Every morning I wake up and listen to music as I get ready for work. Lately, I listen to the Easter's "Going Away Party" on a CD that one of my close friends gave me a few months ago. Without fail, I think of my "little Gram", and how completely she loved the Lord.
Yesterday marked a year since Gram passed on to heaven. I still remember the morning I woke up, didn't hear her stirring in her room, so I puttered around in the kitchen making her breakfast with bran cereal, yogurt and bananas. I took out the notebook I wrote in everyday to mark her sleep/awake times, and also meals and anything else pertinent to the day. This notebook was a little tattered. I had been writing in it for a few months. After I finished making her breakfast, I opened the notebook, entered her breakfast menu, then jotted "awake at 8 am", after a quick glance at the clock. I hurried into her room to pull up the shades and help her welcome a new day. I realized that she was no longer with us as soon as I opened the door and called her name. I thought to phone her family across the street, but didn't tell her daughter-in-law what I already knew. It just didn't seem right over the phone. As soon as I heard the downstairs door open, I met Naida at the door and shook my head. The rest of the morning was a blur, as was the weekend. I was grieving, yet, so thankful that Gram was with her Savior. I missed her - I saw her everywhere, and that first night without her was so quiet and surreal (as many nights have been since, when memories of her sweetly occupy my mind). I had a 16th birthday "party" to throw for my son, between the day she left us and the day of her funeral. My son, Michael, needed to know that he was not forgotten through it all.
The morning of the funeral, I took care of getting the family ready and made the drive to the funeral. We arrived early for the wake. As I walked through the door, Naida, who had been the first person to stand with me in Gram's bedroom, walked toward me and said, "Elizabeth - look at her!" My feet somehow carried me to where Gram lay, and my heart sent a crashing wave through my body. Tears streaming down, I could only stare at the form in front of me. Lovely, peaceful, radiant and joyous can not even describe what I saw. Gram looked younger and brighter. Many of us marvelled that we had never seen anything like it. I thanked God for giving me one last look at "Gram", in such a state of beauty. It's true, she was lovely, yet she was no longer "there". Gram was transported to Glory, and had no more need of her earthly shell. Somehow, the amazing radiance we viewed then was for us, and us alone. Gram was "home".
The year since she passed has been a whirlwind, yet I still "see" her little form, stooped just a bit, guiding her walker around the corner to greet me in the living room. I stand at the stove, and remember being a young girl, watching Gram heat up leftovers in the old frying pan. I pull out her paring knife to peel an apple, smiling inside when my little one asks for the "peels", as I used to ask Gram.
I remember Gram often talking about all the girls at the Boylston Home whenever anyone asked if she stayed in touch with any of them as adults. She rarely, if ever, mentioned me. One day, licking my wounds, I asked her why she never introduced me as a girl from "The Home", when questioned. Gram's eyes opened wide as she looked at me and said, "I didn't think of it. You're not a girl from The Home - you're "my" girl!"
I hope you will listen to the song in the following post. Gram was a dear wife, sister, mother, grandmother, friend and foster mother. But when it came to Jesus, she was, and still is, "His" girl!
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Gram's Writings
Some of you know that I get my love of writing from Gram. I have had the pleasure of reading some of her life-story writings. Please check in from time to time to read more about Gram, in her own words. I have added parentheses to provide definitions for some of the outdated words - I actually had to look some of them up :) Happy reading, and God bless!
While he went for wood, Mother read Dad's brief note saying that he couldn't get away, a coworker was ill, and the mail was piling up. When Mr. Parker returned, he asked if Dad would be arriving shortly. Mother replied, "Not for another week." Our good friend promised to come again on Monday.
Mother had to go back to bed. I served the gruel after we were reminded to be thankful for kind neighbors who had missed our smoke and lent a helping hand. Having just turned six and being in charge of the toddlers made me feel important, but it wouldn't have bothered me to exchange my 'authority' for some of the older ones' bossing on that long, lonesome Saturday.
Each day someone had been able to tend the fire. Now my turn came. Setting the two stovelids farther back on the stove, I shivered with nervousness, recalling that sometimes the crosspiece fell in an must be fished out of the hot coals. I decided to set that back, too. The ordeal I’d been dreading turned out successfully, happily removing my fear of being a ‘Stoker’, as Dad called it.
Sunday, Mother and I did the needful things. On Monday, Buddy was able to help her a bit as the rest of us were all down with what proved to be the grippe. This second week of Dad’s absence seemed worse than the first, especially when Mother and Buddy suffered relapses on Tuesday. Fortunately, all were content to lie and rest. None had their usual hearty appetites. Isabelle could tend the baby and put wood on the fire occasionally. Wednesday morning, Mother was up and dressed, able to carry on for the remainder of the week. These facts, plus the faithfulness of the Parkers really ‘saved the day’ for our family, Mother claimed later.
Mr. Parker had come on Monday with liquids and another large lard pail of hot gruel, enough for two days. Wednesday, he brought meal to cook in case anyone still needed it. (Having seen Mother on his previous visit, he figure she was well.) Isabelle had been instructed not to mention the relapses so as not to worry or overtax our friends. We’d manage until Dad’s return. As it happened, the Parkers were to be away for a week or so.
Complete bed rest helped immeasurably. By Friday evening all were feeling much better and eagerly awaiting Dad’s arrival. Most had fallen asleep by the time Mother heard his familiar signal outside. As she approached the door he warned, “Hazel, don’t open the door yet and listen carefully. I’m not feeling well and will go over to the other cabin. Don’t enter it for any reason or let the children near it. We can’t risk the family getting sick”.
Mother asked what was wrong. Dad said, “I hate to bring home bad news but the fellow who worked beside me is very ill – with smallpox.” Then he asked her to set out a jar of water, and to bring light nourishment to his doorstep each evening. She could tell he was shaking with the chills, and hurried to hand out a warm blanket with the water. Praying for help in this new emergency, she was thankful that the small cabin across the clearing had been well-supplied with wood and bedding, as well as some medical and first aid remedies. Dad, as foreman, had lived there the preceding winter and liked to have things on hand in case of sickness or injuries among his men.
Of course we were disappointed that Dad’s illness prevented our seeing him. While Mother could face up to the possibility of it being smallpox, she didn’t want to burden us so she explained his isolations by saying that Dad thought it better to be over there and didn’t want anyone coming near to get his germs. Assuming he had the flu, we were willing to stay away from any further experience with that.
Dad had told Mother not to do anything unless his food remained untouched for three successive days, at which point she might want to send Buddy over to the Parkers’ and have them get help – but he didn’t feel it would be necessary. (He knew there was a great deal of sickness and it was hard to find a doctor.) During the next week the food stayed out two evenings in a row, and many earnest petitions shot heavenward. But the dreaded ‘three’ never came. Mother always called Dad’s name when she went over and after some days she heard a faint ‘thanks’. Later on, he began sending brief messages to his ‘kidlets’. When bits of his natural humor crept in, it gave our spirits a big lift.
Once the crisis was past, Mother sent the older children back to school. The Parkers returned and were very sorry to learn that Dad was on the sicklist. During their absence the man who tended their cows had placed our milk in the well-house so we coud pick it up when getting water. Groceries were left there also.
Mother finally got a letter off to Grandmother Smith, lest she become unduly concerned about us. When the reply came it was obvious that Grandmother, a practical nurse, hadn’t much time to think of mail. She was working ‘round the clock in a church-turned-hospital, caring for twenty patients the over-crowded hospitals had to turn away. This was the prelude to the great flu epidemic, which would sweep over vast areas.
I’m not sure how long dad was shut away from us. To his children, it seemed a sizable part of ‘forever’.
Finally the afternoon came when, following stringent measures to prevent further infection, Mother walked Dad across the clearing to our cabin. The six of us watched from the doorway, dismayed that Dad looked so thin, yet pleased to find the same old twinkle in his eye.
What a memorable hour we spent around the table that evening! Not that we remember the meal itself except for the delicious rolls and jam Mrs. Parker sent over for the occasion, but excitement reigned at being together again. We always plied Dad with questions about his experiences on the mail run, for he was an accomplished raconteur (a person who is skilled in relating stories and anecdotes interestingly). He frankly admitted that when he ran out of factual material, he just ‘pulled yarns out of the air’.
Then Dad had a question for Mother: Why did his family look so pindling (sickly) after a healthful summer out-of-doors? Mother told him briefly our ordeal with the flu during his absence, and of the Parkers’ timely aid. She gave credit to the children (ages 9, 7 and 6) who carried on when her strength gave out, and she could rest and pray. With tear-filled eyes Dad thanked God for bringing us safely through two real crises which could have turned out quite differently. Then his habitual smile broke through as he produced the long-awaited key. That smile spread family-wide. We could move into our new home! According to a saying in our household, everything was ‘just all right’ again!
Yes, little Sis, God was looking.
God Was Looking
by Minerva G. Beal
The summer before my sixth birthday (1917) our family took to the woods. Dad had to ship out a large consignment of lumber which his woods crew had prepared the previous winter and left to dry. He wanted the whole family to enjoy a month at the sawmill site while he transported the boards to the freight depot a couple miles away.
We stayed in a typical loggers cabin with over-sized cookstove and woodbox, a table and assorted chairs, a dry sink and four double bunks; adequate summer quarters for the eight of us. A solitary electric bulb was suspended from the rafters above the table, while a woodshed and outhouse behind the cabin completed the arrangements. Mother soon had the place looking homey with curtains, tablecloth and bedcoverings. One corner was curtained off for a dressing room.
Outside there was much to interest us. The mill had been removed but a veritable mountain of sawdust remained. We found a brook for wading and for catching lively little minnows which Mother insisted we return shortly to their natural habitat. There were woodsy paths, birds and small creatures, fireflies, frog choirs and whippoorwills. There was even an old railroad spur with handcar intact, ready to furnish many hours of enjoyment as we’d pump it up the slight incline and coast back to the platform. With neither house nor road in sight, we considered this delightful world very much our own.
Chores were done promptly and cheerfully because of adventures awaiting us. Nine-year-old Isabelle helped Mother with the morning work. Buddy, the only boy, was seven; he and I carried milk and drinking water from a farmhouse two long pastures away. Water for laundry and baths, we fetched from the brook. All three of us were ‘on call’ as other needs arose.
The time sped by. We expected to move to a neighboring town the first of September, but word came that the house would not be ready until October. So we stayed on. Dad was now a mail clerk on the train, leaving late Sunday and returning Friday evening with groceries. The two older children walked over to the farmhouse five days a week to get a ride on the “school team” (a horse drawn “school bus”).
October came and went with no further word concerning our house. The first Sunday in November, as Dad left for his mail run, he promised to check the possibility of our moving the following weekend.
The weather had been clear and cool. By Tuesday, it was raw. Late in the afternoon, Mother suggested bringing in extra wood. The sky was gray and we might get snow. “Before Thanksgiving?” Isabelle asked.
“It could happen”, Mother replied. It did happen. Snow began falling in the night and continued most of Wednesday. Then the wind swirled it against the windows until on Thursday morning, we seemed enclosed in a silent dusky vacuum. The little ones called for a lamp (there being no electric power) but Mother said we’d better keep the kerosene for emergencies, and take our cheer from the fire’s glow. She had been up the night before with Buddy, who was feverish and restless. By that afternoon, Mother looked so weary we had to ask her to rest awhile.
Mother couldn’t get up for supper so Isabelle took over the care of the baby and preparation of meal. She set the alarm clock in order to put wood in the fire that night, as the cabin was drafty. I helped with the household chores and amused the little ones.
All went well until Saturday morning when we awakened in a chilly room. The fire was out. Isabelle was unable to rise when the alarm went off. Mother urged us to stay under the covers until she could get the place warmed up. As she prayed for strength to do what must be done, the three-year-old asked, “Mommy, are you still sick?”
“Yes, but I’ll be fine very soon”, Mother reassured her.
“We prayed – are God looking? Will he help us?” the little girl persisted.
“Yes,” Mother answered firmly, then made her way over to the stove. She laid the wood in order and was just lighting a fire when a knock came at the door. Elderly Mr. Parker from the farmhouse called in – “Are you folks sick?”
“Some are,” Mother said. “It’s probably the grippe.” (former name for influenza). He sympathized and said they hadn’t been surprised when no one came over during the bad weather, then added, “You know, we can’t see your place, in cool weather when you have a fire we can see the smoke rise. This morning there wasn’t any, and Marthy got worried. She made some hot gruel just in case. I’ll set that and the water and milk inside then get some wood. There’s a note from Bill, probably delayed because of the freak storm. I can’t come in,” he added as he shoved things inside the door, “You know how Marthy frets about me picking up cold germs.”
Mother had to go back to bed. I served the gruel after we were reminded to be thankful for kind neighbors who had missed our smoke and lent a helping hand. Having just turned six and being in charge of the toddlers made me feel important, but it wouldn't have bothered me to exchange my 'authority' for some of the older ones' bossing on that long, lonesome Saturday.
Each day someone had been able to tend the fire. Now my turn came. Setting the two stovelids farther back on the stove, I shivered with nervousness, recalling that sometimes the crosspiece fell in an must be fished out of the hot coals. I decided to set that back, too. The ordeal I’d been dreading turned out successfully, happily removing my fear of being a ‘Stoker’, as Dad called it.
Sunday, Mother and I did the needful things. On Monday, Buddy was able to help her a bit as the rest of us were all down with what proved to be the grippe. This second week of Dad’s absence seemed worse than the first, especially when Mother and Buddy suffered relapses on Tuesday. Fortunately, all were content to lie and rest. None had their usual hearty appetites. Isabelle could tend the baby and put wood on the fire occasionally. Wednesday morning, Mother was up and dressed, able to carry on for the remainder of the week. These facts, plus the faithfulness of the Parkers really ‘saved the day’ for our family, Mother claimed later.
Mr. Parker had come on Monday with liquids and another large lard pail of hot gruel, enough for two days. Wednesday, he brought meal to cook in case anyone still needed it. (Having seen Mother on his previous visit, he figure she was well.) Isabelle had been instructed not to mention the relapses so as not to worry or overtax our friends. We’d manage until Dad’s return. As it happened, the Parkers were to be away for a week or so.
Complete bed rest helped immeasurably. By Friday evening all were feeling much better and eagerly awaiting Dad’s arrival. Most had fallen asleep by the time Mother heard his familiar signal outside. As she approached the door he warned, “Hazel, don’t open the door yet and listen carefully. I’m not feeling well and will go over to the other cabin. Don’t enter it for any reason or let the children near it. We can’t risk the family getting sick”.
Mother asked what was wrong. Dad said, “I hate to bring home bad news but the fellow who worked beside me is very ill – with smallpox.” Then he asked her to set out a jar of water, and to bring light nourishment to his doorstep each evening. She could tell he was shaking with the chills, and hurried to hand out a warm blanket with the water. Praying for help in this new emergency, she was thankful that the small cabin across the clearing had been well-supplied with wood and bedding, as well as some medical and first aid remedies. Dad, as foreman, had lived there the preceding winter and liked to have things on hand in case of sickness or injuries among his men.
Of course we were disappointed that Dad’s illness prevented our seeing him. While Mother could face up to the possibility of it being smallpox, she didn’t want to burden us so she explained his isolations by saying that Dad thought it better to be over there and didn’t want anyone coming near to get his germs. Assuming he had the flu, we were willing to stay away from any further experience with that.
Dad had told Mother not to do anything unless his food remained untouched for three successive days, at which point she might want to send Buddy over to the Parkers’ and have them get help – but he didn’t feel it would be necessary. (He knew there was a great deal of sickness and it was hard to find a doctor.) During the next week the food stayed out two evenings in a row, and many earnest petitions shot heavenward. But the dreaded ‘three’ never came. Mother always called Dad’s name when she went over and after some days she heard a faint ‘thanks’. Later on, he began sending brief messages to his ‘kidlets’. When bits of his natural humor crept in, it gave our spirits a big lift.
Once the crisis was past, Mother sent the older children back to school. The Parkers returned and were very sorry to learn that Dad was on the sicklist. During their absence the man who tended their cows had placed our milk in the well-house so we coud pick it up when getting water. Groceries were left there also.
Mother finally got a letter off to Grandmother Smith, lest she become unduly concerned about us. When the reply came it was obvious that Grandmother, a practical nurse, hadn’t much time to think of mail. She was working ‘round the clock in a church-turned-hospital, caring for twenty patients the over-crowded hospitals had to turn away. This was the prelude to the great flu epidemic, which would sweep over vast areas.
I’m not sure how long dad was shut away from us. To his children, it seemed a sizable part of ‘forever’.
Finally the afternoon came when, following stringent measures to prevent further infection, Mother walked Dad across the clearing to our cabin. The six of us watched from the doorway, dismayed that Dad looked so thin, yet pleased to find the same old twinkle in his eye.
What a memorable hour we spent around the table that evening! Not that we remember the meal itself except for the delicious rolls and jam Mrs. Parker sent over for the occasion, but excitement reigned at being together again. We always plied Dad with questions about his experiences on the mail run, for he was an accomplished raconteur (a person who is skilled in relating stories and anecdotes interestingly). He frankly admitted that when he ran out of factual material, he just ‘pulled yarns out of the air’.
Then Dad had a question for Mother: Why did his family look so pindling (sickly) after a healthful summer out-of-doors? Mother told him briefly our ordeal with the flu during his absence, and of the Parkers’ timely aid. She gave credit to the children (ages 9, 7 and 6) who carried on when her strength gave out, and she could rest and pray. With tear-filled eyes Dad thanked God for bringing us safely through two real crises which could have turned out quite differently. Then his habitual smile broke through as he produced the long-awaited key. That smile spread family-wide. We could move into our new home! According to a saying in our household, everything was ‘just all right’ again!
Yes, little Sis, God was looking.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
A Few Words About Gram
I came across the notes I had written down about Gram as I prepared to say a few words at her funeral this past January. It was tough to know exactly what to say, because she had been my lifelong mother, and we had shared so much through the years...
"Gram often relayed that she had wanted to be a teacher when she grew up, but God had called her to be a pastor's wife instead. What impressed me most about Gram was that she truly was the teacher she had always wanted to be, though not in a classroom.
She took me in when I was only eight months old. She taught me how to read and write, and how to tie my shoes. She even taught us girls at Boylston Home that we could learn to like our vegetables. More than the things she sat down to teach us, were the ways that her life helped us to learn lessons. By her life, she taught us things like courage, loyalty, trust, joy, and contentment. The most important lesson she taught us by her way of life was what it meant to love the Lord with all of one's life, heart and soul. She also taught us verses. She knew that the verses she quoted to us would remain in our hearts, even when she could no longer be with us. She taught us to pray, just as she taught us who Jesus was.
Even as she turned 98, she taught me that our spirits are not confined to our earthly bodies. Gram's spirit would soar to lofty heights in prayer, looking forward to the day when she would see Jesus face to face, even as she was confined to sit in her chair day after day.
Finally, Gram taught me how to let go toward the end as she would often speak with her eyes closed and her heart open. She spoke often of heaven. She talked of reunions. She taught me to hope for the day when we would be together again.
Though Gram was a very dear pastor's wife, she was the best teacher I ever had, and I will miss her terribly. May her lessons stay with us all as we continue forward in our own journeys."
"Gram often relayed that she had wanted to be a teacher when she grew up, but God had called her to be a pastor's wife instead. What impressed me most about Gram was that she truly was the teacher she had always wanted to be, though not in a classroom.
She took me in when I was only eight months old. She taught me how to read and write, and how to tie my shoes. She even taught us girls at Boylston Home that we could learn to like our vegetables. More than the things she sat down to teach us, were the ways that her life helped us to learn lessons. By her life, she taught us things like courage, loyalty, trust, joy, and contentment. The most important lesson she taught us by her way of life was what it meant to love the Lord with all of one's life, heart and soul. She also taught us verses. She knew that the verses she quoted to us would remain in our hearts, even when she could no longer be with us. She taught us to pray, just as she taught us who Jesus was.
Even as she turned 98, she taught me that our spirits are not confined to our earthly bodies. Gram's spirit would soar to lofty heights in prayer, looking forward to the day when she would see Jesus face to face, even as she was confined to sit in her chair day after day.
Finally, Gram taught me how to let go toward the end as she would often speak with her eyes closed and her heart open. She spoke often of heaven. She talked of reunions. She taught me to hope for the day when we would be together again.
Though Gram was a very dear pastor's wife, she was the best teacher I ever had, and I will miss her terribly. May her lessons stay with us all as we continue forward in our own journeys."
Thursday, August 19, 2010
In Loving Memory of Gram
Nearly a year ago, the first seeds for this blog were planted in my heart by Gram. As I wrote in my first post, Gram told me, "We must get the word out about God's love and share Him with others. That's why we're here!"
So much has changed since I first sat down to type at this same computer, praying that God would somehow work through Gram and myself as vessels for His use. The house, room, computer, chair, and probably even my wardrobe is unchanged, but Gram has gone on to her Eternal Home as is now praising the Lord face to face. I have grown as the experiences of love and loss have molded me into a more thoughtful and appreciative person. There have been nights when I have awakened, not knowing whether the noise I heard was Gram needing my help and then realized in the next instant that she is in Glory. I still love her. I continue to miss her. And yet, I realize the baton has been passed. It is my turn to run the race that is set before me, keeping my eyes on Jesus, the Author and Finisher of my faith. I am humbled that God chose me, among others, to be the ones who would take the baton from her.
Though time marches forward and days turn to memories quicker than we may want them to, Gram's theme remains central to my heart. She knew, at ninety-seven years old, that she and I were here to generously share God's love with others. It was her purpose, and it set my soul on fire. As I go through the rest of my life, it is my prayer that God will work in me and through me to continue on the path He chose for me the day Gram shared the joy of her existence. "That's why we're here!"
As a result of Gram's blog, I am also writing others, which are listed in the "about me" section. We all know Who these blogs are really about, though, don't we? I will continue to share thoughts and memories here, as well as some of Gram's own writing.
My newest blog is:
www.healingthelocustyears.blogspot.com
Though so much has changed in just a year's time, one promise remains steadfast:
Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, today, and forever!
Thank you so much for letting me share my "Little Gram" with you!
So much has changed since I first sat down to type at this same computer, praying that God would somehow work through Gram and myself as vessels for His use. The house, room, computer, chair, and probably even my wardrobe is unchanged, but Gram has gone on to her Eternal Home as is now praising the Lord face to face. I have grown as the experiences of love and loss have molded me into a more thoughtful and appreciative person. There have been nights when I have awakened, not knowing whether the noise I heard was Gram needing my help and then realized in the next instant that she is in Glory. I still love her. I continue to miss her. And yet, I realize the baton has been passed. It is my turn to run the race that is set before me, keeping my eyes on Jesus, the Author and Finisher of my faith. I am humbled that God chose me, among others, to be the ones who would take the baton from her.
Though time marches forward and days turn to memories quicker than we may want them to, Gram's theme remains central to my heart. She knew, at ninety-seven years old, that she and I were here to generously share God's love with others. It was her purpose, and it set my soul on fire. As I go through the rest of my life, it is my prayer that God will work in me and through me to continue on the path He chose for me the day Gram shared the joy of her existence. "That's why we're here!"
As a result of Gram's blog, I am also writing others, which are listed in the "about me" section. We all know Who these blogs are really about, though, don't we? I will continue to share thoughts and memories here, as well as some of Gram's own writing.
My newest blog is:
www.healingthelocustyears.blogspot.com
Though so much has changed in just a year's time, one promise remains steadfast:
Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, today, and forever!
Thank you so much for letting me share my "Little Gram" with you!
God Can Use That!
I just love my friend, Kathie. She and I get together for a weekly "prayer and share". Panicking, I told her when Guideposts called to let me know a photographer was coming for the photo shoot for my story. It seemed like the worst possible time for this!
I was in the middle of a physical battle that I seemed to be losing. Last summer, I received radiation to destroy my thyroid in an effort to put an end to a 15-plus year battle with Graves Disease. The thyroid affects the metabolism, along with virtually everything else in a person's body. Half my hair fell out. I packed on 40 pounds, even though the doctors kept adjusting my synthetic thyroid medicine, trying to find just the right dose. I had lost my job because I had what was called a Thyroid Storm, had to be put on heart pills to fend off a heart attack, and was rushed to the hospital three times, with a resting heart rate of nearly 200 beats per minute.
Though I came home to care for Gram, I was literally broke. I came home with the clothes on my back, and found that the meager belongings I had left here in NH were ruined in a basement flood.
After my radiation treatment, I began losing strength in the right side of my body. There were some days I could barely walk. I blamed everything on the radiation until I received an MRI. Referred to a neurologist, I was told there were several "spots" on my brain. The eventual diagnosis is Multiple Sclerosis, though there is really no difinitive test. The root cause of the Graves Disease, the MS, and the miscarriages is Autoimmune Disease. A phenomenon in which the body attacks itself.
I confided all this in Kathie, whining, "Why now, when I am struggling with all of this, my hair is still falling out in clumps, and I feel so fat?"
"God can use that!" she exclaimed with excitement.
Then, Kathie did something amazing. She gave me some clothes to wear for the "big day". She remained positive, where I was discouraged. She told me, "Everyone needs a girlfriend in times like these", dropping a huge bag of clothes on the living room floor.
Late at night, I would lie in my bed praying, "Please, God. Please, please, please find a way to make it possible for me to get my hair done. I also need a manicure. And some jewelry. You know I don't even have the money to grab something at the Dollar Store down the street. I'm so embarrassed. Every woman wants to feel pretty in a picture, and this picture is HUGE for me."
I did pray every night as the photo shoot loomed in the horizon. There were no gift baskets dropped down from heaven, and no rich uncle came forward. I determined in my heart that God must have a reason for me to go forward without the things I had so desperately prayed for. It could be that someone, somewhere might be able to relate to the thin-haired, chubby, plain, middle-aged lady that I was. And I clung to Kathie's certainty that, "God can use that!"
The day the photographer called to say he was coming an hour early, my daughter, Shelli, my son's girlfriend, Kay, and I giggled and tore around the house trying to neaten up and slap make-up on my face. Kay brought over a colorful sweater, Shelli artfully applied eye shadow, and I fumbled with Kay's hair straightener. About five hundred frames later, the photographer left.
Guideposts came in the mail the other day. I waited for it like a little kid at Christmas. I was still walking through the door after work as my son, Danny announced, "Mom, your magazine came, and they sooo "photo-shopped" you!"
Passing the magazine around, the kids and I poured over the photos. Did I look like that thin-haired, chubby, plain, middle-aged woman I was afraid of? Yes, I did, but my attention was drawn to the image of another woman on the pages, standing next to her husband, smiling.
She had white hair, no jewelry, no make-up, and was wearing a dress I had seen her in a million times before. She was my Gram, and she was lovely.
Suddenly, everything crashed into perspective as I realized that Gram's life was a thing of beauty. Flashy jewelry and a perfect manicure would have looked out of place on her snowy white skin. She had always been "just" Gram, yet to me, she was one of the most attractive women I have ever known.
When all was said and done, it all worked out the way it should have. The way God, in His wisdom, had planned it. I learned to be thankful for the opportunity to share my Gram with others, and her beauty was evident on each page. I wouldn't have wanted it any other way.
I was in the middle of a physical battle that I seemed to be losing. Last summer, I received radiation to destroy my thyroid in an effort to put an end to a 15-plus year battle with Graves Disease. The thyroid affects the metabolism, along with virtually everything else in a person's body. Half my hair fell out. I packed on 40 pounds, even though the doctors kept adjusting my synthetic thyroid medicine, trying to find just the right dose. I had lost my job because I had what was called a Thyroid Storm, had to be put on heart pills to fend off a heart attack, and was rushed to the hospital three times, with a resting heart rate of nearly 200 beats per minute.
Though I came home to care for Gram, I was literally broke. I came home with the clothes on my back, and found that the meager belongings I had left here in NH were ruined in a basement flood.
After my radiation treatment, I began losing strength in the right side of my body. There were some days I could barely walk. I blamed everything on the radiation until I received an MRI. Referred to a neurologist, I was told there were several "spots" on my brain. The eventual diagnosis is Multiple Sclerosis, though there is really no difinitive test. The root cause of the Graves Disease, the MS, and the miscarriages is Autoimmune Disease. A phenomenon in which the body attacks itself.
I confided all this in Kathie, whining, "Why now, when I am struggling with all of this, my hair is still falling out in clumps, and I feel so fat?"
"God can use that!" she exclaimed with excitement.
Then, Kathie did something amazing. She gave me some clothes to wear for the "big day". She remained positive, where I was discouraged. She told me, "Everyone needs a girlfriend in times like these", dropping a huge bag of clothes on the living room floor.
Late at night, I would lie in my bed praying, "Please, God. Please, please, please find a way to make it possible for me to get my hair done. I also need a manicure. And some jewelry. You know I don't even have the money to grab something at the Dollar Store down the street. I'm so embarrassed. Every woman wants to feel pretty in a picture, and this picture is HUGE for me."
I did pray every night as the photo shoot loomed in the horizon. There were no gift baskets dropped down from heaven, and no rich uncle came forward. I determined in my heart that God must have a reason for me to go forward without the things I had so desperately prayed for. It could be that someone, somewhere might be able to relate to the thin-haired, chubby, plain, middle-aged lady that I was. And I clung to Kathie's certainty that, "God can use that!"
The day the photographer called to say he was coming an hour early, my daughter, Shelli, my son's girlfriend, Kay, and I giggled and tore around the house trying to neaten up and slap make-up on my face. Kay brought over a colorful sweater, Shelli artfully applied eye shadow, and I fumbled with Kay's hair straightener. About five hundred frames later, the photographer left.
Guideposts came in the mail the other day. I waited for it like a little kid at Christmas. I was still walking through the door after work as my son, Danny announced, "Mom, your magazine came, and they sooo "photo-shopped" you!"
Passing the magazine around, the kids and I poured over the photos. Did I look like that thin-haired, chubby, plain, middle-aged woman I was afraid of? Yes, I did, but my attention was drawn to the image of another woman on the pages, standing next to her husband, smiling.
She had white hair, no jewelry, no make-up, and was wearing a dress I had seen her in a million times before. She was my Gram, and she was lovely.
Suddenly, everything crashed into perspective as I realized that Gram's life was a thing of beauty. Flashy jewelry and a perfect manicure would have looked out of place on her snowy white skin. She had always been "just" Gram, yet to me, she was one of the most attractive women I have ever known.
When all was said and done, it all worked out the way it should have. The way God, in His wisdom, had planned it. I learned to be thankful for the opportunity to share my Gram with others, and her beauty was evident on each page. I wouldn't have wanted it any other way.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
A Mother's Day poem
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.
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.
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!
Monday, November 2, 2009
Forgiveness, Part One
The past two weeks have been hectic and full of activity! Gram had many visitors come to wish her a happy birthday. Thank you to everyone for your birthday wishes!
In the quietness of the evening last night, Gram began talking to me about forgiveness. She said we should never assume that someone would automatically know we have forgiven them for an offense. Even though we know we have forgiven them, we should be like the father in the parable of Luke 15, who throws a celebration for his son, when he comes home after spending all of his inheritance. In a nutshell, the son was prepared to come back as a servant, but was greeted by his dad with kisses, new clothes and a feast.
Once again, Gram has shown me a viewpoint I never really thought about. I know I have been on both sides of forgiveness. There are times when I never knew (and still don't) whether I had been forgiven or not. The sour taste of what we have done wrong can linger in our throat for years, even after we have apologized to another person, because we are still unsure of our standing with them.
The parable about the Prodigal Son that Jesus talks about in the book of Luke is a story of forgiveness from God to us, his own children.
"A certain man had two sons. And the younger of them said to his father, 'Father, give to me the portion of goods that falleth to me' (his ineritance). And his father divided unto them his living. And not many days after, the son took his journey into a far country, and there, wasted his substance with riotous living" (Luke 15:11-13)
Not righteous living, but riotous living. He went away and spent all of his inhertance, doing whatever he felt like doing. The purpose of an inheritance is for the children, after the parents die. This son said, in essence, "Dad, I wish you were dead so I could do what I want with your money." After he left, the family stayed at home and continued to work while this kid was having the time of his life doing all of the wrong things. Until...
The money ran out, and the son found himself penniless, sitting in a pigpen feeding the pigs, wishing he could eat their food because he was starving.
The Bible says in verse 17 that the son "came to himself" and realized even the servants in his fathers house have more than enough to eat. He came up with a plan to go back to his father and offer to be a servant, if his father would only let him come back. He rehearsed in his mind what he would say, and got up and began the long journey back home. He was so broke, he didn't even have shoes on his feet!
As I read this passage it occured to me that the son probably wouldn't have gone home if he had still been able to buy his own food and do his own thing. Verse 16 says that no man gave unto him. His last resort and only hope was his dad - the same person he had offended. So he decided to go home, hoping he could be a servant in exchange for food in his stomach and a roof over his head.
His dad must have been waiting for him for a long time. He saw his son when he was still far off, even though it must have been months, maybe even years for his son to travel to a far country, blow his whole inheritance, go through a "mighty" famine, find a local man who would hire him to feed his pigs, then make the long journey back home.
The Bible doesn't say when the son saw the father. He was trudging home mulling his rehearsed speech in his mind over and over again. His dad saw him from far away and ran to this dirty, smelly infidel and fell on his neck, kissing him. As the son began to give his speech about not being worthy enough to be called his father's son, he took a breath to say part two of his plea..."make me as one of thy hired servants". The word servant was also in his dad's vocabulary, as he cut off his son in mid sentence. He called his servants to come serve his son! He told them to bring the best robe to dress, put a ring on his son's finger, to signify that the son was an esteemed member of the family, put shoes on his feet and prepare a feast to celebrate his return. The father tells the entire plantation, including the older son, to celebrate because the child who was lost, is now found!
That is a very short version of a profound story of forgiveness, and how the Father in Heaven receives us all with a celebration when we repent. I remember something my pastor's wife said in the '90's at our Ladies Fellowship meeting. She told us that there will always be someone to forgive. I never forgot her words.
As Gram said, we need to let people know we have forgiven them. It's not enough for us to know in our hearts that we forgive them, if they have no knowledge of it. I'm not writing today to impress on anyone the need to forgive others. God is very clear in His Word that we need to forgive others in the same manner in which He forgives us. The "ah-ha moment" for me, leading to the topic of this post was when Gram said we need to express our forgiveness in a way that the offender understands. When we truly forgive, we need to go above and beyond, putting that forgiveness into action! The parable of Jesus shows us that forgiveness is a verb. What a lovely world it would be if the "forgiver" accepted the added requirement of running to the "forgiven", hugging, celebrating and esteeming the very person who sinned against them!
My pastor in Florida leads a vibrant prison minstry. There are so many souls who come to Christ because Pastor Jay tells them of a forgiving, holy Father. So many have lived for years in the prisons of their own guilt and worthlessness. Many people in jail have already been incarcerated in an unforgiven state long before they ever became punished criminals. Would some of these men be in jail now if they had been freely forgiven and reconciled in love by others throughout their lives? I wonder.
As I've already said, I have been at both ends of forgiveness. There are people who have done devastating things to me, and forgiving them has allowed me to have a better understanding of my own relationship with my Heavenly Father. I have actually found that my walk with the Lord was opened up to higher levels when I truly forgave. I have also done some pretty terrible things in my life, and I still don't know if I have been forgiven by others. It's a horrible feeling, isn't it?
If there's anyone you need to express your forgiveness to - do it, even as you lay your own tresspasses at the Lord's feet and find your relationship with Him mended and repaired. You don't have to kiss your offender and give them clothes and a feast, but wouldn't they be surprised if you asked them out to lunch, or over for dinner! Celebrate your reconciliation in a way they can understand! It can mean the difference of an entire future, in some cases. The power of forgiveness is immeasurable, and it's in our hands, if we will only put it into practice. Remember the feeling you had when you came to Christ, knowing that all of your sins were gone, and heaven was celebrating YOU! What power! Take that same power and use it - practice it - as the Lord requires. Not only will it bring your offender peace and comfort, it will also release you from resentment and pain.
Go and do it today!!!
In the quietness of the evening last night, Gram began talking to me about forgiveness. She said we should never assume that someone would automatically know we have forgiven them for an offense. Even though we know we have forgiven them, we should be like the father in the parable of Luke 15, who throws a celebration for his son, when he comes home after spending all of his inheritance. In a nutshell, the son was prepared to come back as a servant, but was greeted by his dad with kisses, new clothes and a feast.
Once again, Gram has shown me a viewpoint I never really thought about. I know I have been on both sides of forgiveness. There are times when I never knew (and still don't) whether I had been forgiven or not. The sour taste of what we have done wrong can linger in our throat for years, even after we have apologized to another person, because we are still unsure of our standing with them.
The parable about the Prodigal Son that Jesus talks about in the book of Luke is a story of forgiveness from God to us, his own children.
"A certain man had two sons. And the younger of them said to his father, 'Father, give to me the portion of goods that falleth to me' (his ineritance). And his father divided unto them his living. And not many days after, the son took his journey into a far country, and there, wasted his substance with riotous living" (Luke 15:11-13)
Not righteous living, but riotous living. He went away and spent all of his inhertance, doing whatever he felt like doing. The purpose of an inheritance is for the children, after the parents die. This son said, in essence, "Dad, I wish you were dead so I could do what I want with your money." After he left, the family stayed at home and continued to work while this kid was having the time of his life doing all of the wrong things. Until...
The money ran out, and the son found himself penniless, sitting in a pigpen feeding the pigs, wishing he could eat their food because he was starving.
The Bible says in verse 17 that the son "came to himself" and realized even the servants in his fathers house have more than enough to eat. He came up with a plan to go back to his father and offer to be a servant, if his father would only let him come back. He rehearsed in his mind what he would say, and got up and began the long journey back home. He was so broke, he didn't even have shoes on his feet!
As I read this passage it occured to me that the son probably wouldn't have gone home if he had still been able to buy his own food and do his own thing. Verse 16 says that no man gave unto him. His last resort and only hope was his dad - the same person he had offended. So he decided to go home, hoping he could be a servant in exchange for food in his stomach and a roof over his head.
His dad must have been waiting for him for a long time. He saw his son when he was still far off, even though it must have been months, maybe even years for his son to travel to a far country, blow his whole inheritance, go through a "mighty" famine, find a local man who would hire him to feed his pigs, then make the long journey back home.
The Bible doesn't say when the son saw the father. He was trudging home mulling his rehearsed speech in his mind over and over again. His dad saw him from far away and ran to this dirty, smelly infidel and fell on his neck, kissing him. As the son began to give his speech about not being worthy enough to be called his father's son, he took a breath to say part two of his plea..."make me as one of thy hired servants". The word servant was also in his dad's vocabulary, as he cut off his son in mid sentence. He called his servants to come serve his son! He told them to bring the best robe to dress, put a ring on his son's finger, to signify that the son was an esteemed member of the family, put shoes on his feet and prepare a feast to celebrate his return. The father tells the entire plantation, including the older son, to celebrate because the child who was lost, is now found!
That is a very short version of a profound story of forgiveness, and how the Father in Heaven receives us all with a celebration when we repent. I remember something my pastor's wife said in the '90's at our Ladies Fellowship meeting. She told us that there will always be someone to forgive. I never forgot her words.
As Gram said, we need to let people know we have forgiven them. It's not enough for us to know in our hearts that we forgive them, if they have no knowledge of it. I'm not writing today to impress on anyone the need to forgive others. God is very clear in His Word that we need to forgive others in the same manner in which He forgives us. The "ah-ha moment" for me, leading to the topic of this post was when Gram said we need to express our forgiveness in a way that the offender understands. When we truly forgive, we need to go above and beyond, putting that forgiveness into action! The parable of Jesus shows us that forgiveness is a verb. What a lovely world it would be if the "forgiver" accepted the added requirement of running to the "forgiven", hugging, celebrating and esteeming the very person who sinned against them!
My pastor in Florida leads a vibrant prison minstry. There are so many souls who come to Christ because Pastor Jay tells them of a forgiving, holy Father. So many have lived for years in the prisons of their own guilt and worthlessness. Many people in jail have already been incarcerated in an unforgiven state long before they ever became punished criminals. Would some of these men be in jail now if they had been freely forgiven and reconciled in love by others throughout their lives? I wonder.
As I've already said, I have been at both ends of forgiveness. There are people who have done devastating things to me, and forgiving them has allowed me to have a better understanding of my own relationship with my Heavenly Father. I have actually found that my walk with the Lord was opened up to higher levels when I truly forgave. I have also done some pretty terrible things in my life, and I still don't know if I have been forgiven by others. It's a horrible feeling, isn't it?
If there's anyone you need to express your forgiveness to - do it, even as you lay your own tresspasses at the Lord's feet and find your relationship with Him mended and repaired. You don't have to kiss your offender and give them clothes and a feast, but wouldn't they be surprised if you asked them out to lunch, or over for dinner! Celebrate your reconciliation in a way they can understand! It can mean the difference of an entire future, in some cases. The power of forgiveness is immeasurable, and it's in our hands, if we will only put it into practice. Remember the feeling you had when you came to Christ, knowing that all of your sins were gone, and heaven was celebrating YOU! What power! Take that same power and use it - practice it - as the Lord requires. Not only will it bring your offender peace and comfort, it will also release you from resentment and pain.
Go and do it today!!!
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Happy 98th Birthday to Gram!
Tomorrow Gram will be 98 years old! A while ago, I had toyed with sending invitations for her birthday and had written one invitation with a header that said... "98 is Great!"
After I had written it, I wondered to myself whether Gram would say 98 is great. Sure, it rhymed, but as I view Gram in the day-to-day routines, I think 98 may not be so great. The header seemed ridiculous and glib to me once I saw it in black and white.
For Gram, 98 means never being able to cook your own meals. It means struggling with a walker, and having to use a wheelchair on the "off" days. It also means that someone else chooses your clothes, dresses you and does your hair. Reading is tedious with trifocals and a magnifying glass. You only get outside by being transported in your wheelchair in and out of the house and car to a doctor's appointment. It means not being able to pick up the phone to call a friend because you can't remember the number or hear what they're saying. It also means that your nearest, dearest, lifelong friends and family have already passed away. At 98, there are aches and pains all over your body that you usually just can't put into words, and each day brings a risk of falling because your balance isn't as good as it used to be. Gram spends a lot of time awake in her chair, staring at her lap, or out the window, watching the birds come to the bird feeder.
Often, during the day, as I view her sitting quietly, I ask Gram if she's comfortable, and if there's anything I can do for her. This (almost) 98 year old woman usually smiles at me and tells me she was just meditating on scripture as she sits in her chair. She is content. Sometimes she whistles or breaks out into a hymn with her tiny, frail voice. Gram doesn't complain. She silently talks to her heavenly Father as life bustles around her. He is her best friend.
As I opened our Daily Light devotional tonight for October 15, I read these words to her:
The LORD is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; the God of my rock; in HIM will I trust: He is my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my high tower, and my refuge, my Saviour. The LORD is my strength and my shield; my heart trusted in in Him, and I am helped; therefore my heart greatly rejoiceth; and with my song will I praise Him...
...As the mountains are round about Jerusalem, so the LORD is round about His people from henceforth even for ever. Because Thou hast been my help, therefore in the shadow of Thy wings will I rejoice.
For Thy namesake, lead me and guide me.
Tonight, as every night before bed, I kissed Gram's forehead and prayed with her, thanking God for the life He gave to Gram, so she could give it back to Him in service and love. Gram also prayed, and thanked the Lord for His grace and His bountiful blessings every day.
Maybe, just maybe, 98 is great.
After I had written it, I wondered to myself whether Gram would say 98 is great. Sure, it rhymed, but as I view Gram in the day-to-day routines, I think 98 may not be so great. The header seemed ridiculous and glib to me once I saw it in black and white.
For Gram, 98 means never being able to cook your own meals. It means struggling with a walker, and having to use a wheelchair on the "off" days. It also means that someone else chooses your clothes, dresses you and does your hair. Reading is tedious with trifocals and a magnifying glass. You only get outside by being transported in your wheelchair in and out of the house and car to a doctor's appointment. It means not being able to pick up the phone to call a friend because you can't remember the number or hear what they're saying. It also means that your nearest, dearest, lifelong friends and family have already passed away. At 98, there are aches and pains all over your body that you usually just can't put into words, and each day brings a risk of falling because your balance isn't as good as it used to be. Gram spends a lot of time awake in her chair, staring at her lap, or out the window, watching the birds come to the bird feeder.
Often, during the day, as I view her sitting quietly, I ask Gram if she's comfortable, and if there's anything I can do for her. This (almost) 98 year old woman usually smiles at me and tells me she was just meditating on scripture as she sits in her chair. She is content. Sometimes she whistles or breaks out into a hymn with her tiny, frail voice. Gram doesn't complain. She silently talks to her heavenly Father as life bustles around her. He is her best friend.
As I opened our Daily Light devotional tonight for October 15, I read these words to her:
The LORD is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; the God of my rock; in HIM will I trust: He is my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my high tower, and my refuge, my Saviour. The LORD is my strength and my shield; my heart trusted in in Him, and I am helped; therefore my heart greatly rejoiceth; and with my song will I praise Him...
...As the mountains are round about Jerusalem, so the LORD is round about His people from henceforth even for ever. Because Thou hast been my help, therefore in the shadow of Thy wings will I rejoice.
For Thy namesake, lead me and guide me.
Tonight, as every night before bed, I kissed Gram's forehead and prayed with her, thanking God for the life He gave to Gram, so she could give it back to Him in service and love. Gram also prayed, and thanked the Lord for His grace and His bountiful blessings every day.
Maybe, just maybe, 98 is great.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
The Plan of Salvation
I have dedicated this blog site to the impact that my Gram has made in my life, and I hope it will be a blessing to anyone who reads it. I do know that Gram has dedicated her life to serving, loving and sharing Christ with others. I would be remiss if I did not give the source of Gram’s joy and the message of her life. As I wrote in my first post, Gram said, “That’s why we’re here”!
While I do want to share the meaningful life and impact Gram has had on me, personally, she would want all of the praise and all of the glory to focus on the One who has made her life of service possible. It is only through grace that Gram, or anyone else, is able to live a life of love and devotion to others. And, it is only through Christ that we are able to have an abundant life that overflows into the lives of others with bountiful blessings in return..
What would Gram most want others to know about her? That she belongs to the family of God. That she is a sinner, saved by grace. If you were here in her living room as I am, she would want to introduce you to the love of her life – Jesus Christ.
In the Bible, Romans 1:16 says, “For I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ: for it is the power of God unto salvation to everyone that believeth.”
Salvation is a word we use to describe our acceptance and belief in God’s gift of eternal life. The free gift of salvation is only received by us through the death of God’s only son, Jesus, who left heaven to come to earth as a human to save all humanity from the consequences of our sin.
The Bible teaches that God loves you! “For God so loved the world that He gave his only begotten Son that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life” John 3:16
AND…God wants you to know Him personally! “Now this is eternal life, that men may know Him, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom He has sent”. John 17:3
BUT…We are all separated from God and His love because God is pure and we are all sinners. “As it is written, there is none righteous, no not one.” Romans 3:10 “But your iniquities have separated you from God; and your sins have hidden His face from you, so that He will not hear” Isaiah 59:2 “For all have sinned and come short of the glory of God. Being justified freely by His grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus.” Romans 3:23, 24
Because we are sinners, we are all destined to die an earthly death, but our souls live on eternally. The one who rejects Christ’s gift in this life goes on to eternal death and separation forever from God in hell. “For the wages of sin is death…” The one who accepts the free gift of salvation goes on to live eternally in heaven with God and other believers “…but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.” Romans 6:23
How do we receive the gift of God through Christ? It’s called faith. We must have faith that Christ was sent to the earth by God the Father. We must believe that Christ walked the earth as a man, but was also without sin, because He was also God in the flesh. Jesus, as the perfect, sinless sacrifice, paid the ultimate price for our sin. We must believe that there is a penalty for sin, and it is death and eternal separation from God, because God cannot have any fellowship with sinners apart from a sacrifice.
That’s not the end of the story!!! Jesus Christ was crucified and died on the cross for the sins of all the world (including our own), past, present and future! He did not remain dead – he rose from the grave on the third day, and ascended into Heaven when all was accomplished according to the scriptures, and He is alive and with God! This was God’s plan because He loves us and wants to enjoy a relationship with us, which was made possible by the sacrifice of His son.
JESUS is the only way to restore a relationship and communication between you and God. “For there is one God and one mediator between God and men (and women) – the man CHRIST JESUS: Who gave himself a ransom for ALL…” I Timothy 2:5,6
Salvation is a gift. We cannot earn the gift, and we cannot do enough good works to be rewarded by the gift. We simply have to receive it. “But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become the children of God” John 1:12. “For by grace (undeserved favor) ye are saved through faith; and not of yourselves (there’s nothing you could possibly do) – it is the GIFT of God. Not of works, lest anyone should boast” Ephesians 2:8,9.
The way to eternal life, and abundant blessings here on earth is through Christ! “And this is eternal life, that they might know Thee (God), the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou (God) has sent.” John 17:3.
Salvation involves:
Acknowledging our need – admitting we have sinned and desiring to turn away from that sin.
Believing Jesus Christ died for us and accepting His cleansing and forgiveness of our sins.
Choosing to invite Christ into your life as the one in control of your life. You will be amazed at the peace and joy you will have in giving Him control – no more trying to be good enough. We are made perfect in Christ. We will still sin, because we are sinners by nature, but we have grace day after day, moment after moment, by confessing our sins to Christ and knowing that He always forgives us.
Many people begin with a prayer that opens the door to a beautiful relationship with our Creator and Savior. You don’t have to try to impress God, just tell God what’s on your heart….you might want to pray something like this:
Dear Lord,
I know I have done wrong. I have tried to do things my own way for too long. I want to know you personally, and I am willing, with your help, to turn from my life of sin. I believe Jesus Christ died for me. Please come into my life and I thank you for already forgiving my sins and offering your perfect gift of salvation. I now receive your gift, and receive you as my Lord and Savior.
The moment you truly believe and have faith in what the Holy Bible tells us about God and salvation, Christ comes into your life, you become a child of God, your sins are forgiven, you have eternal life, and you begin a great adventure of knowing God personally! You can never lose your salvation – you become filled with the Holy Spirit of God, and He seals us unto the day of redemption!
If you have received God’s free gift of salvation today, all of heaven is cheering for you right now! Welcome to the Family of God!
“For I know the thoughts I think toward you, says the Lord. Thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you an expected end (hope and a future). Then shall you call upon me, and pray unto me, and I will hear you. And you shall seek me, and find me, when you shall search for me with all your heart.” Jeremiah 29:11-13
I will continue to write about lessons learned from my Gram, but this is the most important post of them all! “That’s why we’re here”!
While I do want to share the meaningful life and impact Gram has had on me, personally, she would want all of the praise and all of the glory to focus on the One who has made her life of service possible. It is only through grace that Gram, or anyone else, is able to live a life of love and devotion to others. And, it is only through Christ that we are able to have an abundant life that overflows into the lives of others with bountiful blessings in return..
What would Gram most want others to know about her? That she belongs to the family of God. That she is a sinner, saved by grace. If you were here in her living room as I am, she would want to introduce you to the love of her life – Jesus Christ.
In the Bible, Romans 1:16 says, “For I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ: for it is the power of God unto salvation to everyone that believeth.”
Salvation is a word we use to describe our acceptance and belief in God’s gift of eternal life. The free gift of salvation is only received by us through the death of God’s only son, Jesus, who left heaven to come to earth as a human to save all humanity from the consequences of our sin.
The Bible teaches that God loves you! “For God so loved the world that He gave his only begotten Son that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life” John 3:16
AND…God wants you to know Him personally! “Now this is eternal life, that men may know Him, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom He has sent”. John 17:3
BUT…We are all separated from God and His love because God is pure and we are all sinners. “As it is written, there is none righteous, no not one.” Romans 3:10 “But your iniquities have separated you from God; and your sins have hidden His face from you, so that He will not hear” Isaiah 59:2 “For all have sinned and come short of the glory of God. Being justified freely by His grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus.” Romans 3:23, 24
Because we are sinners, we are all destined to die an earthly death, but our souls live on eternally. The one who rejects Christ’s gift in this life goes on to eternal death and separation forever from God in hell. “For the wages of sin is death…” The one who accepts the free gift of salvation goes on to live eternally in heaven with God and other believers “…but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.” Romans 6:23
How do we receive the gift of God through Christ? It’s called faith. We must have faith that Christ was sent to the earth by God the Father. We must believe that Christ walked the earth as a man, but was also without sin, because He was also God in the flesh. Jesus, as the perfect, sinless sacrifice, paid the ultimate price for our sin. We must believe that there is a penalty for sin, and it is death and eternal separation from God, because God cannot have any fellowship with sinners apart from a sacrifice.
That’s not the end of the story!!! Jesus Christ was crucified and died on the cross for the sins of all the world (including our own), past, present and future! He did not remain dead – he rose from the grave on the third day, and ascended into Heaven when all was accomplished according to the scriptures, and He is alive and with God! This was God’s plan because He loves us and wants to enjoy a relationship with us, which was made possible by the sacrifice of His son.
JESUS is the only way to restore a relationship and communication between you and God. “For there is one God and one mediator between God and men (and women) – the man CHRIST JESUS: Who gave himself a ransom for ALL…” I Timothy 2:5,6
Salvation is a gift. We cannot earn the gift, and we cannot do enough good works to be rewarded by the gift. We simply have to receive it. “But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become the children of God” John 1:12. “For by grace (undeserved favor) ye are saved through faith; and not of yourselves (there’s nothing you could possibly do) – it is the GIFT of God. Not of works, lest anyone should boast” Ephesians 2:8,9.
The way to eternal life, and abundant blessings here on earth is through Christ! “And this is eternal life, that they might know Thee (God), the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou (God) has sent.” John 17:3.
Salvation involves:
Acknowledging our need – admitting we have sinned and desiring to turn away from that sin.
Believing Jesus Christ died for us and accepting His cleansing and forgiveness of our sins.
Choosing to invite Christ into your life as the one in control of your life. You will be amazed at the peace and joy you will have in giving Him control – no more trying to be good enough. We are made perfect in Christ. We will still sin, because we are sinners by nature, but we have grace day after day, moment after moment, by confessing our sins to Christ and knowing that He always forgives us.
Many people begin with a prayer that opens the door to a beautiful relationship with our Creator and Savior. You don’t have to try to impress God, just tell God what’s on your heart….you might want to pray something like this:
Dear Lord,
I know I have done wrong. I have tried to do things my own way for too long. I want to know you personally, and I am willing, with your help, to turn from my life of sin. I believe Jesus Christ died for me. Please come into my life and I thank you for already forgiving my sins and offering your perfect gift of salvation. I now receive your gift, and receive you as my Lord and Savior.
The moment you truly believe and have faith in what the Holy Bible tells us about God and salvation, Christ comes into your life, you become a child of God, your sins are forgiven, you have eternal life, and you begin a great adventure of knowing God personally! You can never lose your salvation – you become filled with the Holy Spirit of God, and He seals us unto the day of redemption!
If you have received God’s free gift of salvation today, all of heaven is cheering for you right now! Welcome to the Family of God!
“For I know the thoughts I think toward you, says the Lord. Thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you an expected end (hope and a future). Then shall you call upon me, and pray unto me, and I will hear you. And you shall seek me, and find me, when you shall search for me with all your heart.” Jeremiah 29:11-13
I will continue to write about lessons learned from my Gram, but this is the most important post of them all! “That’s why we’re here”!
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Freely
The house is quiet here tonight. My youngest two kids went to spend the night at my oldest daughter's apartment. Generally, after supper, I spend some time reading a few chapters to my Gram from various nonfiction books. We just finished Hope Rising by Kim Meeder (highly recommended!)
Gram decided that she was a little weary, so she didn't want to begin another book tonight, so we read the love chapter from the Bible. 1 Corinthians 13. After I finished reading, we sat quietly together and enjoyed the lack of commotion that generally swirls around us at this hour of the night.
In the silence, my heart began to flood with gratitude and love for this little woman who has been a four foot nine inch warrior for Christ. I thanked her for showing me and countless other people the love of Christ. Gram simply smiled and said, "Freely you have received, freely give"(Matt 10:8b). I began to openly weep as I told her of the times I knew Christ loved me because of the way Gram loved me. I was decidedly unlovable in the worst of my rebellion. I never lashed out at Grampy or Gram in my depravation, but I became very distant and broke off our relationship so I could be away from their watchful eyes to do my own things. Things that would have broken their hearts.
There were many times I would come back to visit them, making small talk about anything and nothing, with an unrepentant heart. They continued to show their love by telling me I was in their daily prayers. I believed them. As I was growing up, we daily got on our knees in the living room after breakfast to pray and lift up our loved ones, enemies, presidents and also offered special prayer for those who were hurting or rejecting the Lord. Every single day.
So tonight, I just wanted to thank my little Gram for being a vessel for Christ all these years. Gram told me that Christ is joyful when we receive His love, and His joy is multiplied when we take that love and pass it on to others. I am still amazed and learning that I can bring joy to my Savior! Joy to MY Savior! Imagine!
After I was able to tell Gram all that was on my heart, we prayed and I kissed her forehead as I always do before saying good-night. I thanked the Lord for His blessings and for His loving hand on my life. Where would I be if it weren't for the steadfastness of other Christians who simply and consistently walked the walk of faith - unashamed of the Gospel, and always ready to show His love to others.
Is there someone in your life who has consistently pointed you toward Christ by their testimony, witness, love? Someday, it will be too late to thank them. Don't let your opportunity pass! You may weep, as I wept tonight, but as I wrote to another great woman of influence in my life tonight, "Aren't tears of joy and appreciation so much different than tears of regret and sadness!"
Tell them, thank them, emulate them, and one day you will hear your Lord say, "Well done, thou good and faithful servant...enter thou into the joy of thy Lord" (Matt 25:21)
THANK YOU - Ray Boltz
I dreamed I went to heaven And you were there with me;
We walked upon the streets of gold Beside the crystal sea.
We heard the angels singing Then someone called your name.
We turned and saw a young man running And he was smiling as he came.
And he said, "Friend you may not know me now." And then he said, "But wait,
You used to teach my Sunday School When I was only eight.
And every week you would say a prayer Before the class would start.
And one day when you said that prayer, I asked Jesus in my heart."
Thank you for giving to the Lord. I am a life that was changed.
Thank you for giving to the Lord. I am so glad you gave.
Then another man stood before you And said, "Remember the time
A missionary came to your church And his pictures made you cry.
You didn't have much money, But you gave it anyway.
Jesus took the gift you gave And that's why I'm here today."
Thank you for giving to the Lord. I am a life that was changed.
Thank you for giving to the Lord. I am so glad you gave.
One by one they came Far as the eye could see.
Each life somehow touched By your generosity.
Little things that you had done, Sacrifices made,
Unnoticed on the earth, In heaven, now proclaimed.
And I know that up in heaven You're not supposed to cry
But I am almost sure There were tears in your eyes.
As Jesus took your hand And you stood before the Lord.
He said, "My child, look around you. Great is your reward."
Thank you for giving to the Lord. I am a life that was changed.
Thank you for giving to the Lord. I am so glad you gave.
Never put off for tomorrow what you could do today
Gram decided that she was a little weary, so she didn't want to begin another book tonight, so we read the love chapter from the Bible. 1 Corinthians 13. After I finished reading, we sat quietly together and enjoyed the lack of commotion that generally swirls around us at this hour of the night.
In the silence, my heart began to flood with gratitude and love for this little woman who has been a four foot nine inch warrior for Christ. I thanked her for showing me and countless other people the love of Christ. Gram simply smiled and said, "Freely you have received, freely give"(Matt 10:8b). I began to openly weep as I told her of the times I knew Christ loved me because of the way Gram loved me. I was decidedly unlovable in the worst of my rebellion. I never lashed out at Grampy or Gram in my depravation, but I became very distant and broke off our relationship so I could be away from their watchful eyes to do my own things. Things that would have broken their hearts.
There were many times I would come back to visit them, making small talk about anything and nothing, with an unrepentant heart. They continued to show their love by telling me I was in their daily prayers. I believed them. As I was growing up, we daily got on our knees in the living room after breakfast to pray and lift up our loved ones, enemies, presidents and also offered special prayer for those who were hurting or rejecting the Lord. Every single day.
So tonight, I just wanted to thank my little Gram for being a vessel for Christ all these years. Gram told me that Christ is joyful when we receive His love, and His joy is multiplied when we take that love and pass it on to others. I am still amazed and learning that I can bring joy to my Savior! Joy to MY Savior! Imagine!
After I was able to tell Gram all that was on my heart, we prayed and I kissed her forehead as I always do before saying good-night. I thanked the Lord for His blessings and for His loving hand on my life. Where would I be if it weren't for the steadfastness of other Christians who simply and consistently walked the walk of faith - unashamed of the Gospel, and always ready to show His love to others.
Is there someone in your life who has consistently pointed you toward Christ by their testimony, witness, love? Someday, it will be too late to thank them. Don't let your opportunity pass! You may weep, as I wept tonight, but as I wrote to another great woman of influence in my life tonight, "Aren't tears of joy and appreciation so much different than tears of regret and sadness!"
Tell them, thank them, emulate them, and one day you will hear your Lord say, "Well done, thou good and faithful servant...enter thou into the joy of thy Lord" (Matt 25:21)
THANK YOU - Ray Boltz
I dreamed I went to heaven And you were there with me;
We walked upon the streets of gold Beside the crystal sea.
We heard the angels singing Then someone called your name.
We turned and saw a young man running And he was smiling as he came.
And he said, "Friend you may not know me now." And then he said, "But wait,
You used to teach my Sunday School When I was only eight.
And every week you would say a prayer Before the class would start.
And one day when you said that prayer, I asked Jesus in my heart."
Thank you for giving to the Lord. I am a life that was changed.
Thank you for giving to the Lord. I am so glad you gave.
Then another man stood before you And said, "Remember the time
A missionary came to your church And his pictures made you cry.
You didn't have much money, But you gave it anyway.
Jesus took the gift you gave And that's why I'm here today."
Thank you for giving to the Lord. I am a life that was changed.
Thank you for giving to the Lord. I am so glad you gave.
One by one they came Far as the eye could see.
Each life somehow touched By your generosity.
Little things that you had done, Sacrifices made,
Unnoticed on the earth, In heaven, now proclaimed.
And I know that up in heaven You're not supposed to cry
But I am almost sure There were tears in your eyes.
As Jesus took your hand And you stood before the Lord.
He said, "My child, look around you. Great is your reward."
Thank you for giving to the Lord. I am a life that was changed.
Thank you for giving to the Lord. I am so glad you gave.
Never put off for tomorrow what you could do today
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
The Smallest Good Deed
I came to live with my Gram and Grampy when I was just eight months old. My parents brought my two sisters and me to live at a Christian home for girls in Manchester, NH on Sept 5, 1967. My sister Lisa was two, and my oldest sister, Robyn, was four. We lived at Boylston Home for Girls until I was seven years old.
Gram and Grampy had retired as directors and houseparents the year I turned seven, as well, so there were many changes happening at once. My parents had willingly left us at the home, so they still retained their rights all those years. My mother had moved to D.C., and my father married my stepmother and lived locally. I wouldn’t have recognized my birth mother if I'd seen her on the street, and my father would visit sporadically. Toward the end of our time at the home, he was back in our lives consistently with his new wife, which wasn't necessarily a good thing.
I desperately missed Gram and Grampy when they left! I believe the memory of them leaving at night to move away was the first time I had ever felt a “broken heart” within me. I looked out the window and cried, saying their names over and over again. When I was found in the music room, I said I was crying because our dog, Benji, wasn’t feeling well. There are just some times when the truth of our hurt is too precious to share with anyone.
Life changed, and new houseparents came to live at the home with all us girls. We weren’t used to them, and they weren’t used to us. I believe they really tried, but patience often ran thin with all there was to do. Instead of smooth, happy days, we had new rules, and the house hiccupped along with stops and starts, moody silences and occasional angry outbursts. It seemed like we were all just trying to make it through the day.
A short time later, my father appeared at the home late at night to take my sisters and I away “forever” as he put it. A wonderful man, who was on the Board of Directors at the time drove over to try to stop my father, but there was nothing he could do. I was extremely frightened of my father through the years, anyway, but that night I just prayed and hoped we wouldn’t have to go with him. We girls were eventually loaded into the car, and my father and stepmother sped away with us.
We drove for what seemed a long time. My sisters and I sat in silence, not daring to speak. Suddenly, my father turned off the main road and into a parking lot I recognized. It was the new home of Gram and Grampy! They were waiting for us at the top of the stairs! It had seemed like forever since I had seen them, but they welcomed us girls in with open arms! I was a tiny seven year old, and Grampy scooped my up into his arms, like he had always done. We were home!
That wasn’t the end of the story, by far, but it was a night of hope, reunification and rest like I hadn’t known for a long time. My sisters and I were content. Whatever the next days would bring didn’t matter at that moment in time.
Three exhausted little girls were eventually put to bed. The nightlight glowed softly, and I could see a poster hanging on the opposite wall. It had a picture of a blond toddler child touching a fluffy yellow baby chick, with a caption that said, “The smallest good deed is better than the grandest good intention.”
I’ve never forgotten that poster all these years. I drifted off to sleep focusing on the image and the words. I was home, and I felt like that little child in a warm meadow with flowers all around. I was at peace.
Gram and Grampy could have turned us away that night. They could have said, “Look, we’re in our sixties and we’re retired. We did our work for the Lord, and now it’s our time to do what we want.” They didn’t, and they never ceased to hold out a welcoming hand to anyone in need. Gram still desires to reach out to anyone who could use a word of encouragement or an uplifting verse.
The smallest good deed is better than the grandest good intention.
At night, Gram and I pray together. Gram’s prayers always include thanksgiving to the Lord for all His gifts and prayers for loved ones and friends. I kiss her on the head as we say good-night, and I tell her I love her. I remind her that she always told us girls, “Love is for keeps”. I want her to know I remember her words. If I have any compassion inside me, it was due to Gram’s love and direction, which was possible because she allowed the Lord to work through her life and her words.
James 3:17, 18
But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, and easy to be entreated, full of mercy and good fruits, without partiality, and without hypocrisy, and the fruit of righteousness is sown in peace of them that make peace.
I thank a merciful and loving Father for making something beautiful out of something tragic. We had the blessing of being left in the care of a couple who had the wisdom and the gentleness written of in the book of James. Gram and Grampy’s small, ‘good deeds’ made a profound change in the world around them.
Gram and Grampy had retired as directors and houseparents the year I turned seven, as well, so there were many changes happening at once. My parents had willingly left us at the home, so they still retained their rights all those years. My mother had moved to D.C., and my father married my stepmother and lived locally. I wouldn’t have recognized my birth mother if I'd seen her on the street, and my father would visit sporadically. Toward the end of our time at the home, he was back in our lives consistently with his new wife, which wasn't necessarily a good thing.
I desperately missed Gram and Grampy when they left! I believe the memory of them leaving at night to move away was the first time I had ever felt a “broken heart” within me. I looked out the window and cried, saying their names over and over again. When I was found in the music room, I said I was crying because our dog, Benji, wasn’t feeling well. There are just some times when the truth of our hurt is too precious to share with anyone.
Life changed, and new houseparents came to live at the home with all us girls. We weren’t used to them, and they weren’t used to us. I believe they really tried, but patience often ran thin with all there was to do. Instead of smooth, happy days, we had new rules, and the house hiccupped along with stops and starts, moody silences and occasional angry outbursts. It seemed like we were all just trying to make it through the day.
A short time later, my father appeared at the home late at night to take my sisters and I away “forever” as he put it. A wonderful man, who was on the Board of Directors at the time drove over to try to stop my father, but there was nothing he could do. I was extremely frightened of my father through the years, anyway, but that night I just prayed and hoped we wouldn’t have to go with him. We girls were eventually loaded into the car, and my father and stepmother sped away with us.
We drove for what seemed a long time. My sisters and I sat in silence, not daring to speak. Suddenly, my father turned off the main road and into a parking lot I recognized. It was the new home of Gram and Grampy! They were waiting for us at the top of the stairs! It had seemed like forever since I had seen them, but they welcomed us girls in with open arms! I was a tiny seven year old, and Grampy scooped my up into his arms, like he had always done. We were home!
That wasn’t the end of the story, by far, but it was a night of hope, reunification and rest like I hadn’t known for a long time. My sisters and I were content. Whatever the next days would bring didn’t matter at that moment in time.
Three exhausted little girls were eventually put to bed. The nightlight glowed softly, and I could see a poster hanging on the opposite wall. It had a picture of a blond toddler child touching a fluffy yellow baby chick, with a caption that said, “The smallest good deed is better than the grandest good intention.”
I’ve never forgotten that poster all these years. I drifted off to sleep focusing on the image and the words. I was home, and I felt like that little child in a warm meadow with flowers all around. I was at peace.
Gram and Grampy could have turned us away that night. They could have said, “Look, we’re in our sixties and we’re retired. We did our work for the Lord, and now it’s our time to do what we want.” They didn’t, and they never ceased to hold out a welcoming hand to anyone in need. Gram still desires to reach out to anyone who could use a word of encouragement or an uplifting verse.
The smallest good deed is better than the grandest good intention.
At night, Gram and I pray together. Gram’s prayers always include thanksgiving to the Lord for all His gifts and prayers for loved ones and friends. I kiss her on the head as we say good-night, and I tell her I love her. I remind her that she always told us girls, “Love is for keeps”. I want her to know I remember her words. If I have any compassion inside me, it was due to Gram’s love and direction, which was possible because she allowed the Lord to work through her life and her words.
James 3:17, 18
But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, and easy to be entreated, full of mercy and good fruits, without partiality, and without hypocrisy, and the fruit of righteousness is sown in peace of them that make peace.
I thank a merciful and loving Father for making something beautiful out of something tragic. We had the blessing of being left in the care of a couple who had the wisdom and the gentleness written of in the book of James. Gram and Grampy’s small, ‘good deeds’ made a profound change in the world around them.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Follow Me
During the course of conversation last night, Gram said, “If I’m wrong, forgive me. If I’m right, follow me." Wow. I'm not sure I would ever dare to tell someone to act like me!
Gram said that we need to lead no only by words, but by example, as well. I mulled this over as she continued by telling me that it’s not wrong to ask someone to follow your lead if you are right with God. That’s a bold undertaking, but the Bible clearly backs this up. The Apostle Paul says in Philippians 4:9 – Those things, which ye have both learned, and received, and heard, and seen in me, do: and the God of peace will be with you.
As I was seeking advice regarding this blog from my (Florida) pastor, he sent a verse to me after reading the first few posts…Titus 2:3-5 "The aged women, likewise, that they be in behavior as becometh holiness, not false accusers, not given to much wine, teachers of good things; That they may teach the young women to be sober, to love their husbands, to love their children, to be discreet, chaste, keepers at home, obedient to their own husbands, that the word of God be not blasphemed". The Bible has many verses that tell us to be examples for other people to follow.
One of the most poignant and greatest examples I can think of, which my Gram and Grampy gave me when I was an adolescent, was on forgiveness. This forgiveness was so complete and pure, it could only come from lives touched by the hand of God.
We were traveling, and I’m not sure exactly where we were, but we stopped at a graveyard after church. We came to a stop and we all got out of the car. I followed Grampy to a little flat stone in the ground, where he silently knelt down and began to use his car keys to dig the moss out of the embedded name and date. The name on the grave marker became apparent, and said, “Roger Earl”. We all stayed very quiet and didn’t say much in the car afterward. Somehow I understood that this was a time of reflection. I knew their first baby had died, and I knew this was his grave, but I didn’t know any more than that.
At some point later in the week, I asked Gram how Roger had died. Whenever Gram had talked of Roger before, she had said he was a strong baby, and she was amazed at how he could wiggle his way up to her chest as a newborn right in the hospital.
Back in the days when Roger was born, hospitals had the swinging “saloon style” doors between rooms and hallways. A nurse had been carrying him "football style" with his head in her hand, with the rest of his body on her arm, up to her elbow. She kicked the swinging door ahead of her with her foot, meaning to continue on through the doorway, but the door had come back to hit Roger in the head, causing him to fall out of her arms and onto the hard hospital floor.
Baby Roger lived – for a while. Gram and Grampy brought him home, and Grampy would walk miles to get him medicine as Gram cared for Roger and prayed for him without ceasing. Gram had told me that there was a point when she knew he was about to die, so she picked him up and cradled him in her arms as he breathed his last breaths. After he had passed, she laid him in the little wooden casket, which was already in her living room. I marveled that, back in those days, life was so matter-of-fact that a young, first time mother could care for her dying baby, yet already be prepared with a casket for him at the same time. In this day and age, we would probably say that would be too much to bear. It probably was, but it had to be done.
Gram and Grampy’s experience was tragic, for sure, but that’s not the end of the story. Gram went on to say that the nurse who had dropped Roger was so guilt-ridden that she couldn’t face them. She ended up with severe psychiatric problems for being responsible for the death of the baby of her dear young pastor and his wife. Grampy went to visit this nurse, and read scripture and prayed with her and for her. She was in their prayers daily. I was never told whether this woman could ever be whole again, but I was, and am, amazed at the compassion and love poured out to her by Gram and Grampy. As a young Christian couple, they held this nurse up in prayer, visiting her and praying with her - the same woman whose actions had cost them the life of their first-born son!
All my life, I loved to sit and listen to Grampy preach. Often, there was a question and answer time after the sermon or in Sunday School. Frequently, someone would ask whether babies went to heaven. Grampy would emphatically answer, “Yes!”. He would always refer to King David, who would not eat or drink, and laid on the earth and prayed for his little baby for seven days while the child was sick and dying. When David’s baby had died, he arose from the earth, cleaned himself up, worshipped and ate. His servants asked him why he fasted and wept while the baby was alive, but when the child died, David got up and ate. David said, “While the child was yet alive, I fasted and wept: for I said, Who can tell whether God will be gracious to me, that the child may live? But now he is dead, wherefore should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he shall not return unto me (II Samuel 12:22, 23).
How precious and deeply personal that passage must have been to Grampy! He always quoted those verses with such conviction and passion! He knew he would go to his baby son someday. What a reunion it must have been on November 26, 1995 when Grampy went home to be with the Lord on a Sunday just before morning services began here on earth!
As Gram said last night, “If I’m wrong, forgive me. If I’m right, follow me.”
We can all learn a lesson on forgiveness from a young pastor and his wife who clung to the promises of their Lord during the darkest moments in life. Not only did they continue to serve God, they went on to offer love and forgiveness to someone who was suffocating from the guilt and grief of a mistake that would cost her pastor the life of his only child!
Jesus asked the Father to forgive those who took His life at the cross. Jesus, God's only begotten Son. His example is worth following!
Gram said that we need to lead no only by words, but by example, as well. I mulled this over as she continued by telling me that it’s not wrong to ask someone to follow your lead if you are right with God. That’s a bold undertaking, but the Bible clearly backs this up. The Apostle Paul says in Philippians 4:9 – Those things, which ye have both learned, and received, and heard, and seen in me, do: and the God of peace will be with you.
As I was seeking advice regarding this blog from my (Florida) pastor, he sent a verse to me after reading the first few posts…Titus 2:3-5 "The aged women, likewise, that they be in behavior as becometh holiness, not false accusers, not given to much wine, teachers of good things; That they may teach the young women to be sober, to love their husbands, to love their children, to be discreet, chaste, keepers at home, obedient to their own husbands, that the word of God be not blasphemed". The Bible has many verses that tell us to be examples for other people to follow.
One of the most poignant and greatest examples I can think of, which my Gram and Grampy gave me when I was an adolescent, was on forgiveness. This forgiveness was so complete and pure, it could only come from lives touched by the hand of God.
We were traveling, and I’m not sure exactly where we were, but we stopped at a graveyard after church. We came to a stop and we all got out of the car. I followed Grampy to a little flat stone in the ground, where he silently knelt down and began to use his car keys to dig the moss out of the embedded name and date. The name on the grave marker became apparent, and said, “Roger Earl”. We all stayed very quiet and didn’t say much in the car afterward. Somehow I understood that this was a time of reflection. I knew their first baby had died, and I knew this was his grave, but I didn’t know any more than that.
At some point later in the week, I asked Gram how Roger had died. Whenever Gram had talked of Roger before, she had said he was a strong baby, and she was amazed at how he could wiggle his way up to her chest as a newborn right in the hospital.
Back in the days when Roger was born, hospitals had the swinging “saloon style” doors between rooms and hallways. A nurse had been carrying him "football style" with his head in her hand, with the rest of his body on her arm, up to her elbow. She kicked the swinging door ahead of her with her foot, meaning to continue on through the doorway, but the door had come back to hit Roger in the head, causing him to fall out of her arms and onto the hard hospital floor.
Baby Roger lived – for a while. Gram and Grampy brought him home, and Grampy would walk miles to get him medicine as Gram cared for Roger and prayed for him without ceasing. Gram had told me that there was a point when she knew he was about to die, so she picked him up and cradled him in her arms as he breathed his last breaths. After he had passed, she laid him in the little wooden casket, which was already in her living room. I marveled that, back in those days, life was so matter-of-fact that a young, first time mother could care for her dying baby, yet already be prepared with a casket for him at the same time. In this day and age, we would probably say that would be too much to bear. It probably was, but it had to be done.
Gram and Grampy’s experience was tragic, for sure, but that’s not the end of the story. Gram went on to say that the nurse who had dropped Roger was so guilt-ridden that she couldn’t face them. She ended up with severe psychiatric problems for being responsible for the death of the baby of her dear young pastor and his wife. Grampy went to visit this nurse, and read scripture and prayed with her and for her. She was in their prayers daily. I was never told whether this woman could ever be whole again, but I was, and am, amazed at the compassion and love poured out to her by Gram and Grampy. As a young Christian couple, they held this nurse up in prayer, visiting her and praying with her - the same woman whose actions had cost them the life of their first-born son!
All my life, I loved to sit and listen to Grampy preach. Often, there was a question and answer time after the sermon or in Sunday School. Frequently, someone would ask whether babies went to heaven. Grampy would emphatically answer, “Yes!”. He would always refer to King David, who would not eat or drink, and laid on the earth and prayed for his little baby for seven days while the child was sick and dying. When David’s baby had died, he arose from the earth, cleaned himself up, worshipped and ate. His servants asked him why he fasted and wept while the baby was alive, but when the child died, David got up and ate. David said, “While the child was yet alive, I fasted and wept: for I said, Who can tell whether God will be gracious to me, that the child may live? But now he is dead, wherefore should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he shall not return unto me (II Samuel 12:22, 23).
How precious and deeply personal that passage must have been to Grampy! He always quoted those verses with such conviction and passion! He knew he would go to his baby son someday. What a reunion it must have been on November 26, 1995 when Grampy went home to be with the Lord on a Sunday just before morning services began here on earth!
As Gram said last night, “If I’m wrong, forgive me. If I’m right, follow me.”
We can all learn a lesson on forgiveness from a young pastor and his wife who clung to the promises of their Lord during the darkest moments in life. Not only did they continue to serve God, they went on to offer love and forgiveness to someone who was suffocating from the guilt and grief of a mistake that would cost her pastor the life of his only child!
Jesus asked the Father to forgive those who took His life at the cross. Jesus, God's only begotten Son. His example is worth following!
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Great is Thy Faithfulness!
Gram and I were talking about a verse in the book of James, which talks about the Father of Lights. “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning”. James 1:17
Gram likes this verse because it portrays the Heavenly Father as the Father of lights – He gives off light and yet, there is no shadow. Noontime is the only time of day when there is no shadow because the sun is directly above us. The Father of lights has no variableness – no wavering or movement - He is directly above us, brighter than the sun at noontime, not far ahead or way behind, and he casts no shadow of turning. Our Father, the giver of good and perfect gifts is illuminating, steady, gracious and dependable. God is light, and there is no darkness in Him.
Psalm 27:1 says, “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?” Eph 5:8 also says, “For ye were sometimes darkness, but now are ye light in the Lord: Walk as children of light.” God is light and we who are His children are to walk as children of light.
I, personally, don’t like being in the dark. I never have. It’s not that I am afraid of the dark – just the things I can’t see in the dark! I find it so comforting that God is light, and we can walk in the light, as children of light. Jesus is the light of the world. I do know that I do not ever need to fear darkness because God’s light is so much more powerful than darkness. If even a candle is lit in a dark room, it illuminates the room. If we are in a brightly lit room, and a shadow is cast, or there is an effort to darken the room somehow, all light would need to be removed from that room in order for the darkness to be effective. Light is pure and brightens all it shines on. Darkness has to depend on the absence of light to make any difference at all. What a comforting thought – that we are children of light, and a ‘little bit’ of shining brings about a lot of illumination! Why would we ever fear letting our little light shine? It is a good reminder that God, through us, can make an enormous difference in the people and situations surrounding us, if we will only “Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine”!
Great is Thy faithfulness, O God my Father! There is no shadow of turning with Thee; Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not: As Thou hast been, Thou forever wilt be.
Great is Thy faithfulness! Great is Thy faithfulness! Morning by morning new mercies I see; all I have needed Thy hand hath provided – Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord unto me!
Gram likes this verse because it portrays the Heavenly Father as the Father of lights – He gives off light and yet, there is no shadow. Noontime is the only time of day when there is no shadow because the sun is directly above us. The Father of lights has no variableness – no wavering or movement - He is directly above us, brighter than the sun at noontime, not far ahead or way behind, and he casts no shadow of turning. Our Father, the giver of good and perfect gifts is illuminating, steady, gracious and dependable. God is light, and there is no darkness in Him.
Psalm 27:1 says, “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?” Eph 5:8 also says, “For ye were sometimes darkness, but now are ye light in the Lord: Walk as children of light.” God is light and we who are His children are to walk as children of light.
I, personally, don’t like being in the dark. I never have. It’s not that I am afraid of the dark – just the things I can’t see in the dark! I find it so comforting that God is light, and we can walk in the light, as children of light. Jesus is the light of the world. I do know that I do not ever need to fear darkness because God’s light is so much more powerful than darkness. If even a candle is lit in a dark room, it illuminates the room. If we are in a brightly lit room, and a shadow is cast, or there is an effort to darken the room somehow, all light would need to be removed from that room in order for the darkness to be effective. Light is pure and brightens all it shines on. Darkness has to depend on the absence of light to make any difference at all. What a comforting thought – that we are children of light, and a ‘little bit’ of shining brings about a lot of illumination! Why would we ever fear letting our little light shine? It is a good reminder that God, through us, can make an enormous difference in the people and situations surrounding us, if we will only “Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine”!
Great is Thy faithfulness, O God my Father! There is no shadow of turning with Thee; Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not: As Thou hast been, Thou forever wilt be.
Great is Thy faithfulness! Great is Thy faithfulness! Morning by morning new mercies I see; all I have needed Thy hand hath provided – Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord unto me!
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Deep and Wide
The past few days have been extremely busy, and I haven’t had a lot of time to spend talking with Gram. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Gram complain about anything, really, even the lack of time people get to spend with her. I had told her, at the inception of this blog that I would be writing down her words and sharing them with others. I sat down with Gram for a while yesterday and she was speaking again of God’s love. She never tires of talking about all He means to her!
Gram spoke of the ocean. She said, *“God’s love is like the ocean. When we stand at the shore, and can see miles of ocean all the way to the horizon, and we feel small as we try to take it all in, knowing that the ocean stretches all over the globe. What we can’t see is the ocean under the surface. It’s like viewing the tip of the iceberg. Under the ocean, hidden from view, is a vast expanse of life and miles of depth. There is another world full of activity constantly moving and fluctuating. Even if we could see the entire surface of the ocean, encompassing the earth, we would still only have a small idea of what the ocean is really like. Underneath the sea, there is marine life so colorful and majestic, we can only imagine the beauty of it all, even with what science reveals to us today.”
Gram continued, “Our perception of God’s love while we’re here on earth is like viewing the surface of the ocean. It’s beautiful and breathtaking, but we can only comprehend a fraction of what really exists. When we get to heaven, it will be as if we are being plunged under the waters, and can view and experience the fullness of the entirety of the love of God! It will be like nothing we have ever imagined we could experience in our natural state. What a journey of discovery that will be!”
“We should write this down and share it with others, “ Gram said.
I love to share the wisdom of Gram’s 97 years! She accepts the love and promises of God, fully trusting, as a child would, yet on the opposite end of the spectrum, she has so many years of “tried and true” service to the Lord. Gram says that He has always been faithful. Gram has had her share of trials, such as the death of her firstborn child as she held him in her arms an infant, after a careless accident in the hospital. Also, when I was a teenager, I asked Gram if there was ever a time she thought she was going to die. Gram told me that, after she had the twins, she had such a severe care of anemia, she believed she was going to die, “But, I didn’t worry,” she said, “I knew that the Lord was with me, and my times were in his hands.”
Life isn’t about the easiest or most comfortable path we can tread. Life is about trusting in the love of God toward us. Some of the most contented people are not the ones who have had a life of smooth sailing, but rather a life of childlike faith and trust in a personal relationship with their Heavenly Father.
In Zephaniah 3:17, God’s joy with His children is expressed – “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”.
Imagine the mighty God rejoicing over you, singing! What a beautiful, perfect, sound that would be! That’s the powerful and personal love that Gram wants everyone to know about as we view the love of God as the surface of the ocean at sunrise.
I can’t wait to hear the Lord singing and rejoicing as I someday cross over to heaven and am plunged into the fullness of His vast love!
*Paraphrased*
Gram spoke of the ocean. She said, *“God’s love is like the ocean. When we stand at the shore, and can see miles of ocean all the way to the horizon, and we feel small as we try to take it all in, knowing that the ocean stretches all over the globe. What we can’t see is the ocean under the surface. It’s like viewing the tip of the iceberg. Under the ocean, hidden from view, is a vast expanse of life and miles of depth. There is another world full of activity constantly moving and fluctuating. Even if we could see the entire surface of the ocean, encompassing the earth, we would still only have a small idea of what the ocean is really like. Underneath the sea, there is marine life so colorful and majestic, we can only imagine the beauty of it all, even with what science reveals to us today.”
Gram continued, “Our perception of God’s love while we’re here on earth is like viewing the surface of the ocean. It’s beautiful and breathtaking, but we can only comprehend a fraction of what really exists. When we get to heaven, it will be as if we are being plunged under the waters, and can view and experience the fullness of the entirety of the love of God! It will be like nothing we have ever imagined we could experience in our natural state. What a journey of discovery that will be!”
“We should write this down and share it with others, “ Gram said.
I love to share the wisdom of Gram’s 97 years! She accepts the love and promises of God, fully trusting, as a child would, yet on the opposite end of the spectrum, she has so many years of “tried and true” service to the Lord. Gram says that He has always been faithful. Gram has had her share of trials, such as the death of her firstborn child as she held him in her arms an infant, after a careless accident in the hospital. Also, when I was a teenager, I asked Gram if there was ever a time she thought she was going to die. Gram told me that, after she had the twins, she had such a severe care of anemia, she believed she was going to die, “But, I didn’t worry,” she said, “I knew that the Lord was with me, and my times were in his hands.”
Life isn’t about the easiest or most comfortable path we can tread. Life is about trusting in the love of God toward us. Some of the most contented people are not the ones who have had a life of smooth sailing, but rather a life of childlike faith and trust in a personal relationship with their Heavenly Father.
In Zephaniah 3:17, God’s joy with His children is expressed – “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”.
Imagine the mighty God rejoicing over you, singing! What a beautiful, perfect, sound that would be! That’s the powerful and personal love that Gram wants everyone to know about as we view the love of God as the surface of the ocean at sunrise.
I can’t wait to hear the Lord singing and rejoicing as I someday cross over to heaven and am plunged into the fullness of His vast love!
*Paraphrased*
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