Friends: Picking Up Where We Left Off

A friend stopped by this past week, one I hadn't seen in years. We had a wonderful time together. I had kept up with her through her family's prayer letter and her blog. She served as my husband's secretary for a while and later became our daughter's first grade teacher. Twenty-some years, a husband, and four kids later she finds herself a missionary--and a breast cancer survivor.


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We reminisced about how her then-fiancé proposed to her in my husband's office suite, about the time her spelling lesson ended when our daughter somehow got her head stuck in a chair, and about how I taught her to quilt while her firstborn baby slept. She brought a couple of quilts with her to show me her latest projects.

But we did more than catch up. Our life stories differed, but we shared many of the same emotions, the same questions, the same favorite Scripture promises.

The same faith.

We picked up where we left off--with easy conversation, straight from our hearts.  


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I like having a friend like that, don't you? There's something special about a relationship that keeps going no matter how long since the last good-bye. How many times had I prayed for my friend during her illness and when her family had special needs? There will always be special connection. 

God has blessed me with other friends like that. I smile when I see their names on the caller-ID, the email, or FB. It's fun to hear their voices when I surprise them with a call. It's always wonderful to pick up where we left off.

Perhaps I need to take a little more time to stop by, pick up the phone, or send that email.

Thanks, Anne, for a wonderful visit. Let's stay in touch! 

When God Gives You a Hand

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I stopped typing mid-sentence.

What was going on? I wiggled my right thumb, pressed the space bar a few times, and wiggled it again. Why did my thumb joint hurt . . . all of a sudden?

My mom's arthritis issues sprang to my mind. She lost the ability to cut apples, peel potatoes, slice bread, and even write well because the joints in her thumbs prohibited her from doing so. My heart sank. Wasn't I a little young for this? Didn't God know I needed my hands to keep house, cook, and write/type? Didn't I deal with enough limitations? And why my right hand?

Another voice echoed in my thoughts, that of a doctor, four years after our car crash. "People who've been victims of trauma develop severe arthritis after ten years." She pointed her finger at me. "You have six years left."

Eight years have passed since then.

The next few weeks, the pain came and went. Some days I could type like normal. Other days I noticed some discomfort, not bad, but enough for me to breathe a prayer asking God to preserve my hand and thumb capabilities.

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A long-forgotten phrase came to me as a whisper at first, nudging me to look it up. I found the words tucked in the writings of Isaiah: "For I, the LORD your God, hold your right hand; it is I who say to you, 'Fear not. I am the one who helps you'" (Isaiah 41:13). I noted verse 10 which says, "I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."

I drew great comfort from these words. God holds my right hand, the very hand giving me trouble. His presence scatters my fears and offers reassurance.   

Humanly speaking, I will pursue a healthy lifestyle, including an anti-inflammatory diet. But every time my thumb acts up, I'm prompted to remember that God promises to hold my right hand with His right hand. He will help me, no matter what the future chapters of my life story hold.

What promises of God have been especially meaningful to you--and why?

Loaves and Fish

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A few loaves and fish in a crumpled sack . . .

"What are they among so many?"

The supply fails to match the vast demand

On grassy slopes.

 

Inside a child's heart,

I lift my offering with meager hands.

Without reproach, He accepts my loaves and fish,

And one by one the needs are met.

Fully satisfied.

Enough!

 

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"My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."

2 Corinthians 12:9

 

Forty Years a Valentine

My husband's valentine this year noted we met forty years ago this coming fall. "Forty years is a long time, nearly two-thirds of our lives," he wrote. "I'm glad God has allowed us to be together for so many years . . ."

I'm glad, too. I almost lost him nearly twelve years ago in a car crash. I've never gotten over the miracle of his healing.

We spent some time reminiscing about our first Valentine's Day date, a banquet sponsored by the college we attended. I called home, pretty sure the tall, skinny guy from Michigan would ask me to go with him. "I'll need a dress," I told my mom, over 800 miles away. Before Barry even asked me, my mom had purchased yards of double knit red fabric, and my grandma had it cut out, ready to sew. The floor length dress arrived just in time for the special event--at the Chattanooga Choo Choo.

Back then we never thought about where our lives would take us. Maybe it's good we didn't have a map of the future. But looking back, there's an unmistakable red thread of love woven through the dark and bright and in-between shades of the past forty years. Forty years in which two young kids turned into soon-to-be senior citizens.


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We know a little more about love now than we did back then. It's more than stars and hearts and flowers. It's grit, acceptance, prayer, and sacrifice. In a word, old-fashioned commitment.

Happy Valentine's Day, hon. I love you.


What's your Valentine's Day story?

  

What Ya Can't Straighten Up

Crooked. They've been saying this about me from day one.

I was born with clubbed feet and had to wear what my mom called "special shoes," little shoes that looked like they were on the wrong feet, to be worn day and night. Thanks to the faithfulness of my parents, my little feet became straight and normal. I learned to walk without a glitch.

In fifth grade, I added a full set of braces to my smile. After over three years, straight teeth finally triumphed over a crowded overbite.  

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But scoliosis wasn't that easy. Although not a severe case, I'm quite crooked. Surgeons worked around it after a car accident in 2003. Chiropractors shake their heads as they try to straighten me out. One shoulder is higher than the other, my hips are uneven, and on and on.

I'll never stand straight in this life. I've had to accept that.

Some things we just can't straighten up, no matter how hard we try. Bodies, relationships, problems of all kinds. Can you identify?  We're all crooked in one way or another.

There's a little phrase tucked in an ancient prophet's writings that I think about sometimes. "The crooked shall be made straight" (Isaiah 40:4). When ya can't straighten up, a promise like this offers comfort and hope. It's a promise I'm banking on!

I bet you are, too.  

Finding Focus

"Can you wait a minute, hon?" someone from the ER asked as she pointed to a wheelchair and turned her attention to another patient.
 
"Uh . . . sure." I tried to breath as I lowered my bulky self into the chair. I had been in labor all day and had no intention of arriving early enough to walk the halls as I had done with my firstborn. By now, the clock read 9:35 p.m. Maybe I'd waited too long.
 

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Finally, after a bumpy elevator ride, I somehow got into a hospital gown and stumbled toward the bed. A quick check revealed it was time . . . time to push. But the contractions, one on top of the other, got the best of me. I lost my focus.
 
The nurse gently took my face in her hands, looked me in the eye, and spoke calmly and firmly. "Sarah! It won't be long now. Come on. You can do this."
 
That's all I needed. Less than thirty minutes later, we welcomed our beautiful Sharon Joy into the world. I cuddled her close and focused on her tiny face. Twenty-nine years ago today. Happy Birthday, Sharon!
 
Sometimes, life's circumstances seem a little like birthing a baby. Maybe we've been working on a project for a long time. Or, a difficult relationship seems to be wearing on us. Or, keeping up our health regime seems overwhelming. Or, it seems like forever until we will finally finish an important goal. It's easy to feel panicky, to lose our bearings. Maybe all we need is for someone to encourage us, to help us focus.

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Today, let's find someone to encourage. We all need to hear: "It won't be long now. You can do this. I know you can."

An unnamed New Testament author must have needed a little focus, too, when he wrote, "Looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith . . . Consider him . . . lest you become weary and discouraged in your souls."(Hebrews 12:2).

Need a little focus today? Look up!

Change What?

I've spent the last week editing . . . editing my own personal experience story.

I pored over news reports, medical records, and books. I dusted off journals and found the box of cards, letters, emails, and photos. I let my mind wander down hospital hallways, beside hushed, uncertain bedsides, and into the busy rooms of rehab centers. Once again, I looked into the misty eyes of my children. I remembered, with gratitude and guilt, how they and others cared for me and my husband over many months. I pondered multiple memories that poured over me in vivid color.



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At my keyboard, I added important elements and deleted insignificant or inaccurate details. I made a change here, a clarification there. I want every page to be as close to the truth as possible without deleting the heart and soul of the story.

My life's a little like my manuscript. I need a little editing now and again. A change here, an addition there. A different focus or way of relating to the people I love. I want to live as close to the truth as possible without deleting the heartbeat of who God is shaping me to become.

Can you relate?

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Just as I've been studying primary sources to write about our experience, we need a point of reference for our lives. There's value in poring over the gospels, dusting off our journals filled with struggles and blessings, finding the box of encouragement and wisdom. Sometimes we need to take time to let our minds wander down the hallways of our hearts and once again look into the eyes of those who believe in us, want us to succeed . . . and pray for us. As we ponder the sacred echoes of truth, may we allow the Master Writer to edit our days. Even a few small changes from His hand can transform us and give us hope.

 

God grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And wisdom to know the difference.

St Francis of Assisi