I was listening to a minister preaching about God's design for Christian mothers yesterday, and I found a poem he had quoted by John Stiles. Though the poem is obviously written by a man, I embraced it as a tribute by a child to a loving mother. I would like to share it here, in memory and appreciation for the life and sacrificial love of Gram, the mother of my heart.
I have worshiped in churches and chapels. I have prayed in the busy street.
I have sought my God and have found Him where the waves of His ocean beat.
I have knealt in the silent forest in the shade of some ancient tree,
But the dearest of all my altars was at my mother's knee.
I have listened to God in His temple. I have caught His voice in the crowd.
I have heard Him speak where the breakers were booming long and loud,
Where the winds play soft in the tree tops, my God has talked to me,
But I have never heard Him clearer than I did at my mother's knee.
The things in my life that are worthy were born in my mother's breast,
And breathed into mine by the wonder of the love her life expressed,
The years that have brought me to manhood have taken her far from me,
But memory keeps me from straying too far from my mother's knee.
God, make me the man of her vision and purge me of selfishness.
God, keep me true to her standards and help me to live to bless.
God, hallow the holy impress of the days that used to be,
And keep me a pilgrim forever to the shrine at my mother's knee.
Gram's prayers often included the request, "Bless us and make us a blessing". This Mother's Day, I pray that I will never forget the blessings I received by Gram's life and that I will, by the grace of God, go on to be a blessing to future generations.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Friday, January 15, 2010
A Tribute (from 2000)
I came across this poem I had written for my little Gram ten years ago. I was a foster parent, myself, at the time. I thought I would share it now:
A Tribute (by Elizabeth Biggar Kelly)
The stairs seemed a little steeper as she carried the babe
Up the flight and to the room where gently she laid
Her down in her crib, then kissed her and prayed
Thanking God that through her vessel, His love He conveyed
Her white hair she let down and put her feet up at last
She prayed for the future and remembered the past
"Thou promised strength for today and surely Thou hast
been faithful from the first moment unto the last"
She looked at her husband and thanked God for one
Who had a passion to love and care for the young
He was valiant, yet tender, both funny and strong
Yes, theirs was a team she was glad to be on
These children they loved, from the youngest to old
Each came with mistrust and wounds from the cold
Day that brought them there needing her hand to hold
And harboring pain that could never be told
Sleep for tonight would be fleeting, at best
Soon there'd be breakfast to make and girls to get dressed
Then the house would buzz like a busy bee's nest
Her heart would be full, her life was so blessed!
Then she and the baby would begin the day
The house would be quiet, the dishes away
They would sing and read and sit down to play
She couldn't have known how close they would stay
For through the years as the little girl grew
She watched the old woman, and in her heart knew
She was living a life that was giving and true
And her heart whispered softly, "I want to be like you"
The young girl grew older and life hardened her heart
It was tough and mistrusting except for the part
That was kept safe from the rage and hurt's fiery dart
The love from the woman would never depart
Soon the girl was grown with her own busy home
She gave to her children, her daughters and sons
Those things she had learned and the love she had known
From the woman who held her when she felt alone
The vision remains in the girl's heart to this day
As she kisses boo-boo's and wipes tears away
From sweet, strange little faces who suffer and pay
For mistakes made by big people, and those who don't stay
The stairs seem a little steeper as she carries the babe
up the flight and to the room where gently she lays
Him down in his crib, then kisses him and prays
Thanking God that through her vessel, His love He conveys
"Thank you, Gram, for touching so many lives. I love you."
A Tribute (by Elizabeth Biggar Kelly)
The stairs seemed a little steeper as she carried the babe
Up the flight and to the room where gently she laid
Her down in her crib, then kissed her and prayed
Thanking God that through her vessel, His love He conveyed
Her white hair she let down and put her feet up at last
She prayed for the future and remembered the past
"Thou promised strength for today and surely Thou hast
been faithful from the first moment unto the last"
She looked at her husband and thanked God for one
Who had a passion to love and care for the young
He was valiant, yet tender, both funny and strong
Yes, theirs was a team she was glad to be on
These children they loved, from the youngest to old
Each came with mistrust and wounds from the cold
Day that brought them there needing her hand to hold
And harboring pain that could never be told
Sleep for tonight would be fleeting, at best
Soon there'd be breakfast to make and girls to get dressed
Then the house would buzz like a busy bee's nest
Her heart would be full, her life was so blessed!
Then she and the baby would begin the day
The house would be quiet, the dishes away
They would sing and read and sit down to play
She couldn't have known how close they would stay
For through the years as the little girl grew
She watched the old woman, and in her heart knew
She was living a life that was giving and true
And her heart whispered softly, "I want to be like you"
The young girl grew older and life hardened her heart
It was tough and mistrusting except for the part
That was kept safe from the rage and hurt's fiery dart
The love from the woman would never depart
Soon the girl was grown with her own busy home
She gave to her children, her daughters and sons
Those things she had learned and the love she had known
From the woman who held her when she felt alone
The vision remains in the girl's heart to this day
As she kisses boo-boo's and wipes tears away
From sweet, strange little faces who suffer and pay
For mistakes made by big people, and those who don't stay
The stairs seem a little steeper as she carries the babe
up the flight and to the room where gently she lays
Him down in his crib, then kisses him and prays
Thanking God that through her vessel, His love He conveys
"Thank you, Gram, for touching so many lives. I love you."
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Without Fault, Before the Throne of God
Minerva G. Beal
October 16, 1911 - January 8, 2010
On the morning of January 8, 2010, Gram's spirit broke free from her earthly body and soared away to Glory. I can only imagine the rapture, the joy, the freedom she experienced as she was able to run, yes, run into the arms of her Savior, her mother, her husband and daughter. I imagine a tentative step toward the son who had left earth as a little baby. Maybe a step forward, and then, perhaps he strode toward her and embraced her, saying, "Mother, I've waited so long!" Yes, the wait was finally over. Sisters, brother, friends, loved ones. And her Lord Jesus Christ. I have no doubt that she fell at his feet and worshiped Him, thanking Him for his faithfulness and lovingkindness, for she did that daily by faith, when she was here on earth.
I know I will have to wait for my own time to come when I can thank her for all she has done. I would like to write her a little "letter" here, though she already knew how much she meant. I told her often.
Gram...you were my Mama from as far back as I can remember. You were loving, tender and gentle. You prayed with me and for me. My tiny hands would touch your soft face as we would sit together in a chair as life swirled around us. I would stare into your eyes as you held me close and told me about Jesus. As I grew I watched you do your hair in the morning. You would talk to me and tell me things. I would follow you around that big house as you did laundry, cooked, talked on the phone and entertained visitors. I would sit with you in church, knowing you would give me a mint after the service. I loved your face, I loved your heart, and I loved you because you loved me, and in my heart, you were my mother. Thank you, Gram, for wanting me to be your baby.
I grew up, as babies do, and I knew you were getting older. As a young woman I came to visit you almost daily to help you around the house. You always had a to-do list ready, but we really spent hours and hours talking about the past, present and future. The day would fly by, and we would look at the clock, wondering where the time went. Thank you, Gram for telling me your stories.
Time marched on, and I lived my own life and did my own thing. Whenever we spoke, you reminded me that you prayed for me daily. I always left with peace, a verse and assurance that you never forgot me. Even as recent as last year, you quoted a verse to me that changed my life: (II Chronicles 7:14) If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land. I pondered that verse for a few weeks, and threw myself on the mercy of the Lord. I had come back to my first Love, and called home to let you know it all started when you gave me that scripture verse. My message was passed on to you, and then I received a call asking if I would be willing to come back as your caregiver. I was more than willing, and so I came back as your daughter. Thank you, Gram, for consistently pointing me toward Christ.
As I moved back home, sleeping in the bedroom of my youth, I would thank the Lord that he had brought me back to you. The most important time of day for us was in the quietness of your bedroom, having devotions and praying together. On January 7, the evening before you passed away, we read from the Daily Light. The last paragraph I was ever able to read to you said, "The Lord thy God in the midst of thee is mighty; He will save, He will rejoice over thee with joy; He will rest in his love, He will joy over thee with singing" Zephaniah 3:17. Then we prayed together. I was able to record your prayer on my cell phone that night, something I had never done before. You prayed, in that poetic way that you always had, with each word dressed in the love you had for your Savior:
Our Heavenly Father,
We thank Thee,
We know that Thou art available, Lord,
Willing to hear us if we are to call upon Thee.
Let us be faithful in calling, receiving Thy answers,
And in letting Thee speak to us according to Thy will.
We thank Thee for all things good that come from Thy Hand.
In Jesus' name, Amen.
The next morning, you were gone:
Gone From My Sight
I am standing upon the seashore.
A ship at my side spreads her white
sails to the morning breeze and starts
for the blue ocean.
She is an object of beauty and strength.
I stand and watch her until at length
she hangs like a speck of white cloud
just where the sea and sky come
to mingle with each other.
Then someone at my side says;
"There, she is gone!"
"Gone where?"
Gone from my sight. That is all.
She is just as large in mast and hull
and spar as she was when she left my side
and she is just as able to bear her
load of living freight to her destined port.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her.
And just at the moment when someone
at my side says: "There, she is gone!"
there are other eyes watching her coming,
and other voices ready to take up the glad shout;
"Here she comes!"
by Henry van Dyke (1852 - 1933)
I love you little Gram. Until we meet again..."Love is for keeps!"
Now Unto Him that is able to keep you from falling, and to present you faultless before the presence of His glory with exceeding joy, to the only wise God our Saviour, be glory and majesty, dominion and power, both now and ever. Amen
(Jude 24, 25)
Thursday, December 31, 2009
A Benediction
Today, the last day of 2009, I am reminded of Gram's husband - my foster dad, whom I affectionately called "Grampy". Today, December 31, is Grampy's birthday. He was born on his own mother's birthday in 1912. Grampy passed away on November 26, 1995, yet his life and his words live on in many hearts. Today, as I reflect on this past year, and look toward the new year, I would like to write some thoughts I have about my dear old "Grampy".
Grampy was a preacher and a minister for over fifty years. His passion and zeal for the Lord was only matched by his compassion and love for God's people - both the saved and the unsaved. He was a man's man, loved the outdoors. As a child, I would spend hours with him on his tractor - I would sit in the bucket in the back as he moved rocks and filled in the marsh out behind the house. During those times, we didn't speak - we didn't have to. It was enough for me to be with him, loving every moment. I still remember the day when he told me I could call him "Grampy". Because I was his foster child, I knew I didn't have the right to be a part of his family, but he gave me the right.
Life as a foster child is a lonely sort of life, especially when your parents just give you away. My mother had been approached at least once in my childhood to let me go for adoption, but for some reason, she refused, though she never visited me, or even called or wrote. I lived at the home for girls until the age of seven, but people in my school would always call it "the orphanage". When I told them my parents weren't dead, they would ask why my parents didn't want me. I could never answer that. Mothers' and Fathers' Days would come and go, and I would guiltily hide the homemade cards I would make at church because they were for "Mrs." and "Mr.", not mom and dad. I heard about someone who had a "face only a mother could love", and that cemented in my mind that my face was even uglier than that because my mother didn't even want to see it. It was hard. I used to think that if I was adopted, I could at least pretend that I really and truly belonged to a family instead of seeming like a ghost child who needed to go to a sitter's when my foster family had an appointment for a family group photo. When my father died, I was not mentioned as his child in his obituary. When Grampy died, I was not mentioned as his grandchild in his obituary. In my immature grasp of life, I felt I belonged to no one, and no one belonged to me.
As I look back on Grampy's life, I realize that all who came into his presence felt that they were very important to him. All of my feelings of insignificance just melted away as he would swoop me up into his arms after preaching as a substitute in an unknown congregation, and he would bellow, "THIS is Elizabeth! She came to us when she was eight months old, and we've loved her ever since!" What an introduction - I felt better than family at those times. Grampy chose to be my "daddy". He could have walked away, and had a very good opportunity to do so shortly after my sisters and I were dropped off at the home for girls, because my parents were not paying any support for us. Instead, he told the board of directors, "If they go, I go", and worked out a payment system out of his own pocket to keep us with him, and each other.
So today, as I remember Grampy's birthday, and celebrate his memory, I recall the benediction he used often at the end of his church services. Yes, it is a benediction, fit for closing out this year, but it is also a prayer for 2010, and my prayer for my children, my loved ones, and friends.
"The Lord bless thee, and keep thee: the Lord make His face to shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee: The Lord lift up His countenance upon thee, and give thee peace." (Numbers 6:24 - 26)
"Dear Heavenly, Holy Father, thank you for your comfort and your love throughout our lives. Thank you also for the showers of rain that you send to parched, thirsty souls, as clouds loom overhead. Thank you for the gift of my Gram and Grampy, who showed me that love can bloom in spectacular flower gardens, planted in the shade of majestic family trees, and that both trees and flowers are blessed with the same Living Water from the Father of us all.
Amen"
Grampy was a preacher and a minister for over fifty years. His passion and zeal for the Lord was only matched by his compassion and love for God's people - both the saved and the unsaved. He was a man's man, loved the outdoors. As a child, I would spend hours with him on his tractor - I would sit in the bucket in the back as he moved rocks and filled in the marsh out behind the house. During those times, we didn't speak - we didn't have to. It was enough for me to be with him, loving every moment. I still remember the day when he told me I could call him "Grampy". Because I was his foster child, I knew I didn't have the right to be a part of his family, but he gave me the right.
Life as a foster child is a lonely sort of life, especially when your parents just give you away. My mother had been approached at least once in my childhood to let me go for adoption, but for some reason, she refused, though she never visited me, or even called or wrote. I lived at the home for girls until the age of seven, but people in my school would always call it "the orphanage". When I told them my parents weren't dead, they would ask why my parents didn't want me. I could never answer that. Mothers' and Fathers' Days would come and go, and I would guiltily hide the homemade cards I would make at church because they were for "Mrs." and "Mr.", not mom and dad. I heard about someone who had a "face only a mother could love", and that cemented in my mind that my face was even uglier than that because my mother didn't even want to see it. It was hard. I used to think that if I was adopted, I could at least pretend that I really and truly belonged to a family instead of seeming like a ghost child who needed to go to a sitter's when my foster family had an appointment for a family group photo. When my father died, I was not mentioned as his child in his obituary. When Grampy died, I was not mentioned as his grandchild in his obituary. In my immature grasp of life, I felt I belonged to no one, and no one belonged to me.
As I look back on Grampy's life, I realize that all who came into his presence felt that they were very important to him. All of my feelings of insignificance just melted away as he would swoop me up into his arms after preaching as a substitute in an unknown congregation, and he would bellow, "THIS is Elizabeth! She came to us when she was eight months old, and we've loved her ever since!" What an introduction - I felt better than family at those times. Grampy chose to be my "daddy". He could have walked away, and had a very good opportunity to do so shortly after my sisters and I were dropped off at the home for girls, because my parents were not paying any support for us. Instead, he told the board of directors, "If they go, I go", and worked out a payment system out of his own pocket to keep us with him, and each other.
So today, as I remember Grampy's birthday, and celebrate his memory, I recall the benediction he used often at the end of his church services. Yes, it is a benediction, fit for closing out this year, but it is also a prayer for 2010, and my prayer for my children, my loved ones, and friends.
"The Lord bless thee, and keep thee: the Lord make His face to shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee: The Lord lift up His countenance upon thee, and give thee peace." (Numbers 6:24 - 26)
"Dear Heavenly, Holy Father, thank you for your comfort and your love throughout our lives. Thank you also for the showers of rain that you send to parched, thirsty souls, as clouds loom overhead. Thank you for the gift of my Gram and Grampy, who showed me that love can bloom in spectacular flower gardens, planted in the shade of majestic family trees, and that both trees and flowers are blessed with the same Living Water from the Father of us all.
Amen"
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Thankful and Faithful
We all get the messages about being thankful on Thanksgiving. I'm not saying we should ever get tired of remembering to be thankful, or even hearing about it, but does it get commonplace, or lose it's meaning at this time of year?
We spent a quiet Thanksgiving around the table, and those of us who were here wrote down, at Gram's request, four things we're thankful for. We shared with each other, and I thought it would be nice to keep what we wrote to reflect on through the year.
Gram used to tell us, "the most important thing about being thankful is to let thankfulness reign in our hearts and minds all the time". My associate pastor preached last Sunday with a message that said, "If you are constantly thankful, you have no time to complain"! Amen to that!
We always end the night with the reading of the Daily Light. Gram's last words before telling me good-night, were lifted in praise to the Lord. The theme of her prayer, as always, was, "May we be faithful, as He is faithful, and may we always be thankful for all He has provided." Gram always ends her prayer with thanksgiving. A life's theme of thankfulness doesn't need a special place on the calendar to express love and appreciation to such a gracious and loving God!
May we learn from the examples of others. Sleep well, little Gram, and Happy Thanksgiving!
Ephesians 5:19, 20 "Speaking to yourselves in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making and making melody in your heart to the Lord, giving thanks always for all things unto God and the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ"
We spent a quiet Thanksgiving around the table, and those of us who were here wrote down, at Gram's request, four things we're thankful for. We shared with each other, and I thought it would be nice to keep what we wrote to reflect on through the year.
Gram used to tell us, "the most important thing about being thankful is to let thankfulness reign in our hearts and minds all the time". My associate pastor preached last Sunday with a message that said, "If you are constantly thankful, you have no time to complain"! Amen to that!
We always end the night with the reading of the Daily Light. Gram's last words before telling me good-night, were lifted in praise to the Lord. The theme of her prayer, as always, was, "May we be faithful, as He is faithful, and may we always be thankful for all He has provided." Gram always ends her prayer with thanksgiving. A life's theme of thankfulness doesn't need a special place on the calendar to express love and appreciation to such a gracious and loving God!
May we learn from the examples of others. Sleep well, little Gram, and Happy Thanksgiving!
Ephesians 5:19, 20 "Speaking to yourselves in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making and making melody in your heart to the Lord, giving thanks always for all things unto God and the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ"
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Forgiveness Part Three
Gram quoted Ephesians 4:26 to me a few nights ago..."Be ye angry and sin not: let not the sun go down upon your wrath".
I told her that people in Alaska have so much more time to be angry, due to the extended daylight hours. We both smiled at that, but I didn't want to lose the message that the Apostle Paul was giving to the Ephesians.
I spend a lot of time in my head being angry. I don't usually express this anger to anyone, but if I spill something on the floor, or get bent out of shape over something I remember someone saying to me - whether it be two minutes ago, or two years ago, a barrage of anger, frustration or bitterness begins attacking my mind. I also know I'm not alone when I confess that, when I lie on my pillow at night, there are times that I focus on something that made me angry during the day, and I just don't let it go.
Why would the Lord tell us to put our wrath to bed at night? Well, I looked up the definition of wrath. Wrath is a noun, which means...
Again, why would the Lord not want us to take THAT to bed with us? It sounds like one of those monsters that lurk under the bed at night, doesn't it? Common sense says that having wrath as a partner in our bed would be extremely unhealthy for us. It's also true that some of the things we mull over before we go to sleep begin to transfer over into our dreams, and we wake feeling exhausted after wrestling with all that bothers us.
Even though we feel like we are justified in our anger, and we can't seem to think about anything else, we are slowly being eaten alive by our anger if we do not learn to put it in it's place and allow the Lord to control it, and remove it by sundown.
Here's another thought. How many of us go to bed when the sun goes down? I know I don't. Just as many of us remember that the rainbow is a promise to us from God, it would be good to see a beautiful sunset, and remember that it's there to remind us to release our anger and wrath. What gentle and beautiful evenings (after sundown) we may be missing because we ignore the sunset!
Even though the Bible states that we are allowed to be angry, we need to remember that the only anger approved of by God is anger without sin. This anger is righteous and should be put away by sundown. God's direction and strict limits on anger is for our own spiritual safety, and also the safety of others. I know of no other emotion that can grow to such outrageous proportions when we nurture it in our hearts and souls. When anger matures, it cuts us off from peace, blessing, fellowship, and ultimately, from communion with the Father, Himself.
James 1:19,20 says, "Wherefore, my beloved brethren, let every man be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath: For the wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God."
We have a little prayer box here that we read with different sayings. Today's says, "Give your troubles to God. He will be up all night, anyway."
"He will not allow your foot to slip; He who keeps you will not slumber." Psalm 121:3 NASB
Just the other day, a visiting nurse mentioned that Gram has the face of an angel. I have heard that over and over again as people remember her, or meet her for the first time. There is a noticeable absence of frown lines and wrinkles. Gram greets all with a smile and bright eyes. I wonder if, at 98 years old, she has consistently put her anger in it's place. The nurses are often amazed that Gram is in such good health, having hardly taken anything more than a vitamin and occasional Tylenol in her life. Could it be the absence of persistent anger or wrath? I wonder.
The next time God shows you a sunset, lift up your heart, with all it's hurt, pain and frustration, and send it up to your merciful Father in heaven!! He will take your burdens and bear them for you as you obey His Word. Releasing the wrath is another form of forgiveness. Forgiveness for yourself and others. Release brings peace.
I would love to hear your comments if you are blessed by these posts. I, also, need to do these things that I write about, and would be so encouraged to hear from you. We are all in this together as we travel on our own unique paths to heaven!
I told her that people in Alaska have so much more time to be angry, due to the extended daylight hours. We both smiled at that, but I didn't want to lose the message that the Apostle Paul was giving to the Ephesians.
I spend a lot of time in my head being angry. I don't usually express this anger to anyone, but if I spill something on the floor, or get bent out of shape over something I remember someone saying to me - whether it be two minutes ago, or two years ago, a barrage of anger, frustration or bitterness begins attacking my mind. I also know I'm not alone when I confess that, when I lie on my pillow at night, there are times that I focus on something that made me angry during the day, and I just don't let it go.
Why would the Lord tell us to put our wrath to bed at night? Well, I looked up the definition of wrath. Wrath is a noun, which means...
| 1. | strong, stern, or fierce anger; deeply resentful indignation; ire. |
| 2. | vengeance or punishment as the consequence of anger |
Again, why would the Lord not want us to take THAT to bed with us? It sounds like one of those monsters that lurk under the bed at night, doesn't it? Common sense says that having wrath as a partner in our bed would be extremely unhealthy for us. It's also true that some of the things we mull over before we go to sleep begin to transfer over into our dreams, and we wake feeling exhausted after wrestling with all that bothers us.
Even though we feel like we are justified in our anger, and we can't seem to think about anything else, we are slowly being eaten alive by our anger if we do not learn to put it in it's place and allow the Lord to control it, and remove it by sundown.
Here's another thought. How many of us go to bed when the sun goes down? I know I don't. Just as many of us remember that the rainbow is a promise to us from God, it would be good to see a beautiful sunset, and remember that it's there to remind us to release our anger and wrath. What gentle and beautiful evenings (after sundown) we may be missing because we ignore the sunset!
Even though the Bible states that we are allowed to be angry, we need to remember that the only anger approved of by God is anger without sin. This anger is righteous and should be put away by sundown. God's direction and strict limits on anger is for our own spiritual safety, and also the safety of others. I know of no other emotion that can grow to such outrageous proportions when we nurture it in our hearts and souls. When anger matures, it cuts us off from peace, blessing, fellowship, and ultimately, from communion with the Father, Himself.
James 1:19,20 says, "Wherefore, my beloved brethren, let every man be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath: For the wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God."
We have a little prayer box here that we read with different sayings. Today's says, "Give your troubles to God. He will be up all night, anyway."
"He will not allow your foot to slip; He who keeps you will not slumber." Psalm 121:3 NASB
Just the other day, a visiting nurse mentioned that Gram has the face of an angel. I have heard that over and over again as people remember her, or meet her for the first time. There is a noticeable absence of frown lines and wrinkles. Gram greets all with a smile and bright eyes. I wonder if, at 98 years old, she has consistently put her anger in it's place. The nurses are often amazed that Gram is in such good health, having hardly taken anything more than a vitamin and occasional Tylenol in her life. Could it be the absence of persistent anger or wrath? I wonder.
The next time God shows you a sunset, lift up your heart, with all it's hurt, pain and frustration, and send it up to your merciful Father in heaven!! He will take your burdens and bear them for you as you obey His Word. Releasing the wrath is another form of forgiveness. Forgiveness for yourself and others. Release brings peace.
I would love to hear your comments if you are blessed by these posts. I, also, need to do these things that I write about, and would be so encouraged to hear from you. We are all in this together as we travel on our own unique paths to heaven!
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Forgiveness, Part Two
How swiftly the "opportunity" to forgive came knocking at the door to my heart after I wrote the previous post! I would like to say that I ran to my "offender" with open arms and an open heart. I did forgive, but I thought of so many things I wanted to say about how wrong that person was, and why I just didn't want to deal with the whole situation anymore.
The offense came at me by of one of my children. This is far from the first time my (adult) child has "blown it". He tends to have a knee-jerk reaction to life, and he does get that from his mother, which makes it all the less attractive to see in action. My child has come to me each and every time over the years and has sincerely apologized for the same mistake over and over again.
Just as I wrote the last post with sincerity and the urgency to get the message out that we should forgive as we have been forgiven, I was doused with a cold bucket of reality within a day or two of writing my first forgiveness message to anyone who would listen. I resisted telling my son that all was forgiven. Looming in the back of my mind was, "How many times has this happened, and how many more times will he come back to me in sorrow for the damage that was done?" In essence, I was wondering just how much more of this I could really take.
I received texts from him, expressing his remorse. I received a contrite voice message on my cell phone. My fingers began texting back - lashing out, telling him I was finished with him. Before I could send my angry responses, a still, small voice (you know the one) urged me to "practice what I preached". Sometimes it is so much harder to forgive those closest to us. It's as though we don't care that they see our ugly side, because we don't put on any "airs" for family, as a rule.
So I texted, and erased. Texted more unforgiving messages, and erased. I prayed and asked God to forgive me for the struggle I was having in forgiving my own son - especially after I challenged others to actively show love and forgiveness just hours before! Something changed in me as I prayed for the Lord's forgiveness. I felt the Father once again reach down to my bitter heart and heal it, even as He forgave me! The Father showed me, by His own example, what I needed to do.
I contacted my son, and said, "I love you and I forgive you". Plain and simple. The peace in my heart was immense, and he came back to a place of restoration with peace in his heart, as well.
The forgiveness was complete, and expressed in a way he could grasp and accept. It was just the way Gram had spoken to me about earlier in the week. Later, as we talked, I did have to tell him that things would need to change, and I am here to help him grow and learn how to respond in a positive way to the situations that cause him to stumble. If, and when, he stumbles again, I will be there to take him back in love. I just pray that there will not be such a battle of my own stubborn will against what I know to be true and right!
Little did I know what the topic would be of "Forgiveness, Part Two", as I was happily typing out my thoughts on "Part One". Now if anyone knows the antidote for a Scottish/Sicilian temper, my son and I could sure use the recipe!
The offense came at me by of one of my children. This is far from the first time my (adult) child has "blown it". He tends to have a knee-jerk reaction to life, and he does get that from his mother, which makes it all the less attractive to see in action. My child has come to me each and every time over the years and has sincerely apologized for the same mistake over and over again.
Just as I wrote the last post with sincerity and the urgency to get the message out that we should forgive as we have been forgiven, I was doused with a cold bucket of reality within a day or two of writing my first forgiveness message to anyone who would listen. I resisted telling my son that all was forgiven. Looming in the back of my mind was, "How many times has this happened, and how many more times will he come back to me in sorrow for the damage that was done?" In essence, I was wondering just how much more of this I could really take.
I received texts from him, expressing his remorse. I received a contrite voice message on my cell phone. My fingers began texting back - lashing out, telling him I was finished with him. Before I could send my angry responses, a still, small voice (you know the one) urged me to "practice what I preached". Sometimes it is so much harder to forgive those closest to us. It's as though we don't care that they see our ugly side, because we don't put on any "airs" for family, as a rule.
So I texted, and erased. Texted more unforgiving messages, and erased. I prayed and asked God to forgive me for the struggle I was having in forgiving my own son - especially after I challenged others to actively show love and forgiveness just hours before! Something changed in me as I prayed for the Lord's forgiveness. I felt the Father once again reach down to my bitter heart and heal it, even as He forgave me! The Father showed me, by His own example, what I needed to do.
I contacted my son, and said, "I love you and I forgive you". Plain and simple. The peace in my heart was immense, and he came back to a place of restoration with peace in his heart, as well.
The forgiveness was complete, and expressed in a way he could grasp and accept. It was just the way Gram had spoken to me about earlier in the week. Later, as we talked, I did have to tell him that things would need to change, and I am here to help him grow and learn how to respond in a positive way to the situations that cause him to stumble. If, and when, he stumbles again, I will be there to take him back in love. I just pray that there will not be such a battle of my own stubborn will against what I know to be true and right!
Little did I know what the topic would be of "Forgiveness, Part Two", as I was happily typing out my thoughts on "Part One". Now if anyone knows the antidote for a Scottish/Sicilian temper, my son and I could sure use the recipe!
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