She is Ours

She walked in a little bit late...the kids had already gone to their Wednesday night Bible class. Walking down the aisle, we get a glimpse of reddish hair with a little bit of curl at the nape of a precious little neck. She sits, he turns, and big blue eyes begin to take in his surroundings with a smile hinting at those pouty lips.  

How short the time we have had to love this child, but love it is.  If he gives us the least bit of attention, we fawn, we coo, we laugh and our day is brighter and the world a better place.

There is no blood shared here.  We contributed nothing to his creation, to his birth, nor do we share in his hour to hour, day to day upbringing.  

Yet, he is ours.  He belongs to us. When he falls, we run to help; when he cries, we look for something to distract; when he smiles, we smile with pride.

Soon, he will join his fellow classmates, adoring the same teachers, learning to take his place among his peers.  They will become his mentors, his favs, his buddies and big sisters.

He is ours.

Yet, he is one of several.  Several of which we have watched take first baby steps, lose baby faces, grow physically, mentally and emotionally...reciting memory verses, leading their first songs and first prayers, taking on Christ in baptism and growing, growing, growing.

Ours.

Therefore, the hurt is undeniably bad; the anguish palpable and the mourning deep.  The loss is insurmountable...we cannot breathe...because one of ours is no longer with us.

No more bear hugs from this sweet one, no more fabulous cartwheels with splits to appreciate, no more conversation, and no more glimpses of a young girl growing into a young woman.  No, not from our Haven.  

But the memories loom large in our minds and we remember a sweet voice, and we grieve with our whole being, standing hand and hand with her parents and grandparents who love her so.  We grieve, we mourn, we remember and we believe...we believe that heaven is a little bit brighter, a little more joyful and lot more fashionable...because of one small child...our child.

For information on Haven's service, please go to 

http://www.tnfunerals.com/sitemaker/sites/HERITA9/obit.cgi?user=09938043_KEdmiston 

The Valued Life

Tiny and fragile he was born into this world.  A complicated delivery, the incubator became his next home.  

Joyful for a life, anxious for his survival, and confusion over a prognosis, a genetic problem rose in our face and it struck with thunder...a genetic problem found only within our family, apparently only affecting the male children...and not knowing where it might end.  

Twice this strange complication/blessing came into our lives, with one's temporary existence only six weeks.

The "Why" questions, so easy to formulate in our minds, become our wall of frustration, of madness. Our loving God permits, creates and delivers this heartbreak into our lives?  Why?

Seeing the dark, the sadness, and the burden prevents the vision of compassion, love and beauty!

So difficult to see a blessing when you are entrenched in the dark!

But one small child grows, overcoming very few obstacles but every step a milestone. Never able to speak, he communicated in gestures and mumbles and a smile. His stumbling gait began at a very late age, and holding on to chairs round the dining table, he would find his spot...in the lap of his beloved granddaddy.

At age 13, "Baby Brother" breathed his last as he slept near his big sister, going where his cousin of six weeks had already found his victory over a weakened body...to run carefree in God's vast heavens!

Leaving us behind, his existence had given us joy over grief, smiles over frowns, and happiness for every moment God shared him with us.  Our lives were enriched by the brokenness of a child, the wonderment of his tiny advances, and thankfulness for precious time with an angel in disguise.

Sometimes, we cannot gauge the loss until memories are all we have. 

Imprinted Lives

Tirelessly she works, scurrying here and there, with energy to spare and dedication-born. The turn-to woman, the first to raise her hand, the first to grasp the need and act.  The first to take responsibility and rely on her faith.  Watching her, I am mindful of the spirit of servanthood and what the love of Christ inspires us to be. 

A complicated man, relying on his spouse for earthly chattels while he pursued spiritual dealings, nevertheless the foundation was laid through his teaching.  I think of him often.

Generosity abundant, her hands purposely building and creating and gifting, her sweet countenance pouring love through soulful eyes, the gift of this friend and sister brings soothing and covers me with trusting affection.

A smile from across the room gives me assurance.  The nodding affirmation is a balm to my soul.  The attentiveness of one superior strengthens me to contribute, promoting in me the desire to do more than my best.

Looking back on life gives one perspective on where a kind word spoken meant the difference in failure and success, where the devotedness promoted and inspired perseverance through difficult tasks.

                            Every Touch Leaves an Impression ~ Dr. Edmond Locard

Each person left a mark on this life's journey, whether good or bad, and this life has left its own marks.  A sobering thought.

Faces of Hope

The message was clear, vibrant and full of promise.  The words were gratefully consumed to fill a hole deep within.  No matter that the voice had been heard before...because the need was too great, to fearful to not grasp at the fledgling of hope sounds and peaceable images perceived.

     ...Hope disguised.

Love came in tender moments, real or imagined, caressing and warm and light.  Too soon that same love reared an ugly head, and the blindness of one beguiled by the artifice of deceit falls face down in grief.

     ...Hope shattered.

The day was clear, bright and sunny, when the message came strongly and painfully honest, damaging and depressing the hope chords within, leaving the soul aching and tearfully demanding fairness be rectified.

     ...hope unseen.

The night skies twinkle with millions of stars, gently hinting at some greatness beyond, expanding itself visually and making smallness only where one stands.

     ...Hope awakened.

A very small-boned and very dirty, older man gathers his belongings.  He is no longer allowed to sleep on this concrete portion but must find another home to occupy.  As the steaming cup of coffee is offered in one hand and a sandwich in the other, his wizened face beams with joy for this small gift, for it will fortify him on his meanderings in a cold city.

     ...Hope has a face.

Life storms rage with disappointments aplenty.  Hardships come in all flavors and sizes and one never knows the depth until firmly planted in them.  We can choose to accept and wallow or to fight and conquer, to bury our heads in the sand or face head-on...and the choice is always there.

He who overcomes, I will grant to him to sit down with Me on My throne, as I also overcame and sat down with My Father on His throne. (Revelation 3:21)

Hope is alive and well.  God takes my hopelessness, my tears, my distress, my disappointments in life, and points me to the way home where I am meant to live in complete joy for all eternity.

 ...but thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.                       (1 Cor. 15:57)

...Hope is Jesus Christ.


Lord, I thank you for this hour, this day, this time in my life, whether troubled or peaceful.  I thank you for the hope only You can provide.  I love you, Lord! 

Celebrate!

Happy times, times of celebration should be joyous, a little noisy, right?  Right?

Clamping down a snort of laughter may be necessary at a funeral, perhaps. Although, I have been to funeral visitations that were more of a family/friend reunion, as the deceased's life was viewed so lovely with the knowledge that he/she lived again in heaven's grasp. 

The solemness and beauty of taking communion to remember our Savior is to be revered, appreciated and pondered as the greatest sacrifice this world has ever seen.  It is a time of reflection, repentance and re-commitment to a life better lived, a focus more spiritually centered.  No, no laughter there.

But watching grandchildren squeal with happiness at an opened gift, a jump in the pool, a surprise that left them giggling...their innocence and purity of thought and action can bring you to happy tears.

No question but that God gave us grandchildren to give us back the glow, the simple trust, the abandonment we left years ago.  It is no wonder that He said, 

"but Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 19:14)

Or this...

"Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.” (Luke 18:17)

Not for one moment can I envision these children running to Jesus with no out-stretched arms...with closed mouths, dull eyes and emotionless.  Not for one moment can I envision Jesus without the brightest smile on his shining face waiting to be embraced by these little ones.

I vow to not let another day go by without rejoicing about a Savior who has brought me from the lowest of lows, the blackest of nights, and the lowest of sins. 

I vow to give my highest and broken voice to the One who created me, molded me, protected me and forgave me.

I vow not to be ashamed to shed tears for a passionate song of praise, or a beloved scripture discerning Christ's sacrifice or the holy everlasting faithfulness of the One True God!

Clap your hands, all peoples!
    Shout to God with loud songs of joy!
2 For the Lord, the Most High, is to be feared,
    a great king over all the earth.  ~ Psalm 47:1-2

In the face of adversity, in the face of a country spiraling downward, in the face of evil thwarting the Word of God, I will remain confident...and I will not be quiet!

Ruminating the Obvious

Just when you think you have things figured out, a congealing of the thought processes, all puzzle pieces connected...or at least in cohesive piles...your mind is lead into unchartered territory...or at least areas you probably flew by in this journey of life.

But isn't it odd that we have chosen a "time" of worship and the appropriate manner in which to process that worship, a true blue agenda of the perfect amount of singing, praying, preaching and communing?

Isn't it odd that this program agenda is more important than consoling, praying with or listening to one who needs us?

Isn't it odd that what is allowable in one instance of Bible study is not allowed in others?

Isn't it odd that one of the most precious components of our worship, taking the Lord's Supper, is mostly one of few words, a hurried affair, taken for granted and passed through without feeling...just another point on our schedule for the morning "worship"?

Isn't it odd that we do not show with our voices, with our emotions, with outward appearance the reverence and awe due to the absolutely divine presence of God in our midst?

Isn't it odd that we do not see God in our midst? Does the brightness of our fluorescent lighting outshine the holiness of God?  

Isn't it odd that we cannot see or admit to our traditions?  Are we so set in our traditions that we are blind to all else?

Isn't it odd that we confine worship to a church building?

Isn't it odd that no one wonders these things...but me?

Hatred ~ Simply a Void of Love

Another senseless killing, families devastated, leaving a soul in jeopardy of eternal life...for what?  Fame?  Notoriety?  Revenge?  

Questionable state of mind is immediately voiced and commonly used to justify or plead.  We slink away from calling it simply and honestly - hatred and evil. 

Opportunities arise quickly and those whose hearts are led by the hatred and evil jump to proclaim revenge, to finish the job, to inflict more pain and loss.  

And my heart hurts.  Tears fall and the doubts arise that this world can ever be made peaceful and just in the eyes of God.  Doubts arise that our sinking sand can ever be shored to keep us from drowning from this pit of self-seeking, revenge-obsessed, black hole of distrust and prejudice and lack of agape love.

Where does one turn to when life is rearing an ugly head?  To the only source worth quoting:

“So whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets."  Matthew 7:12  

We made this incident; we contributed to it in even the smallest ways. Directly or indirectly, we are responsible.  But God can use this for good.  Our part now is to love with the love of Christ, encourage with the strength of the hope within us, saturate our immediate surroundings with acceptance, prayer and deep desire to have peace towards one another and indwelling of the Spirit to want the best...above ourselves...for others.

Dear God, help us for you are strong and we are weak.  

The Mercy Seat

Once adept at finding the least of branches (the least offensive, the least to inflict pain), knowledge was apparent even then that the verdict was not the problem...but the sentencing and follow-through would be tear-stained!  Finding the most delicate, limber branch might soften the blows, become of no significance, really, and focusing on that find became a source of mercy in my mind.

The plan was flawed, of course, because parents can see through such devilish schemes and thwart the most inventive of childhood escapades.  The switching always hurt, remorse having settled in, and the motherly hug then encouraged me to higher heights of better behavior, resolving me to better obedience in the future.

Mom's hug was my mercy seat.  Confession was made, punishment was meted out, but love always followed...my misdeeds and discipline covered by her merciful love and compassion.  Her mercy seat was used in abundance by all my siblings, but more often than not, by me.

The ark of the covenant of the Lord held His mercy seat, this solid piece of purest gold covering sin, a place of propitiation, a place where justice and mercy would meet.  The cherubim knelt facing this mercy seat, wings spread, covering this Holy meeting place of God!

The mercy seat is coveted, even unaware.  The depths of our soul searches, the urge to please one higher than ourselves unrelenting, though somehow intuiting our unworthiness to dare approach. But Jesus says, "Come", and through Him we are strengthened and renewed!  

The mercy seat of my mother's arms no longer exist for me in this world. I have sought another and found it existed long before.  For my Father in heaven has the ultimate mercy seat, His throne of grace!   Come and approach His grace through His Son and be filled.

Exodus 25:10-22

   

Looking for God

The swirling mist envelopes, constantly changing yet obscure at every angle. Longing for vision, for clarity, the eyes are straining but cannot see.

The dream is liquid, like waves growing large with frothy ripples on the sand. Keeping my head barely aloof, my eyes grow gritty, burning with anxiety, searching and hoping.  

With eyes failing to see and senses not detecting, my spirit grows weak.  I am alone.  

Hopelessness is death.  Not the abrupt departure but lingering and devoid of light, it is torturous.

Hanging onto the speck of light barely discernible, the soul reaches out of the pit of pity, the heart quickens and while hope tries to rebirth itself from this despair, one is cautious because this one is aware of undeserving, worthless, failing existence.  

But the light grows steady, until burning with intensity, this soul finds itself on the brink of the grave, ready to step forward with new purpose and reality. Recognizing the futility of plans dashed, admitting the limits of abilities on solid ground, this light...this hope...washes one clean, clearing the vision and cleansing the heart.

Oh, no miraculous ending of burden here, nor the absence of culpability, but the light of hope becomes faith.  Faith that carries, uplifts, calms and grows and keeps pulling us out of the pits of life.  For though we stumble, yet God is faithful to provide because He...never...leaves.   

"Living a life of faith means never knowing where you are being led.  But it does mean loving and knowing the one who is leading.  It is literally a life of faith.  Not of understanding and reason - a life of knowing Him who calls us to go.  A life of faith is not a life of one glorious mountaintop experience after another, but is a life of day-in and day-out consistency; a life of walking without fainting."                                                                                                                ~ Oswald Chambers 

  

Shallowness Can Be Deadly

The mind is an enigma, a puzzle without end.  Used unconsciously, we are unaware of any drift until we arrive.  Quick to turn and bend, our efforts are constant, reaching for control and purpose.  Some, like an ostrich burrowing its head in sand, settle for unknowing until it forms an oasis...glimmering, indistinct yet mesmerizing in obscurity. 

“She avoids deep thought like an empty restaurant, not out of stupidity, but a canny resolve to be happy.”  ― Alex Shakar, Luminarium

Shallowness of thought invites the intrusion of thousands of twitter posts to whirl our days in the illusion of datable knowledge.  A scintillating glance, no more no less.  And like a tiny ship on tumultuous seas, our thoughts are bounced from side to side with no place to land.

"See to it that no one takes you captive by philosophy and empty deceit, according to human tradition, according to the elemental spirits of the world, and not according to Christ."  (Colossians 2:8)

Breathing deep is reserved for medical purposes, for shallow breathing becomes our norm.  Effortless, painless and uncomplicated.

Shallow attitudes bring forth shallow conversation, birthing emotional damage and harmful relationships. Caring involves deep feeling, careful consideration of another, because love cannot survive in shallowness of heart.

Prayers are stifled by shallowness, useless in purpose and effect.  Time and thoughtful contemplation is required.   

"And yet, we all are tempted to embrace a false posture in prayer. Perhaps this false posture is sitting in our dustiness. Rather than relating to God from our acceptance in Christ, we try to self-generate righteousness to make Him love us. Maybe we don’t avoid our sin in prayer, but we sulk in it. We spend our time in prayer brooding, beating ourselves up, and trying to manage our dustiness. In effect, prayer becomes a place to commune with ourselves rather than with God. We search within for answers to the problems we uncover and continue to roll around in the dust over and over, thinking it will clean us off just like Dusty the chinchilla. Prayer becomes a place for self-talk, self-fixing, self-condemnation, and self-obsession."  (Jamin Goggin and Kyle Strobel, Beloved Dust) 

Life as a Christian can entertain no shallowness. The love of Christ, the faithfulness of God, the indwelling of the Spirit can no more be held down, suppressed or silenced!  For it is our purpose, our objective, obsessively pursued, nurtured and shouted that the ultimate sacrifice covers us all.  Christ must be shared in fullness, in prayerful attitude, in humility and in love. 

Lord, may we no longer attempt to keep You to ourselves, safe within the cocoon of the walls we've built for ourselves.  May our endeavors never be shallow but pure in spirit, impassioned with the zeal and wonder of one who forever holds your majesty and power in awe, in reverence and amazement!