"My ears had heard of You
but now my eyes have seen You."
Job 42:5
Perhaps second grade was the last time I tested with 20/20 vision. That first pair of glasses came in third grade for reading the chalkboard. The first few weeks they were "cool," but that coolness faded with time. Later I only pulled them out when absolutely necessary. By eighth grade glasses were a full-time necessity. My vision had digressed, and I chose a really attractive pair of wire rims--with a special feature of photo gray lenses. No need for sunglasses--these lenses darkened upon exposure to sunlight (even the flash for the camera). Surely that school picture exposes the peak of my awkward junior high years! Oh, the joy of that first pair of contacts the summer before ninth grade--even though these soft lens had to be boiled every night and their life expectancy was only about 18 months. For over thirty years now I've relied on contacts to correct my vision, and I'm so thankful for the improvements.
As with many people, some time around that magical fortieth birthday seeing up close became a challenge. After a short run with monovision contacts, I moved to wearing just one contact in my right eye for the last several years. This eye targets distances and the left one hones in for close reading. How amazing that God could create minds able to compensate and allow each eye to determine its specific task!
However, I am learning that real seeing is more than just capturing what is in front of me. It's seeing beyond the surface--behind the curtain. Because so often what we see determines how we think, I pray that I might be able to see through the Lord's eyes and not my own. In recent days many sights have kindled heartache, but our faithful Father is helping me focus through His lens. I have received various pieces of mail addressed to "Ms." Lesa Gibson. Seeing that alien title stings, but I can choose not to let that linger and to see the angst that the writer may have endured trying to determine what is appropriate. (This actually inspired a conversation with my students as I asked them to continue using Mrs. Gibson in their MLA headings.) When I see an elderly couple together in Walmart, I can choose to see the blessing of a long marriage in a world that seems to dismiss the sacredness of this union. (Jim's parents are celebrating 54 years together this week!) When I see that gray Dodge truck in the driveway, I can choose to see the kindness and generosity of Dunn Construction and be thankful. When I see Jim's radiant smile in pictures, I can choose to see love and rejoice that he brought such joy to so many. The only way to see clearly is to allow God to transform my vision.
Honestly though, there are some days that my eyes get "out of focus," but God (there's that beautiful phrase again!) is gracious to help restore my sight. Just as He has adjusted my right eye to see the street sign down the road and my left eye to see the words in a book, He empowers me to see the good and give thanks for His gracious gifts. I cannot do this alone. Without my Bausch and Lomb contact, I would be in a world of haze. Just as I need this one contact to perfect my surface vision, I need the Lord as my one Contact to perfect my core vision. He alone enables me to truly see. I wouldn't consider going a day without my contact to see--why would I ever consider going a day without my Contact to see the things that matter most?
The clarity for 20/20 vision comes through His Word. In His faithfulness the Lord is helping me see Him on ordinary days in extraordinary ways. For this I am so grateful. I will continue to lift up my eyes to the hills where my help comes from.
"So we fix our eyes not on what is seen but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." (2 Corinthians 4:18)
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Just a Little While
"In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that your faith--of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire--may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed."
I Peter 1:6-7
"Mom, how much longer until we...?"
"Just a little while, honey."
I know through the years I have exasperated my children with the vague response, "just a little while." I think often this was my answer because either I didn't know myself exactly how long--a few hours, a few minutes, a few days--or more likely, I wanted to offer reassurance.
When we would leave our young children with a friend, grandparents, or a sitter to go to a meeting or out to dinner, we would hug them tight, reminding them, "We'll be back in a little while." We knew that our separation would not be for long, but a little while sounded much more brief than an hour or two. We offered "a little while" as a hint of reassurance.
"How much longer before we get to the campground?" another impatient voice pleads from the back seat. "Just a little while, dear," I reply once again, as I have the last three times the question has been asked. Except this time I am confident that our little while is only about 15 minutes since we have just passed a sign saying, "Unicoi State Park 10 miles ahead." The restless boys in the back seat surely did not want to hear "a couple more hours" when they first asked. Again "a little while" sounded much more comforting.
Even medical professionals know how consoling the phrase "a little while" is. The dentist says, "Your mouth will be sore for a little while" (instead of for a few days); the doctor suggests, "You'll need to stay off your feet for a little while" (instead of a week). A little while just sounds manageable.
This week we turned the calendar page to May, and in just a little while that final bell will sound and summer will be here. Students (and teachers!) are encouraged by those words--in just a little while they will be free of schedules and assignments and tests. Their smiles are a bit brighter and their steps are a bit lighter as they anticipate the freedom to come. How refreshing those words, "just a little while."
So surely this was Jesus' intent in John 16:16 when He tells His disciples: "In a little while you will see Me no more, and then after a little while you will see Me." His disciples were confused, asking each other what He meant by "a little while." That first little while was only a few hours; Jesus' crucifixion was imminent, and He would be going away. The latter little while was three days--referring to His resurrection and return to see them. I ponder the difference and how excruciatingly difficult that second "little while" must have been to endure. Yet, Jesus anticipated their pain and reassured them: "You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy...now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice; no one will take away your joy." (v.20, 22)
Yes, He knew that our "little whiles" might seem endless at times, but I believe He chose that phrase to help ease our distress. As I read Peter's words, "... though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials..." I can know that my grief is not forever. One day at a time, one step at a time--sometimes forward, sometimes backward, but only for a little while. I cling to His promise that our grief will turn to joy. Right now that seems impossible, but His Word tells me that all things are possible through Him. I must trust our faithful Father even when I don't understand. I know that Jim's "little while" of suffering has now turned to joy as he is in the very presence of our Lord. What comfort that offers!
I first heard the group Selah many years ago on a Sunday night at Temple Baptist in Hattiesburg. These lyrics from their song "Hold On" have graced my heart on several occasions, but most especially in recent days:
"If you feel today that you can't make it
Keep holdin' on, cause you can take it
If you hold on a little while longer
Hold on a little while longer...
You gotta hold to His hand
God's unchanging hand...
You gotta build your hopes on things eternal
My God will never let you down...
Hold on a little while longer..."
What a sweet reminder that God is holding our hands for however long this little while lasts...
"And the God of all grace, who called you to His eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered for a little while, will Himself restore you and make you strong, firm, and steadfast. To Him be the power for ever and ever. Amen."
I Peter 5:10-11
I Peter 1:6-7
"Mom, how much longer until we...?"
"Just a little while, honey."
I know through the years I have exasperated my children with the vague response, "just a little while." I think often this was my answer because either I didn't know myself exactly how long--a few hours, a few minutes, a few days--or more likely, I wanted to offer reassurance.
When we would leave our young children with a friend, grandparents, or a sitter to go to a meeting or out to dinner, we would hug them tight, reminding them, "We'll be back in a little while." We knew that our separation would not be for long, but a little while sounded much more brief than an hour or two. We offered "a little while" as a hint of reassurance.
"How much longer before we get to the campground?" another impatient voice pleads from the back seat. "Just a little while, dear," I reply once again, as I have the last three times the question has been asked. Except this time I am confident that our little while is only about 15 minutes since we have just passed a sign saying, "Unicoi State Park 10 miles ahead." The restless boys in the back seat surely did not want to hear "a couple more hours" when they first asked. Again "a little while" sounded much more comforting.
Even medical professionals know how consoling the phrase "a little while" is. The dentist says, "Your mouth will be sore for a little while" (instead of for a few days); the doctor suggests, "You'll need to stay off your feet for a little while" (instead of a week). A little while just sounds manageable.
This week we turned the calendar page to May, and in just a little while that final bell will sound and summer will be here. Students (and teachers!) are encouraged by those words--in just a little while they will be free of schedules and assignments and tests. Their smiles are a bit brighter and their steps are a bit lighter as they anticipate the freedom to come. How refreshing those words, "just a little while."
So surely this was Jesus' intent in John 16:16 when He tells His disciples: "In a little while you will see Me no more, and then after a little while you will see Me." His disciples were confused, asking each other what He meant by "a little while." That first little while was only a few hours; Jesus' crucifixion was imminent, and He would be going away. The latter little while was three days--referring to His resurrection and return to see them. I ponder the difference and how excruciatingly difficult that second "little while" must have been to endure. Yet, Jesus anticipated their pain and reassured them: "You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy...now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice; no one will take away your joy." (v.20, 22)
Yes, He knew that our "little whiles" might seem endless at times, but I believe He chose that phrase to help ease our distress. As I read Peter's words, "... though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials..." I can know that my grief is not forever. One day at a time, one step at a time--sometimes forward, sometimes backward, but only for a little while. I cling to His promise that our grief will turn to joy. Right now that seems impossible, but His Word tells me that all things are possible through Him. I must trust our faithful Father even when I don't understand. I know that Jim's "little while" of suffering has now turned to joy as he is in the very presence of our Lord. What comfort that offers!
I first heard the group Selah many years ago on a Sunday night at Temple Baptist in Hattiesburg. These lyrics from their song "Hold On" have graced my heart on several occasions, but most especially in recent days:
"If you feel today that you can't make it
Keep holdin' on, cause you can take it
If you hold on a little while longer
Hold on a little while longer...
You gotta hold to His hand
God's unchanging hand...
You gotta build your hopes on things eternal
My God will never let you down...
Hold on a little while longer..."
What a sweet reminder that God is holding our hands for however long this little while lasts...
"And the God of all grace, who called you to His eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered for a little while, will Himself restore you and make you strong, firm, and steadfast. To Him be the power for ever and ever. Amen."
I Peter 5:10-11
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
What's in a Name?
"And the LORD said to Moses, 'I will do the very thing you have asked because I am pleased with you and I know you by name.'"
Exodus 33:17
I remember with each pregnancy the many names we considered for our children. With Son #1, we knew early on that Walker would have to be the middle name if this were a boy since that was not only my maiden name but also Jim's mom's maiden name. There were some good Walker men in both our families. (The irony continues as Jim's brother married a Kansas girl whose maiden name was Walker as well. Apparently Gibson men were drawn to Walker women!) We settled on Austin Walker, and I still love that name.
Son #2 was the only one that we knew was a boy before birth, and we had the name list narrowed to James Addison (my pick) or James Caleb (Jim's favorite). One Sunday morning, about two or three weeks before he was born, our pastor's entire message centered on Caleb, the one who had a different spirit and followed the Lord wholeheartedly. That was one of the few occasions that God has sent a flashing neon sign to me when I asked for His direction on something. As soon as the final "amen" was voiced, I smiled at Jim and said, "Okay--this is James Caleb." I can't imagine him being called anything else.
By the time Son #3 came along, we were compelled to eliminate a number of names we really liked because of former students. (Some of the associations were, well, less than favorable.) If this were a boy, we wanted his name to be different, unique. We decided on Hunter Reid--a name that sounded strong and confident. Unfortunately, Hunter has had to contend for his uniqueness since there are several other Hunters in his grade--even another Hunter Gibson! Maybe this has helped make him strong and assertive. For that I am thankful that he carries this name.
What a decision--to pronounce what our child will be called for the rest of his days. Perhaps we toil so much over the possiblities because we realize that our name is really a treasure to us--when we hear someone call it or when we read it (especially handwritten). On certificates, diplomas, trophies, invitations, birthday cards, gift tags, in the newspaper, even in a text--our hearts quicken upon seeing it. When I see someone in passing, there is a subtle intimacy shared when I hear, "Hey, Lesa" rather than just "Hey." Learning my students' names that first week of school is a top priority because I want these young people to know they matter to me and that I care about them. Their names are a personal treasure.
To think that our Savior knows each of our names is a staggering thought. Each one of us He created, knit together by His perfect design, and He knows us intimately. He knows the very names of those who are calling on Him! That means He hears me when I cry out; He carries my heavy burdens; He comforts me when my heart aches. The One who Himself is the name above all names actually knows mine. Wow! Another reminder of this truth is in Isaiah 43:1-2 when the Lord says,
"Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have summoned you by name; you are Mine.
When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire,
you will not be burned;
the flames will not set you ablaze.
For I am the LORD, your God,
the Holy One of Israel, your Savior."
Can there be any greater comfort than to know that God has called us by name and we are His? No matter how deep our valley He is there with us whispering our name.
Throughout the past week these lyrics have echoed: "Your name--is a strong and mighty tower; Your name is a shelter like no other... Nothing has the power to save but Your name..." On those dark days when my heart seems unbearably heavy, I cry out to His name, trusting in its power. This strong tower is faithful to offer me shelter. Surely His name is wonderful, Jesus my Lord.
When we meet someone for the first time, we introduce ourselves by exchanging names. How marvelous though that we don't ever have to introduce ourselves to Jesus because He already knows our name! And unlike those of us who are getting a bit older and forgetful, He will never forget our name. It is indelibly inscribed on His heart, just as our own children's names are written on ours.
"Let the name of the LORD be praised,
both now and forevermore."
Psalm 113:2
Exodus 33:17
I remember with each pregnancy the many names we considered for our children. With Son #1, we knew early on that Walker would have to be the middle name if this were a boy since that was not only my maiden name but also Jim's mom's maiden name. There were some good Walker men in both our families. (The irony continues as Jim's brother married a Kansas girl whose maiden name was Walker as well. Apparently Gibson men were drawn to Walker women!) We settled on Austin Walker, and I still love that name.
Son #2 was the only one that we knew was a boy before birth, and we had the name list narrowed to James Addison (my pick) or James Caleb (Jim's favorite). One Sunday morning, about two or three weeks before he was born, our pastor's entire message centered on Caleb, the one who had a different spirit and followed the Lord wholeheartedly. That was one of the few occasions that God has sent a flashing neon sign to me when I asked for His direction on something. As soon as the final "amen" was voiced, I smiled at Jim and said, "Okay--this is James Caleb." I can't imagine him being called anything else.
By the time Son #3 came along, we were compelled to eliminate a number of names we really liked because of former students. (Some of the associations were, well, less than favorable.) If this were a boy, we wanted his name to be different, unique. We decided on Hunter Reid--a name that sounded strong and confident. Unfortunately, Hunter has had to contend for his uniqueness since there are several other Hunters in his grade--even another Hunter Gibson! Maybe this has helped make him strong and assertive. For that I am thankful that he carries this name.
What a decision--to pronounce what our child will be called for the rest of his days. Perhaps we toil so much over the possiblities because we realize that our name is really a treasure to us--when we hear someone call it or when we read it (especially handwritten). On certificates, diplomas, trophies, invitations, birthday cards, gift tags, in the newspaper, even in a text--our hearts quicken upon seeing it. When I see someone in passing, there is a subtle intimacy shared when I hear, "Hey, Lesa" rather than just "Hey." Learning my students' names that first week of school is a top priority because I want these young people to know they matter to me and that I care about them. Their names are a personal treasure.
To think that our Savior knows each of our names is a staggering thought. Each one of us He created, knit together by His perfect design, and He knows us intimately. He knows the very names of those who are calling on Him! That means He hears me when I cry out; He carries my heavy burdens; He comforts me when my heart aches. The One who Himself is the name above all names actually knows mine. Wow! Another reminder of this truth is in Isaiah 43:1-2 when the Lord says,
"Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have summoned you by name; you are Mine.
When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire,
you will not be burned;
the flames will not set you ablaze.
For I am the LORD, your God,
the Holy One of Israel, your Savior."
Can there be any greater comfort than to know that God has called us by name and we are His? No matter how deep our valley He is there with us whispering our name.
Throughout the past week these lyrics have echoed: "Your name--is a strong and mighty tower; Your name is a shelter like no other... Nothing has the power to save but Your name..." On those dark days when my heart seems unbearably heavy, I cry out to His name, trusting in its power. This strong tower is faithful to offer me shelter. Surely His name is wonderful, Jesus my Lord.
When we meet someone for the first time, we introduce ourselves by exchanging names. How marvelous though that we don't ever have to introduce ourselves to Jesus because He already knows our name! And unlike those of us who are getting a bit older and forgetful, He will never forget our name. It is indelibly inscribed on His heart, just as our own children's names are written on ours.
"Let the name of the LORD be praised,
both now and forevermore."
Psalm 113:2
Saturday, April 14, 2012
No Place Like Home
"This is what the LORD says:
'Stand at the crossroads and look;
ask for the ancient paths,
ask where the good way is, and walk in it,
and you will find rest for your souls.'"
Jeremiah 6:16
Ten years ago this spring this verse came alive for our family. Dunn had asked Jim to transfer to Birmingham, and we wrestled with the Lord for the next 2-3 months. How could we leave Hattiesburg--our friends, our church, our schools, our home? Hattiesburg was home--and had been for almost 20 years! I remember the night, late January maybe, that Jim called a family meeting around the kitchen table. He told us about the transfer and asked the boys and me to please pray with him about this decision. Thus the wrestling match began. For several weeks I explained to the Lord why we didn't need to leave. We were happy--didn't He want us to be happy? We didn't know a soul in Birmingham--why would He send us to the wilderness when we lived in the land of milk and honey? (Mayberry as my brother fondly referred to it.) We were serving Him here, and we were needed here.
Somewhere in the midst the Lord brought me to this verse in Jeremiah, and I began praying that He would show us the "good way." Admittedly my prayers may have been a bit slanted, but I surely desired that "rest for our souls." How many hours Jim and I would talk through the pros, the cons, the possibilities, the realities. If the answer were yes, all of our lives would be dramatically different--our children's futures were on the line. We wanted to trust God, but...
Jim had to let the company know by 8:00 on a Monday morning. He politely told them no; he would just stay in his present position. Oh happy day! What a load lifted as I practically floated around telling everyone, "No--we're not moving! We're staying here!" (even though there was an undeniable gnawing in my heart.) That night Jim was pitching batting practice for Caleb's baseball team when he was beaned in the forehead with a line drive. Now he had thrown countless pitches through his many years of little league coaching and had never been hit before. By the time he got home, his forehead sported a big goose egg, and I remember how deeply discouraged he was. We both felt as though the Lord had said, "Do I have your attention now? You're not following My plan by staying." Still we didn't nail down the decision until a few days later while we were driving back from the funeral of a friend's dad. We recalled the message about this man's life and how he had followed the Lord wholeheartedly. Then we knew. To follow the Lord in obedience, we would have to move. Ugh!
A whirlwind followed as we made plans to move--selling the house, saying goodbyes, trying to find another house, packing, more goodbyes... Our lives outwardly in turmoil but inwardly at peace. At every turn God affirmed our decision (even when this frustrated me); there was no denying He was ahead of us navigating this new path. Even still those first months in Birmingham were incredibly difficult. I missed our friends desperately; I missed Temple Baptist Church and Oak Grove Schools; I missed our home and our yard and our neighborhood. I cried often. "Why did we have to move, Lord? Why?" Sometimes I felt as though He couldn't hear me. But God (there's that beautiful phrase again)--in His love and compassion and His grace--brought us dear friends, another church family, and wonderful schools. Ten years later I can say thank you, Lord, for not letting us have our way. You expanded our territory and Jim's sphere of influence for Your kingdom and Your glory. How many more lives did he touch because we were here?
This chapter in our family history also serves to remind me that this same God who sustained us, strengthened us, and blessed us in the move will do those same things for us in our grief. I know He is with me today just as He was in those lonely days of 2002. I am thankful for the spiritual leadership Jim displayed as he sought our family's prayers, counseled with me about the decision, but ultimately knew he had to make the final difficult call himself. I've often thought about how our boys will one day be faced with similar decisions within their families and how grateful I am for the example Jim set for them.
In faith we moved to Birmingham, leaving behind a place that we loved--our home. Birmingham has become home, but one of the greatest lessons I learned through this was the reality of Philippians 3:20: our citizenship is not here; indeed it is in heaven. We nestle into the community where God has called us, building relationships, serving, struggling, enjoying His blessings. But we were ultimately designed for a different place: a home with our Heavenly Father. He has plans and purposes for our lives here, and we prayerfully seek to fulfill those. With perseverance we run the race marked out before us, but we rest in the hope--the promise, the assurance--that this isn't all--our eternal home is waiting--and there's no place like it. Arms open wide, our Savior will greet us just as He did Jim: "Welcome home, My child!" Oh glorious day!
'Stand at the crossroads and look;
ask for the ancient paths,
ask where the good way is, and walk in it,
and you will find rest for your souls.'"
Jeremiah 6:16
Ten years ago this spring this verse came alive for our family. Dunn had asked Jim to transfer to Birmingham, and we wrestled with the Lord for the next 2-3 months. How could we leave Hattiesburg--our friends, our church, our schools, our home? Hattiesburg was home--and had been for almost 20 years! I remember the night, late January maybe, that Jim called a family meeting around the kitchen table. He told us about the transfer and asked the boys and me to please pray with him about this decision. Thus the wrestling match began. For several weeks I explained to the Lord why we didn't need to leave. We were happy--didn't He want us to be happy? We didn't know a soul in Birmingham--why would He send us to the wilderness when we lived in the land of milk and honey? (Mayberry as my brother fondly referred to it.) We were serving Him here, and we were needed here.
Somewhere in the midst the Lord brought me to this verse in Jeremiah, and I began praying that He would show us the "good way." Admittedly my prayers may have been a bit slanted, but I surely desired that "rest for our souls." How many hours Jim and I would talk through the pros, the cons, the possibilities, the realities. If the answer were yes, all of our lives would be dramatically different--our children's futures were on the line. We wanted to trust God, but...
Jim had to let the company know by 8:00 on a Monday morning. He politely told them no; he would just stay in his present position. Oh happy day! What a load lifted as I practically floated around telling everyone, "No--we're not moving! We're staying here!" (even though there was an undeniable gnawing in my heart.) That night Jim was pitching batting practice for Caleb's baseball team when he was beaned in the forehead with a line drive. Now he had thrown countless pitches through his many years of little league coaching and had never been hit before. By the time he got home, his forehead sported a big goose egg, and I remember how deeply discouraged he was. We both felt as though the Lord had said, "Do I have your attention now? You're not following My plan by staying." Still we didn't nail down the decision until a few days later while we were driving back from the funeral of a friend's dad. We recalled the message about this man's life and how he had followed the Lord wholeheartedly. Then we knew. To follow the Lord in obedience, we would have to move. Ugh!
A whirlwind followed as we made plans to move--selling the house, saying goodbyes, trying to find another house, packing, more goodbyes... Our lives outwardly in turmoil but inwardly at peace. At every turn God affirmed our decision (even when this frustrated me); there was no denying He was ahead of us navigating this new path. Even still those first months in Birmingham were incredibly difficult. I missed our friends desperately; I missed Temple Baptist Church and Oak Grove Schools; I missed our home and our yard and our neighborhood. I cried often. "Why did we have to move, Lord? Why?" Sometimes I felt as though He couldn't hear me. But God (there's that beautiful phrase again)--in His love and compassion and His grace--brought us dear friends, another church family, and wonderful schools. Ten years later I can say thank you, Lord, for not letting us have our way. You expanded our territory and Jim's sphere of influence for Your kingdom and Your glory. How many more lives did he touch because we were here?
This chapter in our family history also serves to remind me that this same God who sustained us, strengthened us, and blessed us in the move will do those same things for us in our grief. I know He is with me today just as He was in those lonely days of 2002. I am thankful for the spiritual leadership Jim displayed as he sought our family's prayers, counseled with me about the decision, but ultimately knew he had to make the final difficult call himself. I've often thought about how our boys will one day be faced with similar decisions within their families and how grateful I am for the example Jim set for them.
In faith we moved to Birmingham, leaving behind a place that we loved--our home. Birmingham has become home, but one of the greatest lessons I learned through this was the reality of Philippians 3:20: our citizenship is not here; indeed it is in heaven. We nestle into the community where God has called us, building relationships, serving, struggling, enjoying His blessings. But we were ultimately designed for a different place: a home with our Heavenly Father. He has plans and purposes for our lives here, and we prayerfully seek to fulfill those. With perseverance we run the race marked out before us, but we rest in the hope--the promise, the assurance--that this isn't all--our eternal home is waiting--and there's no place like it. Arms open wide, our Savior will greet us just as He did Jim: "Welcome home, My child!" Oh glorious day!
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Open Wide
"For He has not despised or disdained
the suffering of the afflicted one;
He has not hidden His face from him
but has listened to his cry for help."
Psalm 22:24
Part of resuming routine is fulfilling those appointments that have been on the calendar for months. On yesterday's agenda after school was my 6-month cleaning and check-up with Dr. Morrissey, our family's dentist. My day had been good--I just have wonderful students who are staying reasonably engaged for springtime--but as I walked into the dentist's office, I realized I would have to talk with the receptionist about the change in insurance--and why.
As I told her, she gasped and her response prompted my tears: "Oh, my--we just loved him. All of us here just loved him! He was always so kind..." All I could say was, "Yes, he was." I thought, wow--even here at the dentist's office--a place he only visited twice a year (he had great teeth)--he left an impact. As I sat down in the waiting area, my tearful eyes were drawn to the large wooden cross in the front window. Yes, this office had chosen the road less traveled--no eggs and bunnies for Easter, but a bold symbol of Christian faith. I breathed a sigh of thankfulness that this place was filled with believers.
After I was called back, Julie, the new hygienist, offered to reschedule since I was still weeping. (This was very tempting, especially since I'm not a big fan of any dental experience.) Was this another one of those grief ambushes that I hadn't been prepared for? Maybe I had suppressed the "two month anniversary" date throughout the day and now I had to face it? Anyway, Julie was very comforting and just allowed me a few minutes of "being still" time. I asked the Lord what to do, and I just knew He wanted me to stay. Within just a few moments, a wave of peace washed over me as I sensed the very real presence of the Holy Spirit--"I am here. You can do this. You are not alone." The tears subsided; I got my teeth cleaned and was even able to share about God's grace in Jim's healing with Julie and Dr. Morrissey afterwards. As I left, they both promised to join others who are praying for our family.
As I reflected on this experience this morning, Hillsong's lyrics, "Holy Spirit, rain down, rain down" came to mind. That is precisely what it felt like. So I looked up the song to read all the words:
Holy Spirit, rain down, rain down
Oh Comforter and Friend
How we need Your touch again.
Holy Spirit rain down, rain down
Let Your power fall
Let Your voice be heard
Come and change our hearts
As we stand on Your word.
Holy Spirit rain down
No eye has seen, no ear has heard
No mind can know what God has in store
So open up heaven, open it wide
Over Your church and over our lives...
When I read those words "open wide," my heart leaped! That was it! What is the most common phrase you hear in the dentist's office? Of course--"Open wide"! Now for the rest of this resurrection week this is my prayer: that I will keep my eyes open wide to the many blessings surrounding me. These boys that I love so--Austin has been home this week tending to some needed household chores and even walking Maggie with me in the evenings. What a blessing this has been, and he won't have to fly out until Sunday afternoon. Caleb will be coming home in time this weekend so that all four of us will be able to attend both the Good Friday and Easter services together. Hunter has been busy preparing for prom next weekend and putting in job applications around town. (Those two tasks may be related!) The air conditioning is back on at school. (It's been out for several weeks while the new wing is under construction). Surely AC is one of those luxuries that we don't fully appreciate until we no longer have it. Most nights God has granted me the gift of sleep--a real blessing. I really do have the best job in the world--teaching at a wonderful school with kind, respectful students and considerate, dedicated colleagues. So many faithful prayer warriors out there still standing in the gap for our family... Certainly blessings abound, but greater still is the living hope we have in Christ. This week we celebrate our risen Savior, the One who loves us immeasurably. By His wounds we are all healed--from every affliction. Oh, what hope He offers! I Peter 1:3-4 has been my verse of the week: "Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In His great mercy He has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil, or fade--kept in heaven for you." What a promise! Jim has received his inheritance, and we must wait ours. In the meantime, "We must keep faith, we must keep hope, we must keep courage, we must keep Christ." * Eagerly I await resurrection Sunday. He is risen--He is risen indeed!
* (from Streams in the Desert by Mrs. Charles E. Cowman)
the suffering of the afflicted one;
He has not hidden His face from him
but has listened to his cry for help."
Psalm 22:24
Part of resuming routine is fulfilling those appointments that have been on the calendar for months. On yesterday's agenda after school was my 6-month cleaning and check-up with Dr. Morrissey, our family's dentist. My day had been good--I just have wonderful students who are staying reasonably engaged for springtime--but as I walked into the dentist's office, I realized I would have to talk with the receptionist about the change in insurance--and why.
As I told her, she gasped and her response prompted my tears: "Oh, my--we just loved him. All of us here just loved him! He was always so kind..." All I could say was, "Yes, he was." I thought, wow--even here at the dentist's office--a place he only visited twice a year (he had great teeth)--he left an impact. As I sat down in the waiting area, my tearful eyes were drawn to the large wooden cross in the front window. Yes, this office had chosen the road less traveled--no eggs and bunnies for Easter, but a bold symbol of Christian faith. I breathed a sigh of thankfulness that this place was filled with believers.
After I was called back, Julie, the new hygienist, offered to reschedule since I was still weeping. (This was very tempting, especially since I'm not a big fan of any dental experience.) Was this another one of those grief ambushes that I hadn't been prepared for? Maybe I had suppressed the "two month anniversary" date throughout the day and now I had to face it? Anyway, Julie was very comforting and just allowed me a few minutes of "being still" time. I asked the Lord what to do, and I just knew He wanted me to stay. Within just a few moments, a wave of peace washed over me as I sensed the very real presence of the Holy Spirit--"I am here. You can do this. You are not alone." The tears subsided; I got my teeth cleaned and was even able to share about God's grace in Jim's healing with Julie and Dr. Morrissey afterwards. As I left, they both promised to join others who are praying for our family.
As I reflected on this experience this morning, Hillsong's lyrics, "Holy Spirit, rain down, rain down" came to mind. That is precisely what it felt like. So I looked up the song to read all the words:
Holy Spirit, rain down, rain down
Oh Comforter and Friend
How we need Your touch again.
Holy Spirit rain down, rain down
Let Your power fall
Let Your voice be heard
Come and change our hearts
As we stand on Your word.
Holy Spirit rain down
No eye has seen, no ear has heard
No mind can know what God has in store
So open up heaven, open it wide
Over Your church and over our lives...
When I read those words "open wide," my heart leaped! That was it! What is the most common phrase you hear in the dentist's office? Of course--"Open wide"! Now for the rest of this resurrection week this is my prayer: that I will keep my eyes open wide to the many blessings surrounding me. These boys that I love so--Austin has been home this week tending to some needed household chores and even walking Maggie with me in the evenings. What a blessing this has been, and he won't have to fly out until Sunday afternoon. Caleb will be coming home in time this weekend so that all four of us will be able to attend both the Good Friday and Easter services together. Hunter has been busy preparing for prom next weekend and putting in job applications around town. (Those two tasks may be related!) The air conditioning is back on at school. (It's been out for several weeks while the new wing is under construction). Surely AC is one of those luxuries that we don't fully appreciate until we no longer have it. Most nights God has granted me the gift of sleep--a real blessing. I really do have the best job in the world--teaching at a wonderful school with kind, respectful students and considerate, dedicated colleagues. So many faithful prayer warriors out there still standing in the gap for our family... Certainly blessings abound, but greater still is the living hope we have in Christ. This week we celebrate our risen Savior, the One who loves us immeasurably. By His wounds we are all healed--from every affliction. Oh, what hope He offers! I Peter 1:3-4 has been my verse of the week: "Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In His great mercy He has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil, or fade--kept in heaven for you." What a promise! Jim has received his inheritance, and we must wait ours. In the meantime, "We must keep faith, we must keep hope, we must keep courage, we must keep Christ." * Eagerly I await resurrection Sunday. He is risen--He is risen indeed!
* (from Streams in the Desert by Mrs. Charles E. Cowman)
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Beach Treasures
"Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed,
for His compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
Great is Your faithfulness."
Lamentations 3:22-23
The beach is surely a delight--its beauty a clear reflection of the majesty of our Creator. Hunter and I enjoyed the hospitality of my brother and sister-in-law at their condo in Panama City last week during our spring break. The weather was absolutely gorgeous. Throughout our stay I relished the beach walks--usually by myself in the early morning. You know there never really is a destination; it's the journey itself that brings pleasure. Bare feet in the wet sand, strolling at a leisurely pace, looking for the best shells, listening for the Father's voice. For me a version of what Beth Moore affectionately calls the "place of further still."
From the multitudes, to the twelve, to the three, until ultimately alone with the Father in the garden--Jesus Himself first found this "place of further still." There are times in our own lives when no one on earth--not even our dearest and closest family or friends--can minister to our broken hearts. It is then that we must go alone to this place of further still to find comfort and peace that only our Heavenly Father can give. The beach became my place of further still.
This path I had walked the day before, but now the shore stretched inland several more feet creating a wall of sand dotted with embedded shells. Amazing that even with the powerful waves crashing upon them through the night some of the most beautiful shells remained whole. Yes, many were broken, but others had endured. And then I heard Him say, "You, too, will survive this storm of grief and torrent of waves. Press on. Just press on. Trust me to protect you and guide you. I love you--so much that I gave up my Son for you. I am holding you in the palm of My hand even now." Waves of peace washed over me then!
And so every day I gathered more shells. (Hunter thinks I'm a bit obsessed with them!) They remind me of our Creator and His power to design, preserve, and change the landscape every day. These beach treasures also remind me that God is with me, alongside me, every moment of every day--at the beach, at school, at home, at the grocery store... Even in my loneliness I am never truly alone.
I'm so thankful for this assurance, for some days I'm just a mess, an absolute mess. I miss Jim terribly. Surely he was my faithful companion, my confidant, my sweetheart. But in my weeping, I hear the Lord whisper, "I am here. I will never leave you." So much I don't understand, but I simply must trust. I lean on His attributes and know He is trustworthy. He is my refuge, my delight, my hope, my joy. His mercies are new every morning. At the beach I found treasures in the sand; may each of us find treasure in His compassionate Presence.
for His compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
Great is Your faithfulness."
Lamentations 3:22-23
The beach is surely a delight--its beauty a clear reflection of the majesty of our Creator. Hunter and I enjoyed the hospitality of my brother and sister-in-law at their condo in Panama City last week during our spring break. The weather was absolutely gorgeous. Throughout our stay I relished the beach walks--usually by myself in the early morning. You know there never really is a destination; it's the journey itself that brings pleasure. Bare feet in the wet sand, strolling at a leisurely pace, looking for the best shells, listening for the Father's voice. For me a version of what Beth Moore affectionately calls the "place of further still."
From the multitudes, to the twelve, to the three, until ultimately alone with the Father in the garden--Jesus Himself first found this "place of further still." There are times in our own lives when no one on earth--not even our dearest and closest family or friends--can minister to our broken hearts. It is then that we must go alone to this place of further still to find comfort and peace that only our Heavenly Father can give. The beach became my place of further still.
This path I had walked the day before, but now the shore stretched inland several more feet creating a wall of sand dotted with embedded shells. Amazing that even with the powerful waves crashing upon them through the night some of the most beautiful shells remained whole. Yes, many were broken, but others had endured. And then I heard Him say, "You, too, will survive this storm of grief and torrent of waves. Press on. Just press on. Trust me to protect you and guide you. I love you--so much that I gave up my Son for you. I am holding you in the palm of My hand even now." Waves of peace washed over me then!
And so every day I gathered more shells. (Hunter thinks I'm a bit obsessed with them!) They remind me of our Creator and His power to design, preserve, and change the landscape every day. These beach treasures also remind me that God is with me, alongside me, every moment of every day--at the beach, at school, at home, at the grocery store... Even in my loneliness I am never truly alone.
I'm so thankful for this assurance, for some days I'm just a mess, an absolute mess. I miss Jim terribly. Surely he was my faithful companion, my confidant, my sweetheart. But in my weeping, I hear the Lord whisper, "I am here. I will never leave you." So much I don't understand, but I simply must trust. I lean on His attributes and know He is trustworthy. He is my refuge, my delight, my hope, my joy. His mercies are new every morning. At the beach I found treasures in the sand; may each of us find treasure in His compassionate Presence.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
God With Us
"The LORD your God is with you,
He is mighty to save.
He will take great delight in you,
He will quiet you with His love,
He will rejoice over you with singing."
Zephaniah 3:17
As I read the devotion from Jesus Calling every morning, I am still amazed how often the Lord speaks directly to me, especially from the Scriptures referenced. Last Thursday this verse from Zephaniah offered such reassurance for the day ahead--"The LORD your God is with you" became my litany for the day. You see, the boys and I had an appointment scheduled that afternoon with Dr. Michael Waldrum, CEO of UAB hospital. I had requested this meeting to discuss a letter I had sent to Dr. Waldrum the week before--a lengthy letter that detailed Jim's care at UAB.
For several days I had prayed about what outcome from the meeting would offer peace. God revealed two things that I needed to hear: an apology for and acknowledgment of the missed diagnoses (yes, plural) and assurance that the problems would be addressed with various physicians. Although I am generally non-confrontational and not even very assertive, I felt compelled to voice my grievances. Those last few weeks Jim suffered so needlessly, and I didn't want another family to have to endure the helplessness that we all had felt. Austin, Caleb, and Hunter expressed their desire to go with me and share their hearts as well. We were thankful that Caleb's spring break and Austin's off-week during internship coincided. God's timing is always perfect.
Armed with that powerful verse reminding us that the Lord was with us, the four of us prayed together before we got on the elevator at the hospital. The essence of our prayer--that God would guide our words, guard our hearts, and give us peace upon leaving. How faithful is our Father! Dr. Waldrum greeted us and introduced us to two other doctors that would be meeting with us: Dr. Boudreaux (chief of staff) and Dr. Taylor who oversees quality control. Although we met with these men for over an hour, within the first five minutes I had heard the two things I specifically needed to hear. "We are so sorry we obviously failed you," and "Please may we use your letter and your family's name as we teach and better educate our staff." Clearly Dr. Waldrum had reviewed and examined Jim's case closely, especially the 3 ER visits. Each of us had an opportunity to share, and the Lord was indeed with us--no emotional outbursts on our part and no defensive remarks on theirs. They assumed full responsibility for the errors in judgment. Dr. Waldrum ended our meeting with a request for a family photo to help put faces to our story for his staff. I told him that was why we were there--to put faces to the words in my letter. Real people with real pain seeking to effect change.
I left the hospital feeling a bit lighter--a burden that I had been carrying for some time (since late December) lifted. As I shared in this excerpt from the letter, honoring Jim was the reason we simply had to be a voice for the next family:
"My husband was known around this community for his kindness and genuine desire to help others—very often strangers. It is on his behalf that my boys and I were prompted to share these things with you—in hopes of helping someone whom we don’t even know. We are certain that this is what he would have done."
As the boys and I had discussed ahead of time, this meeting would not change our present. However, it might change someone else's future. This will continue to be our prayer--that these doctors will use Jim's story to teach others and ultimately make them better, wiser, and more compassionate physicians. And so Jim's legacy will continue in yet another venue...
What powerful words, "The LORD your God is with you." May we never forget that truth no matter what lies ahead. How blessed we are to serve a God who never leaves us nor forsakes us!
He is mighty to save.
He will take great delight in you,
He will quiet you with His love,
He will rejoice over you with singing."
Zephaniah 3:17
As I read the devotion from Jesus Calling every morning, I am still amazed how often the Lord speaks directly to me, especially from the Scriptures referenced. Last Thursday this verse from Zephaniah offered such reassurance for the day ahead--"The LORD your God is with you" became my litany for the day. You see, the boys and I had an appointment scheduled that afternoon with Dr. Michael Waldrum, CEO of UAB hospital. I had requested this meeting to discuss a letter I had sent to Dr. Waldrum the week before--a lengthy letter that detailed Jim's care at UAB.
For several days I had prayed about what outcome from the meeting would offer peace. God revealed two things that I needed to hear: an apology for and acknowledgment of the missed diagnoses (yes, plural) and assurance that the problems would be addressed with various physicians. Although I am generally non-confrontational and not even very assertive, I felt compelled to voice my grievances. Those last few weeks Jim suffered so needlessly, and I didn't want another family to have to endure the helplessness that we all had felt. Austin, Caleb, and Hunter expressed their desire to go with me and share their hearts as well. We were thankful that Caleb's spring break and Austin's off-week during internship coincided. God's timing is always perfect.
Armed with that powerful verse reminding us that the Lord was with us, the four of us prayed together before we got on the elevator at the hospital. The essence of our prayer--that God would guide our words, guard our hearts, and give us peace upon leaving. How faithful is our Father! Dr. Waldrum greeted us and introduced us to two other doctors that would be meeting with us: Dr. Boudreaux (chief of staff) and Dr. Taylor who oversees quality control. Although we met with these men for over an hour, within the first five minutes I had heard the two things I specifically needed to hear. "We are so sorry we obviously failed you," and "Please may we use your letter and your family's name as we teach and better educate our staff." Clearly Dr. Waldrum had reviewed and examined Jim's case closely, especially the 3 ER visits. Each of us had an opportunity to share, and the Lord was indeed with us--no emotional outbursts on our part and no defensive remarks on theirs. They assumed full responsibility for the errors in judgment. Dr. Waldrum ended our meeting with a request for a family photo to help put faces to our story for his staff. I told him that was why we were there--to put faces to the words in my letter. Real people with real pain seeking to effect change.
I left the hospital feeling a bit lighter--a burden that I had been carrying for some time (since late December) lifted. As I shared in this excerpt from the letter, honoring Jim was the reason we simply had to be a voice for the next family:
"My husband was known around this community for his kindness and genuine desire to help others—very often strangers. It is on his behalf that my boys and I were prompted to share these things with you—in hopes of helping someone whom we don’t even know. We are certain that this is what he would have done."
As the boys and I had discussed ahead of time, this meeting would not change our present. However, it might change someone else's future. This will continue to be our prayer--that these doctors will use Jim's story to teach others and ultimately make them better, wiser, and more compassionate physicians. And so Jim's legacy will continue in yet another venue...
What powerful words, "The LORD your God is with you." May we never forget that truth no matter what lies ahead. How blessed we are to serve a God who never leaves us nor forsakes us!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)