In bed Saturday night, I began to think about what life was going to look like in the future. Less outings and social gatherings? Less trust? There is also some uncertainty in my employment future and a few of those thoughts tried to creep in. I reminded myself that God has the future all planned out and that God has my future all planned out. I shyly asked for a peek of it, and immediately got back one word – “Me”. As I was pondering that, I also heard, “And more of Me.” God has my future all planned out and all I need to know (and remember) is that He’ll be with me every step of the way.
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Tears in a Bottle
The young woman turned away with a cry of anguish – a small cry, but intense. It was a many-faceted pain – memories, emotional, deep in spirit and physical. The facets ran deep and they overlapped and intertwined.
Very gently and tenderly, He kissed her forehead and scooped up a tear. That simple act broke the dam open and the tears gushed and the cries grew louder. No one had ever been so kind and gentle and tender before and it made the anguish worse. The anger and bitterness came up and boiled over. He listened quietly and intently, but she tried to push Him away. “You can’t help me! I can’t love You in return!” she desperately cried out. “I have to have a heart to love you with and mine is broken. It’s broken,” she sobbed.
A gentle voice replied. “Please, let me fix it. Give me the broken pieces.” He waited patiently until the sobbing subsided. With trembling hands cupped together, she gathered the shattered pieces of her heart and slowly began to hold them out to Him. His large hands cupped her small ones and she saw a large tear slowly fall onto the shattered pieces. The tear melted the pieces and made them all one and healthy again. In wonder, she looked up and through her drying tears and saw the tender, loving face of God.
When the young woman realized she was being truly heard and paid attention to for the first time in her life, it made her pause. She waited for His response. There was none, but His heart was in His eyes, encouraging her to tell Him more.
Her tears slowed. Her anguish diminished. Her words grew calmer and more logical. Still He listened without comment, but with tremendous empathy and love.
Her breathing evened out and peace began to replace anguish. At last she was understood and accepted. It felt as if she were being held close. She felt warm and safe and she never wanted to leave.
After a while she stirred, ready to go on. There on the table next to her was the most beautiful glass bottle she’d ever seen. She admired it and gingerly removed the stopper. The scent that wafted out was the sweetest smell she had ever smelled and brought her back to the feeling of being held, comforted, protected. She suddenly realized that this was the bottle of her tears that He had collected. She never felt more loved in her entire life.
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“You have taken account of my wanderings; put my tears in Your bottle; Are they not in Your book?” Psalm 56:8 NASB
“You have seen me tossing and turning through the night. You have collected all my tears and preserved them in Your bottle! You have recorded everyone in Your book.” TLB
The First Passover
Father and Son watch the first Passover (Exodus 12) from heaven. The lambs being chosen and brought into the homes for four days. The Lamb of God smiles as everyone, not just the children, becomes attached to the fluffy, playful creatures. A different kind of smile comes as He thinks about all those who will love Him and enjoy His presence for His thirty years at home and three years healing, serving and teaching.
The evening comes when the lambs are killed. The blood is brushed on the door frames. The lambs are roasted and eaten. The Lamb experiences a kaleidoscope of emotions and an involuntary shudder at the cries of the first lambs being slaughtered and the human tears he witnesses at the loss of a friend. The death of theses lambs is swift and merciful. His will be neither. The Father places his hand on His Son’s shoulder. They both sigh deeply.
So much pain to be endured by Each of Them. Physical brutality and death. Mental anguish. Emotional tearing of betrayal and rejection. Spiritual distress that so few will understand, believe and accept. The pain of surrendering to what must be accepted, completed and accomplished. Simultaneously They Each say, “It is the only way”, in Their own way, from Their own point of view. If the perfect sacrifice isn’t made, no human will ever be able to enjoy heaven.
Still, the Father already feels the deep distress of a parent’s helplessness as they watch their child suffer unjustly. Distress made deeper by the fact that as God, He could intervene and spare His only child. The Son is aware of the great struggle that will take place within Himself to bring His human will and nature in line with His divine nature and His Father’s will.
One emotion They both have at this moment is a tremendous love for the people They are making this sacrifice for.
Heavenly Glimpse
He sits at a large wooden table. Maybe it was working in the carpentry shop all those years. He still prefers large, smooth, solid, wooden tables. A large thick book is open before Him – someone’s life book. He slowly turns the pages, pausing here and there as a smile comes to His face or a tear comes to His eye. Triumphs and troubles are recorded here and something of each one must be included. He makes mental notes of favorite things and colors, what touched their soul, what has long been lost and forgotten, what was dreamt of and gently laid aside. Each room in the mansion is custom designed and custom decorated – made to order to please its future eternal occupant. What will yours be like?
I love crystal and rainbows and pastels of every shade – especially lilac and orchid, so I picture stained glass windows and a crystal wall of ever changing pastel hues. My first teddy bear will be there – re-stuffed, cleaned and with new matching eyes. There’ll be butterflies everywhere and they will never die. There will be the sound of a gentle brook.
Then there’s the crown. Handcrafted by the Master. Filigrees that will tell my life story. Jewels that will tell my rewards.
Best of all are the people who will be there. Mama will be restored and she and I will take long walks together talking about all the things we never got to talk about here. She’ll be able to say any word she thinks of without hesitation, and she’ll talk in long, complete sentences. I’ll have brothers and sisters in heaven – I’ll meet Mama’s miscarriages. The aunts and uncles will all get along.
The names in the Bible will have faces and the words will have voices. Ruth and Esther. Peter, Paul and John. Jesus will be there with twinkles in His eyes and a smile just for me. And we’ll dance. I’ve always wanted to dance like Anna and the King of Siam did after the English banquet. Gloriously dressed as a groom and His bride, the King of heaven and I will effortlessly dance across the crystal sea.
The Proof that I am not Alone
From the very beginning I thought the wedding was in Elgin. Got the invitation months ago, read it, planted Elgin in my mind. The week of the wedding I heard the bride tell someone the wedding was in Elk Grove Village. Panic set it. Elgin was a lot closer. Elk Grove Village was a lot farther. I rushed to the computer to get directions. Two choices. Route 12 or Route 62. I wasn’t as familiar with 12. 62 was familiar, but two lanes through a lot of forest preserves. Not appealing for driving alone late on a Saturday night.
I went home and checked for hotel rooms. Booked solid. With the easy solution unavailable, I began to pray for the next step. There was no way I was not going. Do I look for a hotel room somewhere close by, or do I drive? The more I thought about driving, the more I began to think of all the nasty things that might happen. A woman driving alone on a dark two lane highway…so many possibilities. I worked on casting them down and out.
By Friday, I wasn’t any closer to knowing what to do, so I decided that if I heard the word “hotel” that morning either at work, or on the radio (as in “Hotel California”), I’d find a room and if not, I’d trust and drive. It was a busy morning, and before I knew it, it was time to head home. As I was locking up, and closed the door behind me, it dawned on me I had not heard the word “hotel”. I was driving.
I continued to fight the spiritual warfare battle. I was driving and God would protect me. I kept repeating verses and assurances and affirmations. As I began to get ready to leave, I got more and more nervous. I brought my walking shoes to drive in (and run in if I got into any trouble). By the time I got in the car and set up the GPS, my heart was pounding. Deep breath. Put in address. Back up. Start out.
On the way to Route 62, I was directed to turn left on Main Street to get to Route 62, but there was a road work sign that Main Street was closed at Route 62. I went straight and was sent to Route 72. Look! Four to six lanes!
When it was time to head for home, I prayed before pulling out asking God to go before me, be at my side and be my rear guard. And please let me have someone to follow the whole way. Had no problem finding my way back to Route 72 – one obstacle out of the way. Now to get home. Four to six lanes, traffic, someone to follow, well-lit – I began to relax.
Then, I was stopped at the second light from my house and could relax more fully. I began to laugh, for I had just driven 34-35 miles on two major rural routes and this was the first stoplight that was red! Not a single stop the entire way! Not only did God get me home safely, He did it in 50 minutes instead of 75!
“For the Lord will go before you, and the God of Israel will be your rear guard.” (Isaiah 52:12b) No, I was not alone. I am never alone.
Before Christmas
“Father, it’s a breathtaking galaxy You’ve designed and created, but I feel it’s not yet complete. Something’s missing.”
“Yes, I know exactly what You mean, and I have an idea.”
There is silence as the plan unfolds before Him. Father closely watches the Son’s reaction, occasionally looking up to see the Spirit’s expression. Jesus’ face is like a kaleidoscope – amazement, wonder, joy, deep sorrow. In the Spirit’s face He sees total acceptance and notices that He now looks to Jesus for His response. Spirit is already interceding, already strengthening and helping.
Jesus takes a deep breath. “I only have one question – why?”
Father looks intently into the face He loves, and replies with a single word. “Love”.
Jesus takes a deeper breath. “Father, it’s a beautiful planet You’ve designed and created, and the animals are wonderful, but are You sure about creating people? I realize they are in Our image and they certainly start out well, and some are very promising, but…”
Father doesn’t answer right away. He continues to watch the kaleidoscope before Him. After a while, He gently and quietly whispers, “but?”
“But the people are flawed and everything You’ve designed and created is perfect. I can see the possibilities for great joy and fellowship, but You know there will be conflict with Satan. He will hurt them. Satan has already brought You great pain. The people will cause You even more. Are You absolutely certain about the people?”
“We have so much beauty in the universe We have created. We should share it. We have more than enough love within Us to be able to bear the pain.”
“Yes, but We are holy and these people… There would always be a barrier between us.” Jesus looks intently into the face of His Father. “Couldn’t we do something to remove it so the relationship would be as perfect as the rest of creation?”
God returns the intense gaze for the longest time. His face is not a kaleidoscope, but it clearly shows He is weighing a matter. Very quietly He replies, “Yes, My Son, there is something We could do.”
The Father lays out the plan. The Spirit audibly sucks in a startled breath and returns to watching the Son and praying. The Son looks into His Father’s face. “Incredible!” The Father waits.
“An embryo? I would become an embryo in an unwed mother? A baby? I would be a baby and have to learn everything I already know? I would be a toddler who learns to walk, a child who learns to obey, a teenager who learns to relate to people, a carpenter who earns a living, a teacher they don’t understand, a Savior they don’t want? I would have to leave You and perfection for more than thirty years? The betrayal, rejection, scourging, crucifixion? The resurrection.
“Will it be hard?”
“Yes, my Son, it will. You will need to be truly one of them in order to bridge the gap between us. You will need to struggle as they do, to experience everything they experience, every joy, every sorrow, every anguish. But We will help You and strengthen You.
Jesus returns to deep thought. After a long pause, He murmurs, “It is the best way.” He looks up again. “But Father, so few will believe, so many will reject Us. Are You absolutely certain?”
“Everyone will be able to choose whether or not to believe. Everyone will have the opportunity for perfect love and relationship. We have more than enough love for all. I’m certain. It’s up to You, Son. Are You willing?”
Once again, the Spirit holds His breath.
Jesus’ smile is bittersweet. “I will miss Our oneness, but yes, I’m willing.”
“I’m proud of You, Son.”
“Father, how long will they have to wait for Me to come? How long will it be until My return?”
“Don’t worry, my Child, the timing will be perfect.”
A Volunteer’s Reward
This post is dedicated to the innumerable volunteers who give so much of themselves to serve others. Sometimes it is a thankless and unappreciated service. There are times when we have to get ready to go out serve when we’re tired and have so many other things calling for attention in our lives and we wonder if it’s worth continuing because we have no idea whether or not we’re making a difference. Once in a great while God allows us to see the difference we’re making or have made.
One of the volunteer positions I served in was called Read Fur Fun at our local library. We would bring our therapy dogs on a Saturday morning, the children would pick a book and read it to the dog of their choice. One Saturday our time was up, but I saw a young boy who had that “love at first sight” look when he saw Buster Brown, so we lingered. Tommy (not his real name) was developmentally challenged and wanted to know why a dog was in the library. We explained the program to him and he started to get a book, when he was told we were done for the day, but he could sign up for next month. He eagerly looked at his mom. She was the kind of mom who was doing everything she possibly could to help her son.
A month later Tommy came and slowly read to Buster Brown, his finger under each word. His mom was trying to get him to put more feeling in to his reading, but Buster Brown listened attentively nevertheless. As they were leaving, his mom said, “He practiced every day for the last month so he could read to the dog”. Tears came to my eyes and I never forgot him. I looked for him each time we went, but he was involved in several other therapeutic programs and didn’t make it back to the library.
It’s been five or six years since that Saturday. I was at the library this afternoon for a performance of Old Time Radio Players. I recognized Tommy at the counter as soon as I saw him. He came to the show and sat in the front row. The performers asked for two volunteers to read from the scripts for the next skit. Tommy was the first to volunteer and I admit I cringed a bit – some of the old time radio shows were rather fast-paced. His turn came and he had no problem following the script or reciting his lines. His expressiveness was much better than it was years ago. I was so proud of him!
I was also very touched to have been a minute part of his progress, and grateful to God for allowing me to see a glimpse of what we encouraged. Don’t give up. Don’t doubt your effectiveness. Keep volunteering!
Mama’s Rainbow
In memory of my mother, who went to heaven on a July 20th, years ago.
She had always wanted a child. There were several miscarriages and a stroke while she was pregnant. The doctors told her not to get pregnant again – having a child could end her life. But her desire for a child was greater than her fear of death, so she had me. I don’t really know all the details – just what I gleaned here and there from what other people told me, from what I heard by eavesdropping when Daddy thought I was occupied and not paying attention to the grownup conversation. You see, one of the strokes Mama had took away her speech – she could say single words, but not sentences.
Daddy grew up Catholic and Mama Protestant. Both churches practiced infant baptism. I’m not sure why (one aunt told me I spent the first two years of my life with another aunt while Mama was recovering from another stroke), but they didn’t get around to baptizing me until I was four years old. It was the first time I ever went to church and what a church it was! Carved wood pews, stained glass windows and a pipe organ. I had never seen or heard anything so beautiful. We were up in front and during the service I fell in love with church and the things of God. I made my parents take me every Sunday after that.
I became the center of Daddy’s world. After all, I came at a high price – the near loss of his beloved wife. So he protected me – to the point of overprotecting me. One day, the boy I had loved since I was a little girl came calling. Daddy was worried. I told him he didn’t have to be – I wasn’t going to marry the man. But then he proposed and I said yes, and the war was on. It didn’t matter that Daddy had known him since we were children (and had always liked him). Now that he wanted to take his little girl away, he wasn’t good enough.
One Saturday afternoon, the argument had been intense – the list of apparent and imagined faults was long. Mama and I had to leave for the beauty shop and as soon as we were out of sight of the house, I stopped, faced her and asked point blank, “Do you want me to marry him?” With a look of determination and defiance I imagined her having when she was trying to have a baby, she simply replied “Yes!” That was enough for me, and from then on, it became a matter of gently convincing my dad I was indeed going to get married.
It was a month before the wedding and one morning we were making breakfast. Mama dropped the gallon of milk and just before she fell to the floor, a knowing look passed between us. A look from deep in our spirits that told each of us she wouldn’t be at the wedding. The doctor took my fiance and me aside that afternoon at the hospital and told us to go on with the wedding plans. “Don’t change anything, don’t postpone it”, he said. We were too overcome with emotion to say anything – we just nodded.
My fiance and I were standing in the kitchen later that night and I started to cry. We had led a sheltered life, my dad and mom and I. Handicapped people in public weren’t as common then as they are now, so we pretty much stayed home. Mama had picked out a beautiful dress for the wedding – I’d never seen her with anything so fancy. She was going to be queen for a day when she walked down the aisle and everyone knew I was wearing her wedding dress. I cried for the experience she would never have.
Mama was unresponsive, but every time I saw her, I brought her up to date on the wedding details and told her I expected her to come. When the wedding ceremony program was finished, I brought her a copy, read it to her and left it on her night stand. I had never prayed so hard in my life. At first I prayed that she would recover and come to the wedding. Then I prayed that she could participate in some way. While it seemed God was silent, I never got angry with Him or pouted – for the first time in my life, I simply trusted and waited. Somehow I just knew that God knew my heart and would do something special.
It was customary in those days for the bride and groom to present white roses to their mothers. Since Mama couldn’t come to the wedding, I made arrangements to bring the wedding to her. My father and husband-to-be in their tuxes and I in her wedding dress went to the hospital to give her her rose. The staff moved her to a private room for the occasion. As soon as I walked in the door, she knew exactly who I was and why I was there. She sat up in bed and reached for the nurse to try and tell her something. She pointed at me with joy and excitement. I don’t remember how long we stayed. I can’t tell you how anyone else reacted, but I think the nurses were crying. It was as if she and I were the only ones in the room. Whenever anyone asked about my mother that day, I told them that she had sat up and knew who I was and tried to talk.
During the two months Mama was in the hospital, that was the only time she was awake or aware of her surroundings, let alone interacting with them. She died a month later. It rained the day she died and we saw a double rainbow on the way home from the hospital. I believe it was God’s special way of welcoming her to heaven and letting me know she was free at last.
Mama’s illness and her miraculous awakening for my wedding day visit confirmed several things for me. While God doesn’t always answer our prayers the way we would like, He cares very deeply about the people and events that are important to us. No matter what is going on in our life, He knows, He cares, and He wants to help us and touch us deeply. He can do anything; including awakening a loving mother from a coma long enough to bless her daughter with an unforgettable memory. I’m reminded of that every time I see a rainbow – especially a double one.
Farewell to Buster B
As I look back, I see he’d been aging for quite a while, the wonderful English Springer Spaniel I’d had since he was a pup. Two summers ago, he began to tire out on our mile and half walks through the subdivision. Last summer, he no longer followed me the whole time I mowed the back yard and he was slow to get out of the way when he did follow me. The more I think about it, the longer the list gets – all the things he used to do and wasn’t doing any more.
As I look back, I see how God prepared me for what was coming. Earlier that week, he literally bounded into the living room one evening. My first thought was that he was having a seizure of some kind! I followed him as he pranced through the house and enjoyed the momentary return of the “life of the party” dog he’d been for fifteen and a half years. That Friday, I had gotten an email of happy dog pictures, and it occurred to me that Buster Brown was no longer as happy. Once again, I prayed that God would just take him in his sleep. I did not want to have to make the decision to put him down – I wanted God to do it for me.
Buster Brown was incontinent at times and that same Friday morning, he had soaked his dog bed overnight. That evening I came home to his worse mess – one that required a complete dog bath. Saturday morning, his gait was off and uneven – he fell several times. So I called the vet and made the appointment for later that morning. I looked Buster Brown in the face, and told him I was sending him home to God. I had mentioned it to him several times before, telling him that if he was in pain, he should let God take him home to heaven and I’d understand. Before, he had always turned away quickly in disgust, but this time he turned away slowly in resignation.
Friday night and Saturday morning, I was mad at God – really mad. I had asked Him to take Buster Brown in his sleep and He was making me go through the pain of making the decision and the phone call. I was in the bathroom later that morning when I heard the word “resolution” in my spirit. Yes, I had always hoped for resolution and complained about not getting it. I never got to say goodbye to my mother or my ex-husband before they died and I wasn’t with them when they left this world. I was at my father’s side to talk to him when he was dying, but he wasn’t responsive and he didn’t die until the next morning. Now, with Buster Brown, my beloved friend, God was giving me the opportunity to experience the closure I had never known.
I carried him that morning – the one and only time he let me carry him. I carried him to the car, to the vet, to the scale and to the office. He didn’t protest but for a wiggle or two. I held him the whole time – the one and only time he let me hold him in my lap for more than a few seconds. He didn’t even want to pace or go exploring. I told him how good he was, how much I loved him, how grateful I was for him. I felt his breath stop and then his heart. He died in my arms. I looked one last time into his eyes, and although the cloudy cataracts were no longer visible, the life was gone from his eyes and I cried harder.
I felt guilty and unsure of my decision to put him down. I wondered if I had done it out of impatience and for convenience. As I went to bed that night and began to read the novel I was in, I came to a part in the story where the main character’s parents travel to see him and spend time with him, because the father has a bad heart and is dying. The father tells his son it’s his time to die, and I knew God was telling me that it was indeed Buster Brown’s time to die. The doubt and the guilt vanished. Sunday I had my lunch outside and was reading a magazine where the introduction from the editor was a piece about how they put their dog down. Another confirmation from God, just for good measure. What a tender God that cares so much to comfort and reassure us about what we feel deeply! What a wonderful God who designed and arranged the perfect match between a dog and a person! Farewell Buster Brown, this woman’s best friend. I’ll miss you.
Buster Brown and the Old Man
He sat there in the nursing home’s dining room, deep in thought, his hand on his chin. The show was on, but his thoughts were back in the past somewhere, wondering where the time and the people and places and events he once loved and cherished had gone. He wasn’t even aware of the show that was going on, or the songs or the jokes, but every once in a while, he looked at Buster Brown from out of the corner of his eye. His thoughts had a deep and painful hold on him and he didn’t sing or speak when spoken to.
God nudged my heart and I knew we had to break through. I sat next to him and kept maneuvering Buster Brown past him, next to him, around and around. The show was almost over, and Buster Brown finally did what God gifted him to do – he nudged the man’s hand. The man was a bit startled, and Buster Brown put his head under the man’s hand on his thigh. The man had no choice now and no excuse – he began to pet the dog.
That’s when Buster Brown started doing what is frowned upon by TDI (Therapy Dogs International) officials – he licked the man’s hand. Ready to tell Buster Brown to stop, I looked into the man’s face, and saw a sparkle in his eyes. I watched and a smile appeared, and then he began to laugh. He laughed and told me what a wonderful dog he was. I smiled and nodded; my heart full that the God of the universe would care enough to use a dog to bring joy to a little lost lamb.
Let us not grow weary in doing good, for in due season we will reap a harvest of blessing if we faint not. (Galatians 6:9)
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