Missing Grandma

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted." ~ Matthew 5:4

Holidays are tough when there’s an empty chair … and even emptier hearts.  This will be my first Thanksgiving without my Grandma; she died just weeks before my high school graduation.

It's never about the turkey for me, or the stuffing, or even the fresh-baked pies.  Don't get me wrong, I love all that stuff; Thanksgiving wouldn't be the same without it.  But a day that's all about thanking God for what we have (each other, our health and the food we eat), that’s magic!

Grandma's entire family grew up on a small farm in Iowa.  None of her 13 siblings (including her) were able to attend college, yet she lived a blessed life because “as long as you never stop learning, you’ll never stop growing."

When I walked in the house after our 10-hour trip from Michigan, she would enthusiastically greet me at the door with a hug that smelled of cinnamon and confirmed years of humility and sacrifice.  Memories flooded in faster than I could process.

I’ll not forget the gentle way she used to carry me when I wasn’t yet able to walk; the whiff of warm sugar cookies perfectly timed for my arrival; endless games of Old Maid played with time-worn cards; the sweet taste of her homemade strawberry preserves on buttered toast.

She always sat closest to the kitchen for Thanksgiving dinner, but only after every dish was carefully placed on the table.  This year, Mom rearranged where everyone sat hoping to make her absence less noticeable.  The prayer wasn’t even sad, but we all cried anyway.

If only I had one more day with Grandma, I’d start by thanking her for being born.  She started this crazy family and her legacy lives on.

I’d thank her for her ‘mastery’ in the kitchen.  We spent some memorable times together there.  Her cooking was the best.

I’d thank her for the examples she set.  The love she and Grandpa shared provided the perfect model of how a marriage should work.  The love she had for her three boys set a prime example of how to be a great Mom.  And finally, the love that she had for her grandkids showed us all why loving someone is so important.

If you're fortunate enough to have your grandmother in your life, you’re one of the lucky ones.  I've never in my life met a woman as special as mine.  I'm not sure if it's the way she gracefully handled any situation, or if it was her ability to love every family member regardless of their failings.  But there's something about that woman that makes me strive to be just like her.

Father, fill the empty space in our hearts and at our table.  Teach us to savor the moments we have with one another, to rightly remember what we’ve lost, but also to look forward in hope to what You’ve promised for the future.  Amen

Blind Faith

“Faith is the conviction of things not seen." ~ Hebrews 11:1

It’s a familiar story; a child who simply skipped adolescence.  She’d been dealt a crappy hand in a country of slaves - not to humans but to a life of poverty and hunger to which escape was nearly impossible.  Barely a teenager, she married a man more than 30 years older who forced her into prostitution to support their six children.

Adding to an already-desperate situation, her third child, a ‘preemie’ whose eyes had not yet fully matured, was born sightless.   She believed his blindness was God's payback for the things she’d done wrong in her life.

The child, who eventually changed his name to Eivets, grew up undeterred by the “3 strikes against him (black, blind and poor).”

He was a normal kid who occasionally got into trouble.  Normal except that he mastered every instrument he tried (from kitchen spoons, to the harmonica and later the piano).

His mother eventually fled to Detroit, divorced and found work.  They joined the Whitestone Baptist Church where young Eivets developed a personal relationship with God while expanding his musical talents.

God spoke to me, ‘I will make you rich in the spirit of inspiration, to inspire others as well as create music to encourage the world to a place of oneness, hope and positivity.’  “I believed Him and not them!” Eivets recounted.

There he blossomed into a genuine prodigy, learning piano, drums, and harmonica all by the age of nine.  Two years later, while performing for some of his friends, Eivets was discovered by Ronnie White of the Miracles who helped arrange an audition with Motown’s Berry Gordy.  Gordy signed the kid immediately under the new name Little Stevie Wonder.  (E-i-v-e-t-s backward).

The rest is history!

A near fatal accident in his early twenties strengthened Wonder’s Christian faith at a crucial time.  A log rolled off a truck and through the window of his tour bus, leaving him in a four-day coma and a permanent loss of smell.  “I was really just a walking pair of ears,” he joked.  “God kept me alive to use His musical gifts to help and encourage more people.”

For over 5 decades, Stevie Wonder remains at the top, with more than 30 Top 10 singles, over 150 million albums sold, 26 Grammys, one Academy Award, and sold-out shows around the world.  Sometimes though, the numbers don't tell the whole story.  He still works tirelessly to promote peace, love and understanding for all.  And gives all the credit where it’s due.

“We have a great relationship.  If He didn’t want me to sing, He wouldn’t have given me the talent to do it.  He’s always been like a Father to me.  For everything I’ve received [in life] I give all praise to God.”

Father God, I’ve achieved nothing compared to what You’ve done for me. I truly believe that You do miracles through people of faith expressing practical love for others rather than people of faith living lives which cause division and pain.” ~ Stevie Wonder

Guarding the Unknowns

“Here rests in honored glory an American soldier known but to God."

They can’t be returned home to friends or loved ones.  No one knows for certain how, when or even ‘if’ they actually died.  Their remains are memorialized by a cube-shaped sarcophagus on a grassy hillside overlooking Arlington Cemetery; a solemn tribute to the soldiers who died in combat but whose remains aren’t identifiable.  They remain, perpetually, soldiers who not only gave up their lives for this country, but theie identities as well.

There’s perhaps no greater honor than to be selected as a Tomb Guard.  They’re the best of the army’s most elite 3^rd Infantry Regiment – superbly conditioned with unblemished military records.

If recommended, applicants complete an intense training period covering weapons, ceremonial procedures, cemetery entombments, uniform preparation, and military orders.

Tomb sentinels uphold a lofty standard.  They must commit two years of life guarding the tomb, live in a barracks under the tomb, and cannot drink any alcohol on or off duty for the rest of their lives.  They cannot swear in public and cannot disgrace the uniform or the tomb in any way.

The ‘Honor Guard’ is the Army’s least-awarded badge.  It’s the only one that can be revoked (even after they’ve retired) for any act that “disrespects” the Badge.   Only 400 are presently worn (4 by females).

For the first 6 months of duty, Guards can’t talk to anyone or watch TV.  They spend 5 hours daily preparing their uniforms (polishing brass buttons and hand-shining shoes; wrinkles, folds or lint are absolutely unacceptable.).  That’s followed by 3 hours of “mirror time” during which they spin their rifles, check their posture and stumble in private so they’re ‘perfect’ in public.

Guards “walk the mat” in front of the Tomb regardless of weather, sporadic taunts from the crowd, or occasional insect attacks.  They’re only allowed to break ceremonial position to tell unruly visitors to “remain silent while at the national shrine.”  The tomb’s been continually guarded since July 2, 1937.

Sentinels walk exactly 21 steps, then turn and face the Tomb for 21 seconds.  They then turn to face back down the mat, change the weapon to the outside shoulder (always between the Tomb and the audience), then step off for another 21 steps down the mat.  Twenty-one represents a 21-gun salute, the nation’s highest military honor.

Their shoes are specially made with very thick soles to keep the heat and cold from their feet. There are metal heel plates that extend to the top of the shoe in order to make the loud click as they come to a halt.  “I walk my tour in humble reverence … with dignity and perseverance!”

At no other place in America does the sound of click-clacking steps mean so much to so many!

“It’s he who commands the respect I protect, her bravery that made us proud.  Surrounded by well-meaning crowds by day, alone in the thoughtful peace of night, this soldier will in honored glory rest under my eternal vigilance.” ~ Sentinel’s Creed

Personal Day

“The seasons display God’s true craftsmanship." ~ Psalm 19:1

Rachel woke early as usual, ready for another grueling ride on the corporate carousel.  She was nearing her wit’s end at work; the strain really beginning to surface.  Lately she hadn’t been able to concentrate, think clearly, or manage her emotions effectively.

“This may be the perfect time for a Personal Day!”  She wasn’t in the midst of a critical project; her absence wouldn’t be a problem for the team today.

She arose from the warmth of a down comforter, lit a vanilla candle, and started a new book.  The air was just warm enough to leave the window open; its gentle breeze fanned the pages forward.

After several alluring chapters, Rachel donned warm socks and a thick sweater.  She considered spending the day vegging out and catching up on her favorite TV shows.  But she treated herself to something far healthier: sunshine, fresh air, and a peaceful walk among falling leaves.

Autumn was her favorite season.  It had its own unique way of bringing beauty by stimulating the senses, by making what could be dreary into the most enchanting natural art.  It brought a fresh start, feeding the soils as is the natural way of life; the grand finale of a successful season.

When Rachel entered the forest her spirits soared beyond the colorful boughs above.  Brilliant shafts of sunlight stroked the carpet of reds and golds before her like a path for Royals.

Rachel bunched her scarf up like a pillow and laid on it on the grass.  She spent the next hour watching the sky as leaves tumbled toward her, dancing from branch to ground, each a colorful flag roaming freely.  The trees beckoned her shout out loud, just to hear a voice echo amidst their mahogany flesh.

Before heading home, Rachel browsed an open-air market shopping for the perfect products for dinner with a friend tonight.  She picked up a loaf of fresh bread, a few vegetables for soup and salad, and a jug of fresh apple cider.

Walking home on what had been a perfect autumn day, Rachel found herself thinking about life’s impermanence.  Time passes … from season to season.  We experience the budding of life in spring and the flowerings and profusions of summer.  Now the leaves fall and bare branches remind us of the fleeting nature of all things and the challenge to live every day to the fullest.

Autumn is the perfect time to hear God’s voice amidst the sound of leaves crunching and the scent of pumpkin-flavored coffees.  She closed eyes in prayer, comforted when He whispered Truth to her: No matter the changes that come her way, He is the same yesterday, today, and forever.  He is eternally unchanging and faithful - no matter the season, no matter the circumstances.

Father God, thank You for Your unfailing love for me, Your blessings, and goodness.  Thank You for Scriptures that guide me and see me through times of uncertainty and remind me of Your promises, plan, and provision.  Amen

The End of the Leash

“Some angels choose fur instead of wings." ~ Unknown

Kevin came into their lives thirteen years ago.  A human name for the mixed-breed pup seemed fitting because for all practical purposes, he was treated like one of the family.  And in return, the dog adored children (they had but one), travel (he lived for exploration), and his family.

One morning, Natalie (9), first noticed that he wasn’t quite right.  He’d slowed way down, wouldn’t stop panting even in cool weather and had difficulty walking.  Kevin was finding it hard to get comfortable sleeping and would stare at her, intensely - never wanting to leave her side.

After the Vet’s diagnosis, they all clung to the hope that that he’d go peacefully in his sleep.  But Dad reasoned that dying ‘naturally’ wouldn’t necessarily mean Kevin’s death would be peaceful, quick or calm.  Potentially, it could be terribly distressing.

The time had come … he’d reached the end of his leash.

The day of Kevin’s procedure, the whole family gathered to spend the day with him.  They watched movies together, cuddled him, talked to him, sat in the sun with him, took pictures, and of course made him a delicious steak.  If you’ve ever had a dog, you know that table food is all they think about.

On his final car ride together, they drove up the Coast with his head out the window soaking up the sun and the smell of the sea, which would be Kevin’s final resting place when they scattered his ashes.

Upon arrival at the Vet’s, Natalie picked Kevin up and carried him inside.  He placed his soft, wet nose against her neck and looked up through beautiful brown eyes for the last time.  “I’m sorry,” she muttered softly before kissing him lightly on the head.  “Thank you!”

Wrapped in his favorite blanket, Kevin looked up, trusting them implicitly as he’d done all his life.  He looked exhausted.  He knew.

Within a few minutes, he slipped away peacefully.

Dad and Mom took it the hardest.  After all, they’d know Kevin from an 8-week-old pup.  Mom sobbed openly; even Dad wiped away a few tears blaming his allergies for the watering eyes.

“It’s an unfortunate truth,” Dad said, “that dogs are relatively short-lived.  Their deaths always seem premature and unfair, even if they’ve lived to an advanced age.”

Natalie, however, seemed to accept Kevin’s transition without remorse or confusion.  “I know why!” she piped in.  What came out of her mouth next stunned everyone.

“People are born,” she continued, “so that they can learn how to love and be nice to each other.  Well, dogs already know how to do that, so they don’t have to stay as long.”

I’ve never heard a more comforting explanation.

Faithful friend, loyal companion, we say goodbye for now, until we meet again.  You have kept us warm at night, protected our home and offered us unconditional love.  For this, Kevin, we thank you and will remember you forever.  Love, Natalie

Prison Without Guards

"By His blood your sins are forgiven." ~ Ephesians 1:7

Prisons by nature are unpleasant places.  You’d think that after over 30 years in prison ministry, Charles Colson (ex-Watergate felon and founder of Prison Fellowship - a global ministry for prisoners, ex-cons and their families) had seen it all.

So when he visited Brazil’s Humaita Prison he expected the worst.  Prisons in developing countries are notoriously filthy, dangerous and neglected.  Inmates maintain order in the form of rigid, gang-controlled hierarchies where brutality rules.

But when Colson visited Humaita, he was struck by its cleanliness and openness.  The cells were orderly; beds neatly made.  Security was completely compromised - no armed guards or high walls.  Instead, it’s run on Christian principles of love of God and respect for each other.

Once a federal penitentiary, it’s now operated as an alternative prison with but 2 full-time staff.  The rest of the work is done by the 700+ inmates serving time for everything from murder and assault to robbery and drug-related crimes.

Every man is assigned another inmate to whom he’s accountable.   Additionally, each prisoner is assigned a volunteer mentor from the outside who works with him during his term and after his release.  Prisoners take classes on character development and are encouraged to participate in educational and vocational training.

But the heart of Humaita’s success is its faith-faith based approach.  The prison is not limited to Christian inmates.  But you couldn’t stay there very long without coming to know Christ.

During his visit, Colson attended a chapel service where several inmates told how they’d been ‘saved.’  Many had already made restitution for their crimes.  When an inmate enters Humaita, his shackles are removed and he’s told, “Here, your heart is handcuffed by love, and you’re watched over by God.”

After the church service, Colson’s guide asked if he’d like to see the ‘punishment’ room - a dark, narrow cell once used to subdue disruptive prisoners.  He further explained that the cell now holds only one prisoner.

When the heavy steel door swung opened, Colson wasn’t overcome by the stench of sweating bodies … but the whiff of fresh flowers.  An altar graced one end of the room.  Above it hung a carving of Jesus on the cross; a sign read, 'We’re together.'  The guide pointed to the crucifix and said, “Jesus is the prisoner who’s taking penance for us all.”

The secret to Humaita’s success is that criminals come to learn of a Savior who, like them, was branded a criminal, and bore the penalty for our sins.  He served their sentence; they are forgiven!

And if you are wondering whether this alternative prison approach works, Brazil’s government reports a 74% percent reoffending rate.  By comparison, Humaita’s recidivism rate is 4%.

Thank You Lord, for doing for us what we could never do for ourselves.  You made it possible for self-centered, prideful, and disobedient people to be forgiven and brought into a loving and personal relationship with You by the blood of Your son Jesus.  Amen

Love Grows

“Children are a gift from the Lord; they are a real blessing." ~ Psalm 127:3

Malik was a selfish teenager; for him the world that mattered stopped at the tip of his nose.

Later in life, he’d freely admit to spending most of his adolescent years thinking only about himself and taking care of his own needs.

He wasn’t particularly unkind.  He never spoke harshly to children or adults; other people were simply irrelevant to him.  As the youngest of 5 siblings, Malik busied himself with video games, Netflix and his own enjoyment.

He never really meant to be selfish.  More like emotionally blind, he just wouldn’t (or couldn’t) empathize with what other people thought or felt.  He let older siblings do most of the chores around the house.  It was his parent’s responsibility to worry about bills and problems.

That didn’t change in college either.  He studied hard but only to make his own life better.  Even when he began exploring his spirituality, it was only to increase his own pleasure.

Malik married before graduation and decided to start a family.  But reality soon became a nightmare.  Newly unemployed, deeply in debt, and with a new baby on the way, modern life had little sympathy for spoiled, pampered people.

In time he’d realize that all those struggles were slowly beating the selfishness out of him one problem at a time.  The answer crystallized one night shortly after his baby boy was born.

He woke in the middle of the night to the adorable sounds of ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ coming from the cradle.  When he reached for his child, Rafael’s tiny fingers curled around his pinky.

Malik gazed down into innocent, trusting eyes and a smile as sweet as fresh strawberries.  He picked Rafael up and nestled the infant close (newborns are as nearsighted as Mr. Magoo), talking softly and soothingly.

Malik felt his heart soar, expanding with love and pure joy.  In that moment, the truth became clear: it’s by sharing our love with others that we create joy, serve God, and make this world a better place.

We ourselves are sometimes the love that saves a life, gives another hope, shows someone the way through, or comforts somebody who is hurting.  We’ll never know how much is benefitted but we can be assured that if we only try, love will prevail and it will grow.

The more people you let into your heart, the bigger your heart gets.  The more love you give, the more love you have to give.  It just keeps growing.

So keep loving then.  Keep living.  Keep laughing.  Keep caring.  Keep sharing.  Keep helping our Heavenly Father to heal this world.  Keep growing your heart today, tomorrow, and always.

Almighty Father, when we look into the eyes of Your children, we know You are looking back at us.  It reminds us of the miracle of birth and all that has to happen for a child to be born.  We feel Your love; without You we would be numb.  Thank You, Amen.

Caring, not Curing

“Everything that happens in this world happens at the time God chooses." ~ Ecclesiastes 3: 1-2

Elan Choi grew up poor.  He parlayed several of the scholarships available to disadvantaged youth into a medical school education.  His final rotation through various medical specialties before choosing a residency program was hospice care, a specific type of palliative care, which focuses on caring, not curing.

The sweet smell of success and recognition intoxicated Elan.  He felt absolutely no guilt over those fixations, as our present culture made them near-impossible to resist.  So he’d chosen a profession where pride and selfish ambition often took priority over humility and compassion.

One dark Friday evening, Elan had just finished bathing, changing, and otherwise comforting most of the residents.  He turned to visit one last room.  As he opened the door of a pitch-black room, light from the hallway trickled in, illuminating an old man staring at a picture on his nightstand: a handsome, young man, arm slung round a beautiful woman with a contagious smile.

“May I join you,” Elan asked.

Turns out, the attractive, well-built man in the picture was indeed him; the woman was his late wife of almost seventy years who’d passed away a few months back.

“She was my whole life,” he began.  “I loved her so much.  She took such great care of our kids.  She cared about everyone more than herself.  I try to sleep a lot because when I’m awake I miss her even more.”  He shared all this, and much more, through recurrent bouts of tears.

Elan didn’t know what the man was dying of, or much about his career, hobbies, or interests.  All he saw at that moment – with every one of life’s essentials stripped away – was the man himself, and what he loved.  The most cherished films, books, and images of romance or devotion were merely counterfeits of this unceasing love.

The man was dying, yet had neither uncertainty nor regret on his mind.  He didn’t yearn for years forgotten, nor was he focused on an eternity ahead.  He was simply human, unapologetically consumed by a lifetime of love.  Elan, an insecure and status-obsessed twenty-eight-year-old, did not even attempt to form the right words.  He put his arm on the old man’s shoulder, gazed with him at his beautiful wife, and wept right alongside.

At that very moment, he made a life-changing residency choice.

He’d spend his career sitting and listening with those who embody both suffering and strength, vulnerability and courage; privileged to abide with people approaching their final days as alert and pain-free as possible.  He’d never regret it.

Thank God for hospice caregivers.  Their work is powerful because it doesn’t allow for easy, dressed-up answers.  When one enters the room of a dying stranger, there’s no room for pretense.  One is forced to courageously confront life’s awkward presentations.

Dear Lord, help those who provide hospice to be strong by reminding them that they never walk alone.  Guide, support, and comfort them, their patients and their families like only You can.  Amen

Look Up Child

“Oh Lord, (when all I feel is doubt) I hear you say “Look up child!” ~ Laura Daigle

Isabella woke to the gentle patter of rain on the hotel balcony and thunder rumbling from a distance.  She pushed the blankets off, immediately feeling the warmth of sleep drift away.  Swinging her feet over the side of the bed, she stood up and walked towards the window.

The sky was awash in shades of grey; their dingy color suggested an even drearier day.  Misery seeped into her pores like fog about to rain on her soul with even more sadness.  Before even getting dressed, Isabella decided to take extra tissues and an umbrella to the airport today.

She was on her way home minus that someone who’d been with her for more than a year.  That same person who’d promised to love her forever … only to leave when things got hard.  Where there was once love, light, and laughter - an aching void now surged.  Her heart was crushed; life seemed no longer worth living.

Once on-board, she settled into a window seat and watched as the plane taxied for take-off.  Outside, all she saw were cheerless, ashen clouds.  But as the plane gained altitude through the mist, they emerged into a sun-drenched world far above the disappointments left behind.

The same clouds that were hanging low just minutes before, so dark and gloomy from the underside, appeared totally different from God’s vantage point.  Radiant in their current splendor, they rose as soft mountain peaks, impossible for any would-be climber, yet simple for a dreamer.

That reality brought an important thought to bear; one Isabella tried to remember for the rest of her life.  She realized that, no matter how bleak or dismal a day might be, the sun always shines above the clouds.  That inspired courage, hope, and confidence that everything will be just fine.

It’s not always easy to trace God’s designs in our ill-planned hopes and visions.  But rest assured that if we’re called according to His purpose, and if we love God, all things do work out for good.  Who are we to question which way the winds of Providence shall blow, or how the Great Captain shall maneuver our ship through life’s storms?

Yes clouds will come.  They’re part of the fabric of everyday life.  But by God’s grace we need not be depressed by their presence.  Like the misty billows that float above us: 1) they protect us from the sun’s blinding glare; 2) they reveal God’s majestic glory; and 3) He speaks to us continually from their lofty height whether we sense His presence or not.

But never forget that God promises to guide you when you take your concerns to Him in prayer.  The sunshine of His love shines even into the darkest part of your life.

Look up child, towards the heavens and beyond the clouds!  Everything’s under control.  You’ll see that the suffering you experience now is nothing compared to the glory that I’ve planned for you here!” ~ God

Tell Laura

“Love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins." ~ 1 Peter 4:8

The night her sister turned 53, their Dad called to inform Sheila that her sister’s cancer had spread to multiple organs.  Her end was near.  She’d not wished her sister a happy birthday; they’d barely spoken in 3 years.

Racked with indecision, Sheila asked “Does Laura want me there?”

Through beeping monitors and the ventilator’s hiss, she heard her Dad repeating the question several times.  Her sister replied in a barely audible voice, “Yes.”

Sheila hung up and steadied herself, recalling their last conversation.  It’d started off OK, but within minutes they were back to bickering like teenagers.  There’d never been a real reason.  Some of it was normal sister stuff: juvenile name-calling, petty jealousies, and unauthorized clothes pilfering.  Almost anything could spark an argument.

After their mother died, Laura assumed the role of Mother Superior - a position as eldest sibling she’d rightly earned.  She claimed Sheila was selfish … Sheila called Laura a ‘control freak.’

Soon they replaced the fragile bond of sisterhood with wounds that never healed.  Instead of leaning on each other for strength and answers, they grew into two miserably, resentful women.  Their last exchange ended on hateful, destructive terms.

For the twenty long minutes Sheila drove to the hospital, anger and resentment morphed into fear and anxiety.  It wasn’t her sister’s dying that frightened Sheila, but rather the possibility of Laura telling her one last time how she’d ruined her life with bad decisions.  “Could she possibly listen to Laura rattle off a litany of her failures one last time?” she wondered.

She stood at her sister’s doorway, frozen like a statue, not saying a word.  Her Dad hugged Sheila before exiting.  “Go talk to her,” he whispered.  “She doesn’t have long.”

Laura’s voice crackled like tissue paper as she tried to speak.  “Hold me Sheila, please hold me.”

And that’s what Sheila did; pressing through the sickness, trying to bury all those years they’d wasted.  There would be no hanging up this time, no slamming doors or telling each other to f#ck off.  “I love you Laura,” she managed as her only sister took her final breath.

Whether she agreed or even heard the words, Sheila would never know for sure.  If she’d had more time, she would’ve said everything she’d always wanted to say: that she was sorry they had to grow up so fast, that she appreciated Laura’s filling the ‘Mom’ role, and apologizing for being such a selfish pain.

Now as she thinks about the evening her sister died, she pretends that’s exactly what Laura heard.

Love rarely ever knows its own depth until it’s taken away.  So don’t wait around.  If you love someone today, tell them.

Almighty God, You sent Your own Son into this world to die for us that we might be saved and reunited back to You.  Help us to excel at promoting, maintaining, and protecting positive relationships within our lives!  Amen