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. 

What a Difference a Day Makes

 

Twenty-four hours.   One thousand four hundred forty minutes.   Eighty six thousand four hundred seconds.   Not a lot of time in the “big picture” of things, but enough time for changes.  Some changes for a lifetime.

Yesterday, children got out of bed eagerly anticipating Friday, a fun day at school as the week winds down and the weekend begins.  Yesterday, children got up and ate breakfast.  Yesterday, children picked out their own outfits for school.  Yesterday, children ran into the schoolhouse, laughing and talking with classmates.  Yesterday, children greeted their teachers as they walked into class. Yesterday, children put up their backpacks and sat down at their desks to begin what seemed to be like any other Friday.  Yesterday, children wondered why someone was shooting off firecrackers in the school building.  Yesterday, some children saw their last Friday on this earth.   Yesterday, some children experienced a horror that no one should ever have to experience.  Yesterday, some children’s lives were snuffed out in an instance.  Yesterday, some children’s idea of innocence was forever shattered.  Yesterday, some children witnessed images that will be with them for the rest of their lives.

Yesterday, parents got out of bed with the same routine of most days.  Yesterday, parents woke up being thankful for Friday, a day of excitement (even for parents) as the workweek ends, and anticipation of the weekend.  Yesterday, parents prepared pancake breakfasts and packed peanut butter and jelly lunches.  Yesterday, parents reminded their children to get their backpacks and school supplies for the day.  Yesterday, parents and children planned a weekend of dinners out, movies, and Santa visits at the mall.  Yesterday, parents hugged little necks goodbye for the day, and some goodbye for eternity.  Yesterday, parents went to work; went to the grocery store; went about their lives---just like any other Friday.  Yesterday, parents had no idea that this Friday would end up being much different that any other Friday. 

Yesterday, teachers got out of bed; ready to go to school and teach the children in their classes.  Yesterday, these teachers probably anticipated the weekend, but even more so, the upcoming holiday break.  Yesterday, teachers probably got to school early to plan and prepare for the day.  Yesterday, teachers welcomed kindergarteners with smiles and laughter.  Yesterday, teachers began the school day with enthusiasm and dedication that only teachers have.  Yesterday, teachers heard gunshots.  Yesterday, teachers ran straight toward a gunman, only to be shot down in his path.   Yesterday, teachers locked doors and hid students.  Yesterday, teachers shielded students, while laying down their own lives.  Yesterday, some teachers became heroes.  Yesterday, some teachers became memories.

Yesterday, a monster gunned down his mother in her home.  Yesterday, a monster drove to a school and forced his way inside.  Yesterday, a monster methodically and purposely walked down school hallways, and killed teachers.  Yesterday, a monster walked into full classrooms and executed children at will.  Yesterday, a monster took the cowardly way out by turning his own gun on himself. 

Today, children are in shock.  Today, children have lost innocence forever.  Today, children wonder “why?”  Today, children are afraid to go to school.  Today, children are without classmates, teachers, and parents.  Today, children are not concerned with Santa Claus or Christmas.  Today, children know the feeling of heart break.

Today, parents are in denial of how such a tragedy could have occurred.   Today, some parents have lost the light of their lives.  Today, some parents want to die.  Today, some parents would give anything just to be able to turn back time.  Today, some parents don’t know how to go on living.  Today, some parents blame God.  Today, some parents blame guns.  Today, some parents are too numb to feel anything.

Today, teachers worry that this could happen at any school, anywhere.  Today, teachers eagerly await Monday, when they can go to school and hug those precious students a little longer.  Today, some teachers are afraid to go back into the classroom.  Today, some teachers are being called heroes because of the immense bravery and dedication they exhibited in a time of crisis.  Today, some teachers are remembered for the wonderful people they were, and will continue to be in the hearts of those who so dearly loved them. 

Today, a monster has a name and a face on national television.  Today, a monster is dead, but few people mourn the loss.  Today, a monster is said to have been mentally unstable.  Today, a monster has rocked a nation to its core.  

Twenty-four hours.  One thousand four hundred forty minutes.  Eighty six thousand four hundred seconds.   Not a lot of time in the “big picture” of things, but enough time for changes.  Some changes for a lifetime.

"Mr. Bill"

There are some people that we meet in this life that truly change us forever.  Whether they are in our lives for years, months, or just a season, their "mark" in unmistakable, and it remains with us always.

"Mr. Bill" Carlisle, as my children have always called him, was such a person.  I remember meeting him around twelve years ago.  He, along with his sweet wife, June, had begun worshiping at our local congregation.  I knew they both loved music, and I so enjoyed getting to know them as fellow members of our praise team.  Bill had a quiet, unassuming way when I first met him.  He was soft spoken and genuine.  As I got to know him, I learned of his comical side, and how he loved a good prank or joke.  From his flaming red suit to his rockabilly stage presence, Bill was one of a kind!

Bill was a genuine joy to be around, and he loved his family, his friends, and his music.  As part of the Grand Ole Opry for decades with his father (Jumping Bill Carlisle, Sr.), he was a master musician.  He had a beautiful bass voice, and loved to use it in our praise songs at church.

Bill was probably the kindness man I've ever known! When he became a business associate of my husband's, he used to brighten our days quite often.  I was working with Jeff at the time, and many days we would be working away, and we would hear a "vroom-vroom" outside. It would be Bill, pulling up on his motorcycle. He was just coming by to see us, sit and have a cup of coffee. He would sit in the front office with me, and tell stories and jokes, while Jeff, and his partner, Tim, were busy with the everyday life of financial planning/insurance business. He'd stop his stories if I had to answer the phone or greet another customer, and then he'd just continue from there. He might sit there and talk for an hour or so, and then just get up, and say, "Well, I guess I better let you get back to work!" Just sweet Bill in his loving and unassuming way!

A little over two years ago, Bill's and Jane's lives were forever changed after a tragic motorcycle accident.  The doctors were astounded that Bill lived through the trauma, but he did.  Paralyzed from the neck down, Bill's spirit never waivered.  His faith in God never left him.  His love for June never grew any dimmer, and her love and devotion to him seemed to grow every day.  He spoke in a breathy voice, but he said was "here" to do God's work as long as God wanted him "here."  He was ready to "go home" two years ago, but Bill still had a lot of teaching to do with us.  

These past two years, he has taught us so much from a bed and a wheelchair.  He taught my boys that you never give up no matter what happens to you.  When they both saw him shortly after the accident in a rehabilitation hospital in Atlanta, it really bothered them.  They had been used to seeing him so active--singing on stage, or riding his bike.  I remember Conner asking me if I thought "Mr. Bill" would ever get to play his guitar again.  

Well, Bill never physically played that guitar again.  His body failed him over the past two years, and we prayed that somehow God would heal him, and we could have him back just like before.  That was not God's plan for Bill.  God's plan was for Bill to stay with us for a short time longer.  Then, last week, God's plan was for Bill to leave us.  God's plan was for Bill to come "home" to Him.  Bill always knew that God's plan was so much greater than ours.  

So, this week, we will all say goodbye to Bill, and we will celebrate a life well lived on this earth.  A Godly man, who honored God even in a tragic circumstance.  A Godly wife, who showed us the meaning of true commitment and love for a spouse.  Bill has gone away from us, but he has truly changed those who knew him forever.  Our season with Bill is over for now, but so much of him  remains with us always.

My Jeff put it in a sweet way when I called him to tell us Bill had left us.  Jeff said that he could just imagine Bill "jumping for joy" with a new body and no more pain.  I imagine him, guitar in hand, grinning from ear to ear, and telling a joke to the angels!  Heaven is all the sweeter with Bill Carlisle there, and I look forward to seeing him again some day!