Labor Day

“We have good times and bad; nothing in life is certain." ~ Ecclesiastes 7:14  

Allison scanned the birthing room savoring the experience . . . the coziness, the candles, the music that calmed the tension.  Everything was perfect!

They knew they’d wanted a second child.  Today she was about to meet her new son.  Her heart could hardly contain the excitement.  This time life will change for good.

When her infant daughter had been born jaundiced 3 years ago, she prayed that if God would make Chloe better, she’d do anything.  She’d go to church; she’d donate to the poor.  She just wanted Chloe healthy.

When she did get better, her appreciation was raw and genuine.  But it wasn’t long before real life set in and Allison was complaining to Tom once again about chipped Formica and how much she wanted granite countertops.

How quickly her gratitude faded.  Having a fit, healthy child makes it easy to forget the painful memories of when they’d thought something might be seriously wrong.

She pushed one last time and watched as a tiny little body appeared, arms flailing, voice wailing.  His eyes bored into her soul.  That was the defining moment of her life.

Aiden was taken to the warming bed where nurses smiled uneasily as they checked him over.  Something was wrong.

Soon the pediatrician swaddled Aiden snugly in a blanket and handed him back to Allison.  Dr. Li knelt down next to the bed so that she could look up at Allison, not down.  She smiled warmly, never taking her eyes off the new Mom.

I need to tell you something," the doctor said. 

Nothing could’ve prepared them for the words that would come next.  Dr. Li smiled again and squeezed Allison’s hand.  “The first thing I'm going to tell you is that your son Aiden is beautiful.  And perfect.  But there are some features that lead me to believe he has Down syndrome."

Time froze.   

Allison cried – hard.  She’d wonder later: Did Aiden feel love?  Did I tell him "happy birthday" and smother him with happy kisses?

Then Tom smiled as his eyes welled with tears.  “Aiden is one lucky little boy.  We adore him already," he said scooping him up and hugging him lovingly.  “Thank you Lord,” he continued, “for Aiden and the great things You’ve planned for our family . . . for our son.  Amen”

Over the course of the next several days, Allison too fell in love.  Her tears soon turned to tears of joy; she knew they were destined to be together.  Aiden, their special, energetic, perfect, unique boy would provide a constant reminder that life’s not about granite countertops.  Life’s about love and truly experiencing the beauty we’re meant to know.

Precious Lord, You tell me that You’ll never leave me to walk alone, nor to carry these burdens by myself.  But sometimes I don’t hear Your voice.  Stay close to me, and help me to remember this life is but a moment compared to Your promised eternity.  Amen

Grampo's Gift

“All who believe in Him shall have eternal life." ~ John 6:40

Today was a special day.  Shawn wasn't exactly sure why though; that's the thing about being 4 years old - nobody tells you anything.   Technically speaking, he was 5 if you count the 9 months he was being 'borned.'

But Shawn had a keen eye; that's why he knew today was different.  So he wanted to get Grampo something special to mark the occasion.  After all, Grampo had given him the first gift he could remember - a small metal truck.  He took it from his pocket and examined it.  It didn't matter that some of its paint was gone.  Grampo said that gave it 'character' - whatever that meant. 

Grampo’s truck had character too; it was missing a lot of paint.  He wished he could buy him a new F-something like the ones on TV.  But Shawn had only a few coins in his bank.  Sometimes Grampo would let him ride in the back.   He never treated Shawn like the baby everyone else did.  

Grampo would always put down whatever he was doing when Shawn arrived, pour 2 big glasses of lemonade, and listen to whatever he had to tell him.  Some days they worked on a big puzzle, or washed the truck, or went to the library – always together.

Suddenly Shawn got an idea; just in time.  "Time to get ready pal," Shawn's mom yelled.

He put on his church clothes and slipped into his best shoes.  They hurt a little when he walked but today was for Grampo. 

The family arrived at a strange building.  The room inside was filled with flowers.  Grampo slept in a beautiful box at the very front.  Dad said softly, "He went to live with the angels, pal.  Would you like to see him?”

They walked to where Grampo was sleeping.  People crying confused Shawn.  He knew from Sunday School that because Grampo loved Jesus, the angels would wake him up soon and take him to a super cool place.  He’d be very happy there; and even get to hang out with Jesus. 

Grampo rested peacefully.  He wasn’t wearing his play clothes though; the angels might not recognize him in that suit.

Shawn reached into the coffin a placed the small truck that Grampo had given him years ago.  “I love you Grampo,” he whispered.  You can give my truck to a boy in heaven who doesn't have one."  Then he smiled and found a place to sit.

Just before the Funeral Director closed the coffin for the final time, he noticed the small truck beneath the old man's folded hands.  But when he reached down to remove it - it disappeared.  Had he only imagined the toy, or had the old man taken it with him to the great beyond?

Dear Jesus, I miss Grampo, but someday I’ll see him again because I love You too!  Please take of him until I get there.  We’ll have a lot to catch up on.  ~ Love Shawn

Thunderstruck

“Let God lead!” ~ Psalm 118:8

Carrie ran every morning.  She used the time to plan; to frame the upcoming day’s strategies.   Every event had a purpose - she left almost nothing to chance.

The roar of thunder on this spring morning sent a swallow cutting through the air like a surgeon’s scalpel.  As the skies darkened and the wind strengthened, Carrie picked up her pace hoping to avoid the inevitable downpour.  She hadn’t planned for this.  It was going to be a wet run! 

The street was canopied with majestic oak trees, like the ones you see on plantation roads.  A drop here, a drop there.  Soon it rained cats and dogs, and a few frogs too!  The skies grew sharp and brilliant; she dared not stay under the tree’s cover for fear of being struck by lightning.

Then the clouds burst; a gentle rain turned torrential. 

A stranger motioned Carrie to his porch.   She’d seen him before; kinda cute.  Gorgeous really!  She thought maybe he’d said hello one day but dismissed it as wishful thinking on her part.  Out of breath and soaked to the skin, Carrie climbed his steps two at a time.

“Are you crazy?” he asked in a charming sort of way.

“Probably a little,” she replied flirtatiously.  “It’s just that I love to run, especially in the rain!”

He looked at her quizzically, inviting further explanation.

“My younger brother died years ago,” she began.  I often feel his presence when the rain falls.  Sometimes I can’t help but cry.”

“Why’s that?” he questioned.  “Why does rain make you cry?”

“Oh, it’s not the rain!” Carrie continued.  “The rain frightened him.  I calmed him by explaining that it was just God watering His plants.  When the wind blew down limbs and leaves, it was God’s way of pruning His trees.”  An awkward pause followed.

“Thanks for sharing your porch,” she offered.    Sensing her discomfort, he invited her in for hot tea.   They made small talk.  Then Carrie started for home surrendering her cell number and the hope of a future date.

Tonight, as thunder rumbled in the distance, she reflected back on that fateful day nearly 2 years ago.  After spending countless nights in bars and night clubs fitted in red-carpet-style (edgy) outfits decorated with perfect hair and nails, she’ll marry the man she met that rainy day wearing sweat pants and a T-shirt.  She smiled into the mirror, “God must have a great sense of humor!”

Love is an incredible thing, the kind of gift that puts purpose in your life and happiness in your heart.  It isn’t found on the internet – it simply happens, and often when least expected.  But God’s love is always present and free for the asking . . . unconditional, indestructible, eternal.

Lord, Your love for us is so overwhelming it can take our breath away, so forgiving it can make us weep uncontrollably.  Sometimes I deny it, fight it or try to ignore it.  Help me to understand that I will always be incomplete without it.  Amen

A Recovering Racist

“Faith in Christ is what makes all of you equal with each other." ~ Galatians 3:28

Though she hated to admit it, Sandra was raised a racist.  No, it wasn’t her parents but a whole society that taught children to view non-whites as inferior.

She grew up in a blue collar, suburban, primarily Caucasian city with only a scant few minorities in her classes at school.  Virtually no attempts were made to expose her to other cultures.  Sandra was basically conditioned from birth until high school to believe ‘white’ was normal; anything else was an uncommon exception.

Her high school had a few more non-whites, but they were still a clear minority.  Even Sandra would admit that she wasn’t the most open-minded, charitable person back then.

Things became more confusing when she got to college.  There she encountered more non-white classmates.  For the first time, Sandra had to actually temper herself; she couldn’t be openly racist anymore.  Too many people could (and would) confront her intolerance. 

At twenty-four she moved from a sea of white to one of the most culturally diverse cities in the country where Muslims represented nearly half the population.  It was unsettling to go from being the distinct majority, to living in a neighborhood where it was about even.

Then came 9-11 and later the Boston Marathon bombings.  It wasn’t hard for Sandra to understand why Muslims were being avoided, ridiculed and disparaged.  Even people of other races and religions treated Muslim like filth.  And since most known terrorists were Muslim, Sandra feared being blown apart, killed or tortured. 

She entertained thoughts of moving back to an ostensibly white neighborhood – for their safety and sanity.  What if her young son Evan decided to follow Allah instead of Christ; to read the Qur’an instead of the Bible, to seek eternal paradise instead of eternal salvation?

As she pondered those thoughts, Evan bounded up the front steps and greeted her with his usual bear hug.  “My, you’re in a good mood today!” she said.  “You must have gotten a good grade on your spelling test.”

“Better than that, Mom,” he countered.  I made a new friend!”

Curious, Beth asked many questions before revealing her true intent.  “What color is she?”

“Oops!” relied an embarrassed Even.  “I forgot to ask.  Sorry, Mom!”

Pure innocence!  This it seemed was certainly a big part of why overtly racist people living in the same place their entire lives are unlikely to change - because nothing and no one is forcing them to.  No desire to travel or experience other cultures, just a mentality of, “Everything I need is here, why would I need to change?”

“Bring her home anytime, Evan,” Beth said.  If she’s your friend, she can be mine too.”

“Oh Compassionate God, bestow on me a heart, which like a crystal vase, may be illumined with the light of Your love.   Confer upon me the insight, strength and courage to transform this world into rose-garden of spiritual bounty.”  ~ Abdu’l-Bahá

From the Shadows

“Respect one another warmly as Christians." ~ Romans 12:10

Some called us the ‘Invisible Kids’ – socially awkward and unathletic.  We were the ones no one wanted as partners for class projects.  

Like any kid, I wanted to be liked and to have lots of adoring friends.  But I also wanted to lead, not follow.  I tried desperately to get involved, but everywhere I looked, an obstacle blocked my way.  

I ran for freshman, sophomore, junior and senior class president, and all eight semesters of student council.  I lost every race.  Yep, there was no doubt about my social leprosy.

But while I might have been a pimply kid with little athletic prowess, I was tough as a timber wolf inside.  My strength came from strong parents who infused in me some critical life lessons.

First - success will be determined not by how you get along with those who are like you, but by how you relate with those who are not like you.  Second - happiness will be determined not by your experience with things that go your way, but rather by the way you handle yourself when things don’t.

Two other things helped me endure my standing as a social outcast.  One of those was my church youth group.  I never lacked for things to do or friends to do them with.

My other safety net was the support of teachers; people who saw me as a courageous kid who endured ridicule and kept a smile in the process.

I’m telling this story because even today, 35 years later, kids who are “different” continue to suffer the devastating effects of harassment.  Every year, nearly 25,000 young Americans will commit suicide, often as the result of despair brought about by “not fitting in.”  Suicide is the third-leading cause of death among teenagers in this country.

Despite how bad things may seem, life has an amazing ability to correct itself.  Today I enjoy the spoils of a very successful business, an amazingly supportive family, and the laughter of my own church Youth Group.  I attended our class’ 20-year reunion not as the class president, but as the mayor of this city.

Listen up teens!  Statistically, popularity in high school is a poor indicator of whether or not you will be successful as an adult.  In fact, there are instances where being less unpopular in school can give you an advantage.  The kids who aren't trying to fit in with the crowd are less likely to succumb to peer pressure that can have potentially negative effects, such as drinking, drugs and sex.  Also, kids who aren't constantly struggling to keep up with the popular kids can focus their attention on achieving their own ambitions.

Lord, please open my eyes.  Please let me see those around me that are in need of my compassion.  Compel me to listen to them, to hear their needs.  Give me the heart to be interested in their troubles and provide for me the means to help them.  Amen

Hard to Ignore

“A friend loves at all times, but a brother was born for times of adversity." ~ Proverbs 17:17

At 16, Alex’s little brother was the misery of her life.  What a brat!  Nearly six years her junior, Brian was so annoying.  He frequently walked into Alex’ room whenever he felt like it!  He just pushed open the door and walked in, without even asking permission!  In Alex’s mind, Brian was breaking and entering, a crime that should be severely punished. 

Of course Mom offered little help.  She always saw everything Brian’s way.  For instance, Brian often snuck up behind her and without warning, stabbed a pen into Alex’ back.  When Alex pushed him away harmlessly, Brian fell dramatically, screaming and bawling until Mom entered the room to see what was going on. 

Of course she sided with cute little Brian while rocking him back and forth on her lap and giving Alex (who by now had a noticeable mark on her back and was in some pain), a horribly evil glare that says, "I'll talk to you later about this one, young lady."

That day, 6-year-old “baby” brother went into Alex’s room as usual uninvited.  This was the last straw – time to teach the little cretin a message once and for all she thought.  Alex clenched her fist and yelled at Brian without even looking up.  When it was obvious that Brian remained undeterred, Alex turned around to yell again.  She noticed Brian had offered a plate of homemade peanut butter cookies (her favorite).  “Sorry,” Brian acknowledged, “I just wanted to share these with you."

That incident took place almost 21 years ago.  Brian never really got to enjoy his life because he was always working, trying to make a living so when he got older he could enjoy it.  He never got that chance, cheated by a monster called cancer.   

Over the years, Brian and Alex had become much more than siblings.  They were best friends.  Alex always believed that they would grow old together someday living next door to each other.  She never expected they’d part company so soon.

They used to laugh about those old days and all the tricks Brian use to pull off on Alex.  Now her heart ached for one of Brian’s childish, irritating pranks.  Her soul missed a very important part. 

In all generations there will always be siblings annoying each other. The moral to the above story is, as much as siblings can annoy us on a daily basis, family is everything!  You do (in most cases) love your brothers or sisters more than they will ever know.  As adults, those ‘annoying sibling antics' mature into 'fond memories.'

Heavenly Father, thank you for brothers and sisters (in Christ) who never grow old.  We know each other as we always were.  We know each other's hearts.  We share private family jokes.  We remember family feuds and secrets, family pains and sorrows.  We live outside the burden of time.  Amen

Thorn Blessings

“Nobody picks grapes or figs from thorn bushes; only good trees produce fruit!” ~ Matthew 7:16-17

Kendra felt lower than whale poop; her life totally sucked right now.

During this Thanksgiving week she was supposed to have delivered a son.  But a traffic accident ended their dream.  She’d only been pregnant 12 weeks, but those were the happiest days of her life.  They were making plans, their parents were ecstatic. 

"Thanksgiving?  Thankful for what?" she wondered.  For a drunk driver who survived the crash unharmed?  For an airbag that saved her life but took the life of her unborn child?  For the emptiness that now consumed her?

She entered the Florist shop looking for something that might bring a little cheer to their holiday table.  The shopkeeper greeted her briefly as she appeared from the workroom in back carrying an arrangement of long-stemmed thorns.  The beautiful roses had been removed!

Kendra waited for the customer’s response.  Was this a joke?  Who’d want rose stems with no flowers!  She waited for laughter, but gravity prevailed.

"Uh?" sputtered Kendra, "that lady just left with box of waste.  Her box had no flowers!"

"Yep, that’s the Special,” replied Betty – the store owner.  I call it the Thorn Blessing Bouquet."

"You can't tell me someone is willing to pay for that!" exclaimed Kendra.

"That woman came into the shop 3 years ago, with little to be thankful for.  She’d lost her father to cancer, the family business was failing, and her son was into drugs.  I’d just lost my own husband," continued Betty," and for the first time in my life, I faced the holidays alone – no children or family nearby, and too much debt to allow any travel.  I was terrified!"

"What’d you do?" asked Kendra.

"I learned to be thankful for thorns," answered the clerk softly.  "I've always enjoyed the 'flowers' of life, but it took ‘thorns’ to show me the beauty of God's comfort.  He reassures us when we're troubled, and from His example we learn to comfort others.  Now I praise Him for my roses, and thank Him for my thorns.”

Kendra thought about Betty’s comment.  Truthfully, she didn’t want comfort.  She’d lost a baby and was angry with God.  Tears warmed her cheeks.  For the first time since the accident, she relaxed her grip on bitterness.  "I’ll take twelve long-stemmed thorns, please," she choked.

"I hoped you would," Betty said kindly.  

"Thank you, how much do I owe you?" Kendra asked.

"Nothing . . . nothing but a promise to allow God to heal your heart.  The first year's arrangement is always on me."  She smiled before attaching the following card:

“My God, I’ve thanked You a thousand times for my roses, but never once for my thorns.  Teach me the glory of the cross I bear; the value of my thorns.  Show me that through my tears, the colors of Your rainbow look much more brilliant.  Amen”

Prayer from the Quiet

“Whenever in need, pray bravely before the throne of our merciful God. ~ Hebrews 4:16

The evening was hot; dripping with the humidity so characteristic of the Appalachians in July.  But that never dampened the spirits of the hundred or so young volunteers and their adult leaders.  Tonight was a celebration – of their accomplishments, of grace-filled new friends, of their collective love of Christ.

They’d travelled here from several states to renovate substandard housing; a fancy term for “warmer, safer, and drier.”  Thiers was a transformational ministry.  By viewing how those less fortunate live, volunteers often redirect planned vocations.  And of course, recipients of improved housing are transformed as well.

It had been a remarkable week already: hard but productive work; emotions that ran the gamut; a heightened state of grace.  God had clearly made His presence known as is so typical when one serves for His purpose.

As they circled for evening prayer to thank their Lord for the dinner meal and a myriad of other blessings, those gathered froze. The Center Director asked “Would someone like to lead us in prayer?”

Carl (age 57) wanted to disappear.  He stared at the ground, desperately looking for an escape. “God please don’t let them volunteer me.”   

Jamie (22) closed her eyes, hoping the act would enable her to become temporarily invisible.  “I’m not very poetic,” she dreaded.

Brian (16) immediately felt vulnerable and defenseless, even with so much open space around him.  If they did make the mistake of calling on him, he could only remember Ben Stiller’s prayer in Meet the Parents:  "Oh... Dear Lord three things we pray . . .”

As seconds that felt like hours passed, young Shay (8) stepped forward.  “I’d like to pray tonight,” the young girl offered in a confident yet child-like voice.  “Will y’all bow your heads please.”

“God,” she began.  Thank you for this meal, bless those who prepared it, and please bless those without food tonight, in Jesus name, A-men.”

The crowd let out a humongous AMEN, as if they were all relieved that her prayer was short but mostly to applaud the courage of the young, sweet child whose God was real enough that she was willing to stand out and run the risk of looking weird to acknowledge Him.  There was something refreshing about the humility in seeing food as a gift, rather than as something deserved or earned.  

Sometimes all it takes is one prayer to change everything.

Prayer is as important to our soul as air is to our body!  We need prayer to stay connected to the God who created us.  And praying out loud in public is a form of leadership.  You don’t need fancy words—in fact as Shay demonstrated, they just get in the way.

Lord Jesus, it’s natural to feel self-conscious, or shy about my faith in public.  Embolden my faith, knowing that the power of the Holy Spirit is greater than any perceived social awkwardness. And please don’t let me sound crazy either.  Amen