My Real Christmas Angel

I have always been fascinated by angels. As a child, I took to heart the concept of a guardian angel. Never one to enjoy being alone, it comforted me to know that an angel was watching over me and keeping me from harm. Besides that, I just knew in my child's heart that all angels were beautiful creatures. I mean, how could an angel be ugly?
Several years ago, my mother gave me the little angel you see in the photograph above. She did not give me any explanation as to why she gave her to me except to say that it was from my first Christmas tree and she just wanted me to have her. I had started collecting angel figurines several years before and Mother wanted to add this little angel baby to my collection. I have cherished it and keep it out all year long. One section of the skirt is a little ragged but she is lovely to me. She is a cherished treasure from my loving Mother.
For some reason this year, as I was decorating for Christmas, I became curious about my little angel. I wanted to know the story behind the gift and how she came to be so important. I phoned my Mother and asked her to tell me about my first Christmas angel. This is the story as Mother told it to me.

"You were about 18 months old when your Daddy and I decorated your first Christmas tree. We had so little money that year. All we could afford was a little table-top tree, about three feet high. We had one string of lights and about a dozen pretty bulbs. I ordered the little angel from a catalog---she cost a dollar. I put her on the top of the tree and she looked so pretty. When you came into the room and looked up to see the angel, you just kept saying, "Pretty angel, Mommy.". You just sat in a chair and kept staring at the angel. When your Daddy came home from work, you grabbed his hand and said, "See the angel, Daddy. See the pretty angel."
When you started collecting angels as an adult, I wanted you to have your first angel and to know that, though she didn't cost much money, your love of her and the memory of your first Christmas have always been precious to me."

Do I need to tell you how this story touched my heart? The thought of my sweet Mother, with almost no money to spare, selflessly making my first real Christmas one of beauty and joy. I could not hold back the tears.
But that is how my Mother has always been. She has always put her family ahead of anything she might want or need. To know that we have a holiday to remember---to see the smiles on the faces of her children, grandchildren and, now, great-grandchildren---to create memories that will last a lifetime---these have been Mother's gifts.
I am not able to go home for Christmas this year. My work schedule and other concerns prevent my making the trip. But, as I look at this little angel and remember the story Mother told me, I know that we will be together in our hearts. I will be hearing her sweet voice on Christmas Day. She will ask me if I've had a good Christmas and did the grandchildren enjoy their gifts. She will inquire about what we had for dinner and want to know if we have any snow. I will answer her questions with a smile on my face and a yearning in my heart to see her. I will be certain to let her know that the best gift I ever received was when she became my Mother. I want her to know that, of all the gifts of my childhood, I am most grateful for the gift of having her and Daddy to be my parents.
I am sure we all have a guardian angel. The scriptures teach us that the angels of God encircle us and watch over us faithfully. I know this to be true because, not only do I have a beautiful little Christmas angel to remind me, but I have a real-life guardian angel given to me by God Himself. My angel's name is Margie---but I call her Mother.

In Grace,

O, Come All Ye Faithful

My favorite Christmas carol is "O, Come All Ye Faithful". I have always loved the words, the melody, the repetition of the adoration of Christ, our Lord. Each time I have sung this glorious melody, I have pictured in my mind what it must have been like to be a participant in the events surrounding the birth of Jesus. I have often wondered what I would have said or done had I seen the tiny Babe lying in a manger. Being the one who always sheds the tears, whether happy or sad, I know my eyes would have filled with tears of joy upon seeing the little Saviour. I know the mother's heart within me would want to do as Mary did--snuggle Him close and look for the smile in His eyes.
The words of the song continue by inviting us to come to Jesus both "joyful and triumphant". Why that choice of wording? Why those particular emotions? I believe in my heart that the writer knew that no one could have come to Jesus without joy in their hearts---without feeling jubilation at the birth of the Son of God. When angels sang and shepherds bowed---when kings came from afar---when the Heavens lit up with the smile of God---I ask you, how could there not be joy? With the prophetic words of Isaiah coming to life before their very eyes, "...Behold, a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel...for unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given...his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace." (Isaiah 7:14 & 9:6)--how could there not be joy? How could there not be a feeling of triumph to know that the promised Messiah had finally--finally--arrived?
My brother, Dan, brought the Christmas message at our church not long before our father retired from pastoring. We had just finished singing this beautiful melody and there was a beautiful, reverent hush that had come upon the congregation. My brother stepped forward and said these words:

" We have sung these words for many years, perhaps without realizing the true meaning. The most significant phrase of the entire song--'Word of the Father, now in flesh appearing". Jesus, the Word of the Father, now made flesh and dwelling among us. How wonderful are those words to us."

May we all know the joy and triumph that accompanied our Saviour as he came as the Babe in the manger. May we all come to know Him and walk within His light until we see Him face to face. May the joy and jubilation that surrounded His birth be renewed in us today. Come, all ye faithful. Come to Him and know the true joy of the season---a child is born---His name is Jesus---Immanuel. Come, let us adore Him, Christ, the Lord.

In Grace,

Joy To The World

Just the mention of the word "joy" brings thoughts of laughter, smiles and happy times. We recall those things that bring us joy and the moments of our lives that have been so full of joy that we have nearly burst from the memory. Joy, by definition however, is a "deep, spiritual experience". Those who were there at the manger, in the fields, and heard the angels sing, would truly know the meaning of real joy.
Nothing in the world is as joyful as the birth of a child. The scriptures even tell us that the pain of childbirth is forgotten when a babe enters the world. Recalling the births of my own children, I can say the scripture is true. Holding my son and my daughter, moments after they were born---smelling the sweet baby fragrance of their skin---snuggling against the softness of their tiny cheeks---kissing tiny rosebud lips---oh, the joy of those first moments. I am sure that Mary, in the first moments of motherhood, experienced the same flood of emotions--the same wonder of holding her tiny babe, the same overwhelming love, the same desire to protect him from the harshness of life, the same joy of having a child. But, I wonder---did she know how much joy his coming would bring to others?
To the shepherds who kept their fields by night, who saw the angelic host and heard them sing, who rushed to Bethlehem to see for themselves, could anyone know the joy that would flood their hearts as they gazed upon the tiny saviour? The message from the angels sent them on a journey that brought them into the presence of the, as yet unknown, Prince of Peace. Oh! the joy of such a moment.
To Simeon, the aged priest who knew Mary's son the moment he saw him, who had been told by the Holy Spirit that he would not die until he had seen the "Lord's Christ", who was willing to face death after seeing Jesus, knowing that the babe he held in his arms would, quite literally, change the world. What joy must have filled his waiting heart.
To those of us who have experienced the thrill of salvation, whose joy has been made full by becoming children of God, whose hearts are renewed by the child Emmanuel---indeed God with us. To all of us who, by the birth of the child of Bethlehem, are now living lives free of the chains and darkness of sin. Oh! the joy of knowing we will, one day, see Him face to face. What anticipation we have. What joy springs up within us, even when the world around us is dismal and grim---the babe in the manger can still fill us with joy!!

"Joy to the world, the Lord is come.
Let earth receive her King.
Let every heart, prepare Him room,
And Heaven and nature sing,
And Heaven and nature sing,
And Heaven and Heaven and nature sing."

May you, too, find the "deep, spiritual experience" of joy during this holiday season. Let us all take our eyes off of our problems, our sorrows, our despairs and let us look at the Babe in the manger. A child whose very birth changed the course of religious history---a child who loved enough to give His life---a child whose life would inspire others to follow. May our hearts today prepare Him room. May earth receive her King.

In Grace,

Thanksgiving Blessings To All

May God's richest blessings come to you and yours as we give thanks together. I am blessed because of each of you.

In Grace,
Marie

Mama's List

I have written before about my dear, sweet Mother's prayer life and the example it has become to me of God's ability to hear and answer prayer. How many times I have been blessed and encouraged by my Mother's persistence in keeping my needs before the Lord in prayer. When I could not pray for myself---when life was too much for me to handle--when I felt so far from God--Mother was there to pray for me. How often I would lay in my bed as a teenager and, even then, hear her call my name in prayer. How precious are those memories to me.
As Mother grew older, she felt the need to begin to write down the names of those in need and the specific request that was most urgent in their lives. It began as a list of needs for her family. She often would write down the needs of her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. She would pray over each need until God answered the prayer she offered to Him. Then she would make a note of the date and way in which God answered. In essence, it became a record of how God was moving, through prayer, in meeting the needs of her family. Though a prayer list is not a new concept, it became new to Mother. It became her tangible evidence of the power of prayer.
On a recent trip home to visit my parents, I asked Mother if I could take a photograph of her prayer list. Mother is not one to share things that are of a private nature to her and so it surprised me when she agreed to my request. Her prayer list is kept on a side chair in her guest room, along with her Bible and a book of devotions. When I came near the chair to take the picture, I felt as if I were entering a holy place. I knew this was the place where Mother met with the Lord on a daily basis. It seemed more than just a chair with a notepad and Bible. Tears filled my eyes as I saw my name at the top of the list. I swallowed the lump in my throat as I pictured my dear Mother on her knees, calling out to God on my behalf. I felt almost unworthy of such devotion.
As I looked at her list, I noticed there were small notes in the left margin of the page. I looked closer and saw they were abbreviations--letters of the state in which the individual lived. There was a notation for North Carolina, Georgia, Indiana, Kentucky, Michigan and, of course, Ohio. Beside each of these notations was the name and need for which she prayed. There were requests for healing, for financial needs, for jobs, for encouragement, for direction in life and for prosperity. Each need was one she took to heart---one for which she prayed as if she were praying for herself. Speaking of which, I found not one notation of anything for herself. All the needs she had written there were for the needs of family and friends. I found entries for members of my congregation--people whom she had never met but for whom she sought God as if they were her personal friends. I tell you, I could not hold back the tears.
I have often said that my Daddy gave me my love for the Word of God but it was my Mother who taught me how to pray. Now she has taken that teaching to a new level. Now, I am learning that it is both a blessing and an honor to pray for others. It enables us to take our eyes off of ourselves and focus on the needs of others. We see more clearly how the Body of Christ is knit together. We are not bound only by our common beliefs or our particular interpretation of the Gospel. We are not held together by mere fellowship alone. We are bound together when we begin to pray for one another as fervently and intensely as we pray for ourselves. It becomes the tie that binds us together---the cord which cannot be broken.
I ask each of you who read this, to pray for me. Pray that I may learn the selflessness of praying for others. Pray that I may, deep within my heart and soul, learn to make the needs of the Body as important, or perhaps more important, than my own. Pray that I may reap the reward of seeing my prayers answered in this lifetime. Please ask God to help Marie learn the power of prayer for herself. I pray that someday my own children and grandchildren will see a prayer list---a list that holds their names and the names of countless others as a testimony of the power of prayer. A power revealed to me when I read my Mama's List.

In Grace,
Marie

The Anchor Holds

My mother and father have told me all my life what a strong person I am. Daddy has told me more often than I can count that he never worries about my ability to bounce back from life. He says I'm like a huge coil that, when pressed hard, springs right back. I don't share that vision of myself. How many times I have chastised myself for being weak and faltering. There have been times in my life when I have felt so beaten down by life events that I have thought I would never rise again. Mother and Daddy are the strong ones. They have had their share of illnesses, sorrow and despair. They have each lost their parents and they have lost two of their four sons. Yet in their spirits and in their hearts they remain unmoveable, unshakeable--their faith in God ever present and ever trusting. They are the strong ones--the anchored ones.
My sister-in-law, Tracy, took this picture of the anchor on a trip to the Grand Caymen Island. When I saw it, I knew I would have to use it as the image for this post. It is so perfect in what it illustrates---strength, endurance, permanence. It is a symbol, to me, of how I feel about my Lord. He is my anchor. He holds me secure in the midst of all life's storms and assures me, time after time, that all is well. He is strong enough to keep me safe and bring me safely to rest.
Several gospel songs from my childhood come to mind when I look at this photo. "I've Anchored In Jesus" was one of my favorites. I love its words:

"I've anchored in Jesus, the storms of life I'll brave.
I've anchored in Jesus, I fear no wind or wave.
I've anchored in Jesus, for He has power to save.
I've anchored in the Rock of Ages."

My childhood mind conjured up a picture of Jesus, bigger than the earth itself, standing guard over me and allowing nothing to harm me in any way. How safe I felt, knowing Jesus was my anchor.
As I grew older I learned to love the song,"Haven of Rest".

"I've anchored my soul in the Haven of rest.
I'll sail the wide seas no more.
The billows may sweep o'er the wild, stormy deep,
But in Jesus I'm safe evermore.

Where else are we safe but anchored in Him? My mind goes to the purpose of the anchor--to hold a ship in place, to hold it secure, to prevent it from drifting from its location. Oh! when Jesus is our anchor, we are, indeed, held so securely in the storms of life. We are held by a Saviour who will never let us sink or fail. He will keep us where we need to be during even the darkest times of our lives. A more recent song by Ray Boltz, "The Anchor Holds", says it so clearly:

"The anchor holds, though the ship is battered.
The anchor holds, thought the sails are torn.
I have fallen on my knees
As I've faced the raging seas,
The anchor holds, in spite of the storm."

In spite of the storm. In spite of all that is raging around us--the anchor holds. In spite of all the heartaches and despair that might make us think we are about to sink--the anchor holds. Jesus, the anchor of life and soul, holds us secure. Nothing can touch us, harm us, defeat us, for He holds---in spite of the storm.
I recall a story of a young man who was preparing his small ship to face a raging storm coming through the coastline of where he lived. An older, more experienced seaman watched him for a moment then said to him, "Son, what are you doing?" I'm tying down my boat with this rope so it will be safe in the storm.", replied the young man. With a smile based on years of experienced at sea, the older man said to him, "You don't have to tie it down, son. Just drop the anchor."
Oh, dear friends, how many times I have failed to let Jesus anchor me. How many times I would have been secured and sheltered in time of storm if only I had anchored my every thought and fear to His dear side. May we learn today the meaning of the anchor. May we find its strength and its security in whatever storm we are facing at this time of life. Jesus, the anchor of our souls. Trust me, this anchor holds---in spite of the storm.

In Grace,
Marie

When Michael Prays

I have always been amazed at how much faith a child can display. It seems that no matter how discouraging the circumstances are, a child can see the silver lining in the darkest cloud.
A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about my grandson, Gabe, and his tremendous dedication to God. He has always had such a devotion to the things of God and never seems to tire of His Word. Recently, I have noticed my youngest grandson, Michael, displaying his faith in a different manner. Quite simply, Mikey prays---and he prays with complete trust and faith in his God. When I think of where God has brought Michael from, I am both humbled and awed by Mikey's deep relationship with God.
When Mikey was born, it was apparent from the beginning that he would have a difficult start in life. He cried continuously---not like a colicky baby cries, but like a child who is in agony. Nothing we did eased his discomfort. It was so sad. Then, as if by magic, he stopped crying and became almost totally unresponsive to any of us, his family. He did not laugh, he did not smile, he did not coo. He would lay in his mother's arms with no expression on his beautiful little face. We prayed and cried and sought the Lord for healing. When, at the age of three months, he smiled for the first time, we were ecstatic. From that point on, Mikey smiled almost continuously. Everything we did, every word we spoke, Mikey would smile and coo at us while his eyes lit up with joy. He became affectionate and loving, holding up his little arms for us to pick him up---and we did.
Mikey continued with his laughter and his smiles almost two years. While his smile and his little personality were now a constant, we encountered another problem---Mikey could not talk. He made no attempts to speak. He did not make any sound that could be interpreted as an attempt to talk to us. We would ask him questions and he would just look at us with a big smile and continue with whatever he was doing. How I wanted to hear his little baby voice and to have sweet toddler conversations with him. I wanted to hear him say my name and I wanted to hear him say "Mama".
One Sunday morning after church, we were all together at my parent's home. Mikey was seated on the floor, playing with his toys. I watched him closely and, quite suddenly, felt in my spirit that my father should lay hands on him and pray for his healing. I gathered him in my arms and carried him into the living room. I remember the feel of his little arms around my neck and the way he snuggled into my embrace. I explained to my father what I had felt in my spirit. He took Mikey in those big, strong arms of his and I will never forget his prayer: "Lord, we just ask that you would heal Michael today. Loosen his tongue and let him speak, in Jesus' name. Amen." Such a simple prayer but I felt the presence of our healing Saviour that day. That was Sunday afternoon. By Thursday, Mikey began saying little words--somewhat hesitantly, but he tried. By the next weekend Mikey was speaking in full sentences and has been ever since. Oh, how my heart soared. The first time he looked at me and said, "Gigi", I thought I would faint from the sheer joy of the occasion.
When I think of these things, I am not really surprised that Mikey's relationship with God would be based upon prayer---a part of the relationship that uses his voice. How great is our God!
Our family has greatly benefited from Mikey's prayers. Most recently, He prayed for my father. Daddy had been having severe arthritic pain in his knees. Sometimes the pain has prevented him from doing some of the things he normally loves to do. So, while we were all visiting, my father said to Mikey, "Mikey, come here. I need you to pray for my knees and ask the Lord to take away the pain." My lovely little Mikey laid his small hands on my father's knees. In earnest faith he said, "Lord, we just give you thanks and praise for this day and for your many blessings. Lord, we just ask that you would heal Pa's knees and make them better. In Jesus name, amen." He looked up at my father, smiled that beautiful smile, informed my father that he would be alright, then went back to his toys. His faith was so simple, so profound, that my father and I just looked at each other and grinned. We know how far Mikey has come.
Children are such wonderful little creatures. They are such a blessing and bring us to an understanding of what is really important in life. Children are the only assurance we have that our ideas, our morals, our sincerest beliefs, will move forward into the next generation. Children make the world a wonderful place.
I will long remember a day in October when a little boy, who couldn't speak for so long, prayed a prayer of faith and left his mark upon my heart. I will remember the sound of his childish voice and cherish his childish faith. I will recall the day when God came near and brushed the heart of man. It was the day when Michael prayed.

In Grace,
Marie