Of Life, Not Death

“Our dead brothers still live for us, and bid us think of life, not death." ~ Oliver Wendell Holms

For Madeline, Memorial Day was no longer happy.  It wasn’t the long weekend she’d always looked forward to.  On the first holiday without her soldier, (who was stationed somewhere in Afghanistan), Madeline was in a foul mood.  She resented everyone who could enjoy this day without the anxiety of war.

She needed to shake it off; to lose herself in a long walk.

A half mile later, Madeline paused at the gate of the local cemetery.  Somehow it seemed to beckon her.  She hurried through the gate.

She walked among the plots, glancing at the graves, some with simple markers, some more elaborate.  What had drawn her here?

Then she noticed a woman leaning over a grave, straightening flowers that had blown over, fitting a container back into place.  A small American flag cast a shadow on the soldier's memorial.

Madeline brushed a tear from her cheek and stood back, staring at the white marble tombstone. "Hello," she said, moving toward her.

The woman didn't say a word, but reached for Madeline with both arms as though she needed someone right then to understand the moment.  Her husband of more than 30 years had died in combat three years earlier.

"I'm sorry for your loss," she uttered somberly.  And then, “Doesn’t it make you angry that after more than a decade of war in two countries that claimed the lives of nearly 7,000 Americans, people seem more interested with having a barbecue or going shopping than pausing to appreciate the cost of our freedom to do so?”

The woman paused.

“Oh no dear,” she began, gaining composure with each word.  If Joe were alive today, he’d probably want to spend the weekend doing what he loved, too.  That might have involved a trip to the beach.  It almost certainly would have involved drinking beer.  My husband and his Army buddies, many of whom have rotated in and out of war zones for decades, would’ve been excited about the three-day weekend just like everyone else.”

“That’s why they fight,” she continued.  “They serve so that we can watch the race, grill out and enjoy the start of summer.  Their sacrifice follows the example of Jesus Christ laying down His life for our freedom.  It's selfless love for others – not so that we should mourn forever, but live.”

Madeline turned and took in the panorama of the cemetery, filled with the flowers brought in for that special day.  Almost every grave was decorated.

God's spirit touched her with a quiet, new understanding.  Military service is about protecting family, friends and countrymen.  Any nation where soldiers serve with Duty, Honor, and for Country is blessed.

Lord, on this day of remembrance for those who have made the ultimate sacrifice for the freedoms we enjoy every day, we think of how they followed in the footsteps of Your son, our Savior, Jesus Christ.  Bless them, their families and friends.  Amen

Starry, Starry Night

“I have plans for you; not to hurt you, but to give you hope and prosperity." ~ Jeremiah 29:11

The night air was just right, perfect for stargazing, as the city slept beneath her.  Jacquie leaned far out on the balcony ledge and stared wistfully at the constellations.  As an amateur astrophysicist, observing the night sky was her form of stress relief.  Tonight she needed an extra dose.

Jacquie contracted Hepatitis C from a blood transfusion seven years ago.  After 49 weeks of treatments, tests showed she’d beaten the disease.  But just two weeks ago she admitted herself to the hospital with what was thought to be Appendicitis.  An MRI revealed Cirrhosis of the liver.  Today she ‘scored’ 32 (acute) on the liver transplant waiting scale.

Jacquie smiled sadly, watching the clouds part and the stars flickering in an enchanting rhythm.  The solar system, she knew, was filled with amazing planets, but none were more perfect for life than the Earth God created.

If the crust of the earth had been only ten feet thicker, there would have been no oxygen; human and animal life would have perished.  Had our oceans been a few feet deeper, carbon dioxide and oxygen would have been absorbed and no vegetable life could have existed.

Our earth is the ideal distance from the sun – farther away and we’d freeze, closer and we’d roast.  Clouds help balance the earth’s temperature.  They block the sun when the earth’s temperature becomes too hot, and they let the sunlight in when it’s too cold.

If our atmosphere had been thinner, some of the meteors, now burned in space by the millions every day would strike all parts of the earth causing catastrophic damage.

Earth’s atmosphere is 21% oxygen.  If it were 25%, fires would erupt spontaneously.  If it were 15%, humans would suffocate.  The utter lifelessness of other planets in our solar system illustrates the fact that earth is unique and specially created for life.

In this wide universe there can be no finer planet for any species than our own natural home, thought Jacquie.  So many exacting conditions are necessary for life on the earth that it’s impossible to believe that they could exist by chance.

And then it hit her – like an unbridled meteor.  “If God created a perfect universe, then He must have a perfect plan for me too!  He’ll reveal His plan for me at the perfect time.”

Suddenly, her illness took on a whole new trajectory.

“He won’t reveal the “big picture” to me all at once because I’d either become fearful, or have an attitude that says, “Okay, Lord - I can take it from here!”   God knows that I need His constant help, so He wisely encourages dependence on Him.”

Perfection made possible only by God!

Dear child, whenever you don’t understand what’s happening in your life, close your eyes, take a deep breath, and say “God I know it’s Your plan, just help me through it.  My plan is better than your dreams.  Love JC

Works Hard For the Money

“God won’t forget the love you’ve shown His people." ~ Hebrews 6:10

She was generous, even when they thought she wasn’t.  She always put others above hers.  Children felt comforted by her voice, parents leaned on her for advice, spouses cried openly in her presence.  They trusted my Mom, a complete stranger who didn’t just open her heart, but gave it unfailingly to anyone who needed it.

I never understood her.  I didn’t get why she put up with the abuse: patients demanding pain meds, doctors treating them like minions rather than peers, the system crippling her with oceans of paperwork.  Overworked and underpaid.

Yet Nurse Millie was a person of uncommon talents.  Like a bird in flight, she made something so impossible for others appear easy and natural.  On the ward she calmed patients deemed "difficult" by other nurses.  Her cheerful smile had the warmth of freshly baked cookies; her voice deep yet honeyed.

Millie never hurt them, never became belittled their aches, never dampened their hopes.  She spoke to them like they were real people, people who mattered, not just withered old bones too stubborn to die.  With just her presence their appetites improved, prescriptions worked faster, and they slept more peacefully.

It was only after she’d been diagnosed with end-stage cancer that her life outside of our family started making sense to me.  Her colleagues (also her best friends) seemed rattled to see one of their own on the opposite side; they saw a bit of themselves in my mother.

They asked me questions and I replied.  “Yes, she ate on the run, slept weird hours and after tending to endless family matters, she sank fully clothed into bed.”

When I recanted our family story, they nodded self-consciously as though it was more than just acknowledging what I’d said.  It also described their lives in detail.

Even then, my mother felt an obligation to her nurse friends, training me on simple things that could help reduce their workload.  It didn’t seem like much, but they seemed grateful for every little bit.  They communicated with Mom in what seemed to me a secret language, and acted just like her.  Each day they gave 100 percent of themselves and asked for zilch in return.

We spent every waking moment together during those final days before her death.  I saw families gathered in the lounge suffering in silence, pastors who provided the only companionship to many terminal patients, doctors who appeared briefly during rounds, case workers who seemed emotionally drained . . . and NURSES who filled EVERY void in between.

My heart goes out to all those who have chosen this profession of improving the lives of others – there must be a special wing in heaven reserved for these angels.

Thank you Lord, for all nurses – those unique souls who regularly put us and ours above theirs.   A beacon of compassion is their lone reward, and one that they embrace enthusiastically because they see the world both at its worst and its best.  Amen

Foster Mom

“The time to be happy is now.  The way to be happy is to make others so." ~ RG Ingersoll

Hands deep in his pockets, Geoff wandered aimlessly, ill equipped for the storm that was brewing.  Soon the rain came in drenching fashion.  He was about to head for home when wind-whipped willows revealed the smallest glimpse of a weathered old house.  Geoff ran to it for cover.

A brief pause from the driving rain, Geoff quickly surmised that the oldest residents of this old place were the spiders.  Even their once intricate cobwebs now lay in dusty rags.  As his senses adjusted to the artifacts of a life abandoned, an almost-inaudible whimper drew him towards a closet door.  He opened it.

Inside a cowering dog lay against the back wall.  Dirty and malnourished, it had clearly been abused.  Geoff noticed she was still breathing and rushed her to a local animal shelter where she gained excellent medical care . . . and a reputation.  

They named her Jasper and went about the task of finding her an adoptive home.  But this dog had other ideas. 

Nobody remembers now how it began, but Jasper started welcoming all new arrivals at the shelter.  It wouldn't matter if it was a kitten, a rabbit or, probably even a bobcat, Jasper would peer into their cage and, where possible, deliver a friendly lick. 

New animals often arrive disoriented: new sights, sounds, smells.  Not to mention new people!  Jasper, that timid, abused, deserted waif, became the shelter's resident surrogate mother, a role for which she might’ve been born for. 

She had a knack for reducing much of the stress newbies felt and helping them settle into their new surroundings.  The list of rescued pets she cared for grew by fox and badger cubs, chicks, guinea pigs, and a wounded fawn later named Faith.

Just 11 weeks old, Faith was found semi-conscious in a field.  Upon arrival at the shelter, Jasper went into full foster mom role, cuddling Faith to keep her warm, and showering the young deer with affection and making sure nothing was matted in her fur.  They became inseparable. 

Jasper cared for her until Faith was old enough to return to the forest.  When that happened, Jasper never got depressed – she was too busy sharing love and affection to the other orphans or victims of abuse.

How many times have you actually been able to save a life?  I mean literally pulling a child or animal from certain death, and bringing them back to life.  Fostering something wounded is an incredible experience.   Alas, many of us will let the inevitable pain of letting them go at the end of the experience . . . blind us from the joy of the journey.

Sweet Jesus, bless those who open their hearts and homes in the most selfless and giving of ways to those that deserve it most.  Move believers worldwide to be consumed with compassion for those in foster care, and make themselves available for how You want to use them.  Amen

A Touch of Class

“Help carry one another’s burdens." ~ Galatians 6:2

Crying had always been a healthy release, but for Kara it became a habit lately.  Sadness washed in like an unwanted wave, knocking her sandcastles flat.  She stared aimlessly out of the window.

Four months away, she thought.  The moment of truth, the stepping stone to the real world.  She’d been preparing for 13 memorable years.  For a mystical moment she’s there – at the ceremony in front of administrators, teachers, and proud parents.  In her mind’s eye, Kara scanned a crowd absent her Dad.  More tears.  She let them fall, not raising a hand to stop them.

Her Dad Michael beat prostate cancer five years ago.  He’d walked his oldest daughter down the aisle and seen the birth of a grandchild.  But his goal of seeing Kara graduate would not happen.

Now, he’s battling cancer of the bile duct.   Doctors have given him six weeks max.  Barely able to stand, he’s even too weak to attend the Sports Award banquet tonight when she’d receive her All-Conference Volleyball Award.

Memories blast through her mind; funny anecdotes about stupid things that they’d done together; the good, the bad and sometimes the crazy.  God she would miss his pep talks!  The day passed in a blur of smiles and tears.

Readying herself for the banquet, Kara hugged her Mom who was muttering about her baby growing up too fast.  She smiled at her bedridden Dad as he tried not to show any emotion, acting as if were just another day.

As they entered the auditorium, everyone was jabbering excitedly as they found their seats.  Soon the lights dimmed and Principal Chu stepped to the podium.

“Tonight is special,” she began.  “Special because one of our students will share a life milestone with her Dad who’ll unfortunately miss so many others.  Kara, will you come forward please?”

As Kara approached the stage, the drum line pounded out an energetic march followed by the school orchestra’s rendition of the Pomp and Circumstance Graduation March.  Her volleyball coach met her at the steps and cloaked her in a graduation cap and gown and presented her a bouquet of white roses.

Thunderstruck, she searched the crowd.

Mom wheeled Michael down the aisle to deafening applause.  From his front row seat Michael mouthed “I love you Peaches.”

Kara stepped forward, shaking Mrs. Chu’s hand and received the piece of parchment that would forever remind her of the kindness of so many who’d made this special event happen.  It even made the thought of going through life without her Dad a little more bearable since he’d at least seen her graduate.

"Perhaps," she wondered, "this is pure ecstasy.  This is what comes when a battle is over and you reach God’s eternal salvation."

Lord, open our eyes that we may see You in others.  Open our ears that we may hear the cries of the sick, hungry, frightened and oppressed.  Renew us in Your spirit.  Free us and make us one.  Amen

Flowers That Breath Life

“Care for others as much as you care for yourself." ~ Philippians 2:4

After decades of grueling work, Yoshi and Yasuko planned to travel around Japan after retirement.  They’d led a difficult but rewarding life, raising two children and 60 cows together on a small dairy farm.  Then life dealt them a devastating blow.

At age 52, Yasuko suddenly experienced complications from diabetes causing gradual peripheral vision loss and eventually total blindness.  As an independent, organized woman, Yasuko suddenly hated feeling dependent and inept at adapting to her new environment.

Devastated at the prospect of immobility, Yasuko shut herself away from the world and began living a life of seclusion in her home.  Her normally cheerful expression became one of sadness.  Few things made her smile.

But her loving husband wouldn’t give up so easily.  Toshi, a man of the earth, had a keen awareness for the season’s transition.  Spring was all about the sounds, the smells and the rising air temperature.  He took Yasuko by the hand and tenderly led her to their small garden.

“Do you feel it,” he asked.  “Can you feel the breeze kiss your cheek?  Can you smell the flower’s intoxicating fragrance?”

Even without her sight, Yasuko could sense it, inhaling deeply like each breath was a time machine.  For those precious few moments she was sighted again as a young girl skipping through a meadow covered with shibazakura (we call it phlox).

She loved the small flowers for their daring simplicity, their tenacious spirit, and for growing where they weren’t supposed to.  For the first time in months, Yasuko felt alive again.

Toshi knew exactly what to do.

He quit his dairy farm and started work on creating a carpet of the pink flowers surrounding their house.  For two years, Toshi chopped down trees, prepared the soil, and planted thousands of seeds which blossomed into the sweet-smelling pink shibazakura flower.

At first, the two would stroll together so she could enjoy the bouquet.  But soon, their story went viral.  Today their house attracts thousands of tourist annually - both for the flowers and the touching love story that brought the garden into being.

Now in his 80’s, Toshi still weeds the fields by hand.  Old dairy sheds were converted into a museum so visitors can see old photographs of the couple.  Social media posts provide Yasuko a never-ending stream of new friends to interact with.

Married for over 60 years, this adorable couple stills strolls the grounds hand in hand.

There’s a lot of talk about how selfish the world has become, and about how many people have trouble prioritizing others.  It’s beautiful to see good Samaritans in action, no matter who the beneficiary is, but there’s something extra special about seeing a husband or wife go the extra mile for his or her spouse.

Lord Almighty, sometimes I pray . . . well, only for myself.  Help mold me into an instrument of Your love; a selfless mindset filled with hope, encouragement and inspiration for all those near to me.  Amen

St. Rocco

“Bless the beasts and the children." ~ Glendon Swartout (1970)

Katie’s family had recently moved to the countryside, a change the teenager (13) had not yet warmed up to.  She secretly vowed to hold her parents in ‘contempt’ for as long as it took.  Ice cream wouldn’t expunge her misery, but it was a start.

As they walked, she passed a young man sitting on the ground sharing a cone with his puppy. “Cute dog,” Katie said warmly.

“Free dog,” its owner replied.  David, her Dad asked what he’d meant by that.  The man explained that he was moving to Vermont and didn’t think urban life would be good for the pup.  Katie saw her opening and pounced.  “What’s his name?” she asked.

“He’s a 5-month-old Doberman/Chocolate Lab mix named St. Rocco,” the man offered.  “Make someone a nice pet.”

David’s reticence was no match for Katie’s yearning.

“That’s an odd name,” Katie said hoping for an explanation.  “Yep,” was the only response she got.  The rest was ‘history’ as Katie introduced the adorable pup to the rest of the family.

But St. Rocco was no saint, proving impossible to wear out.  He took it personally that the mailman would ‘encroach’ on his home, so he systematically shredded every piece that came through the mail slot.

Puppies eat when bored.  Rocco ate 3 dress shoes, a pair of pants and a whole plate of brownies.  But he was smart too; quickly learning the benefits of life beneath a toddler’s high chair.

They soon discovered that there was something truly unique about Rocco.  He followed them to church every Sunday, running the whole way behind their old Ford Explorer.  When he reached the church, Rocco took up a position on the porch, greeting the congregation.

Throughout the service he waited patiently for the children who were liberal with hugs and treats.  Always the gentleman, parishioners never worried about torn pantyhose or muddy paw prints on their Sunday best.  And when the congregation dispersed, Rocco followed the family home.

Still puzzled by the dog’s name, Katie googled it.  She learned that St. Rocco (c.1350-c.1378) was the Patron Saint for DOGS.  Moved by the suffering of those dying from the Black Death that ravaged Europe in the 14^th century, Rocco volunteered as a nurse at one of the city’s hospitals.

When he himself contracted the disease, Rocco dragged himself into a cave where he could die alone.  He’d just made himself a bed of leaves when a dog approached him with a large bread loaf in its mouth.  Every day the dog faithfully returned with a fresh loaf until Rocco miraculously recovered and resumed his volunteer work.  It’s believed that he cured hundreds of plague victims by making the sign of the cross on their feverish foreheads.

It’s a ‘God thing!”

Saint Rocco, while following the footsteps of Christ, you found the poor and plague stricken, curing many.  Thank You!  By your example, may our hearts become tender and loving toward the suffering and rejected of this world.  Amen

Faith Fitness

“Your body, given to you by God, is a temple for the Holy Spirit." ~ 1 Corinthians 6:19

Gerald was on the heavy side.  He lived amidst a toxic cloud of judgement; most people saw only poor self-control and weak mindedness.  Some folks have invisible addictions; to tobacco, caffeine or painkillers.  But his was too obvious to miss; he wore it like a thick overcoat.

"Eat less, exercise more."   Seemed easy enough.  But how could he gad about town with their  stares boring into him.  The one place that Gerald felt free to open up and reveal his true self, where others accepted, valued and loved him, was his Bible Study group.

Luck had turned in his favor when Jonah had invited him to church that day.  Gerald froze.  “I don’t think I’m quite ready to go to church,” he’d replied.  “I’m in a funk right now.  Gimme a few months to straighten my life out then ask me again.”

Gerald’s response had drawn a sad look from Jonah who explained that “you don’t have to “straighten out” your life before coming to church.  Perfect people surely don’t need a church.”

Jonah continued.  “A church is more than a ‘belief’ system; it’s a ‘belong’ system.  It’s like being adopted; adopted into the family of Christ,” he explained.

His first visit to St. Paul’s was terrifying – was he dressed right, would he be accepted, is this the right one?  And what about all those people who studied the Bible?

But now he felt more relaxed.  Small groups were much less intimidating.  Today they explored     1 Corin 6: 19-20 and discussed the importance of caring for whatever body graced us with in order to be used for God's glory.

“Health clubs” he pictured in his mind’s eye.  “Those intimidated places filled with incredible hulks and smiling supermodels, surrounded by sinister-looking machines.   How silly he’d look in front of those people.”

Fear chilled his spine - just like when he’d first considered going to church.  People who need it most are often the ones who avoid it.  Yet the imperfect, out-of-shape, people like him are the ones who need it most.

“If I don’t do it for myself,” he thought, “I should do it for Jesus.”  The local gym would be his next stop before going home.

For thousands of us faith and fitness are colliding.  Seventy-five percent of Americans are Christians.  Sixty-five percent of us are overweight.  The stats paint an unflattering picture of a rather unhealthy Christian population who may exercise their faith, but not their bodies.

Our bodies are one of the many things we need to steward for God.  One of the ways we steward them well is to live healthy lives – exercise, eat right, sleep well.  Healthy bodies and souls are equally important.

Holy Father, run by my side, live in my heartbeat, give strength to my steps, give purpose to my struggle.  Unleash the best in me as I give you the beast in me.  May my workout bring glory to you Lord.  Amen.

The Last Convert

“Believe in the Lord Jesus and you will be saved." ~ Acts 16:31

A Scottish evangelist, John Harper was well known throughout the U.K. as a charismatic speaker who led many to Christ through his passionate preaching.  In 1912, Rev. Harper received an invitation to speak at Chicago’s Moody Church and boarded the Titanic on April 11^th.

While some of world’s richest people spoke of business deals, acquisitions and material desires, the man of undying faith went about sharing his love of Christ with others.

Near midnight on April 14^th, an iceberg scraped the ship's starboard side, ripping open six watertight compartments.    As the sea poured in, chaos ensued.  The "unsinkable" ship was doomed.

Quickly, Harper took his six year old daughter to lifeboat 11.  He kissed her good-bye knowing he’d never see her again.  It’s reasonable to assume that the widowed preacher could have easily gotten into the same lifeboat; but it never seemed to have crossed his mind.

He knew there was a task more important than saving his own life – to help those who were unprepared to face eternity.

Harper gave his life jacket to another passenger, ending any chance of his own survival.  He shouted, "Women, children and “unsaved” people into the lifeboats."  Against a backdrop of terror and mayhem, Harper focused on his God-given purpose.  Survivors reported seeing him on his knees, surrounded by terrified passengers, praying for their salvation.

Less than 3 hours later, Titanic disappeared beneath the North Atlantic.  Over 1,000 people fought for their lives in the icy water.  Harper swam to every person he could, urging them to put their faith in Christ.

“Are you saved?” he cried.

“No, I’m not saved!” a desperate man replied.

Harper, knowing he couldn’t survive long in the ice-cold water, took off his life jacket and threw it to the man.  “You need this more than I do!”

In the water, Harper moved sluggishly as the frigid water wore him down.  If they weren't saved or if they didn't understand, he quickly offered the Christmas message: that Jesus came to earth to die that we might live eternally.  This Gospel doesn’t spare us from a drowning ocean, but it does spare us from eternal damnation.

Eventually, John Harper too sank beneath the icy waters.  While other people were trying to buy their way onto lifeboats and selfishly trying to save their own lives, John Harper gave up his life so that others could be saved.

There, alone in the night with two miles of water below him, the desperate man, the recipient of Harper’s life vest begged Christ to save his soul.   He was John Harper's last convert; one of only six people out of 1,517 who were pulled from the icy graveyard on that dreadful night.

Holy Father, I believe that your son, Jesus Christ died for my sins, was resurrected from the dead, is alive, and hears my prayer.  I want You to become the Lord of my life, to rule and reign in my heart from this day forward.  Amen

Daddy, Watch Me

“Children are a blessing; God’s greatest gift." ~ Psalm 127:3

I’m Benjamin and I’m four.  Sophie is my bratty little sister; she’s almost two.  Dad stayed home from work today and took us to the playground. 

Everybody loves the park – kids swing and slide; dogs chase tennis balls; even the birds sing happy songs.  Mom takes me and Sophie as often as she can, but today we’re super excited ‘cause it’s Daddy’s turn.  We can’t wait to show him all we learned since last time.

The air’s warm, sunlight makes my skin hot.  Flowers look really pretty and freshly cut green grass smells good.  It’s a neat day to be outside.

“Daddy, watch me!” as I fly down the slide yelling “Daddy, watch this!”  I climb the ladder to go again and shout again “Daddy, I need you to watch me.  DADDY!!!”

I see him over there on the bench, messing with his iPhone and my shoulders slump.  When he barely glances my way, Sophie notices and frantically tries to get his attention too.

She spins round and around, making her dress twirl.   She’s such a little beauty queen, the sun glowing behind her golden hair.  She keeps glancing to see if Daddy’s watching.  He isn’t.

My head sags to my chest, but only for a second as I look for another cool thing to do.

So I push Sophie in the swing.   She loves it!  Cooing and smiling with every push.   But Daddy doesn’t see us though.  His eyes are fixed on his phone.  We’re kinda used to it, but that doesn’t make it OK.

If Daddy would put that stupid thing down for a minute, I’d tell him that “Playtime at the park will be over before you know it, as will our childhood.”

“We won’t always want to come to the park with you, Daddy.  There’ll come a point when we stop trying, stop calling your name, stop bothering to interrupt your phone time.”

“Because you’ve shown us that your phone is more important than me and Sophie.  I know your heart says differently, but your actions are screaming way too loudly.”

“Talk to us Daddy.  Tell us about the clouds and the God who made them.  Teach me how to catch a fly ball.  Tickle Sophie’s tummy and enjoy the baby belly laugh that disappears too quickly.”

“Put your eyes back on the real prize . . . us kids.”

Almost 75% of parents use a mobile device at least once during mealtime and many are more absorbed in the device than in their kids.  Fortunately it’s pretty easy to break the habit.

Guess what happens when you put down the iPhone, get on the floor and simply mutter, “Hey, you wanna play?”  Unicorns, rainbows, puppies and butterflies.

“So look up from your phones, shut down those displays, we have a finite existence, a set number of days.   Don’t waste your life getting caught in the Net, because when the end comes, nothing’s worse than regret!” (“Look Up” a poem by Gary Turk)