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.