The Storyteller

Since I was a little girl, I've always loved hearing a good story; however, a story is often only as interesting as the person telling it.  I remember my grandmother telling stories of her youth, as we were snuggled up in her bed, atop feather pillows and beneath cozy quilts.  I remember my father telling me horror stories of three-headed dogs coming across foggy bridges in the countryside, while I trembled with some fear, amid giggles in his big recliner.  I remember my own children begging for me to do "voices," as I read beloved tales and invented sagas when they were young.  We all loved to be entertained by a good story.

I've never heard someone tell life stories quite like my dear friend, Joan Van Hooser.  I met Joan at a particularly challenging time in my life several years ago.  Her evident love for God; for others; and for her family radiates from her like a sunbeam.  She can lift an oppressed soul simply by her smile.  She can give you strength simply by wrapping her arms around you.  She can take you to another place and time by her storytelling.

Joan, with her beloved husband, David

 I remember one particular day when we were teaching in the middle school building together, that we both had some free time.  We sat in her very welcoming office, and she lovingly told me about her grandmother.  Her eyes danced, and her excitement grew, as she recalled wonderful times with a lady who meant so much to her.  One year Joan gave all of the teachers a "prism" for Christmas, and of course, Joan had a story about it!  I think of Joan every year when I hang it on my Christmas tree.  Light glistens off of that prism, just like life glistens off of Joan.

Joan's laughter is contagious.  Her spirit is encouraging.  She loves life, and she lives every minute of it to the fullest.  That is her on-going story every day--to take the day that God has given us, and live it; use it; love it.

Joan's story over the past weeks and months has changed.  It is a story that she would not have planned, or necessary wanted to tell.  After being diagnosed with an incurable cancer, Joan's story is still inspiring throngs of people through her upbeat posts and notes on social media.  Joan's smile is still radiating that story through the pain, as experimental drug therapies wreak havoc on her physical body.  Joan's love and zest for life is still evident, and her story still has the "hold you on the edge of your seat" enthrallment that we all so well know Joan to have!

So today, I salute my sweet friend, Joan.  I thank her for the wonderful friendship that we have.  I thank God for bringing her into my life, and in that, I guess I have to thank him for the hardship that brought us together all those years ago.  I pray for God to just heal Joan, if that is His will.  And I know He will--either in this life or the next.  Joan's story is lived out daily for God's glory.  We all need to strive to be a storyteller, and Joan surely is a role model for us to follow!

I Hope You Dance, Meredith!

Today's blog post is dedicated to a wonderful, beautiful young lady, Meredith Martin.  I met Meredith a little over a year ago, and she has deeply blessed my life.  Meredith is a smart, witty, charismatic woman, and you fall in love with her the moment that you meet her!  Her smile and zest for life is contagious!

Today begins an exciting new journey for Meredith, as she moves to Tuscaloosa, Alabama for graduate school at her beloved University of Alabama.  (Roll Tide!)  I can only imagine her anxiousness, nervousness, and bubbling-over-the-top enthusiasm, as she and her parents head south on I-65 this morning.  Prayers with Gary and Leah as they leave their baby girl in her new home, and prayers for her sweet sister, Chelsea, who is going to have part of herself missing, with Meredith gone. 

But life is a dance, and we learn as we go.  Waltzes end, and tangos begin.  One of my favorite songs, is by country singer, Lee Ann Womack.  Meredith -- I hope you dance.  I KNOW you will dance, and what a beautiful dance your life is going to be!  I love you, baby girl! 

"I Hope You Dance"

I hope you never lose your sense of wonder,
You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger,
May you never take one single breath for granted,
GOD forbid love ever leave you empty handed,
I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean,
Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens,
Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance,
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.

I hope you dance....I hope you dance.

I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance,
Never settle for the path of least resistance
Livin' might mean takin' chances but they're worth takin',
Lovin' might be a mistake but it's worth makin',
Don't let some hell bent heart leave you bitter,
When you come close to sellin' out reconsider,
Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance,
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.

I hope you dance....I hope you dance.
I hope you dance....I hope you dance.
(Time is a wheel in constant motion always rolling us along,
Tell me who wants to look back on their years and wonder where those years have gone.)

I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean,
Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens,
Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance,
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.

Dance....I hope you dance.
I hope you dance....I hope you dance.
I hope you dance....I hope you dance..
(Time is a wheel in constant motion always rolling us along
Tell me who wants to look back on their years and wonder where those years have gone)

So Much More -- Happy 23rd Birthday, Katie Sweet!

"So Much More"

I'll never forget the first time I looked down to see your sweet face--
I knew you'd be my darling, dressed in gingham and lace.
Little blond curls, and a smile so sweet--
Ten precious tiny toes on your small baby feet.

All my life, I had wished for you like no other.
My life was complete because I was now a mother.
With your daddy by my side, our family was complete,
With you lovingly in tow, in your cute car seat.

Watching you grow, something didn't seem quite right--
Worrying seemed to consume many restless a night.
Praying you'd be fine, knowing God would take control--
The uneasiness continued in my heart and my soul.

That cold January day, when Daddy and I got the word--
No comfort from God on that day would be heard.
Just all the cold doctors, telling us what you'd never do--
You'd never run a race, let alone tie your own shoes.

You'd never be a bride, walking down the aisle in white--
You'd never cheer on a squad, you're life would not be bright.
All the things that they said you'd miss--
The senior prom, and that first kiss.

All the things so many of us think are a normal part of life--
They said your life would be filled with disabilty and strife.
I thought for a while that God would heal you just right,
But the plan He had for you, at that time was out of my sight.

Yes, the doctors all told us that heartaches on your life would pour--
They had not insight that God would do so much more.
So much more in simple words you might never say--
So much more in strengthening your crooked little legs every day.

So much more determination than any Olympian athletic feat--
So much more willpower, yours can never be beat.
So much more love from your younger brothers--
So much more cuddle time from your grandfathers and grandmothers.

So much more promise in the sunshine of your radiant smile--
So much more watching as you take life in stride--every mile.
So much more in the example that you continue to be--
So much more of you making me a better me.

So much more in the unconditional love you bestow--
So much more love given from everyone that you know.
So much more grace given by God's gentle hand--
So much more happiness than I could have ever planned. 

So much more certain of eternity in God's care--
So much more laughter, knowing together, we will be there!
So much more than any doctor could have ever foretold.
So much more blessing to us, Katie, than you will EVER know! 


Happy 23rd Birthday to one of God's angels, here on earth!

Curve Balls

Caleb Wilson is a baseball player.  There are young men that simply play baseball, and there are young men that are really baseball players.  Caleb is the latter of these.  Caleb plays outfield as elegantly and effortlessly as a trained dancer on the stage.  Caleb can field any fast ball, curve ball, or sinker that any lucky batter might have the luck of hitting.  Caleb is fast, and he can round the bases at lightning speed.   Caleb is a hard hitter, gauging carefully each pitch, until "his" pitch crosses the plate.  Like I said, Caleb IS a baseball player.

Caleb is also a rising senior in high school.  He is an excellent student, although not a big fan of "Julius Caesar," which I found out when I taught his sophomore English class.  I can still see him dressed in Roman attire, insisting that he get to pair together the most outlandish of the costumes.  Caleb's smile can light up the entire room, and he is loved by his teachers and his peers.  I was blessed by the time I spent with him in the classroom, and he taught me as much as I taught him.

Caleb is a wonderful son, and his parents are a great source of support for him.  Present at every game, Ila and Rodney, smile with pride when Caleb is at bat.  Often with elderly grandparents in tow, Caleb's mom and dad are great examples of what good parenting is, and their success shows well in all of their children.

So, today, many students are counting down the final days of summer vacation.  Many are already doing "back-to-school" shopping.  Many are taking last minute trips before settling back into the school routine for the next ten months.  Seniors are going on college road trips, in anticipation of the next chapter in life.  Not Caleb.

This morning, Caleb and his parents are in route to the Shepherd Center for Rehabilitation in Atlanta, Georgia.  Caleb was involved in a freak accident last week, and it has left his body partially paralyzed, due to spinal cord trauma.  Caleb has spent that past ten days undergoing three surgeries, and he has begun the daunting task of physical therapy in an attempt to regain movement in his lower body.

While this is not the journey the Wilson family had planned, they are traveling this road with faith and confidence that God is in control.  Caleb's accident has already been a testimony to so many across the country through social media.  Prayers have been lifted on his behalf, and prayers have been answered.

So today, we will continue to pray for Caleb and his family.  He is traveling a new road.   Although his path is uncertain, one thing is certain.  God is in control, and He will be with Caleb, Ila and Rodney every step of this journey.  Life has thrown Caleb an infamous curve ball, but I am certain he will field it with the same grace, dexterity and determination that he always has! Why?  Caleb Wilson IS a baseball player!

P.S. I AM AMERICA

Dear Mr. Terrorist,

     So you felt the need to terrorize my people with a bombing at the Boston Marathon?  You felt that you could defame this historic city with such an act of violence and cowardice?  You felt that you could kill, maim, and injure hundreds of my people?  You purposely detonated bombs of terror in the public streets? You felt authority as people fled the scene, running for their lives?  You felt that your terror might rock our economy with a preemptive fall-out on Wall Street?  You felt that you could break the back of the greatest nation in the world?  You felt that you had the right?   Sorry, you did not have the right.  I am America. 

     Boston, known for its patriotism, served as an integral part to the foundation of this nation.  Bostonians were celebrating "Patriots Day" when you chose to do your wickedness.  The word "patriot" has been defined as a person who loves, supports, and defends his or her country and its interests with devotion.  So, in other words, you've awakened your worst nightmare.  Why?  I am America.

     You left the streets of Boston littered with human carnage, while you stowed away in secret.  Your attempt of terrorizing my people has been an epic failure.  Your act of terror has only strengthened the resolve of my people, my leaders, and my government to continue to battle fiends like you to the death.   You killed an innocent child cheering his father on the sidelines of your chosen secret battlefield.  You explosions tore and mutilated limbs from the bodies of innocent bystanders.  Your bombs embedded shrapnel into the flesh of hundreds.  Your preplanned menacing escapade resulted in some temporary panic and fear.   But, guess what?  I'm still standing.  I am America.

     So, are you proud of yourself today?  Do you have a conscience?  I assume you do not.  Well, you need to assume that justice will be served.  You can run, but you will be found out -- maybe in your lifetime.  Maybe not.  I can guarantee that no stone will be left unturned in redeeming justice for those hurt by your senseless act of fury.  Regardless of your future,  I am America. 

     Many of my people serve a just and righteous God, and He will judge you in His time.   If the scales of my justice do not execute you in this world, you can be certain that God's judgement will be swift and certain.  The sharpness of the IED's packed with ball-bearings will not hold a candle to the flames of Hell.  Physical death is much too noble of an epilogue for your sorry life, but God's eternity will be the perfect fit!  People may have taken Jehovah out of classrooms and government buildings, but I can assure you, He was right there amidst your evil.  He saw it all, and vengeance will surely be His.  I was founded on Godly standards, so my people and I will put our trust in that same God.  I am America.

     Boston and this nation will recover in time.  My people will grieve their lost loved ones.  My people will grieve their changed lives.  My people will again grieve a sense of "innocence lost".  But know this -- the period of mourning will pass, and life will continue.  My people will not forget, but they will strive toward the future.  They will strive toward a future that is free from the likes of lily-livered heaps of garbage like you.  They will strive toward a future of freedom to pursue their own dreams and their happiness.  They are my people.  We may bend, but we do not break.  I am America.

     So, I must ask you -- was it worth it?  Did you accomplish whatever perverse goal you lay out in your twisted mind?  I hope you enjoy your brief moment of self-accomplishment because I can guarantee you it will be short lived until the next malconent tries to "one-up" you!  I am not worried because I still have confidence that this is the best place on earth.   I am . . . 

America 

P.S.   I AM AMERICA!!!

     

      

Sunday's A Comin'!!

I've always loved Easter.  I remember it being such a special time when my three children were younger.  My mother and I always "stuffed" hundreds of plastic eggs for our family's annual Easter Egg Hunt.  (Yes, they were spoiled!  Three children did not need hundreds of eggs!)  The last egg hunt we had was in 2006, just a few months before she went to be with the Lord.  We decided it would probably be the last one we would have after Colton and Conner physically fought over the $25 golden egg!  I almost never got the grass stain out of their Easter pants!

Society has commercialized such a special day with chocolate bunnies and marshmallow peeps. But Easter
is not all about bunnies and baskets.  It's about a Savior, and the Lord put these thoughts on my heart this morning.

As we enjoy this Good Friday, I am reminded of a fateful Friday two thousand years ago.  A day much like any other day in the lives of most people.  A day when babies were born.  A day when an elderly woman drew her last breath.  A day when the sun rose just as any other day.  But this day was different.  This would be a Friday when men in high places, who had plotted against our Lord, would carry out those sinister actions.    This would be a day when a beloved friend would do the unthinkable for a bag of silver coins.  This would be a day when a mother's heart would be broken as she saw her son hung on a cross.  This would be a day when Satan would feel like he had won. 

On that Friday, my Lord; your Lord; God's son, would make a conscious decision to be beaten and shamed.  Scorned and spat upon.  Mocked and ridiculed.  He had asked God to take this dark cup away from him, but he obediently fulfilled the will of His Father.  He would endure this because of His love for people.  His friends.  His family.  His followers.  Even those who hated him.  Even those who had never seen him.  Even those who had never been born.  Even me.  Even you.

On that Friday, my Lord, your Lord, God's son, would have nails driven through his body.  He would be raised on a cruel cross at Golgotha between two criminals.  He would be offered vinegar to drink when he asked for water.  He would cry out in agony.  He would promise paradise for eternity to one of those criminals hanging beside him.  He would ask his loyal friend to take care of  his mother, Mary.  Hateful eyes would gawk at His writhing body.  Hateful hearts would turn stone cold as they witnessed this treachery.  Hateful souls would be happy when this "Jesus, King of the Jews" was dead.

On that Friday, my Lord; your Lord; God's son, could have called ten thousand angels to come to his rescue.  He could have called a legion of hosts to rein down vengeance on the hateful mob.  He could have taken Himself down off of that cross.  But He didn't.  His love for me won out over the hatred of that day. His love for you was more than the hateful actions of the mob.  His love for His Father trumped it all.  God had asked Jesus to complete this task, and that was enough.

On that Friday, my Lord; your Lord; God's son, would cry out one final time before it was finished.  His side would be pierced, and blood and water would freely flow from it.  Darkness would cover the land as His Father showed His own power.  The veil of the temple would be ripped in two, as evidence that truly Jesus was the Son of God.

On that Friday, my Lord; your Lord; God's son, died.  His lifeless body would be taken down from that wooden cross.  It would be lovingly washed and prepared for burial.  Tears would flow by all that loved him.  But tears would not bring him back.  Jesus was dead.  That torn and tattered body would be placed in a borrowed tomb.  Friends would leave that place in a state of shock  It would be a Friday they would never forget.

I can only imagine the hurt.  The loss.  The feelings of not knowing what to do.  Jesus, the Savior, was dead.

This was real.

But SUNDAY WAS A' COMIN'!!  Little did people realize, the death of Jesus was not the END, but only the BEGINNING!  On Sunday, my Lord; your Lord; GOD'S SON, would burst forth from that grave. The stone would be rolled away!  That torn and tattered body would be filled with NEW LIFE and new hope for all of US!  YOU AND ME -- TWO THOUSAND YEARS LATER!  Death would be conquered.  Christ's resurrection would take away the pain of death.  The pain of separation.  The pain of hopelessness.

On Sunday, my Lord; your Lord; God's son, would show His power, and His love for me, and for you.  The sting of death was lessened.  Separation might be temporary, but salvation would be for eternity.  This earthly life would pass, and with it would come physical death.  But spiritual life everlasting was promised because Jesus came out of that grave on Sunday!  Death had no victory!   

On Sunday, the plan of those men in high places had failed.  The betrayal for a bag of silver had been of no use.  On Sunday, a mother's heart would be healed.  On Sunday, Satan would be defeated. On Sunday, I was given a promise of eternal life.  On Sunday, you were given that same promise.

What a gift!  What a weekend!  What a SAVIOR!  Friday was dark, but Sunday came.  Life is often dark, but eternity is ahead.  So take heart, and know that SUNDAY'S A COMIN'!!

Five Short Days to the Cross

On the eve of Palm Sunday, many in the world are turning their minds to Easter.  Over the next few days, the crucifixion of the Savior will be foremost in the thoughts of Christians everywhere.  But tonight, my mind is on the events occurring just a few short days before the massive crowd asked Pilate to crucify the Savior.  This same mass of people honored and adored Jesus only a few days before.

This throng of people had followed Jesus in his ministry.  They had been fed physically by the Master.  They had seen the miracles.  They had seen the sick healed.  They had seen the dead raised.  They had seen it first hand.  They believed.

As Jesus arrived in Jerusalem for the Passover holiday, He was greeted with much adoration and devotion from His followers.  It is difficult to understand that Jesus' "Triumphal Entry" into Jerusalem occurred only five short days before He was beaten, humiliated and hung on a wooden cross.  On this day, people spread their garments on the road to make a royal carpet for the King.  Five days later, they would watch as His arms were spread across the wooden planks, with nails driven deep into His flesh.  On this day, people waved palm branches to greet Him.  Five days later, these same people would wave for Barabbas to be freed from execution in exchange for Jesus' life.  On this day, the crowds cheered for Jesus saying, "Save Us! Hosanna!"  Five days later, they would chant, "Crucify him!"  On this day, they blessed Him as a king, coming in the name of the Lord.  Five days later, they would mock Him, and they would push a crown of thorns into His holy brow. 

Jesus arrived in Jerusalem on a donkey, and He was honored and adored.  Five days later the tide of opinion greatly changed, and He was crucified.   The saddest part to me is that Jesus knew.  Jesus knew that these people welcoming Him on Sunday would be the same people crucifying Him on Friday.  Yet, He came anyway.  He knew those that He dearly loved would turn their backs on Him in the face of crisis.  Yet, He loved them anyway.  He knew everything, but He willingly obeyed the will of His Father. 

Today, Jesus knows so many times that we are going to mess up in our lives.  We are going to try to do what is right, and we are going to fail royally.  But He stays with us anyway.   He hears our prayers and promises of change and repentance.  He hears our words, but He knows our hearts.  Yet, He loves us anyway.

Five short days to the cross, and it was finished.  Today, we crucify Him again and again with our actions.  I crucify Him again and again with my actions.   But luckily, the cross wasn't the end.  Luckily, the cross was just the beginning.  It is much more than luck.  It is a love that we, in our finite minds, simply cannot comprehend.

Yes, it was five short days to the cross.  But it was only three days later for eternity!

(More to come!)

Beach Mode!!

Today, I am in full "beach mode".  Since the days of my childhood, the beach has held a special place in my life.  Most summers were spent on the Florida panhandle in the emerald waters on the snowy, white sand beaches.  The beach has always represented a paradise of escape from everyday life, and of life, temporarily, without a care!  

Beach mode means ponytails, flip- flops and no make up!  (Well, a little cover-up with sunscreen, these days!)   Beach mode means catching up on reading and snoozing in the sunshine.  Beach mode means nothing but fresh seafood until we think we are actually growing gills ourselves!  Beach mode means laughing and silliness while we cruise the strip.  Beach mode means palm trees and putt-putt.  Beach mode means sunshine and snow cones.  Beach mode means music and magic as we watch the tides roll. 

Spring break has always been a blast, and it served as the official welcome to spring time!  As a teenager, it was a carefree time to enjoy a break from studies, and a marker to the final stretch of the school year.   As a young married couple, spring break rolled around without notice, other than a quick weekend beach trip, if we had the money.   As a young parent, it was a chaotic attempt to hold on to our own youth, while keeping hold of floaties, noodles, swim diapers, and babies!  With grandparents in tow, spring break became more of a family event.  Nanna and Grandpa watched youngsters, while we would slip out for go-karts and amusement parks!  As our children got older, it transformed into an annual family event along beaches across the Carolinas and Florida.  Baseball spring tournaments kept our attention for several years, spring breaking with other families that became like our own.   As middle age approached, we became spectators of our own children and their friends enjoying many of the same things we did as youngsters.  The circle of life continuing on, as it has for generations! 

So today, as we enjoy Spring Break 2013, we are somewhat on our own.  Grandparents are no longer with us, but enjoying their eternal rewards.  One child is at home, living her life independent of us, and doing extremely well!  She needs to keep her routine in order to be happy, and that's okay.  She’s all grown up in her own way!   Another child is playing baseball at college, on a different spring break schedule.  He's not at all happy that we are spring breaking without him!  He is also almost grown, and such a fine young man!  Baby boy drove us to the beach, while Dad slept and Mom read and blogged in the back seat!  He's content to stay in the condo, playing his guitar and writing songs.  Everyone and most things have changed, but again, that's okay!

Spring Break 2013 is much different, but this mom’s eyes still see memories of images forever etched in my mind.  I can still see a little angel with a blonde ponytail playing in the sand, with a smile as bright as the sunshine.  I can still see a little red-haired boy with brilliant blue eyes on a boogie board in the cresting ocean waves.  I can still see a little brown haired tanned baby boy digging holes all over the beach, dragging a shovel bigger than he is!  Shhh. . . let my imagination soar!   Don’t bother me!  I’m in beach mode! 

A Lesson on Lostness -- Part 3

Fathers play an awesome role in a child’s life.  I was blessed by having a wonderful father, albeit, I only had him for a short nineteen years.  I was my "Daddy's girl," and he was my everything.  I’ve had the opportunity to be married to the wonderful father of my three children for close to thirty years.  I've seen him change diapers and wipe snotty noses.  I've seen him hold a feverish child, tenderly rubbing her back.  I've witnessed him run out of the house with a child needing stitches, while trying to make sure I did not faint!  A father's love is indeed a special thing.   As Christians, when we really think of the ultimate love of a dad, we have to think of God’s love for us—His children. 

In Luke 15,  Jesus shares with us the well-known parable of a lost son.  In this parable, Jesus illustrates the true love that God lavishes on His offspring.  As a mother, I would like to just smack this apparent spoiled brat of a son that dishonors his father by requesting his inheritance a bit early.  My own children have jokingly asked Jeff or me from time to time, “How much money do we get when ya’ll die?”    After years in the insurance industry, we are truly worth more dead than alive, and they know this.  That said, we have no plans of going anywhere anytime soon, and our eager beavers will just have to wait!  (And I have every intention of spending their non-insurance inheritance during my lifetime!) 

In the parable, we meet a young man who has come to a decision that he Is ready to leave home.  He no longer wants to be under his father’s roof, and he wants to be independent.  He asks his father to give him whatever money he would someday be entitled to as an inheritance.  The father agrees to the son’s request, and the young man heads to a distant land to enjoy the fruits of this inheritance.  There is no real thought or plan for the future.  He is finally on his own, free to enjoy his life.   He is off to find a new life for himself.  He finds new friends, new habits, and new excitement in this new life.  I can only imagine his feelings that he finally has it all!  He is on top of the world, and everything life has to offer is at his fingertips.   

In today’s climate, I can imagine a young man on a Las Vegas style escapade.  Las Vegas is an interesting place, but it is one of the most evil and sinful places I have ever had the unfortunate opportunity to visit.  There are beautiful buildings, dancing waters, and bright lights.  From an outward perspective, it is Disney World for adults.  Alcohol, gambling, prostitution, and other legal and illegal activities wait around every corner.  If a person has enough money, contacts and imagination, just about anything is possible.   This is the type of life this young man finds for himself. 

I can just imagine this young man at the craps table.  Money and alcohol flowing freely.  Beautiful women at his side, and partying friends ordering drinks around for all.    Party central, and Daddy’s inheritance money paying the tab.  There is no thought about tomorrow or next week.  Life is good, and it is going to be lived to the fullest .  . . as long as the money holds out!   As long as it does hold out, popularity , prosperity and pride are front line and center!

 But, as with most good times, it comes to an end.  We are not given information on how long he enjoyed the party, but the lights soon dimmed, and the party was done.     I can almost imagine him in the desolate casino, with pockets empty, and eyes dull from too much partying and too little sleep.  Friends gone.  Nothing left.  Now what?

Scripture says that a famine arose, and the young man found himself working for a pig farmer, slopping the hogs.  He has traded all the popularity, prosperity and pride for a pathetic, perilous existence with pigs!  What a tremendous fall from his high society rank to the mud pit with pigs! 

He is dirty and dusty; hungry and homesick.  He has a “light bulb” type of moment downwind of the pigs, when he realized that even his father’s servants have a better life than he does.  They have food and shelter.  He decides he will go back home. He will tell his father that he no longer deserves to be a son, but will work as a servant.  He rehearses his speech, and leaves for home with much regret and anxiety in his heart.

Back on the home front, I can only imagine the father’s feelings during the son’s absence.  I’m certain that not a day passed by when he didn’t think of his youngest child.  I’m certain he longed to know his whereabouts.  Perhaps he had received news that his son was living it up in that distant land.  Perhaps he knew that the money had run out, and his son had fallen on hard times.  We don’t know, but we do know that the father’s love for the son had never waned.  It had never diminished—regardless of the actions of the son. 

Jesus tells us that as the son approaches home, his father sees him.  He cannot believe his eyes.  He squints quickly to make sure he is not seeing some type of mirage.  Could it actually be that his son has returned?  His heart leaps in his chest!  It is HIS son!  He has returned!  Let the reunion begin!

This tells me that this father has been watching and waiting for the son to return.  But why?  Could it be that he was eagerly awaiting his son’s return so he could  scold and lecture him about his wicked ways?  Could he finally get to say the famous parental words, “I told you so”?  Could he find some satisfaction that his son was not able to make it independently, and he was crawling back home for Dad’s help?  Could he think about agreeing to take this son back in, only to hold this over his head for the rest of his life?  The possibilities could be endless for revenge on this sad excuse for an offspring!

We soon recognize that none of these possibilities are true.  The father has been eagerly awaiting his son’s return, but it is because of an unconditional love that only a parent has for a child.  The father runs to the returning child.  Runs.  That is an action verb, and love is an action verb, too.   It takes energy, and neither is done in a passive manner.  The father grabs him, and he hugs the boy’s neck.  He holds his baby boy.  I can imagine the tears of joy shed, by father AND by son.  The jubilant father takes the young man into the house.  He gifts the young man a beautiful robe, a ring, and sandals for his feet.  He orders a party to be given in his son’s honor.  The son is fully restored to his place in this family.  It is as if he was dead, and he is now alive again.  He was lost, and he has now been found. 

What a beautiful story.  “. . . and they all lived happily ever after.”  Well, not quite.  At this point, we are introduced to the “older” brother.  This son has always been “the good one.”  He has been obedient and respectful of his father.  He has probably been the one to comfort his dad during his rebel brother’s absence.  The older brother is not at all happy about the attention given to the baby brat.  His father explains that he should be happy that his brother has returned, and he invites him to join in the celebration.  The older brother refuses.   This is where Jesus ends his parable, so we are left with questions about how all of this family dysfunction resolved itself.        

We don’t really have those answers, but we do have the heavenly meaning that Jesus intended us to have from this parable.  The father represents God, and God loves His children unconditionally.  He lavishes His love and blessings on us daily, and many times, we travel to a distant land—away from Him.  Too many times, we are truly the bratty child in need of discipline.  We ignore our conscience and upbringing.  We live a lifestyle contrary to His plan for us.  We travel in circles that transform us into something He would never want us to be.  We end up in the proverbial pig pens of life, slopped with scars and squalor from our choices.  We have a “light bulb” moment when we realize our Father is waiting, if we will just return to Him. 

When we return to God, we are restored to His family, and we are promised full benefits of that familial relationship.  Angels in heaven rejoice because we were dead, and now we are alive again.  We were lost, and now we are happily found. 

Older brothers often abound in life, and fellow Christians can sometimes be the least forgiving of all.  I remember my father telling a story of a young woman in his home church in the 1950s.  This young woman had lived a wild life, and she had traveled into those “distant lands” many times in her life.  Her “church roots” always seems to call her home though.  From time to time, she would return home, and her sweet parents would encourage her to worship with them.  One Sunday, the preacher’s message touched her heart, and she responded to the invitation.  One of the loving sisters in the congregation loudly whispered in a disgusted tone, “Well, she’ll just do it again!  She’s just a bad seed!”  The message of the intended whisper echoed through the church house.  The young woman’s softened heart turned to stone because of this older woman’s vocal judgment.  The young woman left that church house, and she never returned.  She lived the rest of her life in rebellion, making sure that older sister’s prediction came true.  How sad.                    

As Christians, we are called to forgive, and we must—end of story.  We must forgive with the same spirit by which God forgave us.  We must forgive—and forget.  God does, and aren’t we glad?  God wipes our slates clean when we ask for His forgiveness.  He keeps no record of our wrongs from ten minutes ago, ten months ago, or ten years ago.  We surely do.  I can tell you how “Sam” hurt my feelings when we were in college.  I can tell you how “Lori” went wild on spring break in Florida when we were in 10^th grade.  I can tell you how “Steve” cheated on his math test in 3^rd!  We hold on to these things, and God commands us not to.  We must forgive and forget, and we need to pray for God’s help in that.  It’s not easy, but we need to remember that we are not perfect.  We need to recall  a time that we have also been in the pig pens of life, and we too have had the stench of slop on us.  If we consider ourselves above such things, a pig pen may, indeed, be in our future.  Pride often goes before a fall! 

God loves His children, and we are blessed to be one of them.  God forgives us unconditionally, and He lavishes His love on us.  We need to do the same for others.  We were dead, and now we again live.  We were lost, and now we are happily found.  Thank you, God, for being our Father!

A Lesson on Lostness -- Part 2

Have you ever lost something?  Probably most of us have at some time or other.  I absolutely HATE misplacing anything!  "It" will just eat at me until I clean out, clear out, and contemplate on every possible place the lost "it" could be!  I rarely settle on the thought that "it" is just gone, never to be again seen.  Rather, I usually just diligently search until "it" is found, at last!  I so enjoy that "ah-ha" moment when "it" is back in my possession--until I misplace it again!

Jesus demonstrates such a lostness in Luke 15 with the "Parable of the Lost Coin."  He explains that a woman had ten coins, which must have been very dear to her.  One of the coins becomes lost, and the woman frantically looks for it.   She lights a lamp to look into every crack and crevice of her home.  She sweeps the floor.  When the lost coin is found, she rejoices.  She calls her friends and neighbors to rejoice with her because she has found something so very special in her life.

Today, we think of coins as almost trivial.  We find them on floors and between couch cushions.  I regularly find them in my washer, and I usually consider that my tip!  We don't have a lot of information about the woman in the parable.  We can presume any number of scenarios about her life.  Regardless, these coins are of utmost importance to her.  She does not consider the fact that she still has nine coins, and perhaps, the other one is just not important.  She does not consider not looking for it.  She must have felt that nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach until the lost coin was found.  Once found, she doesn't just sigh, and silently feel the weight off of her shoulders.  She cannot contain her happiness, and she shares it with others important in her life.

Several years ago, our family was enjoying a beautiful fall day on Daytona Beach.  Our children were young, and we had packed a trunk full of water toys, buckets, boogie boards and noodles.  Indeed, we were a spectacle with all of our gear!  Luckily, cars are allowed on the beach, so we didn't have to walk too far!  After several hours of play, we took a time out for an ice cream bought from a food truck that travels up and down the beach.  Following our snack, Jeff announced that he would like a nap.  I took the children a little way down the beach to throw a ball.  Conner was about six at this time.  He decided that he wanted his boogie board, so watched as he went back to Jeff to get it.  As I watch him, a car passed by us, and it hid my view of Conner momentarily.  Within those few seconds, he was out of my sight and GONE.  As I tried to adjust my eyes, I saw Jeff lying on the beach towel.  I saw Conner's board.  I saw all of our stuff, but NO Conner.

My heart physically seemed to leap in my chest.  Katie, Colton and I rushed to Jeff, hoping he had seen Conner.  He was asleep.  By this time, I was crying and screaming for Conner.  The people around us immediately saw our distress, and they offered assistance.  Within a few minutes, a little search party was desperately looking for my little boy.  The life guard was notified, and a beach police patrol arrived quickly.  There was absolutely no sight of Conner, and my imagination was running wild.  Could someone have nabbed him?  Could he have been taken in a car?  Could he have gotten in the water?  This was my worst nightmare!

The beach patrol officer advised Jeff and the children to wait at our beach spot in case Conner returned.  The officer took me in the beach truck to drive up and down the beach looking for him.  He radioed in a missing child alert, and I went into a total melt down upon hearing that.  My mind raced.  How would I ever leave this beach without my child?  How would I ever forgive myself for losing my child?  How would I ever explain to Katie and Colton that Conner was gone?

I have never felt such a feeling of utter helplessness in that crowd of beach goers that day.  Everyone looked at me with such pity, and my heart felt as if it would break.  Thirty minutes had passed, and I felt as if I were going to be sick.  I felt as if I were going to faint.  This just could not be happening.  I could not lose something so dear to me.  Yes, I had two other wonderful children; but I longed for my baby--the one that was lost.  I cried out for God to please let us find him.  Please let me find my lost boy.

A call came in on the radio.  Conner had been found almost two miles up the beach.  How had he gotten so far away so quickly?  Was he alright?  The police officer assured me that a life guard had him, and Conner seemed to be fine.  As we drove up, I will never forget the feeling I had when I saw my little boy sitting on the life guard stand looking left and right for me.  I will never forget jumping out of that truck and running to him.  I will never forget holding him and hugging him until he told me I was squashing him!  I never wanted to let go of him again--and I didn't for about two days!  I remember the drive back to Jeff and the children.  I remember Conner telling me that he was trying to find us by following the ice cream truck tracks up the beach.  I remember him looking up and taking my chin in his little hands, explaining that he did the right thing.  He was a big boy.  He had gone to the lifeguard for help.  I remember the cheers of strangers when Conner ran to his Daddy.  I remember Jeff scooping him up into his arms.  Such joy.  Such peace.  Such relief. 

God actively searches for us when we stray from Him.  He does not consider that we are only "one," and that He has plenty other children.  He knows me well.  He knows you well.  He wants to be with us at all times, so that we are not lost.  We are not alone.  We are not without Him.   A Father's love for His children is shown through His desire for all of us to be found. 

Something so dear.  Something so lost.  Something so special.  Something found.  Something so precious, that once found,  joy can not be contained.  That's how important we are to God.  God will do more than light a lamp or sweep the floor to find a lost coin.  God will do more than search the beach or jump from a beach patrol truck to run to His child.   God will come to you wherever you are; whatever time; whatever situation.  God knows.  God understands.  God forgives.  God wants you with Him today -- and for eternity.

In the words of a beautiful song -  How deep the Father's love for us--How vast beyond all measure!

Thank you God, for being such an attentive and loving Father to your children!

A Lesson on Lostness -- Part 1

One of the perks of my job is that, in addition to teaching 5th grader Social Studies and Language Arts, I also get to teach Bible.  It is such a blessing to be at a Christian school where we can pray as a class; talk about God as a class; and read the Bible.  This semester, we have been studying the parables of Jesus.  I have always loved studying the parables, and I love teaching them just as much!  Jesus was the Master Teacher, and He spoke in parables to assist his disciples in better understanding His message.  I learned as a child that a parable is "an earthly story with a heavenly meaning."  The truths Jesus taught two thousand years ago are just as valuable and viable today.  Maybe even more so.

In Luke 15, Jesus deals with the idea of "lostness." He illustrates his point with a story of a lost coin, a story of a lost sheep, and a story of a lost (prodigal) son.   Jesus spoke on this theme to show us that God really cares for those who are away from him.  He will actively search for His children that are away from Him.

I remember a Bible lesson many years ago on the lost sheep.  It was in a pre-school Sunday School class.  We glued cotton on our little lambs, and they were all part of the story.  My little lamb was chosen to become the "lost" sheep.  As Mrs. Moore, my Bible teacher began the story, I became very sad.  I got so upset, as I watched her put my little white lamb to the far side of the flannel board, far away from the shepherd.  I was probably four years old, and I remember Mrs. Moore's reassurance,  telling me to just wait for the end of the story.  I was elated when the Shepherd found my lamb and brought it back with the others.

Jesus is the Good Shepherd, and so many times, we act like dumb sheep.  We wander, and we find ourselves lost.  We are in a foreign place, and we are lost, confused, and desperate.  How did we get here?  How do we get back on the right track?  How did life become such a mess?  Where is the loving Shepherd?

He will "leave the other ninety-nine" in order to search for the "one" that is lost.  That idea is amazing.  That "one" REALLY matters.  That "one" has been me many times during my life, and it probably has been you, as well.  Sometimes I think we forget about how important we are to God.  How important I am.  How important you are.  He knows us intimately--down to the number of hairs on our head.  And He wants us near Him, and He wants to be near to us.

He doesn't rationalize that the lost "one" doesn't matter.  He doesn't settle for the "ninety-nine" sheep that are safely in the fold.  He knows the one that is missing, and He lovingly searches for it, and brings it back.  He doesn't kick it, and scold it about wandering.  He doesn't threaten that it better not happen again.  He doesn't bring up the other fifty times it has been lost in the past.  He lays it around His shoulders and carries it home.  He calls in friends and neighbors to join in the rejoicing over the one that was lost, and is now found.

Sometimes God may use us to seek out a sheep that has gone astray.  We need to be ready and willing to be part of His search party in actively looking for that little lost lamb.  We need to imitate the actions of the Shepherd and lovingly bring those who have strayed away back into the fold.  It is not our job to judge or condemn a wayward child of God.  It is our duty to show him his extreme importance to the Father.  It is our duty to show her that God wants her back, and that we want her back.  Too many times Christians seem to "kick" fellow believers "when they're down."  Well-known minister, Rick Warren, tweeted recently that "The Church is a hospital for suffering sinners, not a hotel for smug saints."  How true!  As Christians, we are sometimes guilty of "shooting" our walking wounded rather than truly ministering to them.   

As the years have passed, I don't know what ever happened to my little cottony lamb.  My mother kept it in a memories box for many years, but somehow it became lost, once again.  Even without it, the story is permanently imprinted on my heart.  What a gift we have in knowing that we can never be so far away from God that He cannot find us, and we can return to His fold.