The Moon

"Jim are you ready to go? It's starting to get dark."

Jim and I got in our '01 gray Volvo station wagon and drove off to a nearby lake to see the Super Moon rise.  It was a magnificent summer evening and we arrived at the lake just in time to see the big, perfectly round bright moon ascending up in the sky. The huge circle laid down a brilliant path that spread all the way across the calm lake waters.  The light path was so wide and so bright, I felt I could hop out of our car (minus my wheel chair) and run to the other side of the lake on the newly laid path.  The thought of running on top of the water brought such  joy!

As I watched the moon change position in the sky and the light path ripple in the wake of a boat crossing it, I began to think about the moon being a reflection of the sun. The moon's beauty and nighttime guiding light is dependent on the sun.  It cannot fulfill it's purpose without the sun.

These qualities are not unlike my own life.  I cannot fulfill my design and purpose without reflecting the "light of the world"--God's Son.  In the Old Testament book of Micah there is a concise description of what I, as a God follower's purpose should be:  act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with my God.  I can not do these things on my own I must depend on the Son.

You too can reflect the Son.  Let your brilliance and beauty shine through.

Dorothy

"So what are you going to name your new piano?,"said my first student to play on the new-to-me baby grand piano that had been delivered that morning.  That hadn't even occurred to me but my adult pupil told me many famous musicians often named their instruments and she thought it would be fun if I did the same.

At supper that night I told Jim and the girls what Christine said during her lesson.  My family embraced the idea and began to offer suggestions--silly ones, serious ones and thoughtful ones.  Then I said, "I think we should name her the female name that means, gift of God."

Jim went on a search for the Name Your Baby book.  He soon returned with book in hand.  Flipping through the dog-eared pages of the book, our eyes settled on a name in the D column that meant gift of God.  It was Dorothy.  "Oh Jim,  that's it!!"  With sweet tears rolling down my cheeks I explained to my young daughters that I had one piano teacher from when I was seven years old to when I graduated from high school and her name was Dorothy.  She was a gift from God to me.

And so it was...my light wood Kranach and Bach baby grand piano was given the name Dorothy.

Recently there have been many "Dorothys" in my life.  There has been our neighbor who built the ramps so I could get into our house with a wheelchair.  There has been my friend who comes on Sundays when I can't go to church.  There have been the countless people who have regularly, unceasingly have prayed for Jim and I.  There have been kind church members and friends who have brought us delicious meals.  There have been sisters, brothers and daughters who have called us to check in and encourage us. There have been aunts and dear friends who went shopping for clothes. There have been many loved ones who have come to visit.  There has been a friend who has volunteered to go to the month of training with Jim and I to learn my new dialysis method.  And then my greatest "Dorothy" has been my husband who has cared for my every want, wish and need.

In God's Word it says, "Every good and perfect gift is from above" and "In everything give thanks." So for all my "Dorothy's" I give thanks.

The Tire Swing

"Dad they have a tire swing in their yard,  may we go out and swing on it?," was the inquiry of our little six year old visitor.  She and her little sister were full of joy at the thought of sticking their legs through the hole in the old black tire and swinging back and forth past the forsythia bushes and the stockade fence.

Watching the two young girls dressed in brightly colored outfits run out to play on the tire swing flashed me back to nearly twenty years ago when I had two small daughters running up the hill to do the same thing.  That swing has hung on the giant maple tree for about thirty years.  It has weathered sun, rain, snow, and wind--steadfastly baring it all.

Yesterday Jim pushed me out in my wheelchair to the back door of the garage where I had a clear view of the tire swing.  I marveled over the thought that the long rope with tight knots had been there as long as the swing.

"Did you ever change the rope," I asked Jim.

"No.  I tried to change the tire once but the knot around it was so strong, I couldn't get it loose."

As I sat soaking in fresh air from my chair and admiring the deep blue sky, I mused over the thought that the swing moves back and forth.  Sometimes it twirls in circles and blows around in the wind.  But ultimately it is anchored to the large branch on the majestic maple tree that stands in the yard.

In recent months, I have swung back and forth between medical challenges and happy dates with Jim at the park.   I have gone around in circles trying to make life altering decisions.  I have weathered good times and rough times but in the end I am anchored to my heavenly Father--securely tied, safely held.

In the book of Hebrews, chapter six, it speaks to this very thing when it says:
         "We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure." 

No matter which way I'm swinging or twirling, I am anchored firm and secure.

The Cracked Bead

Several years ago I decided to take up jewelry making.  Soon I was immersed in a tangle of red, blue, aqua and clear beads. There was wire, pliers, crimp beads, and bead stoppers rolling around all over my kitchen table.

As I began to discover my taste in beaded jewelry, I learned that I liked tone on tone bracelets and necklaces.  I was stringing a necklace of clear beads and then clear quart beads that were fractured inside--cracked beads!  As I was making the necklace--one clear bead, one cracked bead, one clear bead, one cracked bead-- it occurred to me that the cracked bead was me.  I was filled it cracks and fractures though I wished I had no imperfections.

I also discovered something else.  Light went right through the clear bead but the bead with the cracks and fractures reflected brightness back out.  I had always wished I had a clean and perfect life but I was broken and as I exposed my hurts and cracks to the light of Jesus, beauty began to shine out of those flawed places.  God wanted to redeem the damaged and fractured places;  He wanted to bring beauty out of brokenness.

I had to embrace my cracks.  I had to submit them to the light of Jesus. Then beautiful reflections shone out.

Embrace your cracks!

Borrowed Faith

When I was checked into a rehab hospital more than eight weeks ago with torn ligaments in my heels, I never dreamed that I would have three surgeries, six or eight IV atttempts, swallow hundred of pills, spend dozens of hours in the physical therapy gym and cry every night with anxiety as soon as I was alone and the lights were turned off

Each night Jim prayed for me before he left for the evening.  Each night he prayed that I would feel God's peace.  Each night after he went home, the messages of never being well again and  never making it back home would creep in.  I would begin to shake and angst.  And though I prayed and read scripture, I could not sense God's presence.

In the darkness of my room I would text friends (I even called some in the middle of the night) and ask them to go to God for me.  I counted on their faith--I borrowed their faith.  When I couldn't feel God near me, I trusted my friends were experiencing the verse that says,
     "Seek the Lord while he may be found;  call on him while he is near."

Thank you to those who loaned me their faith. I made it through those tough days and nights because of you.

The Fragrance

"Jim, I can't get up.  We are going to have to call for help."

I had taken a bad fall in the middle of the night and quickly realized that I injured both feet and could not bare weight on either foot.

Next thing I know, I heard  Jim say, "please send an ambulance.  No lights and no sirens, please."

Thirty minutes later I was in the emergency room getting x-rays and a CAT scan.  For hours we waited for answers and advice as to what our next step should be.  Ultimately I was put in another ambulance and driven to a rehab center where I have been for a week now with no end in sight.

As word got out about my accident, texts, phone calls and visitors began to arrive.  My window sill filled up with sweet smelling Spring flowers of every color--yellow tulips, white lilies, blue irises, hot pink Gerber daisies, orange star flowers, pink roses and purple mums.

As each visitors has come in my room, they have walked to my bedside, bent low and hugged me.  I have had the wonderful experience of being left with the scent of perfumes and aftershaves from my friends. Long after our visits are over, I still can smell the fragrance of my loved ones.  It has brought me comfort and a sense of connection--an intimacy that can only come from close physical proximity.

In the New Testament book of 2 Corinthians,  those who follow God are said to have the sweet aroma of Christ.  Close connection with the Heavenly Father allows us to carry His sweet scent.  It is distinct and recognizable just as the wonderful fragrance of a periwinkle hyacinth flower is instantly identifiable.

May I walk hand and hand with God so that His aroma of kindness, graciousness, compassion, generosity and love rub off onto me.

The Hostesses

"This morning after breakfast I think we will deliver those Christmas gifts you brought with you," my sister-in-law said to our family as we sat in her dining room overlooking the beautiful skyline of Quito.

After the morning dishes were done, we went through our suitcases to unearth the toys we had brought for one of the Ecuadorean pastors who had five young children.  We wrapped the present in festive holiday paper, added some ribbon and we were set to go.

We piled into Jim's brother's old blue Suburban station wagon and we began the windy ride down the hills, through the city streets, and to the outskirts of Quito.  As we drove up to the pastor's home we felt like we had crossed into another world.  We had driven from a neighborhood with beautiful gated homes into a place with large holes in the roads and lots a dogs running loose through the streets.  The houses were stucco rectangles and very modest.  My sister-in-law jumped out of the car with her usual exuberance, grabbed the bag of gifts and motioned for all of us to come along.

"Hola hola."

Quickly the wife of the pastor responded and came to the front entrance, arms opened wide, speaking warm greetings.  Soon her five children appeared with shy smiles on their faces.

My sister-in-law spoke to the family in Spanish, hugging each of the children. Then she told us that the chairs that had been set out in the living room were for us. We felt uneasy to take the only seats when there were not enough for everyone to sit but the lady of the house insisted.

As we were settling in, I noticed the mother pulling her eldest daughter aside, giving her a few coins and shooing her out the door.  We listened as more rapid Spanish was being spoken, trying to pick out enough words to understand what was being said.  Suddenly the young girl reappeared carrying a bottle of orange Fanta soda and one sleeve of Ritz crackers.

My head dropped as I tried to gain my composure.  We had come to bring gifts to this family who had so few earthly possessions they fit in a three room house. They barely had money and I could not believe this beautiful lady chose to honor us with the little she had.  It was one of the most generous acts of hospitality of I have experienced.

Last November I received a telephone call from a friend.  "Are you free next Friday," was the question on the other end.

"I think so," was my response.

"Good," was my friend's answer.  "Save the day."

A day later a beautiful electronic invitation arrived in my e-mail Inbox inviting me to a birthday luncheon in my honor.  I was a bit embarrassed at the attention and secretly excited at the thought of a wonderful gathering with a few ladies.  I knew my friend and I knew everything would be elegant and delicious.  No detail would be overlooked.

I was right!  The lady of this house had her dining room table set with a gold cloth table cloth.  She had laid out her best china, crystal and silverware.  She serve red tomato bisque soup she made from scratch.  Salad and a delicious chicken crescent ring followed. We ended the afternoon with cake and a scrumptious assortment of handmade cookies and pastries.

After opening beautifully wrapped gifts and drinking one last china cup full of coffee, it was time to say good-bye.  As each lady put on her coat and gave hugs, my friend gave of herself one more time--she had made favors for each of us to remember this wonderful day.

When I got home and try to describe every detail of the party to Jim, I kept hearing myself say,  "I can't believe all she did for me!"  It was extraordinary.

Just this week I was thinking about my two hostesses.  It occurred to me that I had the same response to both ladies--I was humbled by their offerings of themselves and their precious resources.  In the presence of someone's best (no matter how simple or grand) it is love and value that is communicated.  My best and your best are not only "good enough" they are perfect.

The Scout

"Do you think we should take our vacation time to try to find an apartment and jobs?" Jim asked.

"That make sense," I replied.

We threw our suitcases into our beige and brown Dodge Aspen, dropped the dog off at Jim's folk's house, and headed out across "the agonizing expanse" (Pennsylvania) to New York.

A friend offered his guest room and so we set about lining up job interviews and scouring  the "Real Estate" section of the classified ads for apartments (no, Craig's List did not exist).  Every day for five days we went through that same exercise but to no avail.

Discouraged and very anxious, we packed up, said goodbye to our friend and headed back to Ohio.  "What are we going to do?" we worried.  "Seminary starts in a month and we have no house, no jobs and no money."

Moving day came and we went to the U-Haul place and rented two orange and silver "pull behind trailers."  My parents and sister came to help us with the final packing and loading.  We said our good-byes to Jim's Mom and Dad, put our little black dog in the only space left in the back seat of the car, and headed east to my folk's New Jersey home.

As we drove we discussed our strategy.  The plan was to get to my parent's house and unload all our belongings, return the trailers to U-Haul. Then when we found an apartment we would re-rent the trailers, re-load, and head to New York and unpack.  It all seemed overwhelming and I begged God to go ahead of us and find us a home so we wouldn't have to enact the plan.

We made it to New Jersey and Jim and I collapsed with fatigue but my sister had to be at her job that evening in New York, so my parents and sister got back in the car and drove the additional hour and a half.  As they were leaving I jokingly said, "Mom, please find us an apartment while you're in New York."

"Wake up, Steph," I heard "there's a phone call for you."

"Hello," I said in a sleepy voice.

"Steph, it's Mom.  We found you an apartment so you and Jim need to get in the car and come as fast as you can.  The owner will hold the house for two hours."

Jim and I scrambled and met my folks in New York.  They led us to the little white stand-alone house with a red front door and cute porch.  The landlord gave us the tour.  It had the perfect numbers of rooms (the green shag carpet was a bonus) and since my sister was going to live with us while she finished her senior year in college, we all decided this was the place for us.  Oh wait there was the small matter of our dog.  My mother asked the owner, Mrs. Nunez, "May they have their dog in the apartment?"  The soft-spoken lady hesitated and then replied, "Everyone loves a dog...yes, they may keep their dog."

Our last question after signing the lease was, "Could you please tell us what our new address will be?"


"18-A Ohio Avenue," was the response.  We were all stunned.  We were moving from Ohio to Ohio.  God had a sense of humor!!

In the Old Testament book of Deuteronomy it says:

"The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.”

The Lord went ahead of us and scouted the perfect house for us.  Shortly after that, He connected us with jobs. We had been nervous and anxious but God had already chosen the perfect situations for us.
 
In the last several weeks I have prayed Deuteronomy 31:8 as a prayer for myself and my friends.  I have prayed that God would go before us into operating rooms and infusion rooms.  I have prayed that He would go before friends to job interviews and sales calls.  I have prayed that God would go before us in parenthood and elder care.  I have envisioned Him scouting those places and circumstances.  He knows all about those experiences before we ever get to them.  Therefore do not be afraid or discouraged.  Your Heavenly Father will never leave you or forsake you.

The President

Jim and I were sitting at our kitchen table talking about the vast contrasts in the character of God--all power versus tender love.

"It reminds me of the famous picture of President Kennedy," I suggested.  Jim knew what I was referring to and he agreed.

I'm sure most of us are familiar with the iconic photograph of President J. F. Kennedy working at his ornately carved desk in the Oval Office while his toddler son, John John, played under the desk. But probably less known to many of us is the wonderful black and white image of the President setting aside his work to clap for his children as they danced about in his office.

Think of it. The then most powerful leader in the free world stopped what he was doing to be a playful father with his children. He did not give up his authority as a world leader, he just moved into his role as proud daddy.  His focus in that moment was all about his pride and joy--Caroline and John John.

 

These historic (for some of us modern history and for others "ancient" history) photos beautifully illustrate the Old Testament writing in the book of Zephaniah:

 

"The Lord your God is with you, 

he is mighty to save.  

He will take great delight in you,

he will quiet you with his love, 

he will rejoice over you with singing."

The ruler of the universe who possesses all power and authority chooses to dote on you and me and when we are worn out from the "stuff" of life, He quiets us down and sings to us--a lullaby.  Can you think of a more tender picture?  You and I are the joy and delight of the mighty God!

 

The Ingredients

"Jim, will you cook with me?"

"What are you making?"

"Lasagna," I replied.

"OK, what do you want me to do?"

Jim got my largest red dutch oven out and we began to add ingredients to the pot.  We browned sweet sausage and ground beef.  We dropped in the diced onions, garlic, carrots and celery and sauteed them for a bit.  I opened great big cans of diced tomatoes and tomato puree.  Jim poured them into the pan, trying to avoid the splash.  He stirred the rich brew.  A wonderful smell rose up out of the red pot as everything began to bubble.  It was time for spice--basil, oregano, sugar, salt and pepper were added.  Jim and I each tasted the sauce as we went along.  We agreed that we had created a fine mixture but it wasn't as thick as we would like.

"Maybe we need to add tomato paste," was Jim's suggestion.

"I think you're right." 

Minutes later we added the thick paste to the sauce.

"Perfect."

We moved on to layering noodles, tomato sauce and the cheese sauce.  This is going to be great, we both announced.

Over the last months and weeks sweet and sad experiences have come into my life.  As stand-alone events, those hard situations feel crushing but peppered with God's grace they become part of the mixture of my life.  The sweet and sad balance each other and add depth to my life.  (I would never eat a raw onion but added to the sauce it adds flavor and depth.)

In the Old Testament book of Ecclesiastes it says, "there is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens...a time to weep and a time to laugh."   All the ingredients are necessary for a rich life.

The Telephone

"I need to call home,"  I thought.  I rustled up a dime, put on my slippers and started down the four flights of stairs to the pay phone in the basement rec room of my dorm.

I waited in the TV room for my turn on the phone.  The smell of burnt popcorn floated through the air and the sounds of  a run-away ping pong ball and a vending machine dispensing stale bagels were the background noises I heard while I passed the time.   Soon the phone was available.  I slid into the booth, inserted my dime in the change slot and dialed zero. 

"Operator," I said,  "I'd like to make a collect call."

"What number please?"

"201-475-41...,"  I replied. 

The phone began to ring on the other end of the line and after a brief pause I heard my mother say hello.  "Oh good," I thought, "they're home."

"Do you accept the charges?"  The answer was yes. 



Last night I was laying in bed listening to music and my cell phone rang.   "Mom, my car won't start." 

"Call AAA and then call me back," I advised.

While I waited for news of the outcome of the service call, I texted my daughter a few times.

About forty minutes later the phone rang again.  "They got the car going.  It was the battery."

"Oh good."

After we hung up we texted back and forth a few more times with some additional thoughts.  I'm sure I had more phone interactions with my daughter in one hour than I had had with my parents in an entire year when I was in college.  Times have changed (boy, do I sound old)!



As I was settling back in, I began to think about how  there have been times when I have approached my heavenly Father in a "collect call" fashion -- calling infrequently and only when I had a problem.  Lately I interact with God much more in a "cell phone" way.  I am in consistent communication with Him, sharing the good news as well as the troubling news.  I tell Him when I am pleased to be His child and when I am frustrated with Him.  I thank Him for his goodness and ask Him for help with concerns.  I have lively conversation with Him. 

Yes, times have changed.

The Puppy

"If that puppy goes past our house one more time, I'm going out to get it," I told Jim.  We were newlyweds living in an inner city neighborhood where we ran a youth center.  Jim was wary as he had never had a dog before but this little black and brown puppy with a tail longer than her body got to our hearts and sure enough the next time she circled around our block, I went out and rescued her.

We set about to making a list of all the things we would need to make our new adoptee comfortable--food, bowls, a collar, a leash, oh yes, and a bandanna neckerchief.  This puppy also needed a name--Christy.

Christy was a bundle of enthusiasm and wonder.  She checked out our modest apartment.  With each new discovery she would wag her tail.  When Christy got excited, she would start wiggling at the top of her body and eventually, the vibrations would make it down through her tail.  She brought us such pleasure.   Pet ownership was going to be fun!

We woke up the next morning to our new puppy being violently sick.  Every way that her body could get rid of food and water it did.  It was awful.  This little street dog's past had caught up with her and we were afraid we were going to loose her.  And now what?  Our hearts were invested in this tiny black fur creature and we were totally smitten with her.  So several trips to the vet for intravenous fluid treatments followed.  And with lots of love and care, Christy survived what the vet called Parvo virus (usually a fatal condition).

After the first few bad days, our puppy was a joy.  She learned to shake hands.  She learned to say, "please."  She loved to ride in the car and we took her everywhere.  She even won over the heart of Jim's Mom who assured us when we adopted Christy that she would never have a "grand dog!"  (We knew all that changed when we found Mom letting the dog stand on the couch to look out of the window to watch the sanitation truck down on the street.)

Christy was once a street dog and she survived by eating garbage.  She had to protect herself and find shelter.  But as time went by, we noticed that in the presence of love that our puppy began to trust and feel secure.  She was shedding her street ways and her coping mechanisms to fend for herself.  She was allowing us to care for her and be her protector and provider.  She willingly received our affection.

Every once in a while though, the puppy's old ways would surface.  She would steal food and hide it all over the house.   One time, we found brownies under pillows, in the couch, and in our shoes.  She was saving "just in case."  At other times, Christy would sit looking out if the windows of our upstairs apartment.  If she spotted someone she perceived to be a threat, she would fly down our steps, push through her doggy door,  run into our fenced yard and bark her head off to scare the "threat" away.

How many times have I been like our puppy?  Even though I have been living under the pure love of a good Heavenly Father, I return to my own poverty stricken coping mechanisms, too afraid to trust in the richness of God's love and provision.  I momentarily step out of my new identity as God's daughter, His heir.  I risk missing out on His perfect blessings, opting for staying in my imperfect comfort zone instead.
 In the New Testament book of Galatians it says:

You can tell for sure that you are now fully adopted as his own children because God sent the Spirit of his Son into our lives crying out, “Papa! Father!” Doesn’t that privilege of intimate conversation with God make it plain that you are not a slave, but a child? And if you are a child, you’re also an heir, with complete access to the inheritance.   Galatians 4:4-7 (The Message)

The Outlier

"You know there's a name for you," my doctor said. "You're an outlier."

The puzzled look on my face resulted in Dr. C. pulling a pen out of his blue starched shirt pocket.  He grabbed a lab report, flipped it over and started drawing pictures. A bell curve and a grid appeared on the paper. "You see, most kidney patients fall somewhere on this curve or grid. We can expect certain symptoms to be present. We count on specific drugs to work effectively in a typical patient. We look for common progressions and responses among the majority of our patients. But we can depend on none of these things in you. Therefore you lie outside the curve or the grid. You are an outlier."

Well you can only imagine the laughing and teasing and needling this has opened up for a certain man that lives in my house. It's the new favorite catch phrase to explain everything unexplainable in our home--"well, you're just an outlier (must be said with the tiniest bit of sarcasm and a smile)."

Lately I've been thinking about God's process of healing. I so desperately wish I could understand exactly what God is up to.   I wish I could just do ten steps and be physically healed. But as I survey the scriptures, I quickly have to conclude that God is the God of the one-of-a-kind. He loves the unique. He values the distinct. God and His ways cannot be franchised. My journey will not look exactly like anyone else's journey. God's purposes and plans for me will not mimic any of His other children's plans and purposes.

There was only one Abraham and Sarah having a baby in their nineties and hundreds. There was only one parting of the Red Sea. There was one falling of the walls of Jericho. There was only one Jonah being swallowed by a fish and surviving. There was only Savior rising from the dead to overcome evil. Outliers--all of them.

While I find the mystery and lack of control that comes with being a God-follower very uncomfortable and disconcerting at times, I also take courage in that God is the God of the unexpected and the impossible. He can and does do the unpredictable.   He is the lover of outliers!

The Father

Twenty-five years ago this past Christmas Jim and I were anxiously awaiting the birth of our first child.  Our baby girl was due and we were ready to meet her.  (We were also enjoying the idea that it was Christmas and we were relating to another young couple in a new way.)

Christmas came and went but no baby.  New Year's Eve and came and went without a baby (there went Jim's tax deduction).  Little Christmas, as my Armenian Grandma called it, came and went with no baby.  On about January tenth I told Jim, "I think this child has subscribed to Better Womb and Garden and has taken up permanent residency."  As we went to yet another doctor's appointment that same week, we were convinced that this baby was never going to come.

The doctor checked everything out and said it was all good so we settled in to wait some more.  Then on Saturday evening, the phone rang.  It was our doctor.  "You know, I've been thinking and talking with some other doctors at University Hospital.  It is our thought that since the baby is not in distress we should induce labor and help this baby along.  I would like you to come to the hospital tomorrow morning and we will have a baby!" 

This new development caught us off guard and Jim was scrambling because he not only had to preach the next morning but it was annual meeting day and he needed to chair the congregational meeting.  The doctor assured us that it was not a problem.  If I could get a ride to the hospital, we would get things prepped and by the time Jim got there we would be ready to go and have our baby.  That is exactly how it happened.  A nurse friend took me to the hospital with all my gear and Jim went off to church. ( He said he conducted the shortest annual meeting on record.)  As soon as he could, he hopped in the car with everyone's good wishes and prayers and drove the half-hour ride to our wonderful little country hospital.  I was so glad to see him!!

Labor kicked in and we tried to remember all the things we learned in our birthing classes.  "Hee hee hoo;  hee hee hoo."  The hours passed and the sun went down and we were still laboring but then the moment came when the nurse said, "Ok, it's time to push."  There was a flurry of activity and the doctor was called and now there was no more chatting, or joking.  It was all business.  We were having a baby!

Abigail Rose arrived at 10:35 on January fifteen.  She was perfect and beautiful.  The nurse wrapped the baby in a pastel striped receiving blanket and put a stretchy pink hat on her head.  She lifted our daughter over the bed rail right up next to my cheek so I could see her and touch her soft newborn skin.  Our first family picture was taken and then the nurse said to Jim, "Would you like to take the baby to the nursery?"  "Would I?!"  Jim cradled that precious bundle in his arms and headed down the hall where they were waiting for the baby.  I swear that the second he took Abby in his arms his feet raised six inches off the floor and he floated all the way to the nursery. 

Remembering that wonderful evening makes me think of one of my favorite passages in God's Word.  Isaiah chapter forty-six and verses three and four say:

“Listen to me, you descendants of Jacob,
    all the remnant of the people of Israel,
you whom I have upheld since your birth,
    and have carried since you were born.
Even to your old age and gray hairs
    I am he, I am he who will sustain you.
I have made you and I will carry you;
    I will sustain you and I will rescue you."

 

Can you not see God, the Father, carrying you, taking delight in you and protecting you as though you were His most treasured child?  Do you not take great comfort in the idea that he not only loves you as a little child but he loves you throughout your entire life even into old age.  He will carry you and sustain you and rescue you.

The Mine Field

Our tour bus was traveling north through Israel's Golan Heights.  It was the first time we had seen green fields and orchards on our trip.  As we enjoyed the view, our guide explained to us that this land was fertile and had the potential to produce wonderful crops.  There was just one problem.  The Golan Heights was a highly disputed piece of land in Israel.   Wars had been fought over this territory.  So in an attempt to make the Heights undesirable to the opposition, the land had been heavily mined.
After giving us that bit of information, our guide invited us to get off the bus for pictures if we were interested but before we deboarded he strongly warned us, "do not step off the road."  Jim and I did climb off the bus but standing on the pavement I had an ominous feeling in the pit of my stomach.  I did not like knowing that we were just feet away from grave danger.  The signs all along the road only reinforced the feeling.  "Danger Mines!"

Danny, our tour leader, went on to explain that the military had maps showing where the mines were but because it was uncertain as to who would end up with the land, the government would not pay the hundreds of thousands of dollars to clear the mines and reclaim the beautiful, rich acreage.

As I thought back on this event, it reminded me of one of my favorite scriptures,  "The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.” Deuteronomy 31:8

This week I learned that I have yet another physical set-back (the latest "mine," if you will, in the landscape of my health) which will require an invasive procedure to determine what is happening in my body.  In the midst of this latest news, I began to look for any place that I could find peace and a respite from the anxiety that has been washing over me.  The Deuteronomy verse came to my mind.  The Lord is going to go before me.  He has the map of my life and He will clear the way to take me through this most recent event safely without fear and discouragement.   He will never leave me alone on the road.  And because of that, I am choosing to have hope.

The Whisper

 

When my girls were young, we would sit in church and I would feel a tug on my sleeve. I would bend down and tilt my head toward my little one in her Sunday dress and black patent leather shoes as she whispered a question or request in my ear, "Mommy, when can we eat?" or "Do you have a pencil?" or "I need a tissue, Mom."

I also think of a time when Jim and I were at a solemn event and something tickled my husband. Before he ever got a chance to say anything to me, I knew what he was up to and I wouldn't make eye contact with him but it was too late. His whispered "one-liner" got the best of me and I melted into uncontrollable silent laughter. My shoulders were shaking and I was holding my breath and biting my cheek so as to not burst out during the very serious service.

And then there are the times when we whisper, "I love you"--that wonderful, intimate, life-giving phrase.

In the Bible, there is an account of a man named Elijah. He was a truth teller and the evil king and queen of his day wanted to do away with him. He ran for his life and hid in a cave. After sleeping and eating, Elijah was instructed that God was going to come and that he should look for Him.

It's recorded that, "a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks," but the Lord was not in the wind.  Then the scripture says, "there was an earthquake," but the Lord was not in the earthquake.  Next "came a fire" but the Lord was not in the fire.  "And after the fire came a gentle whisper."  The Lord was in the whisper.  The presence of God was so palpable that Elijah covered his face.

How many times have I looked for God to show up in a big, power-filled way?  "Please be obvious," I pray. How many times have I missed the wonderful sweet intimacy of the "whisper."  Whispers correct and instruct without embarrassment.  Whispers share one-on-one tenderness.  Whispers signal, "I am yours and you are mine."  Whispers say, "I love you."

In the Old Testament, Isaiah writes, "Give ear and come to me;   listen, that you may live."   My paraphrase of those words is, "tilt your head toward me and listen real carefully;  I have life-giving words to tell you."  God is in the whisper.