85 Years Young

She's aging the way I'd like to.  Healthy and small, she's sharp, laughs a lot, and is so active it's hard work keeping up with her. 

When she called on my birthday, she asked if I tell my age, and without hesitation I did.  "Oh, you're so lucky!" she said, "I would love to be 59 again!"  There was such a wistfulness in the way she said it.  But before she could say more, I told her wait a minute, did she realize that she's somebody I want to be like when I "grow up"?  We talked on like we always do, giggling and excited by each other's news. 

I met her when I was the newcomer of the family and we had gathered to say goodbye to her husband of  more than 50 years.  She doesn't remember me being there then, no wonder.  But I was drawn to her instantly, liked how gracious she was to all of us crowding around her home.  I couldn't help being haunted by the passion in her voice when she said she didn't want any of us to leave.  When she hugged me later, she seemed so tiny and vulnerable, and I knew these were the hardest days of her life.  My heart broke for my new friend, and that's when I started praying for her.

Now our get togethers are happier times, a couple of nights now and then spent in one cousin's home or the other.  The days are filled with some kind of mild adventure, a show in Branson, a museum in Kansas City; and after an enjoyable supper we pull out game sets and play for hours.  Always during our visits there are stories told of how things were for them growing up in the Depression, some we laugh over, and some that simply make us shake our heads.  But even with all the desperation behind those old family tales, the saddest story came from her mouth one day unexpectedly.  My heart broke for her again, and that's when I started praying a new prayer.

She had grown quiet one day when our conversation turned to the afterlife, then suddenly she blurted out, "I just don't believe there's anything after we die.  I want to, but I just can't.  You all probably won't like me anymore, but I can't sit here and pretend to believe like you do."  "We love you...what makes you think we won't like you anymore just because you believe differently?"  Then she told us how all her adult life, as soon as she had admitted these thoughts to Christian friends, they snubbed her and she was no longer a part of their circle.  It happened to her over and over, she said.  Eventually she stopped expecting any "Christian love" to come her way, stopped putting herself out there to be rejected by church-goers.

Since my friend told us this ugly truth, I have prayed as the Word says I should:  "Father, I pray You will send out laborers to surround this dear one with Your truth, Your unconditional love and mercy.  May she be "good ground" having ears to hear and receive Your Word into her heart.  I thank You that Your Word does not return to You empty, but it accomplishes the very thing for which You sent it.  Her times truly are in Your hands...I call her saved, born again from above, in Jesus' Name."


Until the day comes when she tells me the most exciting, most radical news of her life, I will simply love her.  I won't judge her.  I will love her with the love of Jesus.  I will not expect her to behave a certain way.  I will love her unconditionally.  I won't make fretful demands that she repent before it's too late.  I will love her patiently, kindly, the way He loved me - right into His arms.

That day is coming.  A new babe in Christ, she'll tell me all about it, and we'll laugh and cry and laugh some more.  And she will say her husband's deathbed conversion all makes sense to her now and that she is so very happy knowing they will see each other again.

Thank You, Father, for loving her all the years of her life, never giving up on her.  Because of You, I will love her, too.

My Valentine

Today is Valentine's Day and all I did for you was send a e-card.  Normally I would've spent time wandering through the Hallmark store, looking for a card that says all the right things.  Not this time.

This morning you brought me a luscious cup of coffee and breakfast in bed.  You did that yesterday, too.  And the day before that, and the one before that...The salad you made me for lunch contained all the things I like most.  After we ate, I didn't lift a finger to clean up the kitchen.  You did it alone, just like you have for weeks.  Then you checked on the day's laundry.  Do you think I even remember how to turn on the washer?

For 56 days you have done those things on your own, plus so much more: menu planning, grocery shopping, cleaning the house, picking up the mail.  That was weaved in between countless trips to the hospital in cold, bad weather when you walked inside, got a wheelchair for me, took me inside, parked the car and came back...and a couple of those times we didn't know our appointment had been cancelled!  For 56 days you have waited on me, fetched for me and helped me until I must be the most spoiled woman in town! 

The best part...the amazing part...is that you've done all these things with the most incredibly loving attitude and with a smile on your handsome face!  What a gift you are!

I didn't plan on breaking bones eight weeks ago.  I certainly do intend to be more watchful, to trust more completely the One who guards and guides every step handed over to Him.  I didn't plan to be so needy - this really jerked a knot in my independent tail!  So very many details of our everyday life together changed in one split second.  But you didn't change.  The goodness of who you are, and the way you display your love for me is something I've learned I can count on. Thank you, Love.

Today is Valentine's Day.  You are my Valentine.

Great-Grandpa's Memoirs

When I was little, my mother said very little about her childhood.  Her own mother died of tuberculosis at age 31, leaving this 4-year-old and three older children.  The pain of losing a mother she hardly knew stayed sharp and fresh, quickly bringing tears to Mom's eyes even long after she became a grandmother.  One of the only pleasant memories I remember her sharing centered around what she and her siblings were told when entering their grandparents' home:  "Your grandpa's writing his memoirs now, so you must be very quiet."  Someone must have conveyed a sense of partnership to her, as if her silence helped him produce something wonderful and important.  The whole thing seemed mysterious to my young mind.  What in the world were memoirs, anyway, and why was this memory such a bright spot for my mother?

Two years ago, I saw and read for the first time the Memoirs of C.W. Stone, dated November 1, 1935.  I found the history of this man whose blood I share fascinating, hard to put down.  But it was the words of his introduction that struck a chord:  "Dedicated to (my) descendants of all generations, even until the end of the world, with the hope it will be edited and preserved...In these writings I shall endeavor to give valuable advice, suggestions, and instructions so that all who read may be greatly benefited."  This was his legacy, painstakingly written by hand.  With purpose he shared not only dates and facts, but his belief in God and an invitation to readers to join him in the Christian walk.

My mother was eight years old when her grandfather finished writing his life story.  A few years later she gave her heart to Jesus.  In her teen years, she dreamed of being a journalist, and although it never became a career, the urge to write stayed with Mom.  Just like C.W. Stone, her favorite subjects were family and the love of God; like his work, hers won't be found in libraries or on some blog, being instead, carefully tucked away with other cherished family momentos.

Ending his memoirs, my great-grandfather encouraged family members who would live after him to seek God, for this was "more important than anything else...We should commit ourselves with all that we are and all that we have to God, and become His willing and obedient servants."  As I write in this season of my life, it is a point of obedience, a response to an undeniable longing placed in me by my Creator.  He's using my "voice" to share His love with my children, grandchildren and others.  On earth, I have no more encouraging and constant cheerleader than Mom!  And I can't help wondering if Great-Grandpa Stone is in the front row of my cloud of witnesses in Heaven, shouting, "Don't quit!  You can do it!  Do what the Spirit tells you!"

C.W. Sir, you said you wanted us to edit and preserve your memoirs.  Mom was inspired by you and did what she could.  That goes for me, too; my edition is ongoing.   I want to say thank you...thanks for everything.

He Didn't Lift Us Up to Let Us Down

This is an old favorite song recently brought to mind by a friend from way back.  If you know the tune, I'm sure you're singing along with me...

He didn't bring us this far to leave us
He didn't teach us to swim to let us drown
He didn't build His home in us to move away
He didn't lift us up to let us down

There are some promises in a letter
Written a long, long time ago
They're not getting older they're getting better
Because He still wants us to know

He didn't bring us this far to leave us
He didn't teach us to swim to let us drown
He didn't build His home in us to move away
He didn't lift us up to let us down

Never use the word defeat
Claim His promises, every one of them
Every spoken Word He'll keep
Because we're everything to Him

He didn't bring us this far to leave us
He didn't teach us to swim to let us drown
He didn't build His home in us to move away
He didn't lift us up to let us down
He didn't lift us up to let us down

Open Ears, Ready Mouth

The Lord God has given me the tongue of the learned,
That I should know how to speak a word in season to him who is weary.
He awakens me morning by morning,
He awakens my ear to hear as the learned.
The Lord God has opened my ear; and I was not rebellious,
Nor did I turn away.
Isaiah 50 : 4 & 5

Wow!  My tongue speaking wisdom to weary people.  I wanna do that!  Let's get started! 

Okay, tomorrow morning.  First I'll awaken your ear, you cooperate, then I'll give you all the understanding you can handle.  Sometimes the truth will hurt a little; sometimes it will make you squirm and you'll need to change.  Just don't turn your back on Me.  Commit to hear My Word, receive it, love it, and obey it.


...You're awfully quiet. 

The talking part sounded so rewarding, and...easy...

My way won't always be easy, but it's so simple.  Holding your tongue until you've heard from Me will keep you from doing more harm than good.  Open ears first.  And when the time is right, together, we'll lighten somebody's load. 

Help me, Lord...I am not rebellious, and I will not turn away.

My Voice

"Let me hear your voice, for your voice is sweet..."  from Song of Solomon 2:14

My 83 year old mom, in a nursing home out of state, ends phone calls often with:  "I just needed to hear your voice."  Our conversations are usually pretty short by her own choice, but apparently they're long enough for her.  Somehow, the sound of my voice spans the distance and satisfies her maternal heart.

Years ago I began reading Song of Solomon as if it were the very personal story of God and me; He's the steady, faithful One patiently loving me through the ups and downs I cause in the relationship.  In amazement I hear him say, "O my dove...In the secret places of the cliff, let me see your face, let me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet, and your face is lovely."  My insecure side struggles to think that God is hungry for time spent with me, of all people!  And that He loves me even when I don't regard Him enough to come sit in His presence and converse.  In spite of myself, He's not going anywhere.  He never changes.

Now if you'll excuse me, I really need to spend some time with the Great Lover of My Soul.  It's time I listened to him.  And...He wants to hear my voice.

No Nibbles

Through the Lord's mercies we are not consumed,
                                  because His compassions fail not.                    
                                                                 Lamentations 3: 22

There's an enemy on the prowl looking for available Christians to devour.  Maybe the easiest to swallow are the ones who don't know their membership benefit package.  Part of that package is having the authority to say this when he comes to nibble:  "Enough! Because of God's mercies you cannot have me, so get away in Jesus' Name!"

Bottom line:  Read the contract, get to know the Author (He really loves you), and ask for wisdom to know what He has given you.  Then tell somebody else!

What a Papa!

When Brenda was a child, I loved her
   And out of sin I called My daughter...
I taught her to walk, taking her by the arms;
   But she did not know that I healed her.
I drew her with gentle cords,
   with bands of love,
And I was to her as those who take the yoke from their neck.
I stooped and fed her.
        from Hosea 11:1-4 NKJV, paraphrased


Whenever I need a reminder that our Father in Heaven is Papa God, I read the verses above, always inserting my own name and always marvelling at the tenderness revealed here.  I picture Him a gentle giant who towers over me but goes to great lengths to stoop down and reassure me of His tremendous love for me.  He's longing for me to know Him, to really know Him.  Here I see this about Him:

             He woos me
             He teaches me 
             He rescues
                                heals
                                            and frees me
             He provides for me

What a Papa!  Overwhelming great love draws me in, invites me to run boldly through the door of grace and sit down with Him, spend precious time with Him.  There my problems fade, my fears disappear, my strength is restored and my spirit is renewed.

Thank you Father...what a Papa You are!

Like A Weaned Child

Lord, my heart is not proud;
  my eyes are not haughty.
I don't concern myself with matters too great
  or too awesome for me to grasp.
Instead, I have calmed and quieted myself,
  like a weaned child who no longer cries for its mother's milk.
Yes, like a weaned child is my soul within me.
O Israel, put your hope in the Lord~
  now and always.
                                        Psalm 131:1-3 NLT

This little psalm is a familiar favorite when everything about me shouts the exact opposite of what the verses describe.   Not proud?  My pride says, "That's okay, God, I got this one.  I can handle it.  I don't really need you this time."  Calm?  Quiet?  My head plays ping-pong with ways to fix the latest thing that went wrong in my world.  So, when I read these words, are they merely a bandage to disguise the real me?  Am I lying to myself and trying to just feel better? 

Or is this a reminder, the truth of how my Creator Father sees me?  "If you'll be still a minute, child, you'll see the work I've already done in you.  My Spirit has made you brand new, fresh and clean;  if you settle your soul as you drink in my Word, not only will you feel better, you'll begin to see that you ARE better...because of Me.  And that situation you're struggling with?  I'll lead you through it."

Settle my soul...
       settle down, soul...
              settle down, mind...
                     settle down, runaway emotions...
             settle down and choose to hope in the Lord now and always.