Can We String Some Together?

The night Demar Hamlin’s heart stopped no one asked each other which God they were praying to, or what words they were saying, or who they voted for. We all just prayed, begged, stormed the throne room of grace pleading for Demar. Friends hugged each other, strangers comforted strangers. We fell asleep praying, woke in the middle of night searching for updates, and fell asleep again praying.

Humans have a very short memory. We don’t easily apply what we learn in one situation to other situations. So the next day humans ridicule each other and neglect to put aside petty opinions for the greater good. We witness USA lawmakers arguing, road rage, impatience with family. We ridicule, hold onto hurts. We form opinions based on who we vote for.

But once in a while, the best of our humanness breaks through and we unite our thoughts, and prayers and opinions. Humans being the best of humans.

Recently I read a preview copy of How to Human by Carlos Whittaker @loswhit on Instagram.

www.amazon.com/gp/product/052565402X/ref=nodl_?tag=randohouseinc7986-20&dplnkId=427f8b85-039d-48f2-a6f6-f69fd64de5f8

An incident he relates in the book has stuck in my mind, and watching people unite to pray and cheer Damar on reminds me again how important it is to ‘do’ human.

Can we string a few of those kinds of human reactions together, back to back, day by day, harmonizing in our humanness? Maybe some day. Let’s pray for that.

A recipe for Grief

Grief is stealthy. It doesn’t usually attack head on. It prefers to sneak up on me when my guard is down.

It very effectively did that yesterday, one day short of a year from my sister’s diagnosis of stage 2 ovarian cancer. But the realization of that isn’t what caught me off guard.

My brother wrote that he’d been in contact with a friend of my sister. The friend wrote that the last time he spoke with Helen, a couple of weeks before she died, she had asked for 2 of her own recipes which she had misplaced. He attached the recipes in the email.

The email didn’t hit bother me even though I immediately remembered overhearing that phone call.

That memory didn’t bother me.

I opened the attachment and there it was; the sucker punch, grieve’s modus operandi. The recipes were written in my sister’s handwriting. I wasn’t expecting her actual handwriting, which like a thumbprint, is unique to all of us.

My feelings started with just a gasp, but rose quickly from the void recently created by her death.

A gasp, a sigh, a groan, then deep silent sobs, and finally audible sobs, which summoned my husband to my side with a ready embrace.

Grief is never finished with its ambush of me until it reminds me it will compound my loss again someday when I lose another loved one. Grief reminds me how fragile my loved-ones’ lives are. How fast and fleeting is mine.

But grief, where is your victory? By reminding me of the fleetingness of life you remind me to treasure each moment, to store up memories in my heart, which you can not destroy.

Grief retreated. I know it will sabotage me again. But it can not win the day. I have a Savior Who has overcome death.

“O death, where is thy victory? O death, where is thy sting?”

1 Corinthians 15:55 ASV

https://youtu.be/rnRD1XxKOk0

https://bible.com/bible/12/1co.15.55.ASV

Love that is not Reckless

When I think of God’s overwhelming, never ending love I can’t add the adjective ‘reckless.‘

I just can’t.

Have you ever been in a car when the driver was driving recklessly? I have. There was no love motivating that thoughtless endangerment of lives.

Is God, as reckless is defined, without thinking or caring about the consequences?

Never.

He is always thinking, ALWAYS caring about circumstances.

Did He sing over me before I spoke a word?

Did He breath life into me?

Does He chase me, fight for me, pay the cost for me?

Yes

Is there a wall He won’t scale, a mountain He won’t climb? A debt He won’t pay?

No

God cares and watches and thinks and counts the cost of His Son’s sacrifice.

Does that sound reckless?

The verse of a very presently popular song tells me He is reckless. Although it fits well into the cadence of the song, I can’t utter the words, but these I can:

Oh the Overwhelming, sacrificial, endless love of God.

The thoughtful sacrifice of Jesus is redemptive, not a reckless one.

One word change and I can get behind it. Reckless? Not God

Oh You Lovely Stalwart Stem!

Summer heat stifled you
But in these warm-waning days

You still reach to the sunny-less sky
To bloom

In the growing dark

Smaller than your summer show
Yet more delightful to see
In a winter-soon garden bed

Oh to be like you
Reaching up
Beyond the Sonless world
Reaching ever toward Him

To bloom
Even in the thickening dark
Even as the world grows ever more

Wearying-cold

Blooming

Because of Him
Seeking, trusting, and blooming
In a winter-swept and Sonless world.

Grandma Vacation Bible School day three

Beautiful feet that remind me of good news.

Day three of Grandma vacation bible school was grand for this grandma.

We breakfasted on baby pancakes while we read about David and Goliath. The first thing we discussed is how many people in bible times, presumably men, had beards.  Looking at the pictures we noted a remarkable resemblance to Uncle Dave. Well I did anyway.

So this little David, although too young for a beard at this point, did a remarkable thing. He stood up to a giant no else would.

As my charge sipped water from his sippy cup,  I tried to remember a song that ranked in the top 10 for my children. Funny how things that are ingrained  in our memory can be so inaccessible sometimes but thanks to a quick you tube search, it all came back:

Only a boy named David
Only a little sling
Only a boy named David 
But he could pray and sing 
Only a boy named David 
Only a little brook
Only a boy named David 
And  5 little stones he took
And one little stone went into the sling 
And the sling went round and round

And one little stone went into the sling 
And the sling went round and round

And round and round
And round and round

And round and round it went
And one little stone went up in the air
And the giant came tumbling down[splat]



Watching his little face as he soaked in this classic song, for the first time, complete with  hand movements gave me a chance to experience it for the first time as well: that a young lad too young for a beard could do great things for his people because of his trust in the Lord.

That is one of the blessings a baby, a child, gives us: the wonder of seeing something old as brand new. The amazing things of this life that have lost their amazement: all things are new again.

Get down on the floor with a little one and they will show you what I mean, or consider the words of a song by George Beverly Shea, The Wonder of It All

There’s the wonder of sunset at evening,
The wonder as sunrise I see;
But the wonder of wonders that thrills my soul
Is the wonder that God loves me.

Refrain
O, the wonder of it all! The wonder of it all!
Just to think that God loves me.
O, the wonder of it all! The wonder of it all!
Just to think that God loves me.

Verse 2
There’s the wonder of springtime and harvest,
The sky, the stars, the sun;
But the wonder of wonders that thrills my soul
Is a wonder that’s only begun.

 Oh to be able to keep that perspective. Babies and children help us do that. I am so grateful for the chance to be with my grandson this week and thankful for the wonder in his face. Too young for a beard, my little one, but you do great things for me.

Returning Home

I turn the car onto the road to my house and it happens every time:

My heart gets lighter.

I drive down the road watching for the mailbox.

Seeing it makes me glad but if any of my family members’ cars are in the driveway, I am even happier.

Dorothy was correct.

There is no place like home.

I know it is not like this for everyone but it is for me.

So much ink has been spilled writing songs about home, poems about home.

There is even a sickness named for missing it.

I am so grateful that home is where I want to be.

Home is a place I long for when I am not in it.

What will it feel like when I make the final turn toward my real home?

Surely, then too I will be looking ahead in anticipation for the first sighting of my true home and wondering

who will be there waiting for me?

Some of my family has gone ahead of me.

But there is One

Who has paved the way for me

Prepared a place for me

And is waiting and watching for me.

When days seem long

When things just don’t line up

When this world just doesn’t seem to fit me

I can remember this world

Is not my final home.

Someday

I will turn the final corner

And spot my true home

And The One

Who waits for me.

My Soul Will Dance

 

a statue at Vent fort

Someday I will dance before the Lord

Unencumbered by the weights of life

Unburdened of the weight of sin

Unshackled, by my savior’s grace

Of sins’ haunting guilt

It will not matter once I’m there

That my body did not learn

to dance in life

Freed from the bonds this earth

My soul will dance before

My Choreographer

Before My Choreographer

I will dance

And He will gently take my hand

And join me in the victory dance

The Power of the Vine

Not sure if I am moderately happy here, or in controlled terror, but I do know few people could say, or want to be able to say that they have had the same hair cut all their lives.

Until the other day I did not understand the power of the vine. When I was little my dad would carry me into the water at the Jersey shore. I was petrified. As strong as he was and how small I was by comparison, I always feared he would let go

Don’t misunderstand. He would not have let me drown. He was not cruel. But the fear of water washed away my trust that he would keep me safe. The fear that he would decide he’d held me long enough and let go of me was overwhelming; the fear that maybe he was not strong enough after all to keep me from drowning. A powerful fear that I can feel even today.

This is the distorted way I have viewed my heavenly Father. I know He will not leave me. I know He commands the water, and can part it, or calm it, or walk on it, for that matter. I know He has a plan to build me and not destroy me.

But the fear.

The fear He will decide He has held me long enough and has given me all that I need to face my challenges and put me down; the fear that maybe He is not strong enough after all to keep me in the palm of His hand; the fear that He would call me out to do the impossible, to walk on water as He did to Peter and that His arms might be too short to reach me.

But the vine.

The vine that gives me life and nourishment, energy, and even hope. A branch can’t cling to the vine the way I clung to my father’s arms. Even I-plants come to my garden to die-understand that branches don’t cling to their vines. The vine provides the energy and nourishment they need to stay with the vine. When did I distort which clung to which?

The vine holds the branch, and all the branch-and I-need to do is to abide in the vine. He will not let me go. He is stronger than any current and if He calls me to do what seems impossible His arms will not be too short to save me. Apart from Him indeed I can do nothing but it is to my Father’s glory that I bear much fruit, so why would I worry that He would put me down?

If I could have rested in my dad’s arms; threw my arms high, and leaned back; trusted him to keep me safe; what hilarious fun we could have both had. As it was all he could do was try to assure me of his intentions, as I white-knuckled my grip on him.

If I can lean back with abandon, knowing the Vine has me, will nourish me, will keep me, will be my strength, will enable me to do what I cannot do, and He does not have to reassure me of His intentions; well that indeed will be glorious.

I will post a u tube link. If it does not show up, google “Hoyt team, I can only imagine”and consider what is truly meant to abide in the Father, being helpless in our own strength, and what the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit does for us in our helplessness.