"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!
"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!)
"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.
"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"
"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!
.
"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!
"The heavens declare the glory of God;
the skies proclaim the work of His hands.
Day after day they pour forth speech;
night after night they display knowledge."
Psalm 19:1-2
For many of us January seems interminable. We crawl through, mumbling about the cold temperatures, the overcast skies, the piercing wind. Barren trees, crunchy lawns, and swirling leaves mark our neighborhoods as we bemoan the bleakness of winter. The twinkling lights and festive Christmas decorations are stored away, college football is over, and we long for the radiance of sunshine. Well, this week I think we got our Sonshine.
Here at the end of this long month we were graced with an unexpected blessing--a snowfall that paralyzed a city within an hour. A blessing you say? Thousands of children remained at school. Countless people could not leave work. Many were stranded along the roads. Yes, a blessing. For as many unfortunate circumstances the snow created, the kindness and compassion of friends and colleagues and strangers appeared--the hands and feet of Jesus. The stories continue to pour in: people getting out of their cars and enduring the frigid temperatures to help another push his or her vehicle to the side of the road; people offering those walking a ride home or at least as close to home as the ice would allow; people opening their homes to others needing a bed and a hot shower; friends taking in others' children whose parents were stranded...
At a time when technology seems sometimes to be distancing relationships, through the snow the Lord offered us a window to see what really matters
--people and relationships. I was at school where our extraordinary administrative team set the tone for magnanimous leadership and calm in a difficult situation. Overseeing several hundred teenagers overnight is a daunting task, yet they carefully devised a plan for supervision that worked. After dinner each of us gathered ten students (separated by gender) that would be our charges for the night. We took them back to our rooms for movies, games, and hallway walks until lights out at 11:00; then they curled up on the floor with backpacks for pillows and jackets for blankets, making valiant attempts to sleep. These students were remarkable. Perhaps they saw the "No Whining" sign in my room, but there were few complaints. I think the more stories we heard and pictures we saw of those stranded out on the roads, the more thankful we became for being sheltered in a warm, safe place. Many of the teachers didn't really sleep much, alternating between resting for a while and then joining a group of "hall monitors" for a while. But in these wee hours of the morning relationships were forged. This snow-induced sleepover offered opportunity for conversations beyond the classroom and a bond sealed by these circumstances. We told stories and laughed and cried and learned much about one another. Throughout the night administrators walked the halls checking on both students and teachers, asking if we needed anything. As people sought comfort, there was a mass sale of HHS sweatshirts from the SGA sponsor, and those with exercise clothes at school offered tennis shoes and t-shirts and sweats for those who had been wearing skirts and heels. One teacher dug out several years' worth of old classroom curtains to serve as blankets for her students. Phone chargers and saline solution were exchanged. Stashes of Laffy Taffy and lollipops were shared. A tube of toothpaste became a precious commodity Wednesday morning as students eagerly lined up for a dab on their finger, murmuring "thank you" as they began the finger brush. Their gratitude for the little things has left an indelible heart print.
Among the unsung heroes of this night at the school were the dear ladies in our lunchroom. Three delicious meals they graciously prepared, serving them with bright smiles and exceptional patience. Students were called to eat by floors so in three shifts they served each meal. These ladies had worked diligently, offering four choices for dinner Tuesday evening; then we enjoyed scrambled eggs, sausage, grits, and biscuits Wednesday morning and chicken sandwiches later that day for lunch. Each time they greeted students and staff with smiles and kindness in spite of their own sleep deprivation. They actually seemed delighted to be able to serve us!
The ladies at the front desks also modeled incredible patience. Answering the incessant phone calls and paging students for check out intermittently from about 11 a.m. until 10 p.m. on Tuesday; then starting again about 6:30 a.m. on Wednesday there was a steady flow of parents checking out their children throughout the day. Their voices over the intercom never revealed the exhaustion they must have felt. Grace under pressure. What a privilege to work among such servant hearts!
Though many want to place blame on weather forecasters, this surprise "snowpacolypse" (as many have come to affectionately call it) is simply a reminder that the Lord indeed is sovereign, and the skies still proclaim the work of His hands. Regardless of forecasts, the heavens ultimately declare His glory. Not too long after I returned home Wednesday afternoon, I glanced out the window and caught the magnificent sunset below. Yet another reminder of the splendor of His glory. I'd like to think years from now as we reflect on this history-making event, our memories will not be of the inconveniences or discomfort but on the benevolence and hospitality displayed in our community--people being kind to one another, loving one another, and serving one another. Because of the snow, the gospel has been on display by so many, reflecting God's glory in immeasurable ways. Yes, the Son did shine in January after all--a blessing indeed...
