our hand all the way. He will see us through!
.
Sunday, March 30, 2014
Delicious
"Great are the works of the LORD;
they are pondered by all who delight in them."
Psalm 111:2
Years ago a fourth grade teacher friend shared a wonderful story about a book her class had read called The Search for Delicious. In this book the king's messenger is sent out to poll the kingdom regarding which food should be listed under delicious in the new dictionary since great division on the matter prevails within the castle. The quest proves quite interesting as the responses stretch beyond food, leaving the reader to ponder the answer as well: What is delicious? After discussing it as a class, this savvy teacher then had her students write prominent Mississippi author, John Grisham, asking him to answer the question. She gave me a copy of his letter (dated September 1992) to the class as he offered his insights beyond food on delicious. Here is an excerpt:
"Going to the ballpark and watching kids play baseball is a delicious
experience. Taking a long walk in the woods with my dog Bo on a
cool morning is delicious. Going to church with Renee, Ty, and Shea
is delicious. Watching Ty play soccer and listening to him read a book
is delicious..."
My friend (and her students!) were thrilled that the noted author took time to write them back, and his letter served as a catalyst for their own assignment to define delicious.
I've always loved this story, and through the years have encouraged my students to reflect on what they consider to be delicious. I explain that although we often only associate food with this word, delicious is a close relative of delight. Delicious and delight come from the same Latin root meaning "to please greatly" or "to take pleasure in." Once they get past Grandma's fried chicken, an Oreo blizzard, and Mom's sweet potato casserole, they begin to grasp the idea. Snippets of teenagers' delicious include sleeping till noon on a Saturday, hitting a home run, camping out (especially in an Eno), Christmas morning, beach vacations, riding four wheelers in the mud, finding the perfect prom dress, hearing the final bell ring in May...
This, of course, inspires me to consider what I deem delicious. A few similarities but I believe that delicious changes for us as the seasons of our lives change. Here is a sampling from my current list:
* sunshine and 70 degrees after a long, dreary winter
* curling up with a good book on a rainy afternoon
* hearing the voice of an old friend on the phone
* quiet mornings with my Bible, devotionals, journal, and pen
* discovering a handwritten letter or card in the mailbox (or on the counter)
* watching the sun set at the beach (or anywhere else)
* finding an unblemished sand dollar along the shore
* seeing a rainbow
* reading a children's book
* belly laughter that leads to tears
* watching a baby sleep
* cooking for a friend in need
* sitting around a campfire
* seeing the sun rise from behind the hills
* sharing a weekend getaway with friends
* sharing a meal and stories around the dinner table when all the boys are
home
The list is truly endless, but as I study it, I realize how all of these are "great works of the LORD"! Everything in creation, family, friendships, books, laughter--it's all of Him. (Colossians 1:16) He spoke everything into existence; He designed families and friendships; He gave the talent for authors to write and illustrators to draw; He purposed a cheerful heart to be good medicine. (Proverbs 17:22) How gracious He is to bestow such gifts! When we trace the roots of our delicious, we find that He is surely the Maker of all.
I especially find this time of year delicious, embracing the emerging springtime. Signs of resurrection all around us foreshadow the coming celebration of our risen Lord: Japanese magnolia blossoms, flowering Bradford pears, clusters of daffodils, patches of phlox, shades of green peaking through the barren ground... All of this without man touching a garden tool. How grateful I am for these delicious reminders of new life! Indeed all creation does testify of the Creator and His most marvelous gift--His risen Son Jesus, our Savior and Lord.
My prayer today is that the Lord might open our eyes to see His great works everywhere and that as we ponder them, we will praise Him. Delicious indeed!
they are pondered by all who delight in them."
Psalm 111:2
Years ago a fourth grade teacher friend shared a wonderful story about a book her class had read called The Search for Delicious. In this book the king's messenger is sent out to poll the kingdom regarding which food should be listed under delicious in the new dictionary since great division on the matter prevails within the castle. The quest proves quite interesting as the responses stretch beyond food, leaving the reader to ponder the answer as well: What is delicious? After discussing it as a class, this savvy teacher then had her students write prominent Mississippi author, John Grisham, asking him to answer the question. She gave me a copy of his letter (dated September 1992) to the class as he offered his insights beyond food on delicious. Here is an excerpt:
"Going to the ballpark and watching kids play baseball is a delicious
experience. Taking a long walk in the woods with my dog Bo on a
cool morning is delicious. Going to church with Renee, Ty, and Shea
is delicious. Watching Ty play soccer and listening to him read a book
is delicious..."
My friend (and her students!) were thrilled that the noted author took time to write them back, and his letter served as a catalyst for their own assignment to define delicious.
I've always loved this story, and through the years have encouraged my students to reflect on what they consider to be delicious. I explain that although we often only associate food with this word, delicious is a close relative of delight. Delicious and delight come from the same Latin root meaning "to please greatly" or "to take pleasure in." Once they get past Grandma's fried chicken, an Oreo blizzard, and Mom's sweet potato casserole, they begin to grasp the idea. Snippets of teenagers' delicious include sleeping till noon on a Saturday, hitting a home run, camping out (especially in an Eno), Christmas morning, beach vacations, riding four wheelers in the mud, finding the perfect prom dress, hearing the final bell ring in May...
This, of course, inspires me to consider what I deem delicious. A few similarities but I believe that delicious changes for us as the seasons of our lives change. Here is a sampling from my current list:
* sunshine and 70 degrees after a long, dreary winter
* curling up with a good book on a rainy afternoon
* hearing the voice of an old friend on the phone
* quiet mornings with my Bible, devotionals, journal, and pen
* discovering a handwritten letter or card in the mailbox (or on the counter)
* watching the sun set at the beach (or anywhere else)
* finding an unblemished sand dollar along the shore
* seeing a rainbow
* reading a children's book
* belly laughter that leads to tears
* watching a baby sleep
* cooking for a friend in need
* sitting around a campfire
* seeing the sun rise from behind the hills
* sharing a weekend getaway with friends
* sharing a meal and stories around the dinner table when all the boys are
home
The list is truly endless, but as I study it, I realize how all of these are "great works of the LORD"! Everything in creation, family, friendships, books, laughter--it's all of Him. (Colossians 1:16) He spoke everything into existence; He designed families and friendships; He gave the talent for authors to write and illustrators to draw; He purposed a cheerful heart to be good medicine. (Proverbs 17:22) How gracious He is to bestow such gifts! When we trace the roots of our delicious, we find that He is surely the Maker of all.
I especially find this time of year delicious, embracing the emerging springtime. Signs of resurrection all around us foreshadow the coming celebration of our risen Lord: Japanese magnolia blossoms, flowering Bradford pears, clusters of daffodils, patches of phlox, shades of green peaking through the barren ground... All of this without man touching a garden tool. How grateful I am for these delicious reminders of new life! Indeed all creation does testify of the Creator and His most marvelous gift--His risen Son Jesus, our Savior and Lord.
My prayer today is that the Lord might open our eyes to see His great works everywhere and that as we ponder them, we will praise Him. Delicious indeed!
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