Mother's Day Reflections

Mother's Day brings back the memory of a story, a story that turned apprehension into hope.

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"Pregnant! The word jolted me as I listened to the nurse's voice on the other end of the line. I was thirty-eight with an eleven and fourteen-year-old, and God wanted me to raise another child?

I decided to keep the news quiet as long as possible. I felt embarrassment mixed with panic and needed time to get used to the idea. At the same time, I felt guilty when I thought of the many who longed for a child and found themselves grieving with empty arms.

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A few weeks later we visited my parents' church. I felt as green as the dress I wore. God must have smiled as the service began. He had a special message just for me, one I would carry with me for a long time. It came in the from of a song, one written by Bill and Gloria Gaither when they, too, were expecting a child.

This child can face uncertain days because He lives!
Because He lives, I can face tomorrow . . . I know He holds the future . . .*

Tears sprang to my eyes as my husband squeezed my hand. The resurrection of Jesus . . . Of course! Because He lives, I could trust Him with our future and the future of our tiny secret, fearfully and wonderfully growing deep inside me.

November 1997

We named our baby Elisabeth Grace in remembrance of God's promise in 2 Corinthians 12:9. "My grace is sufficient for you . . ." Now a junior in college, Elisabeth brings her humor, conversation, and thoughtfulness to our family. How could I have ever doubted God's wisdom? That Easter morning holds a hallowed place in my heart. God's faithfulness during that time has given me courage to face other challenges, far more daunting.

I'll always remember the day when Elisabeth, then in elementary school, said to me, "I'm glad my middle name is Grace."

I couldn't trust my voice to answer, but gave her a wobbly smile. Me, too, Elisabeth. Me, too.

*Copyright by William J. Gaither, 1971.

The Light at the End of the Tunnel - Part 2

When reading, do you have a habit of skipping ahead to the end of the book to find out what happens? I often caught my youngest daughter with her finger holding her place in the story, reading the last chapter!

This is a good weekend to hold our place in our life stories and peek into the last chapter, the epilogue . . . to look ahead to the light at the end of the tunnel. 

Since I wrote last time, I again made my way through the Lehigh Tunnel. And again, I gripped the wheel a little tighter and found myself looking past the car in front of me to the light at the end. In the darkness, I couldn't help but link the beckoning light to Jesus and to heaven.

Many of us know about heaven, but how easy to become so near-sighted that we tend to have a tunnel-bound perspective. The events of our lives and of our broken world loom large, and in the daily-ness of it all, we may forget we have a bright, glorious hope ahead of us. The best is yet to come! All because Jesus died in our place on the cross. All because of His resurrection.

So, let’s remind ourselves of Jesus' words: “Let not your hearts be troubled. In my Father’s house are many dwelling places. I go to prepare a place for you . . . I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also” (John 14:1-3).

Peter reminded us of our “inheritance that is imperishable – beyond the reach of change and decay, undefiled, and unfading, reserved in heaven for you” (1 Peter 1:4).

John described our eternal destiny this way: “God will dwell with them and they shall be His people. God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes, and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away” (21:3, 4). And He (Christ) shall reign forever and ever” (11:15).

You don’t have to be like a driver lost in a long dark tunnel. Look up! Look ahead! This is our hope! We already have a bright, happily-ever-after ending to our story!

But the path of the righteous is like the shining light

that shines more and more unto the perfect day.

Proverbs 4:18

Photos from bing.com/images/free to use

Out With the Old - In With the New

Spring!

After digging out of the blizzard of the century, the soft breezes of spring come as a welcome reprieve. Robins' songs greet us with each morning sunrise. Geese honk their way across brighter skies. Peepers sing their joyous refrain as gilded shadows give way to twilight. Brave perennials of all kinds push last year's dead debris out of the way as promising buds burst into bloom. And the grass . . . it just keeps looking greener.

This is the first year for me to do the spring clean-up in the yard by myself. To be honest, I felt overwhelmed when I first took a look around. So, on every nice day, I decided to bundle up (when it's cool), find my garden gloves, and rake for an hour. What a job! For days, I've been raking up matted dead leaves and sticks that have covered up my flower beds. I've picked piles of stones out of the lawn, thrown from the snow plows. I've trimmed bushes and uncovered delicate blossoms that make me smile. And, you know, I'm starting to see a difference, a transformation. I have more to do, but little by little, I'm clearing the way for . . . all things summer.

I bet you've been doing the same thing! There's something about the smell of earth and the promise of warmer days that bring life to our routines. We open our windows to savor the fresh air. We're drawn to the outdoors like a magnet.

I like to think of spring as a reflection of new life . . . of laying aside the cold grip of the old and embracing the warmth of the new. Perhaps this is a good time to reflect on a theme scrawled on parchment to the ancient believers in Colosse:

Since you have been risen with Christ . . . Put off "anger, wrath, malice, slander, and obscene talk . . . seeing that you have put off the old self with its practices and have put on the new self . . .

"Put on then, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another and . . . forgiving each other, as the Lord has forgiven you . . . And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony . . ."

So as we go about our springtime chores, let's also remember to ask God to clean up the dead sticks and leaves in our hearts. He "rakes" out the old and plants the new . . . fruits of righteousness . . . transforming us from the inside out.

The Most Meaningful Easter

What Easter traditions do you remember from childhood? What activities, sights, tastes, and smells bring a wave of nostalgia? Which customs and rituals do you still carry out? 

For my sister and me, Easter meant Mom sewing us each a new dress. On Saturday evening, we colored eggs with the kind of dye that floated in droplets on top of the water in a large bowl. We used a toothpick to mix the colors around, then slowly dipped each egg into the swirly water on a homemade wire egg holder.

We often attended an Easter sunrise service, then a breakfast at church. Mom made what she called "kuchen." She mixed up a yeast dough, and after the first rising she rolled the dough out into a large rectangle, filled the center with plum or apple filling from end to end, and then cut the flat dough on the sides into one inch strips. She brought the strips to the center and braided them to cover the filling. After a second rise, she baked it until it turned golden brown, then drizzled the top with a thin glaze.

We joined my grandparents for Easter dinner, where all the aunts, uncles, and cousins also gathered. Grandma's best china and table linens graced the big dining room table. After a solemn blessing, we celebrated together. We went home with jelly beans, chocolate bite-sized bunnies, and a cake in the shape of a lamb, complete with white frosting and coconut.

However, the most meaningful part of the day for me took place while still snuggled in my bed. In the quiet of the dawn, I read the Easter story from the gospels. I thought about the Good Friday service at church, where our pastor did a chalk drawing depicting three crosses against an ominous sky. I tried to imagine in my young mind what it would have been like to be there and witness the death of the very Son of God. How sad and lonely. And then how wonderful to arrive at the tomb that Sunday morning when the angels announced, "He is not here. He is risen!" The miracle of it all made a deep impression on me.

This year I find myself thinking about the resurrection of Jesus in a new light. It's the first Easter Barry is on the other side. When someone so dearly loved has died, the words from 1 Corinthians 15 give hope and perspective: 

But now Christ is risen from the dead, . . . So when this corruptible has put on incorruption, and this mortal has put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written: "Death is swallowed up in victory." O Death, where is your sting? O Grave, where is your victory? . . . But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ (verses 20, 54-57).

Remembering the resurrection means so much more than listening to a once-a-year sermon. Because Christ lives, Barry's story isn't over. He lives! The resurrection has birthed the unwavering hope of eternal life. "So shall we ever be with the Lord" (1 Thessalonians 4:17).

Now that's worth celebrating, wouldn't you agree?

Photos from google images.   

Bringing the Easter Story to Life

Are you ready for spring? I am.

Spring is coming and along with it, Easter Sunday, the wonderful time of year when we remember the significance of the resurrection of Jesus. 

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How do you celebrate Easter . . . personally, as a family, in your church? What are your special traditions? A Scripture reading for each day during the week preceding Easter? Decorations? Music? Menus? I'd love for you to share what makes Resurrection Sunday meaningful to you. 

If you're seeking to emphasize the spirit and significance of Easter in a fresh way this year, allow me to introduce you to Patricia Souder. Patti is a seasoned author, and she directed the Montrose Christian Writers Conference for many years. On her website, Alpha Star Drama, she is featuring four free scripts for Easter: “Puzzled at Passover,” a monologue by Martha; “Peter the Perplexed,” a monologue by Peter; “Innocent! That Man Was Innocent!” a dialogue between Pilate and his wife, Claudia; and “Mary Magdalene at the Tomb,” a monologue about the joy of resurrection. All can be previewed by audio or by choosing “script preview” after clicking on the title.

Patti writes, "I would so love for churches and small groups to use these to bring the Easter story to life as we live in an age where fewer and fewer people know the truth about God’s incredible love." 

You can find the Easter scripts and more at Alpha Star Drama.

Easter is a short three weeks away. I hope it's a meaningful day for you and your family as you plan special ways to commemorate the resurrection of Christ. And I invite you to share a tradition or two that adds meaning to your celebration.

Because He Lives

Easter morning brings back the memory of a story, a story that turned apprehension into hope.

 

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"Pregnant! The word jolted me as I listened to the nurse's voice on the other end of the line. I was thirty-eight with an eleven and fourteen-year-old, and God wanted me to raise another child?

I decided to keep the news quiet as long as possible. I felt embarrassment mixed with panic and needed time to get used to the idea. At the same time, I felt guilty when I thought of the many who longed for a child and found themselves grieving with empty arms.

 

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A few weeks later, Easter Sunday found us visiting my parents' church. I felt as green as the dress I wore. God must have smiled as the service began. He had a special message just for me, one I would carry with me for a long time. It came in the from of a song, one written by Bill and Gloria Gaither when they, too, were expecting a child.

 

This child can face uncertain days because He lives!

Because He lives, I can face tomorrow . . . I know He holds the future . . .*

 

Tears sprang to my eyes as I squeezed my husband's hand. The resurrection of Jesus . . . Of course! Because He lives, I could trust Him with our future and the future of our tiny secret, fearfully and wonderfully growing deep inside me.

November 1997

 

We named our baby Elisabeth Grace in remembrance of God's promise in 2 Corinthians 12:9. "My grace is sufficient for you . . ." Now a junior in high school, Elisabeth brings her humor, conversation, and friends to the dinner table. How could I have ever doubted God's wisdom? That Easter morning holds a hallowed place in my heart. God's faithfulness during that time has given me courage to face other challenges, far more daunting.

 

I'll always remember the day when Elisabeth, then in elementary school, said to me, "I'm glad my middle name is Grace."

I couldn't trust my voice to answer, but gave her a wobbly smile. Me, too, Elisabeth. Me, too.

 

*Copyright by William J. Gaither, 1971.

 

A Belated "Thank You"

I wish I had expressed my gratefulness in the moment. Maybe I didn't understand the value of those treasures until now. Maybe I didn't know I would carry them with me from junior high school all the way to fifty-something. But this week, I want to say "Thank you."

The year I had Miss Latta as a school teacher in fourth grade, we began attending Winchester Community Church. Five blocks from our home, it offered family-friendly programs of which we soon became a part.

I remember singing "O Jesus, I have promised to serve thee to the end . . ." in children's church and "Dare to be a Daniel" in the Junior Department Sunday School opening exercises. In Pioneer Girls, we learned to change a tire (on the pastor's car!), build teepee campfires, and layer lasagna. Our leaders, "Phoebe" and "Chips," not only planned fun overnights and taught us silly songs (that I now sing to my grandson) but  held up God's Word as a "lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path" (Psalm 119:105). 

I loved Sunday evening services. Mr. Holland led the singing like no other. I learned to sing alto by sitting next to Mrs. Davis. The pastor's wife encouraged me to play my flute. Sometimes we played a duet. They even let the young girls take the offering once in a while. In the summers, we enjoyed singspirations at the homes of various church members and sang till we were hoarse. There were always refreshments afterwards.

During Easter week, we came to church almost every night, as I recall. After the sermon, the pastor, also an artist, did a chalk drawing to illustrate his message while the organ played. Then he'd shine different colored lights his picture. Easter Sunday brought us to church early for a sunrise service and breakfast. My mom always made plum and apple raisin kuchens.

Vacation Bible School was the best. For two weeks, every summer, we lined up by departments in the parking lot to say the three pledges. We listened to Bible lessons and missionary stories, learned our verses, and created crafts. Before going home, we gathered in the auditorium and sat on the edge of our seats to find out which team was winning the contest. We sang "We can know that Jesus saves us. We can know. Be assured each moment, everywhere we go . . ."

This past summer, we drove past where the church building used to be. It burned down a while back. The congregation has moved to another location. But the memories live on, memories I cherish.

Thank you to the people from Winchester who invested in a young girl's story. Thank you for giving me the gift of God's Word, the gift of positive spiritual expressions . . . the gift of belonging. 

It's the time to give thanks. What belated thank-yous come to your mind?

Alive in Christ Forever

They all came.

Children, siblings, grandchildren, nieces and nephews came to Northeastern Pennsylvania from as far away as Illinois, Indiana, Missouri, and Michigan. They came to say goodbye. I’ll always remember the day we gathered under a blue August sky to say our final farewells to my mom. With the pastor’s closing prayer, we filed by, one by one, carefully placing a flower on her casket. In the still and almost reverent moments that followed, someone began to sing. Soon, we all joined in.     

   Amazing grace! how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me!
   I once was lost, but now am found, was blind, but now I see.

   When we’ve been there ten thousand years, bright shining as the sun,
   We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise than when we’d first begun.

                           (John Newton, 1725-1807)

Tears slipped down my cheeks as the familiar melody drifted up to heaven. Here on a quiet hillside stood a family. A family bound by grief. A family united in hope. That day’s memory of the family I love and to whom I belong has a hallowed place in my heart. I have drawn on this remembrance for strength many times over the last months.

Then they all returned home. But they didn’t forget. 

One day my sister called. In the course of our conversation, she said, “I’ve been thinking. Mom is in heaven because of the resurrection of Jesus.” What a wonderful truth! I found myself thinking about another funeral, one Jesus attended when He proclaimed Himself the resurrection and the life. Not long after, He proved it. With the empty tomb, Christ conquered death forever (I Corinthians 15).

The Easter season holds a special significance for me this year. The resurrection of Jesus means eternal life for my mom, and someday for me. And for all those who have placed their complete trust in Christ who died so they could live. I think of my sister’s words each time my dad and I visit the quiet hillside cemetery, where I picture my family singing “Amazing Grace.” And where Mom’s tombstone reads, “Alive in Christ Forever.” 

May this Easter season breathe hope into our hearts. He is risen! And that makes all the difference for us – both now and for eternity.

I am the resurrection and the life.

 He who believes in Me, though he may die, he shall live.

And whoever lives and believes in Me shall never die.

John 11:25, 26

Amazed by Grace

I

Guilty I stand,

Hands shackled behind me.

Guilty I stand, head bowed, alone.

The sentence echoes

against the walls of my heart:

"Condemned to die!"

Guilty . . . Condemned . . . Without hope.

II

Righteous He stands,

Hands scarred, perfect as God Himself.

Righteous He stands,

Raised up from dying

condemned--instead of me.

Unshackled from mortality like a prisoner freed,

He breaks away the rusted handcuffs of my sin.

Amazed by grace, I go free.

 For He made Him who knew no sin

to be sin for us,

That we might become

the righteousness of God in Him.

2 Corinthians 5:21