Graceful Moments

Oh, Come Let Us Adore Him

2011-11-28T21:37:00.000-08:00

How wonderful to be back to my blog and to be able to share my heart thoughts with all of you. Personal illness has kept me away for a while. There were days when just breathing was difficult and I could only walk short distances without becoming extremely fatigued. Thankfully, God has been gracious and allowed me to recover my strength and my health. I am so very grateful for all of your prayers and kind thoughts during this time. I am eager to get 'round to all of you and catch up on your holiday festivities.

Oh, how I love this time of year. I love the preparations of baking, the wrapping of gifts, the songs of the season, and the anticipation of family gatherings. I love watching the changes in my home as the decorations go up and each room becomes a magical place. Old traditions and new celebrations merge into rich memories to be savored long after the season is ended. It is my most favorite time of the year.

In getting in the spirit of the season, I have a collection of Christmas music by various artists I enjoy. Last year, I purchased a CD by Josh Groban and it has become my most favorite of all. His beautiful voice lends itself so well to the songs of the season. The last song on the CD is "O, Come All Ye Faithful". It is the most glorious rendition of this song I have ever heard.

Though I have sung this song and relished its words since I was a child, this year it has taken on a special meaning for me. During the time that I was so very ill, I came to lean on the Lord for comfort and peace. I learned to not just love Him, I learned to adore Him. His presence became my escape and His Word became my resting place. When I was so weak I could hardly utter a prayer, I could feel Him near. What joy that was to me!!!

When I was a little girl, I used to wonder what it would have been like to be among those who came to worship the baby in the manger. I would imagine myself at the side of Mary as she held Him close and I would even imagine myself holding the Baby Jesus and looking into his infant face. Now, as an adult, I still feel that same sense of adoration when I think of Jesus' birth, how He was laid in a manger filled with hay, wrapped in swaddling cloth, his arrival announced by an angelic choir, and shepherds hurrying through the dark of night to see Him for themselves.

I do so love the beauty of Christmas. Yet, as the ornaments go on the tree, as I listen to the songs of the season, and as I thrill to the gathering of family and friends, my adoration is reserved for the baby in the manger. There is no other I love so dearly, no presence so treasured as His. I will come to Him, I will adore Him, and I will celebrate his coming. He alone is worthy---Christ the Lord.

In Grace,
Marie

My Refuge

2011-10-19T03:43:00.000-07:00

"God is my refuge...He's a strong and mighty tower...that I can run to...God is my refuge...without Him...tell me what would I do?". Southern Gospel Hymn

I awoke this morning still tired and nearly exhausted from a very busy week. I pondered what I should write about and found that I could not settle on a subject. Since that is highly unusual for me, I prayed about it. I asked God to give me the topic of the day, as I always do, but still nothing specific came to mind. So, I decided to just enter into prayer and wait for God to bring what was needed to my mind.

As I began to thank God for all His many blessings to me, I was reminded of the night I gave my heart to the Lord. I was fourteen, naive, and had no clue what life was all about. My world was centered around the things of God. We were a family whose entire focus was on the ministry so, while I was fairly well versed in Godly matters, life itself was a completely different issue. As my brothers grew older, they were involved in sports activities, field trips, and hunting expeditions. I, on the other hand, chose the comforts of home. Though I had friends, I was basically a loner. I was so hungry and thirsty for the things of God that it became a separating factor as most of my friends could not understand why I would rather sit with Daddy and his ministerial friends than go out with them. It is still that way today. I have wonderful friends in my church and I adore my pastor's wife. Susan is my totally best friend. However, most of my time is spent alone with God. He is the best friend of all. I am in constant hunger for His presence.

Which brings me to today's thought. As I was thanking God for all He has done for me, I found myself also thanking Him for the hard lessons He has taught me. I said to the Lord, "God there were many times when I wanted you to rescue me, but you had lessons for me to learn.". It was then I felt the unction of the Holy Ghost as He spoke to me and said, "I wanted to be your refuge, not your rescue.". Oh, how grateful I am that he taught me where to run for refuge, how to continue on in the midst of the storm, and how to follow the path of righteousness to find my shelter in Him. How grateful I am now for the times I spent with Him instead of worldly pursuits. Oh, I cannot express to you the joy I feel at this moment.

Lest you think I am boasting or, worse still, you perceive me as a hermit, let me say that I love being with the people of God. I love listening to their life stories and sharing mine with them. Coffee on the porch with Susan and her daughters is one of my favorite pastimes. I love to shop and I love to eat out. Being with my children and grandchildren is always a pleasure. But it is my time with God that renews me. It is His presence that I crave the most. It is the time spent in prayer and meditation that have sustained me through the dark times of life. His Word has, indeed, become my refuge.

All that I have shared with you today has been intended to point you to the only refuge you really have. With all the friends we may gain, all the money we may spend, all the possessions we may accumulate, it is what we gain from God that will sustain us. He will anchor us. He will be our refuge. He will be our teacher and our guide. He will never fail or forsake us and His love is all encompassing. His mercy and grace are renewed every day and He never lets go of us, no matter what.

God doesn't want to rescue us as much as wants to refuge us. He is the only shelter we have when the storms of life are raging high. I urge you to seek Him today. Run to Him, love Him, bask in His presence. He is your strong and mighty tower and you can find shelter in Him. When it comes right down to it, we really have no where else to go but to God. As the song says, "Without Him, tell me what would I do?". As long as He is willing to refuge me, I am willing to seek Him out and hide myself in Him. He is, indeed, my place of refuge.

In Grace,

Marie

Safe and Sound

2011-08-20T13:52:00.000-07:00

This is Derek Russell Caudill. He is currently serving in the United States Army.

I recently wrote about my brother, David. In that tribute I mentioned his son Derek and the fact that he was serving in Iraq. I am grateful to say that Derek is now back in the United States, safe and sound, and is stationed in Fort Hood, Texas. I am so thankful to God for protecting him and keeping him from harm during his tour overseas.

Derek is the youngest grandchild in our family and never has a child been loved so much as he has been by all of us. I think Derek must have been born with a smile on his face, because that is all he did when he was little. Just like his father, he smiled all the time. Whenever you would speak to him, he would not only smile, but chuckle---just a little giggle that would start out quietly and then, the more you talked to him, the louder it got. Before you knew it, he was laughing and chuckling so loudly that we all found ourselves laughing along. From the time he was a baby, he has always had such a joyful spirit.

Derek at about three months of age. The little outfit he has on was worn by his father in a photo taken when my brother was about the same age.

When Derek was six, I went through a devastating life circumstance. I leaned on my brother, David, quite heavily during that awful time. I needed Dave's strength and his love while I learned how to move forward and, needless to say, it was always there. I was visiting Dave at home one night and, just as I got ready to leave, here came Derek in his little pajamas, carrying a white teddy bear. He looked up at me with great big eyes and said, "Aunt Ree, I know you have been sad lately so I wanted to give you something to make you feel better. This is my favorite teddy bear. His name is Maximillian Snowflake, but you can call him Max. Whenever you are feeling sad, just give him a great big hug and you will feel better.". Do I need to tell you that I cried so hard and hugged Derek even harder? His little heart was so big and so full of compassion, he couldn't stand to see me hurting. I wrote about Max in a former post. I still have him. He sits on my bed and I am reminded everyday of the little boy who brought healing to my hurting heart.

Derek playing T-ball at age six.

Derek was eight when his father died. I don't know how he received the news---I wasn't with my brothers and his mother when they told him. I do recall, however, how Derek came to terms with his father's death in the week that followed. I was taking Derek home to spend the night with me. I missed my brother and I thought having Derek with me would help me. As we were driving home he said to me, "I didn't expect my Dad to die. I thought he would get a liver transplant and everything would be okay.". I replied, "I thought so, too Derek. I'm having a hard time understanding all this.". "Oh, I understand it, Aunt Ree." my little nephew said. "Well, would you please explain it to me , because I need to understand.", I said. This is how Derek explained it to me:

"Well, it's like this. Everyone is born with a job to do.While you are alive, God comes down from Heaven from time to time and helps you do your job. Then, when your job is done, God comes down one last time and takes you home to be with Him---and my Dad's job was done.".

I cannot explain how that ministered to my spirit. I had to stop the car and, looking into Derek's face, I knew what he said was true. His father's job was done and God had taken him home. I have never forgotten these words and have used them many times in comforting patients, their families, and my own loved ones as death has hovered near. It seemed almost too wise a comment to come from a child. But that's Derek.

This is the last family photo of my brother David, his wife , Vanessa, oldest son, David Lee, and Derek. I believe Derek was not quite seven in this photo.

As a teenager, and now as a young adult, Derek is funny, smart, athletic, and kind. He has always had such compassion for others. His love for his mother and his older brother, Dave, and especially Dave's little girl, Annabelle (or Bella as she likes to be called), is touching to see. He is such a selfless young man. He never ends a phone conversation without saying, "I love you", and always tells me how glad he is to hear from me.

Derek (standing in the back) with his mother and brother.

Life has put physical distance between my nephew and I. We don't get to talk too much and we see each other even less. He is in my heart daily, though, and I am so very grateful to God for bringing him home to all of us who love him. I am not certain of Derek's future---I don't know where the armed forces will take him or what will befall him in days ahead. I do know that I will continue to ask God to protect him, watch over him, keep him safe, and let him never forget the teachings of his father. Aside from the presence of God, family is the best thing we have in life for it is the only thing that lasts. I think Derek knows that because that's how he lives his life, living each day to the fullest, and making it all count. At the end of the day, it's the best way to live after all.

In Grace,
Marie

In Remembrance

2011-07-31T19:07:00.000-07:00

This was my second oldest brother, David. We affectionately called him "Big Dave" because he also had a son with the same name.

It is so hard to lose a loved one. Life is never the same when the one you love so well is gone. I have often referred to death as a thief. It robs us of the most valuable of possessions when it takes from us the ones we love. I have lost many loved ones over the years and none have been so difficult as the loss of my two brothers.

Today, my brother, David, would have been 53. He passed away at the age of 39 due to liver failure. He was the second of my brothers to die. My father has often told me that, of all the five of us children, David and I were most alike in personality. We also looked more alike than the others. I miss him so very very much.

I was seven years old when Dave came along. He was the sweetest child. He laughed all the time. When he wasn't laughing, he was smiling. Everyone loved him from the moment they met him. Sometimes, I would just sit and look at him---he was just so sweet. As a toddler, he was the cutest little fella. He had little chubby legs and when he started walking, he would just giggle from the sheer joy of "running" away from us. He was also so loving. When he would curl up on my lap and lay his little head on my shoulder, I just melted. He could have asked me for the moon and I would have a found a way to get it for him. Such a sweetie!

As a teenager, David was all boy. I cannot count the number of times he rode his bike into the garage, breaking the window panel in the process. Daddy finally put a wood panel in, thinking he had solved the problem. One day we heard a crash on the driveway and, you guessed it, Dave had hit the brakes on his bike and skidded into the garage door. By the time we got to him, he was half in the garage and half out. I died laughing at the sight of him just hanging there. All we could hear from inside the garage was Dave's voice saying, "Could someone help me out of here?". We were all laughing so hard, it took a few minutes for us to help the poor fellow.

Dave also enjoyed football. He and his buddies played throughout junior high and high school. I am reminded of a time, before Dave got his driver's license, when he needed a ride home from football practice. He called home and asked me if I could pick him up. I said I would. When I arrived at the field, he had four buddies with him, all dressed in football uniforms---shoulder pads, knee pads, jerseys, helmets---the works. My car was a 1968 Ford Mustang, definitely not designed to hold five high school football players in full gear. Somehow we managed to squeeze them all in and deliver them safely home. As each guy got out of the car, you could feel it rise a little higher off the ground. Dave would always look at me with that beautiful smile of his and say, "Thanks, Sis.". That was always more than enough for me.

After high school graduation, David married his high school sweetheart, Vanessa. I played the music for their wedding. It was such a happy time. Vanessa is still a part of our lives and is loved so much by my family. She has remained so loyal and faithful to him even after all this time. Their love for each other has transcended even death. I know she is lonely without him, but she has told me that she could never love anyone as much as she loved my brother. She is quite a lady.

Of all the things David enjoyed in life, his two sons remained his greatest source of joy. David Lee and Derek Russell were the loves of his life. When his oldest, David Lee, was born, I was waiting at my parent's home for news of his birth. Dave couldn't tell me over the phone, though. He left the hospital, drove to my parent's house, and told me in person. With a grin on his face he said to me, "I've got me a big boy, Sis. He's beautiful.". He grabbed me and gave me one of his big bear hugs and we both laughed with sheer delight. Eleven years later, his second son, Derek, was born. The same joy overcame us as he shared the news with me. His sons became his heart and soul. He was an excellent father to both boys. They are strong, intelligent, loving men today because of the man they called "Dad.".

David's last days were spend in Ohio State University Hospital, waiting for a liver transplant. On the Sunday before he passed, I called him. I just had to hear his voice. He was weak in body but strong in spirit. We talked for about 15 minutes and then, sensing he was tired, I said my goodbye. I told him I loved him and he said, "I love you too, Sis.". Those were the last words he spoke to me. The next day David suffered full cardiac arrest and was placed on life support. Three days later, he took a severe turn for the worse with major body systems shutting down. We withdrew the life support and a minute later he was gone. As a nurse, I have watched many people die. David's death was the most peaceful I had ever witnessed. It seemed as if his spirit hovered over us, comforting us, sustaining us, and then he gently left us. I know the angels carried him away, taking him to a far better place where sickness and death do not enter.

Oh, how I miss him. How I wish I could hear his deep voice call my name and what I would give to hear his laughter one more time. What I would give to hear him say, "Hey, Sis," one more time. Oh, but I would never call him back from the beauty of his resting place. His body was worn and weary, he was tired, he was ready to go. What a wonderful man he was. I loved him so fiercely and I miss him so deeply.

I close with the words of Peter Marshall, former Chaplain to the United States Senate. I have quoted them many times and I always find peace in the beauty of the phrase, "Those we love are with the Lord and the Lord has promised to be with us. If they are with Him, and He is with us, then they cannot be far away.". Maybe that's why, after almost 14 years, I can feel David's presence from time to time. It's almost as if I can hear him say, "Don't worry, Sis. I'll wait for you. Remember, this is only a temporary separation, after all.".

In Grace,
Marie

When All Else Fails

2011-05-11T08:32:00.000-07:00

I've been away from my blog for a little while due to changes in my job, preparing to move to a new home, and some personal difficulties as well. While several of these activities were unavoidable, collectively they have taken a toll on my physical strength and I have just tried to focus on feeling better. As of this writing, I am on the mend.
I have always believed in the ability of our great God to see us through any storm, lift us up in the midst of all adversity, and keep us safe in His protective arm no matter what comes to us. I still believe these things with all my heart. I know my God is ever present in time of trouble, no matter what that trouble may be. Recently though, I have also come to understand that there are times when God is silent---when his hand cannot be felt, His voice cannot be heard, and the way before me is unclear. It is a time of questioning, a time of gut wrenching prayer, a time of asking why, and a time of finding no rhyme or reason to the situation in which we find ourselves. It is a time of trusting and of faith being put to the test.
During this time of testing, I found solace in the book of Job. I read of his testing and trials, his losses, and the stilted words of advice that came from his so-called friends. I found myself identifying with the questions he asked himself as he pondered what he had done to make God withdraw His presence and protection. As I read where job described His life's works to God, I found myself also recounting the sacrifices I had made in my own life to do my Lord's bidding. I reminded God of my repentance as a teenager, my devotion to His house and his work, my loyalty in the face of all despair, my trust in Him despite the tragedies that had found their way into my life. Then I soon came to see that life is not at all about suffering, it's about Faith. It's about trusting God when there seems to be no reason to trust Him. It's about believing that God is able to do above and beyond what we could ever hope or imagine. Knowing God is a God of His Word, believing that He will bring that Word to pass in us, securing our faith by making Himself known to us at every turning of life's pages---this is what adversity is all about. It is all about Faith.
As I look back over the past few weeks and the difficulties I've faced, I am reminded of the most poignant words of Job's conversations with his so-called friends. Found in chapter 23, verses 8-10, Job tells of how he searched for God. He describes how he looked for God in every place he had found him before, but God was not there. Then, he makes the statement of faith, "But He knoweth the way that I take: when he hath tried me, I shall come forth as gold.". The word "shall" is Job's faith in action, it is his revelation of the reward of trusting God. It was the statement that secured my faith in God when facing troubled times.
I am certain that this will not be the last crisis of faith I have in my walk with God. Life has a way of bringing you low, of hitting below the belt, and draining us of what shred of faith and hope we may have been clinging to. But, I find joy today in knowing that He knows the steps I take. Though frail and halting those steps may be, He knows them just the same. I can truthfully say, when all else fails, God never does. Silent though he may be at times, hidden though he may seem to be, He is ever present. He never fails.
Oh, how I pray to be strong in my faith. I pray to never waver, never lose sight of the price he paid for me. He is the God of my heart, the source of my strength, and the unending spring of joy. He is the love of my life. He is the One I cling to when all else fails.

In Grace,
Marie

At The End Of The Day

2011-04-03T03:45:00.000-07:00

This is me with my gospel music hero, Guy Penrod. It was such a thrill to meet him.

Anyone who knows me, knows that I absolutely love Guy Penrod, former lead singer for the Gaither Vocal Band. His voice is so strong and filled with emotion as he sings. Whether it is a foot-stomping hymn or a soulful ballad, no one caresses the words of a song the way Guy Penrod does. His voice has carried me through many difficult times and his rendition of the song, "Knowing You'll Be There", has comforted me at the loss of loved ones. He is a truly gifted singer.

I was privileged to meet him in person last year. He had just released his new CD, "Breathe Deep", and was doing a concert at the Thomas Road Baptist Church in Lynchburg, Virginia. I gladly made the three hour trip from my home in North Carolina to hear him sing. It was a dream come true for me. Not only did I get to hear that marvelous voice, but I had an opportunity to meet his wife, his beautiful little girl, and several of his seven sons. His wife, Angie, arranged for me to have a few moments to chat with my "hero". As I looked into the face of a man I admired and respected, I felt the anointing of our great God. I told Guy how his music had sustained me through some very dark and difficult times. I also told him how his down-to-earth attitude had touched my heart and encouraged me to keep looking to the Lord for comfort and direction. Guy is so very humble about all of this. His reply to me was simply, "Praise God. I am just glad to be able to be a blessing to you and to others.".

I love this photo---it says it all about a man's walk with God.

Upon returning home, I decided to check out Guy's website. In the section, About Me,
I found a statement he made that just hit me with a big reality check. He said this, "I live in the country on a farm in a log house and drive a tractor and a Ford F-350...those listening to my music may live in Manhattan in a high rise and go to work in a limo. But, at the end of the day, life is life, and we all have joys and heartaches.".

I pondered that comment for several days. I had never really thought of life from that perspective. When you think of people who are wealthy enough to go to work in a limo or live in a million dollar home, you just don't often think of them as having difficulties. The affluence and worldly successes sort of blur the visions we have of the lives of such people but, indeed, life is life. Sorrow finds its way to all of us in one form or another. Those who face it without the Lord will find the path more difficult to follow. Money, fame, and power will give little comfort when life gets rough.

I don't know how people make it without the Lord. Where do they go? Who do they turn to? The old, old hymn says, "Where could I go but to the Lord?". At the slightest disturbance in my daily life, I find myself running to my Lord for shelter, for comfort, for protection. Oh, how dim and lonely life would be without the Lord. How dismal the future would appear! With Him, though, I have hope for a brighter tomorrow. With Jesus, I have faith that, should sorrow find its way to me, I would be held securely in His everlasting arms. What a comfort! What a joy that is!

I learned so much from my hero the night I saw him sing. I learned about leaning hard on the Lord and never forgetting He is always close by. I learned that we must never overlook the fact that our family, outside of God Himself, is our greatest gift from God. I learned that seeing the world through a child's eyes in not a bad thing. Most of all, though, I was reminded that life is life. My favorite new saying here of late has been, "It is what it is.". Life is what it is. It is what we make it. We can make life bearable by serving God and desiring Him above all else OR we can make it a drudgery by failing to give our lives into the hands of a loving God. Sometimes, priorities can get lost in the hustle and bustle of life. I stepped away from the busyness for a day and gained some valuable insight into life in Christ. Wonderful words, beautiful music, all at the end of the day.

This is Guy and Angie Penrod with their eight children---seven boys and one little girl, Lacey. A beautiful family.

In Grace,
Marie

Oh, Glorious Day

2011-03-15T14:44:00.000-07:00

I have never been much of a fan of contemporary music. All my life, I have loved the sound of Southern Gospel. I love nothing more than the blending of a keyboard, acoustic, and bass guitar. Add the drums, electric and steel guitars, and there is nothing that sounds any better behind a Southern Gospel vocal. I grew up listening to Jimmy Swaggart and Floyd Cramer on the keyboard. I would listen to them closely, then go to my piano and mimic the sound. I have been playing music in church for 43 years and have never taken a lesson. I couldn't read a sheet of music if my life depended on it, but I can play by ear just fine. It was God's gift to me many years ago and I am grateful, so grateful, to Him for His gift.

As much as I love southern Gospel, I have recently learned to enjoy some contemporary artists as well. One group in particular, Casting Crowns, has become a real favorite. I listen to them a lot and am smitten by their harmony and the strength of the message in their lyrics. I have been especially blessed by the song, "Oh, Glorious Day.". What a wonderful rendition of an old hymn this has become. I heard the older version of this song just a few weeks ago and could hardly believe the difference in the two presentations.

Regardless of the message, the lyrics of the song carry a powerful message. I have long believed in, and cherished the thought of, the day when we will see Christ face to face. To look into the eyes of the One who died for me, to hear His voice, to see the scars in His hands, to know I am finally home, to be with Him forevermore, oh, it will truly be a glorious day. All Heaven will be in celebration as those of us who have fought the good fight of faith will be welcomed home with open arms. The very thought of it brings tears to my eyes. What a day that will be!!!

The chorus of this song is particularly touching to me. I reaches me in my soul and reminds me, with each repetition of the words, just how much Jesus did for me. Allow me to share the words:

"Living, He loved me.
Dying, He saved me.
Buried, He carried my sins far away.
Rising, He justified,
Freely forever.
One day, He's coming,
Oh, glorious day.
Oh, glorious day."

I tell you, my friends, it is with great joy that I anticipate His coming. Please, do not misunderstand. God has given me a wonderful life, filled with the best of family and friends. I have everything I need and so much of what I want. God has been so good to me. But, with that being said, I know that there will, one day, come an end to life as I know it. I will either find a resting place in the grave or be alive and well at the coming of our Lord. It matters not to me how I get to see my precious Jesus, just as long as I get to see Him. It will be a glorious day---a day filled with laughter and rejoicing as those of us who have given our lives in the Lord's service, at last, reach our final destination.

Casting Crowns sings this song with much emotion and one senses that these young artists know the Jesus they are singing about. I firmly believe that they have experienced the grace and mercy of our dear Lord. Beyond their beautiful musical abilities, though, lies the fact that there will come a glorious day. This fact exists, regardless of who sings the song. One day, He's coming---I desire to be ready and waiting. As an older southern Gospel song says, "What a day, glorious day, that will be.".

In Grace,
Marie

Gabriel's Goodbye

2011-02-24T01:42:00.000-08:00

This is my favorite photo of my wonderful grandson, Gabriel

I am constantly amazed at the wisdom of children. They seem to have an inner voice that we, as adults, have lost as we've grown older. To a child, the world is an amazing place, filled with wonder and delight. Everyday is an opportunity to find new joys and experience new adventures. Because of this, a child's life must be protected at all costs for, too soon, they will become adults and the childhood wonder of life will be tempered by the events of life itself. The security of one's childhood sets the tone for the life one will lead as an adult. Our children deserve to be loved and sheltered while we, as parents and grandparents, teach them the things they need to know to lead happy and productive lives.

One of the great loves of a child's life is its pet. Children and animals go together like bread and butter. There develops a great bond between child and pet and they become inseparable. Such has been the case with my grandsons and their two puppies, CoCo and JoJo, both pups being rescued from horrendous living conditions. While Gabe was attached to both dogs, JoJo, the smallest of the two, became his favorite. He loved to sit on the floor and play with JoJo. I frequently found him with his arms wrapped around the little dog as he nuzzled her neck and told her what a good dog she was. JoJo loved both boys and followed them around the house and yard, always wanting their attention. Gabriel was always loving and petting the little dogs, particularly JoJo. I use the past tense in relating this story as JoJo passed away this week.

When Gabriel and Michael called to tell me that JoJo would have to be put to sleep, my heart sank. JoJo had received an injury to her back left leg that could not be surgically repaired. Her little hip was dislocated to the point where she could not bear weight. In fact, she could not use the leg at all---it just dangled at her side. The little dog was in constant pain, her eyes reflecting how awful she felt. While the vet offered several options in treating the little pet, none of them would relieve her pain and she would remain a cripple. The decision was made to relieve her suffering and let her go. It was a very difficult decision but it was the right one. Knowing the love the two boys shared for their little pets, I thought for sure that they would just fall apart. Oh, how very wrong I was.

I spent the night at my daughter's home the night before our little Jo would leave us. I cradled her little head and stroked her back, telling her how much joy she had brought to the boys and how much we all loved her. It was Gabriel's farewell, though, that touched me deep in my heart. JoJo was lying on a soft blanket on the sofa, her little eyes half closed as she watched all of us around her. Gabe knelt down close to her and said the following words, "You're going to meet Jesus tomorrow. He is so wonderful. You will be with Him in Heaven and you won't be sick anymore. You will be able to run all over Heaven. And, you will meet Jesus' father, too. His name is God and He is so cool. I love you, JoJo. I will miss you.".

Do I need to tell you how the tears began streaming down my face? I looked at my precious grandson and I realized just how strong his faith had become. He understands that life sometimes means separation but, he also understands that Heaven is a reality. He knows that God exists and that He is, indeed, "so cool". He told me later that He would miss his little pet but that he knew he would see her again in Heaven. He also told me that he was glad she would no longer be suffering and that being with Jesus was the best thing for her. I could not hold back the tears.

The next night, after JoJo had been laid to rest, Gabe talked to me on the phone and, once again, told me he was glad she was no longer suffering. He told me he was sad and that he was missing his little companion. Then he said, "I'm sad JoJo is not here, but I will see her again in Heaven someday.". Oh, how I loved him at that moment! How proud I am at the strength of his faith and the secure trust he has in our great Father-God. Faith born in a child's heart is faith that will secure them for a lifetime---it is a faith that will bring them through every adversity---a faith that will help them weather every storm.

I know that Gabriel will face far more difficult situations in life than that of losing a pet. I know that life itself will unfold in glorious beauty as well as the darkest of storms. I feel certain, though, that the faith both my grandsons possess will not fail them. I know that what their Mother and I have taught them will anchor their lives and enable them to face whatever life brings them successfully. That is what faith in God does.

I will long remember the little farewell Gabriel gave his pet. I will remember how he loved her, cared for her, played with her, and, in the end, prayed with her. I will recall, fondly, his idea of Heaven and his secure faith in a God who cannot fail. In days to come, when my own faith may be tested and tried, I will hear Gabe's words, "God is so cool.", and I will know, once again, that He never leaves us or forsakes us. It is a simple message, but one that is oh so true. There is faith in Gabriel's prayer and a promise in his goodbye. That's more than enough for me.

In Grace,
Marie

Loving Jesus More

2011-02-09T12:45:00.000-08:00

My grandsons, Gabriel and Michael, recently spent the night with me. I had such fun with them. We were planning a celebration for Gabriel's ninth birthday the next day so, of course, I opted to keep the boys with me so my daughter could decorate for his party. We had supper together, popped popcorn, watched movies and just enjoyed being together. At about one o'clock in the morning, we finally decided we were ready for bed. All three of us piled into my bed, propped up the laptop and watched the old black and white Dracula movie with Bella Lugosi. I woke up about five in the morning with two little boys trying to share my side of the bed. I looked down at their sleeping faces and thought to myself, "God, I love them so much. I would do anything for their happiness. I would give my life for them if need be.". I could not imagine my life without them.

As I thought about how much I love my grandsons, the question popped into my mind, "Do you love Jesus more than them?". Oh, how my heart pounded as I thought of how important my Saviour is to me. I thought about all the years I had served Him and how much He had changed my life. I remembered the times when sorrow ruled my life, yet Jesus was able to take it all in a moment of time. Memories of the times He had rescued me from the brink of despair brought tears to my eyes. I honestly cannot recall a time in my life when my Lord was not there for me. I have been His child for 45 years and not once has He ever failed me---not once.

Loving Jesus has not been difficult. When I think of all He has done for me, I cannot help but fall to my knees and tell Him how much I love Him. He has been my faithful companion, my truest friend, my champion, my hero, my brother, my Redeemer, my King, and the love of my life. He has proven Himself to me time and time again. I am most completely His.

Oh, I have not been the truest of His servants, though. So many times the faults and failures of my weak and frail humanity have gotten in the way of my duty to my Lord. So many times I have failed Him. So many times I have chosen my own path instead of following Him wherever He would lead. Though my actions have not always proven so, my love for Him has never wavered. I have remained so in love with Jesus. Even when adversity and hardship drove me to my knees---even when I did not understand why He allowed such dark times to trouble me---even when I found myself questioning Him regarding the necessity of certain difficulties---even in these moments of questioning---my love was never abated. I have loved Jesus all my life.

I have learned, with the passing of time, that one does not need to understand our Lord in order to love Him. I have come to the place where it almost doesn't matter anymore what happens in my life. What matters is that Jesus is there. What matters is that I can feel Him close and know that He will help me through, no matter what the test or trial. What matters is the relationship I have with Him. It remains secure, no matter what the circumstance.

My desire is to only serve Him better and love Him more. I want others to see Him in me. I want my life to stand for something---something that is greater than I. My heart's desire is for my life to reflect Jesus in such a way that others will want to know Him, too. One of my favorite songs asks the question, "Will you love Jesus more when we go our different ways?". I pray the answer from all those I encounter will be a resounding YES!!! My prayer is to be a light to someone---to shine so brightly for Jesus that those who are lost without Him will be able to find their way home. I pray that when I walk away from an individual, or a crowded room, the ones I have met will come to not only know Jesus, but actually love Him more. I once read a quote that said, "If you meet me and forget me, you have lost nothing. If you meet Jesus and forget Him, you have lost everything.". I pray today to continuously love Him more. He is so worth it.

In Grace,
Marie

My Beautiful Mother

2011-01-31T13:24:00.000-08:00

This is my beautiful, sweet Mother. I love her so much.

This past week, my beloved Mother celebrated her 80th birthday. It does not seem possible that she has reached this age---I still see her as the Mother of my childhood days. Still, I am so blessed to have her with me and to be able to talk with her daily. She has been such a blessing to me.
Mother has always been the most godly woman I know. I cannot remember a time when she was not prayerful for Daddy and all five of her children. I have the most wonderful memories of hearing my precious Mother call my name in prayer. I would lay in my bed at night and listen to the sound of her voice as she prayed for her family and for the body of Christ. I recall fondly hearing her talk to God like she was talking to her best friend, telling Him how much she loved Him, how she depended on Him, and how she was proud to serve Him. Her prayers left their imprint upon my young heart and are the reason, I am sure, that prayer is so much a part of my own walk with God. She was, indeed, a praying Mother.
In addition to being a true prayer warrior, Mother carried God's word with her everywhere she went. A Bible was never far from her reach. I have seen her read a passage of scripture, then hold the closed Bible close to her heart. It was as if she was pressing His word into her spirit. To this day, Bible reading is the first thing Mother does in the morning. She never fails to start the day with prayer and scripture. I do not know how many times she has read the Bible through, but I know that she is consistently in the Word.
To say that Mother lives what she believes is an understatement. Never have I seen a life in Christ lived more faithfully than in the life of my Mother. Her faith never wavers, never falters, and is completely secure in the God she loves and serves. In the midst of the worst adversity, I have watched my Mother lean on the promises of God's Word to see her through. She has borne her sorrows and her joys with the utmost grace.
I am fully aware that my Mother is not perfect, no one is. She has her faults and her shortcomings just like anyone else. Throughout my life, however, I have chosen not to see them. I have chosen to look at the beauty in my Mother's life---there has been much to see. She is, and always has been, a woman of God.
To say that I love my Mother is, again, an understatement. She is the woman I admire the most---the woman I trust the most---the woman I love the most. When I think of holy people, I think of my Mother. She has been my mentor, my teacher, my friend. She has been, for all of my life, my beautiful Mother.

In Grace,
Marie

Seize the Day

2011-01-06T07:32:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite movies is "Dead Poets' Society". It is a story of young men coming of age in a preparatory school in New England. The lives of these young men are most affected by a young, intelligent, caring instructor who teaches English literature and poetry. In the beginning of the movie, the instructor seeks to acquaint his students with the possibilities of each new day and the need to live each day to its fullest. In doing so, he gives them a phrase in Latin, "Carpe Diem", meaning "seize the day". He then says a phrase that has stuck with me since I first saw the film: "Seize the day, lads. Make your lives something wonderful." As the movie progresses, each young man learns, at times painfully, the need for making each day count.
I ponder this statement today with a heavy heart. As you know from reading my previous post, a dear, beloved friend has passed on. I already miss her dreadfully. But, as I reflect upon my friend's life, I realize that she truly knew how to seize the day. She knew, instinctively, how to make each day count. I suppose I knew this about her, but never realized it fully until now. She leaves me a fine example.
As I face a new year, I am determined that each day will be something magnificent. Maybe not magnificent to those around me, but certainly to me. I pray earnestly, from my heart, that God will help me open my eyes to the wonder of life---to its beauty and its fragility. This day will only come 'round once, and I want to make it count. I want to see the need and help meet it. I pray to feel the joy of life and revel in it. I pray for humility and gratitude for the many blessings I have been given. I pray, most earnestly, to live a life of honor and value. I pray to be able to "seize the day", before it slips away with nothing gained from it.
Perhaps these words mean little to those of you who read them. Perhaps they will inspire you today and be forgotten in days to come. As for me, I cannot ignore the message. Everyday is a day to be lived to its fullest---to be valued for its uniqueness---to be treasured for its potential. This is not to say that living life to its fullest will be easy or trouble free. Indeed, some of the greatest lessons to be learned from life are learned in the midst of adversity. It is in these times that we come to understand that the simple pleasures of each day are what makes the day itself bearable.
And so, in the days ahead, I plan to enjoy my simple pleasures. I want to hear my grandchildren laughing, feel the embrace of loved ones, sip tea in the quiet of the evening, and watch the beauty of a setting sun. I want to hear the music of the world, fill my eyes with the beauty of God's creation, and listen to the sound of my Daddy's voice reading from the scriptures. I want to hear my daughter's "I love you, too", my son's "Hello, Mom", and feel my Mother hug me until I can't breathe anymore. In addition, I want to leave behind a life well lived---a life of honor, dignity, and joy. I want to be remembered as a woman who loved life. Above all, I want to be remembered as woman who loved her Saviour and served Him well.
A beautiful, unmarred year lies ahead. It is full of potential, full of memories to be made, and full of time to be savored. May your new year bring you joy untold and peace everlasting. May you be blessed with all abundance. Most of all, may we all learn to "seize the day" and make each one count.

In Grace,
Marie

Charla Darla, Addendum

2011-01-04T14:31:00.000-08:00

My dear friend passed away this morning at approximately 3:00 a.m. Oh, how I will miss her. She was a great encouragement and inspiration to all who knew her. She remained full of faith and hope until the end---her faith never wavered.
Please keep all of us who knew and loved her in prayer. We are already missing her and longing to see her again. There will come a day, for all of us who know the Lord, to be reunited in a place without death, heartache, or separation. I will see her again.

In Grace,
Marie

Charla Darla

2010-12-28T13:01:00.000-08:00

Billy and Charlene Ward---I love this photo

Of the many friends God has placed in my life, few have given me as much joy and laughter as Charlene Ward. She and her husband, Billy, have become not only friends, but co-workers in Christ as well. We have shared many church services together, shopped together, shared meals together, and, have laughed and cried on each other's shoulder. She is a dear soul, an inspiration, and a true lover of Christ.
I met Charlene in 2007. I had just moved to North Carolina and was missing my family so dreadfully. She sort of "mothered" me (even though she is four years younger than I), cheering me up, and making me feel that I was part of her family. I will always be grateful to her for her attentiveness and her loving concern for someone that, at that time, she hardly knew. But then, that's how Charlene is---she loves you from the moment she meets you. She has become one of the dearest friends I have ever known.
Almost three years ago, Charlene was diagnosed with colon cancer. As devastating as that diagnosis was, she has never once lost her faith. In the midst of chemotherapy and radiation treatment, she would visit our church, always with words of encouragement and faith. She referred to the scriptures often, always looking for the promises of God regarding healing and deliverance. Not one time have I ever heard her voice doubt or unbelief about God's healing power. I have never heard her become despondent or low in spirit but, rather, she reflects in every conversation her faith and trust in the God she serves. Her husband, Billy, calls her "Charla Darla". He would sometimes say to me during this time, "Pray for my Charla Darla". I prayed, oh, how I prayed.
Recently, Charlene was told that she had developed tumors in her brain. Radiation began almost immediately and she has suffered the side effects of loss of appetite, weakness, fatigue, and severe pain. She came to our Christmas banquet this year---she and her husband and I shared the table with our pastor and his wife, Mike and Susan. We all enjoyed each other's company and, even though she was weak and unable to mingle like she usually does, her smile was intact, her words were uplifting, and her faith in God unwavering. I looked at her and thought to myself, "I love my friend so very much. I cannot imagine life without her.". She is such an inspiration to me and I know she is to many others as well.
So, I continue to pray for my friend. I pray for her strength, her spirit, and her endurance, as well as for her healing. I am asking God for the miracle I know He is able to perform. As I pray for my friend, I am also praying for my own faith. It is difficult to see those we love suffer and not understand the "why". Several years ago, when family members were enduring horrendous suffering, I sought God regarding the purpose of such testing in the lives of the faithful. The answer came to me in this way: there are times when God gets a greater glory out of the faith birthed during adversity than any other time. In the midst of suffering and trial, faith becomes refined, polished, and reflective of God Himself. It is also during this time that we draw closer to God out of sheer necessity---we must be as close to the God of all comfort as possible when we are at our lowest in life. If this is the case, then my friend is surely as close to our Father-God as one can get in this earthly existence.
Please join me in keeping Charlene in prayer. She is a bright spot in the lives of all those who love her and she is a glorious reflection of faith in the midst of adversity. I know God is able to do whatever I can believe Him for---and I do believe Him for healing for my friend. Would you believe with me? Believe with me for "Charla Darla". Pray with me for my friend.

InGrace,

Still Coming

2010-12-19T23:57:00.000-08:00

I have sung the beloved Christmas hymn, "O Come, All Ye Faithful", since I was a child. I remember singing it in numerous school productions and, of course, every year in our church Christmas pageant or play. It is a song I love and it is my favorite of the traditional Christmas carols.
This year, though, I found myself reflecting on the words used in its composition, specifically the word "faithful". Why would the author of this song choose this particular term in his invitation to come and adore the Saviour? I mean, Jesus was a newborn babe in a manger with hardly any time at all for anyone to become faithful to Him. At least, not in the way I perceived becoming faithful. How could one become faithful to a person or a cause that had not yet been truly revealed or studied? I found my answer in two Biblical passages.
The prophecy of Isaiah became my part one of the answer to my quest. I remembered the beautiful words of Isaiah 7:14,

"Therefore, the Lord himself shall give you a sign; Behold, a virgin shall conceive; and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel."

In studying the definition of the word faithful, I learned that it is defined as something that is , "worthy of trust or belief", and, "consistent with fact". The above passage in Isaiah, beautiful as it is, was only a prophecy---only words from the pen of a holy man. Only words---until they were believed.
The children of Israel did not take these words lightly. They did, indeed, consider them worthy of trust, for they came from a prophet of God. Because of their belief, the words of the prophet became worthy of their trust. Since the prophecy was deemed faithful, those who believed were also deemed faithful.
My second passage came from the glorious description of the Jesus' birth in Luke 2:10-12,

"And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you tidings of great joy which shall be to all people.
For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.
And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger."

The prophecy of Isaiah had come to pass. According to the definition of faithful, the prophecy had become consistent with fact. The birth of Jesus was foretold and, now, it had become a reality. Jesus was born in Bethlehem, delivered of a virgin mother. No wonder angels filled the sky and Heaven's light flooded the earth. The Prince of Heaven had descended to earth to fulfill His Father's plan.
From the moment of His birth, the faithful came. Those with loyal hearts to the words of the prophet, those who believed He was sent from God, those who could not explain the miraculous events surrounding His birth by any other means, these were the faithful. And they came for one reason---they came to adore Him.
Oh, how grateful I am to be one of the faithful. How I treasure the assurance I have in my heart that this tiny baby boy was, indeed, the Messiah. How grateful I am to know in my heart that He is Christ, the Lord. He is worthy of all my praise---all my honor---all the glory I can give to Him. Oh, how I love my Jesus, the Lord of my heart.
No longer does the manger exist where He laid His baby head. The shepherds who heard the angels sing have long since been laid to rest. Oh, but the story I can read, the words I can hide in my heart, and, yes, I can still adore Him---and I do.
The composer of my favorite Christmas hymn had an insight into the story of His birth. Only the faithful---only those who believe in Him---only those who trust Him---only these can truly adore Him. I have found myself wanting to adore Him more each day. His birth has given me the opportunity to spend eternity in His presence, in true joy and peace.
May we all come to truly realize that the babe in the manger was not just a babe. He was the fulfillment of the promise, the long awaited King, He was Christ, the Lord. I give Him all the glory. I remain one of the faithful---and I am still coming to adore Him.

In Grace,
Marie

If Only In My Dreams

2010-12-10T15:11:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite Christmas songs is "I'll Be Home For Christmas" and I love the way Elvis sang it (I happen to be a BIG Elvis fan). I never really understood the meaning behind the song, though, until I relocated and had to spend a couple holidays away from my family. Christmas is the holiday that draws everyone's attention to family and home. No matter where you may be, or what may prevent you from traveling home, when the big day arrives, home is still the place you want to be.
For me, there is the security of being with Mother and Daddy and knowing that, no matter what, their presence in my life remains the greatest gift. Then, of course, there is the time spent with my brothers, Dan and Dwight. Remembering them as children and now, seeing the men they have become, brings a sense of belonging to my heart. Most of all, being with my son, John, brings the biggest smile to my face. God blessed my life the day my son was born and he has remained a blessing to me his entire life. Oh, how I will miss being with them all this year. Fortunately, my beautiful daughter, Lisa, and her family live close to me and I will be seeing their smiling faces this Christmas. Lisa has been such a strength to me and has blessed me in so many ways---I love her so much. Of course, having my little grandsons close by makes the holiday a sheer pleasure. Still, I wish we all could be together at Mother and Daddy's on Christmas Eve.
I was watching one of the renditions of "A Christmas Carol" earlier in the week. It made me think of how memories are made. Each and every day that passes by, we make a series of memories. In difficult times, the good memories serve to sustain us, comfort us, and bring us joy. Though not all memories are pleasant, those that are remind us of just how rich and full life can be. At this time of year, I am reminded of my two brothers who have passed and how much they both loved Christmas. The memories I have of them and their love for the holidays always bring a smile to my face. I wouldn't trade my memories of Don and David for any present under the tree.
The beautiful words to this song say exactly what I am feeling this Christmas season. I suppose the author was away from home and longed to be there for all the festivities---just like me.

I'll be home for Christmas,
You can plan on me.
Please have snow and mistletoe
And presents for the tree.

Christmas Eve will find me
Where the love light leads.
I'll be home for Christmas, oh yes
If only in my dreams.

I suppose the only way I will be going home this year is in my dreams. When I dream of Christmas, it is Daddy's deep voice and boisterous laugh that I will yearn for. I will crave Mother's warm hug, her delicious Christmas treats, and her beautiful smile. I will be wishing for a bear hug from each of my brothers and longing to hear my son say, "Hello, Mom". I will be hearing them all laughing and talking at the same time as we stuff ourselves at Mother's buffet table. Oh, how I want to go home for Christmas.
Christmas Eve this year will find me carrying on the traditions my dear, sweet Mother started when we were all young children at home. I will prepare the buffet table with treats from Mother's recipes. I will have the gifts wrapped and under the tree, the stockings filled with goodies for the grandchildren, and the CDs of Elvis and Josh Groban singing the songs of the season. My son-in-law, Mark, will read the Christmas story from the Bible and we will all be laughing and talking at the same time---just like we did years ago.
So, if dreams are the only way I can go home for Christmas this year, then so be it. When all the festivities are over, and I lay my head on my pillow on Christmas Eve, for a brief moment, before I drift off to sleep, I'll be home for Christmas. I'll be home---if only in my dreams.

In Grace,
Marie

He Came To Me

2010-12-05T06:21:00.000-08:00

I know that this is the time of year when all hearts and minds are thinking of the baby in the manger. I love the phrase, "Jesus is the reason for the season", and I adore hearing my Daddy's rich, baritone voice reading the story from Luke, chapter two. I love the joy and festive spirit of the season and, of course, my heart sings at the excitement on the faces of two wonderful little guys I call "Gigi's Boys". The food, the decorations, the children's plays, and the carols of Christmas are all parts of the season that I remember and treasure. My precious Mother's homemade treats and my brothers' funny stories, along with the ones told by own children, make this time of year a holiday my entire family anticipates.
But, for me this year, Christmas holds a newer perspective. My mind is not totally focused on the manger scene, the angel's song, or the gifts of the wise men. I am singing the songs of the season but I am adding one this year that takes the birth of our precious Lord a little further. You see, I am thinking of how He came to this earth, a tiny baby who seemed insignificant and unimportant. I am thinking of how the baby became a man---a man who would be persecuted beyond belief, tortured for hours on a wooden frame, mocked and despised by those He loved, and whose death would bring redemption from a bondage called sin. Yes, He came, but not just as a baby. He came as a Redeemer. He came to the world. He came to me.
While traveling to my pastor's home yesterday for a social gathering with his wife and daughters, I began to sing a song I had not sung in years. I prayed as I sang, thanking God for moving in some situations recently that had caused me some concern. At one point I said these words, "I thank you, God, that you came to me.". A flood of emotions swept over me as I heard His words in my spirit, "Yes, I came to you. I came to you when you were fallen and lifted you up. I came to you when you cried and wiped away your tears. I came to you when all hope was lost and showed you how to believe. I came to you when no one else would come. When all who heard your cry of despair refused to come, I came to you. I will always come to you---always.".
I could not stop the praises from spilling forth. He came to me. I could not stop the joy. He came to me. "When I could not come to where He was, He came to me.". The words of the song mingled with the praise of my heart---just to think, He came to me. Read these beautiful words to the chorus of this song:

            "He came to me. He came to me.
             When I could not come to where He was,
             He came to me.
             That's why He died on Calvary.
             When I could not come to where He was,
             He came to me."

It's true, He came to the world as a baby. It's true, He gave His life for the sins of the world. As a tiny baby, born on a day we call Christmas, He was heralded by angels and admired by shepherds from the fields. He lay in fresh hay in a manger stall and a star told His location. As a man, He gave His life in exchange for ours. Oh, but as a Saviour, He excels. As prince of peace, there is no competition. As tender shepherd, He is the best. When I need Him, He is my champion---my hero---my protector.
Of course I will celebrate Christmas with my family and friends this year. I will make new memories and cherish the old ones. But, I will not be thinking of Jesus as the manger babe. I will be thinking of how He came, not to the world, but to me. I will be thinking that, when I could not come to where He was, He came to me.

In Grace,
Marie

Truly Thanking God

2010-11-19T06:10:00.001-08:00

I cannot think of the Thanksgiving holiday without remembering a dear friend from my childhood years. Though I have met so many wonderful people in my lifetime and though many of them have touched my life, none have left the marks upon my heart like Laura Shrout. As children, my brothers and I frequently called her "Laurie". What a delightful woman she was.
Laurie was a large woman with big, beautiful blue eyes. The sound of her laughter would always make us children laugh, even if we didn't know what we were laughing about. She had the most gentle touch and was always telling us how much she loved us. I loved to snuggle up to her and smell her perfume. I don't remember the scent she wore, but she always smelled so divine. It was a pleasure to be in her company.
Laurie didn't have any children of her own. As Mother began to travel with Daddy on his ministerial journeys, Laurie would come and stay with us. She was a true Nanny. Her husband, Tom, would come by each evening and read to us or watch television. We felt safe so safe with Tom and Laurie.
Laurie was among the first of my Daddy's congregants. When he assumed the leadership of our church, Tom and Laurie were there from the beginning. Their faithfulness to the House of God, and their loyalty to my Daddy's leadership, endeared them to our entire family. I recall many times seeing Laurie wipe away the tears as my Daddy preached. She had such a tender heart.
It was the custom of our church to precede the Wednesday night Bible study with a few testimonies from the congregation. I loved to hear various members of our assembly share what God had done for them. Many stories of faith and hope, believing and trusting, fell upon my childish ears. My faith was developed and anchored by the visible proof of God's ability to meet all our needs as I saw it for myself in the lives of these humble people.
Laurie's testimony was the one I loved the most. This gentle, loving woman would come to her feet, place her hands on the pew in front of her and speak the words, "Truly, I'm thanking God for all He has done for me.". Every testimony Laurie gave began with those wonderful words, "Truly, I'm thanking God.". It left its mark upon my childish heart. I knew from the tone of her voice, the softness with which she spoke, and the reverence of her words, that Laurie really knew the Lord. She spoke of Him like she would speak of a good friend, which, of course, they were.
Truly---the word refers to something that is real and genuine. That was Laurie's relationship with God. It was real. It was right. It was genuine. She left her mark upon the lives of myself and my three oldest brothers. My youngest brother, Dwight, never knew Laurie. She died before he was born. Still, her life was not in vain. Her smile, her love of life, her gentleness, and her goodness, are all remembered by my family and I.
So, when the season comes 'round and the time of giving thanks is here, I think of Laurie. I think of a woman who had very little in material goods. I think of a woman who enjoyed the company of friends and family more than the things that money could buy. I remember warm hugs, pats on the head, hot chocolate, and bedtime stories. I recall fondly, a Godly woman who was not afraid to cry when her heart was touched. I think of her daily and I can say, "Truly I'm thanking God" for my childhood friend, Laurie. For all good things that have come down from the Father above, "Truly, I'm thanking God.".

In Grace,
Marie

Learning To Lean

2010-10-26T22:13:00.001-07:00

As one who has trusted God from childhood, I thought I had learned how to lean on the Lord. At every crisis point of my life, I turned to Him in prayer, asking for His help and direction. I searched the scriptures for words of comfort and courage. I had faith that God would, and could, bring me through whatever situation life brought to me. I felt secure in what I believed and knew my faith would remain intact, regardless of my circumstances.
How smug I was in my faith. Though it never crossed my mind that I was better than anyone else because I trusted God, I had grown rather prideful of my relationship with God. I just knew that, because I loved Him so much, God would never allow me to be put to the test. I had come to honestly believe that God loved me too much to allow me to suffer in any way. Little did I know what life had in store for me---little did I know what I would learn about really trusting God.
My lessons began with the loss of a twenty year marriage. I loved my husband dearly and my whole world was shattered the day he walked out of my life. I was dazed, shocked, hurt, and so lost. My spirit crumbled within me and my heart shrank into nothingness. Two years later, the loss of a second brother wrenched my heart. I hurt so badly---David was my friend, my confidant, my protector. I felt as if a hole had been dug into my life and I was falling in. Several years later, a close friendship fell apart. Someone who had been the dearest friend I had ever had, no longer desired that friendship and, once again, I felt rejected and alone. Recent tragedies in my family (see my previous post) have, again, served to reshape my relationship with God. Finally, just a week ago, my brother, Daniel, and his wife suffered the loss of their daughter. She was 30 years old and passed away in her sleep.
During these times I found myself weeping and wailing before the Lord. I cried out, "Why, Lord? Why have you allowed these things to come? What have I done that has provoked your anger?". I felt betrayed by God and could not understand why He had allowed such suffering to come to me. I searched my heart and life to find something--anything--that would give me a clue as to why God had, literally, pulled back His protective hedge. Why was God allowing these dark times, these "Dark nights of the soul", as the author Thomas Moore calls them.
Early one morning, as I was praying earnestly for understanding, the words of a recent message came back to me. I had heard a minister speak a few weeks before, regarding this very subject. I recalled his words, "When you were in school, you had a teacher. Your teacher went through each lesson with you. He/she explained each problem, covered each principle, and made sure you understood what was being taught. But, when it came time for the test, the teacher was silent. He/she didn't say anything, didn't answer any questions, didn't provide any explanations regarding what was on the test. The teacher was silent while the test was going on. The test was the only way the teacher could find out if you had learned what you were being taught. When God allows a test, He can be silent, too.".
It finally hit me. I was "taking the test". God was silent. He needed to know if I had learned the lessons He wanted me to learn. What were the lessons? Lean on Him when life hits hard. Never leave His side if I want to know the way. Stay close to Him if I want to make it safely. The only way that God would know for sure if I had learned how to lean was to allow me to be placed in a circumstance that was beyond my control. He took me out of my comfort zone, out of every thing that I was capable of handling on my own, and placed me smack dab in the middle of a situation that only He could help me through. My knowledge of His Word served me well---it became my handbook. The habit of prayer enabled me to go to Him with the slightest pain, the deepest agony, and talk to Him as I would to a dear friend. I was truly learning what it meant to lean on the Lord. It was a painful, but necessary, lesson.
I cannot say that I will never again question God as to why He allows what He allows. I cannot say that I will always come to Him first rather than try to find the answer for myself. But I can say that I have come to love leaning on the Lord. I have found safety, security, and refuge when I run to the strong arms of God.
All the sorrows and despairs of my life have only served to teach me, to prepare me, for the tests life is sure to bring. Though my heart may ache, my spirit sag, and my song disappear, I know where to run. I have the perfect hiding place---the shadow of the Almighty. Through it all, I lean on Him. He is, after all, the God who cannot fail.

In Grace,
Marie

Stand By Me

2010-09-13T11:31:00.000-07:00

"When the storms of life are raging, Lord, Stand by me."

It is with sadness in my heart that I write today's post. Life has been difficult this past week and there has much to take before the Lord in prayer.
Many of you may have heard over the news broadcasts, or perhaps read in the newspapers, of the murdering of five people in Kentucky. The gunman killed five adults, then turned the gun on himself and took his own life. The gunman was my cousin, Stanley Neace. My heart is aching today over these events.
I recall playing with Stanley as a child. He was bright, funny, and made me laugh all the time. He had a wonderful imagination and could tell a story like no one else. He had big, beautiful blue eyes and curly brown hair. When he smiled, and he smiled a lot, his whole face would light up. I found myself smiling with him simply because he was enjoying himself at the moment. He was a joy to be around.
As a young teenager, Stanley gave his heart to the Lord. At Stanley's request my father, "Uncle Russell" to Stanley, baptized him and prayed with him that God would protect him and keep him safe all of his life. It was a wonderful day. You could just see the glow of God's presence on my cousin's face. It was, indeed, a true conversion of both heart and mind.
As an adult, Stanley faced the hardship of seeing his parents divorced and his family torn apart. His faith held him in good stead for a while, but he gradually became bitter towards our Lord and blamed God for allowing these things to happen. His bitterness turned him against God and it wasn't long before his faith was lost---lost to a broken heart and a life without a true family unit.
The last time I saw my cousin, he was a broken man. He had developed mental illness and had begun having seizures. Medication helped somewhat, but he had also become dependent on alcohol as well. Life for him had become unbearable and he sought escape in drugs and liquor. He never considered the possibility of renewing his relationship with God. He never stopped blaming God for the hardness of his circumstances.
I was traveling back from a women's conference in South Carolina when my father called and gave me the news of Stanley's death. My pastor's wife, Susan, was driving and when she asked me what was wrong, I could find no voice. I could only see, in my mind's eye, the little boy with the big blue eyes and the dimpled smile. I wept for his death and the deaths of those he murdered. I tried to imagine the sorrow that was sweeping through the families of the victims. Stanley was the son of my mother's brother, Paul. An additional sorrow to me was concern for my mother and how this would burden her heart.
I relate this awful circumstance for several reasons. First, and foremost, I ask for your prayers for myself and for my family. We are grieved beyond measure. I ask also for prayers for the families left behind to grieve the untimely deaths of their loved ones. Grief is such an awful monster of the heart---please pray that God will comfort us in this time.
Secondly, we never know when life will hand us more than we feel we can bear. We must cling ever more closely to the Lord and lay our cares upon His shoulders. He cares for us so deeply, loves us so dearly, stands ever near in the time of trouble. Our relationship with our blessed Savior must be nurtured and secured in our hearts so that, in times like these, we can lean heavily upon Him.
Thirdly, we must always trust that God knows what He is doing. Nothing comes to us that He does not allow. Nothing happens in our lives that our gracious God has not considered and said, "She/He can handle it. I'll be there to help". In the scriptures, Timothy was encouraged by the Apostle Paul to endure hardness as a good soldier. If these awful situations, if these sorrows of the heart, if these grieving moments, will moved me closer to the One I serve, then I can do no less then serve Him in the bad times as well as the good. I want to be a good soldier of the cross.
I know my God will bring healing from the loss I feel. I know He will be the lifter of my head, my strong and mighty tower. I know I can run to Him and be safe. I am certain He will guard my heart and grant me peace. My most gracious thanks to all of you as I know you will be praying for me. May God bless you so very richly.

In Grace,
Marie

A Passion For Souls

2010-09-06T11:23:00.000-07:00

This is Rev. Oscar Wagoner, the man whose ministry helped lead me to the Lord.

As I have said before, I have been privileged to meet so many wonderful ministers and their families during my years as a pastor's daughter. I have heard so many truly gifted speakers whose words would touch my heart and inspire me to move forward in my walk with God. Of course, to me, no one could speak quite like my Daddy. His rich, baritone voice seemed to bounce off the rafters as he ministered the gospel. His understanding of the Word of God always amazed me and, even to this day, I marvel at his grasp of the scriptures. He remains my first and foremost mentor.
There is, however, another minister who became so special to me, both as a young teenager and as an adult. Rev. Oscar Wagoner (pictured above) was my father's Assistant Pastor and our Youth Leader for many years. His faithfulness and devotion to the cause of Christ served as an inspiration to all of who knew him. His service and loyalty to my parents as he served in the church cannot ever be forgotten. I am reminded, as I write these words, of his unfailing love and support of the Body of Christ. What a great man he is.
When I first met Rev. Wagoner and his sweet wife, Brenda, I was only 14. He and his wife had not been married long and they had just had their first child---a lovely little girl named Joanna. He was gifted with an anointing that made his sermons come alive. Indeed, his preaching would, many times, bring the Bible so to life for me that I felt I was right there with the saints of Bible days. I hung on his every word and always looked forward to his preaching. He was, and is, one of the best ministers I have ever heard.
Though Rev. Wagoner was a fine speaker, it was his passion for souls that defined him. His obvious caring for the lost and his prayers for their salvation, permeated each altar call. His preaching was convicting, allowing the hearer to see the need for Christ in their life. But, oh, it was his desire to see each and every soul saved that propelled us to the altar of God. It was his rejoicing over each one's repentance that convinced us we had made the right choice. Many times I have seen him stay at the altar, in prayer with those who had given their lives to the Lord. He became someone we all looked up to.

Rev. and Sis. Oscar and Brenda Wagoner

Always by his side was Sis. Wagoner, "Bren" as we often heard him call her. Sis. Wagoner never failed in her support of her husband and his ministry. In addition, she played the piano and sang beautifully. When I was learning music, I had no one to help me until she came along. I had learned the chords by that time, but Sis Wagoner helped me put it all together. When "Bren" played the piano, her fingers barely seemed to touch the keyboard---she played so softly yet so beautifully. There were times when I would see her smile when she played and I knew she was enjoying herself immensely. I can still, in memory, hear her lovely music.
I recently received an email from Rev. Wagoner in which he asked me a few questions about my music. He then reminded me of a poem I had written for him years ago. Our youth group was honoring him and his work he had done for the youth of our church. I wrote the poem to show our gratitude for his teaching and for helping direct us in our walk with God. I was touched beyond measure to find that he still had a copy of it and still considered it "so beautiful". I could not hold back the tears as I thought about him still reading what I written.
I am so grateful for the great men and women of God who have come into my life. I have been so blessed to have been instructed, encouraged, and uplifted by so many voices. Though each of them have a place in my heart, Rev. and Sis. Wagoner hold the most tender spot. Hardly a day passes that I do not think of them. Always, I am thanking God for their patience, their teaching, and their caring for a young pastor's daughter who had trouble finding her way. Because of them, I am secure in my faith and my calling. Their influence upon my heart has never failed but, rather, has grown deeper with the passage of time.

Oscar and Brenda Wagoner, 2006

To say, "Thank you", seems so feeble in comparison to the love and support they have given to so many. Let me add "I am grateful", and that I think of them often. When I do, I remember a black-haired minister and his lovely wife. I remember his passion for souls and I remember that I am one he helped win to Christ. Thank you "Oscar and Bren", thank you from my heart. I love you both so very, very much.

On Grace,
Marie

Love That Lasts

2010-08-01T04:20:00.001-07:00

Mother and Daddy, Easter Sunday, 2003

Today is my parent's wedding anniversary---they have been married sixty years. What a wonderful life they have shared together. Though there were many difficult times along the way, they have held on to their faith in God and to each other. Their love for each other has never wavered, their devotion never faltered, their commitment to each other remaining secure through the passage of time. The only thing greater than their love for each other has been their love for God. I am certain this has been the cement that held their marriage together through storms that would otherwise tear them apart.
Born during the Great Depression, both my parents had their share of hardship and want. My Mother was one of seventeen children, several of which died while very young. Her mother died before I was born---Mother speaks of her with such a sadness in her eyes and I know she yearns for her still. Over the years, she has lost all but three of her siblings and her father as well. Daddy's mother was a paraplegic. Thrown from a horse when she was only fifteen, she received an injury to her spinal cord. She lay bedridden for five years before realizing that her life was not over. She became a seamstress and supported herself until she married my grandfather when she was approximately 32. She gave birth to my father and his brother within the next five years. Her faith in God was strong and she ingrained it into my father when he was just a child. Daddy's father was a tobacco grader, a hunter, and a businessman. He taught my father how to make a living on next to nothing. Most of all, he taught Daddy how to be a loving father. Believe me when I say my Daddy is good at loving his family.
Mother and Daddy met and married in August of 1950. I was born the next year. When I was only a few months old, Mother gave her heart to the Lord. Oh, what a Godly woman she has been. Daddy, on the other hand, proved to be harder to win to the Lord. Mother prayed for Daddy for seven long years and, in August of 1958, Daddy became a child of God. He was gloriously and wondrously saved. He has been a true man of God ever since. I think it was after his conversion that Mother and Daddy truly began their marriage.
Growing up as a child in Mother and Daddy's home was a sheer joy. Although I had wanted a sister, each new baby was a boy. After a while, I learned there were benefits to being the only girl (like having your own room). I learned to love each of my four brothers and we have the kind of closeness that has stood the test of time. Daddy decided that each son's name should begin with "D"---Don, David, Daniel, and Dwight. Sometimes it would sound like Mother was stuttering as she tried to call the right name. We would get so tickled and she would laugh along with us. She has truly been the dearest Mother.
My favorite memories of Mother and Daddy through the years has been hearing them pray together. When Daddy came to the Lord, he made it a point to spend time daily in prayer and study of the Word. I recall a time when I passed by his bedroom and saw him kneeling by his bed in prayer. The Bible lay open on the bed and Daddy had his head resting on its pages. I can still remember him asking God to give him what it took to make it where God was. Mother often knelt with him and together they would call the names of each of their five children in prayer, asking God to supply the need and bring us to Him. I can feel the tears begin to flow as I remember these sweet moments.
Though Mother and Daddy lost many family members, nothing hit quite so hard as the loss of their two oldest sons. Don passed in 1980 at the age of twenty-six, David in 1997 at the age of thirty-nine. Oh, how awful it was to watch them grieve and know there was nothing I could do but lift them to the Lord in prayer. Mother's beautiful blue eyes were rarely dry during this time and Daddy would frequently just stand in the hallway and weep. I know that the Lord strengthened them during this time, but they also drew strength from each other. They would cling to each other and pray for each other to be able to endure this horrible loss. I saw their love grow richer and fuller during this time. I recently asked my sweet Mother how she endured the loss of two sons without losing hope and giving up on life. She smiled that beautiful smile of hers and said, "Honey, I make it one day at a time, leaning on the Lord.". I began to weep at the words of this remarkable woman I call Mother, and she, being Mother, hugged me close and just let me cry. Oh, how wonderful is this woman.
Daddy retired from full time pastoring several years ago. He and Mother now spend most of their time in conferences, home Bible studies, and other special services. Daddy especially likes helping young pastors develop their churches and assists them with the business side of pastoring. Mother and Daddy are inseparable and go everywhere together. When I am in their home, I hear them laughing at each other, telling some silly story about one of the grandchildren, and I still hear them pray together. Sometimes, during their Bible reading together, Daddy will get excited and start preaching to Mother. She just sits and listens with a smile on her face and lets Daddy "have the floor".
Sixty years is a long time to be together. When I called Mother to wish them a Happy Anniversary, I jokingly asked how she had put up with Daddy all those years. She laughed and said, "By the grace of God.". Indeed, it is true. Leaning on each other is one thing, but leaning together on the Lord is quite something else. Mother and Daddy will quickly tell you they have indeed made it by the grace of God. For them, there has been no other way.

In Grace,
Marie

Coffee On The Porch

2010-06-16T11:31:00.001-07:00

My friend, Susan, and I have shared some wonderful moments of friendship. We have seen each other through good times and bad, shared laughter and tears, and enjoyed each other's company through it all. I lived in Susan's home with her for a few months following my initial move to North Carolina. We spent many evenings together just talking and sharing the events of the day. During the summer and early fall, we developed a ritual that we called, "Coffee on the Porch". Susan would fix us each her special coffee: french vanilla coffee creamer, coffee, and whipped cream with a little cinnamon sprinkled on top. We would then take our coffee out to her huge front porch where each of us would occupy a comfy rocking chair and there is where we ended our day. As the weather grew cooler, we had our coffee in the den, still calling it "Coffee on the Porch".
When I found my own place and moved out of Susan's home, I dreadfully missed those calm, unhurried evenings where Susan and I would sip coffee and end the day. I gradually developed my own form of "Coffee on the Porch" by calling Susan and saying, "I'm having coffee on the porch". She would be having her coffee, too, and, over the phone, we would end the day. Eventually, "Coffee on the Porch" began to stand for fellowship and friendship, whether we were on the porch or not. I recall a time when I was driving home from a trip to Ohio to visit my family. I had stopped at a Starbuck's and gotten my favorite cafe latte. I got back on the interstate, looked at the time, and immediately called Susan, "I'm in the car and I'm having coffee on the porch". Susan started laughing and we talked for a few minutes about my trip and what was going on in both our lives. I smiled when I hung up the phone and thanked God for my friend.
Since then, Susan and I have told many of our other friends about "Coffee on the Porch". You see, what we have come to realize is that fellowship and friendship do not need a designated spot or ritual. Matters of the heart seldom do. What we have also discovered is that people, women in particular, are hungry for real friendship and true fellowship. It is the celebrations of life that make it rich and, sometimes, the celebration can be something as simple as being grateful for life and the opportunities it brings.
Recently, after our Women's Bible Study, several of those who attended, myself included, joined Susan in her beautiful home for, of course, "Coffee on the Porch". She and I shared with everyone about this time of fellowship and how it all came about. We had so much fun just talking about the things of God, our lives, our children, and how important Christian fellowship can be. Susan's Mother, whom everyone calls Memaw, shared some stories about Susan with us and we laughed hysterically at the some of the things she told about Susan and her sister, Vicki. Pastor Mike kept the coffee coming and, from time to time, came in and joined us. All in all, it was a great time and a lovely way to end the day.
I am convinced that friendship is God's way of extending His hand to us on a daily basis. True friends do not have to have words to tell how they feel, they just know. True friendship is not contingent on gifts, compliments, or extravagance. True friendship rests on the premise of loyalty, respect, and trust. When God sends people into our lives and friendship is cultivated, it is always the kind that lifts us up, encourages us, and gives us strength. It keeps our spiritual compass pointed toward the things of God and our ear attuned to His voice.
Oh, how grateful I am for all the friends God has given to me. I am especially grateful for the fellowship I am blessed to enjoy when my friends and I get together. I still miss the privilege of sitting on Susan's porch at the end of the day and enjoying the peaceful surroundings. However, french vanilla creamer is always in my fridge along with whipped cream and the cinnamon that sits in my cabinet. The coffee will be fresh and hot tonight, seasoned with Susan's special recipe. I'll make a cup, settle in on the sofa, and call Susan. When she answers the phone, I'll laugh and say, "It's time for coffee on the porch". What I will really be saying is, "I need to talk.". I'll do most of the talking, she'll do most of the listening but we both will be thanking God for all that He has done---especially for "Coffee on the Porch".

When I Dream

2010-06-08T08:18:00.001-07:00

My friend, Janet, has a darling three year-old named Abbie (Abigail Elizabeth). This child is hysterical. She has the best little sense of humor and the highest energy level known to mankind. She can keep up with any child her age, including the boys, and is more aware of her surroundings than most adults. She is sweet, loving, active, and smart. Everyone loves Abbie.
A few months ago, Abbie and her mother were in the car, just out and about. Janet saw an airplane in the sky and pointed it out to Abbie. She asked her daughter, "Abbie, wouldn't you like to ride in that plane?". Without missing a beat, Abbie replied, "No, Mama. I want to DRIVE the plane.". I nearly died laughing when Janet told me this story. This is so typically Abbie. She dreams big.
I have thought about this story many times, recently with a different perspective. As a child, I,too, dreamed big. I dreamed of being a gospel singer and traveling across the country doing concerts with other gospel singers. I dreamed of being a writer and having my book sit on bookstore shelves while people waited in line for me to sign their copy of my work. I dreamed of teaching literature to college students and inspiring them to love English poetry as much as I do. I dreamed of a house in the country with a wide porch, a porch swing and lazy summer days sipping sweet tea to my heart's content. I did, indeed, dream big.
When I gave my heart to the Lord, though, my dreams began to change. I began to think about mission work, tent revivals, and youth fellowship. I began to dream of souls being saved, lives being changed, and the hopeless finding hope again. I began to weep for the lost and hurting of this world as I prayed for healing and restoration. I dreamed of being a source of inspiration and courage to those same souls whose lives seemed so despairing and dead. I dreamed big for God.
Unfortunately, as my own life began to pass by, I encountered devastation and heartache so intense that my dreams fell by the wayside. Not only did my dreams become small, they soon ceased to exist. I had lost hope---my dreams had failed. I lost the desire to dream again. I wrote in my journal during this time, "I have no dreams to dream. It is all so pointless. I am to old to dream anymore.". Life had won. My dreams had died.
It was after the birth of my first grandchild, Gabriel, that I began to think I might be able to dream again. As I held his baby face close to mine, I began to think of the things I hoped life would bring to him. Do I dare to say I dreamed big for Gabriel? Am I saying to you that this tiny being---this baby for whom I would be willing to give my life---is the reason for my dreaming? Yes, I am saying to you that with the birth of Gabriel, my outlook for the future began to change. I began to want things for him, to dream of what I would be to him, to think of the things we would do together and the lessons I would teach him. I wrote a lullaby for him, rocked him to sleep, stared at his baby face as he napped, and felt stirrings in my soul for the kind of man I dreamed he would be. Like Abbie, I began to dream big again.
Since that wonderful awakening, I have come to realize the importance of dreaming. Dreaming is defined as, "having a hope or aspiration; to consider something as being possible.". WOW! That definition alone inspires me to continue dreaming. I have hopes, aspirations, and dreams. I dream of being so close to God that I can feel the smallest urging of His presence. I dream of seeing my children and my grandchildren become great warriors of faith. I dream of growing old in the Lord and becoming wise in Him with the passing of time. I still dream of inspiring others to know Jesus by the reflection of Him they may see in me. I dream of knowing Him more intimately as time goes by. I dream of eternity in His presence.
Dreaming, having hopes and aspirations, seeing life's possibilities---is so important to a life of joy. Only when we can dream, and dream big, can we truly see the potential of what life has to offer. God gave us the ability to dream. He offers us, through our dreams, a vision of what life can be if we submit our dreams to Him. We do our part by dreaming big. He does His part by showing us how.
I am still dreaming and am recording those dreams in my journal. I don't want to forget the smallest detail of the possibilities of my life. So, yes, I still dream and when I do, I dream big. Just like Abbie.

Remind Me

2010-06-02T08:34:00.001-07:00

Dottie Rambo--my most loved and revered gospel music artist

When I gave my heart to the Lord at age 14, Dottie Rambo was just becoming known in gospel music circles. She had a big, booming voice and could play a guitar like nobody's business. She wrote songs on what seemed like a daily basis. The words of her songs would captivate the listener, bring tears to eyes of all who heard, and reveal an anointing that went beyond the usual songwriter. She was such a tiny lady--barely five feet tall and maybe a hundred pounds. But, when Dottie Rambo sang, the power of the Lord Himself came through each note. Her voice would ring off the rafters, bringing a richness to each note, creating hope and courage by the words she wrote and sang.
I was privileged to meet Dottie during a concert in Cincinnati, Ohio. We chatted for a few moments about her music and her love for the Lord. She gave me the sheet music to her song, "We Shall Behold Him". She signed it for me, hugged me, and told me how much she enjoyed talking to me. I am sure she said those same words to many other people but, to me, it meant so very much.
Dottie was killed in a bus accident two years ago. She was traveling to a singing engagement when her bus ran off the road and crashed. She was killed instantly. Such a great loss to gospel music and to the kingdom of God.
Of all the songs Dottie Rambo wrote, my favorite remains, "Remind Me, Dear Lord". Please allow me to share those wonderful words with you today:

"The things that I love and hold dear to my heart
Are just borrowed, they're not mine at all.
Jesus only let use them to brighten my life.
So, remind me, remind me, dear Lord.

Roll back the curtain of memory now and then.
Show me where you brought me from and where I could have been.
Remember, I'm human, and humans forget.
So, remind me, remind me, dear Lord.

Nothing good have I done to deserve God's own Son.
I'm not worthy of the scars in His hands.
Yet He chose the road to Calvary, to die in my stead.
Why He loves me, I just can't understand."

Over the years I have sung this song so many times. Each time I sing the words, I cannot help but think of the good things my Lord has done for me. I pray He will continue to bring to my remembrance the times when only He could come to my aid. When you comforted me---remind me Lord. When you strengthened me---remind me Lord. When you mended my brokenness---remind me, Lord. When you turned my sorrow into joy, my pain into hope, my tears into laughter---remind me, Lord. When you became a friend that has been closer than a brother---remind me, Lord. When, in my humanity, I forget your goodness---remind me, Lord.
How we all need to be reminded of the great things our wonderful God has done for us. How easy it is to forget, in the hustle and bustle of daily life, the things, both small and great, that He continues to bestow upon us---simply because He loves us. How easy it becomes to reap the blessings of the Lord and still fail to remind ourselves that we have done nothing to merit such favor.
Oh, dear Lord, remind us. Roll back the curtain of our memory and let us be thankful for all you have done. Never, ever, let us forget that all we are, or ever hope to be, is because you first loved us. Remind us, remind us, dear Lord.

In Grace,
Marie

Simply Susan

2010-05-18T10:37:00.001-07:00

My friend, Susan (on the left), with her sister, Vicki.
My pastor's wife, Susan, is a great lady. Not only does she have the best sense of humor ever, but she is kind, loyal, and dearly loves the Lord. I always look forward to spending time with her and enjoying her bright personality. Susan is such a positive thinker, seeing the good things in life and always, always, always, offering a word of encouragement for every endeavor. She has been my biggest cheerleader and my dearest friend.
She does have a funny side, however. For instance, last fall Susan and I had lunch with a dear friend of ours who was visiting from out of town. We had a wonderful time of laughter and fellowship. Later, in the parking lot, I spotted Susan's car and walked in that direction. Suddenly, I heard Susan's voice behind me, "Oh, man. Look what someone did to my car. There is a huge scratch on my bumper.". Since I had Susan's car, a Camry, in view, I knew the car she was talking about was not hers. In addition, our friend was trying her best to open the door of the wrong car. I said, "Susan, S-A-T-U-R-N does not spell Camry. This is not your car.". I started laughing so hysterically as our friend said, "Oh my gosh, I'm trying to get in the wrong car.". That's simply Susan.
Last summer, Susan had visitors in her home for about a week. They cleaned her garage and cared for the yard and flowers during their visit. Everything was so nice and neat when they were finished. The next morning, Susan left for work---at least we thought she did. She came back into the house and said to her husband, "Mike, someone has stolen my car. It's not in the driveway.". Of course, Mike goes quickly to the garage, only to find the car sitting right where Susan had parked it the night before. Not being accustomed to having her car inside, Susan walked past her car in the garage, did not see it in the driveway, and walked past it a second time to come and tell her husband her car was stolen. I laughed so hard I could hardly catch my breath. That's simply Susan.
As funny as Susan can be, it is her tremendous love for the Lord that defines her. She is our Praise and Worship leader and does so with enthusiasm and great joy. There are times when I watch her sing and there is a smile on her face. Praising God is what Susan does best. Her love for Him is infectious and you cannot be around her long before you discover it for yourself. She is so secure in her faith---it permeates every corner of her life. The joy of the Lord is her greatest strength and she shares that strength with all of us.
I recall a time a couple of years ago when I was at a very low point in life. I needed Susan's encouragement so desperately. I was, however, quite unprepared for what she said. As I sat in her beautiful home, drinking coffee with her, she said, "Just how does what you are going through have anything to do with how great God is?". Talk about perspective, I got it then and there. I realized that, no matter what I was going through, none of it had anything to do with the greatness of God and what He could do in my life. God was as great as ever. Nothing that could happen to me could undo the greatness of the God I serve. Such are the words of a true friend.
I have heard Susan laugh until she could hardly breathe. I have heard her pray for people, calling each individual name in prayer. I have seen her rejoice at the success of others with no jealousy over their accomplishments. I have seen her tears when she observes the pain of others. She doesn't complain, she doesn't compete, she doesn't envy. She looks at every day as an opportunity to do something good for her Lord. The picture above is one of Susan and her sister, Vicki. I used it because it shows Susan's bright and joyful spirit. It shows her enjoying life.
My friend is not perfect. But then, neither am I. We each have our share of faults and shortcomings---that's why we need the Lord. I cannot imagine a life without Susan in it. She is my friend, my mentor, my cheerleader. She stands with me and helps me face life unafraid. She is a great lady. She is, quite simply, Susan.

In Grace,
Marie

Don't Lose Your Vision

2010-04-24T08:32:00.001-07:00

I had to get new glasses recently. For some time now, I have only had to have reading glasses. I didn't pay too much attention to the fact that my poor vision made reading without glasses nearly impossible. I just put them on when I needed to and took them off when I didn't. However, a couple of months ago, I noticed that I was having trouble with seeing things clearly from a distance. While standing at the foot of a patient's bed, I could no longer make out the numbers on the heart monitor. I would have to get really close to read the display without squinting. So, I went to the eye doctor and my vision had changed dramatically in two years. He gave me a new prescription for bi-focals and now my vision is perfect. Hmmm, a simple correction in my vision has made all the difference in how I see things.
I believe our spiritual vision can suffer dramatic changes as well. When we begin our walk with the Lord, all is right with the world. We look at life through the lens of His spirit and we see all the good things that surround us. We realize we are blessed with life, health, family, friends, and many of the things we love that make life so rich and full. We look forward to the possibilities of each new day and revel in the blessedness of what God has done for us.
As we go along, though, and times of testing enter into our lives, we suffer a marked change of vision and perspective. Our focus becomes the awful agony we are enduring. Our despair becomes our way of life and our faith seems insignificant in the face of it all. We seek God, but feel He does not answer. We yearn for someone to understand and, seemingly, there is no one. Our sense of aloneness amplifies our already hurting spirit and we plunge deeper into the depth of hopelessness. We cannot have hope because we cannot see God in this situation.
As I write this, I am reminded of Peter. Though he was given the keys to the kingdom, he still did not understand what having faith was all about. That is, until he was trapped in a boat---in a storm---with no help available. As he and the other disciples cried out for help, the vision changed. They saw Jesus. They didn't just see Jesus, though, they saw Him walking ON the water. Thinking they were seeing a "ghost", they now cried from fear. Their vision and trust in Jesus had become so poor, they could not even recognize Jesus when He came to them. Oh, but Peter, the Rock of the disciples, stepped out by faith. At the the Lord's invitation, he walked on water to go to Jesus. He had gone from despair, to faith, and, alas, back to despair. The scriptures teach us that when Peter took his eyes off of Jesus and looked at the storm, he was so overcome with fear that he began to sink into the stormy waters surrounding him. Jesus immediately reached out His hand and lifted Peter out of the raging storm. How like Jesus is that?!
How difficult it is to see Jesus sometimes. Life is not easy and, sometimes, my spiritual vision is dimmed by the hardship I am enduring. I need a change of vision. I recall a story I was told as a young Christian: A young newspaper editor began to suffer difficulties with his vision. Even with corrective lenses, his eyes began to fail. Since his occupation depended on his vision, he was devastated to think that he might be losing his sight. While seeking a second opinion, the doctor asked him what he did for a living. He then inquired of him where the young man lived. Upon discovering that the young editor lived in a house high above the foothills of Appalachia, he gave him very strange instructions, "Your vision is poor because you are constantly looking at things up close. Your ability to see distance has almost disappeared as a result. When you go home, you must do nothing that requires close vision. I want you to sit and look into the distance. Look at the grandeur of the mountains on the horizon. Look at the sky above. Look at the beauty that surrounds you and your vision will correct itself.". What wonderful advice!
How awful it makes us feel to consistently look at nothing but our problems. How depressing that is. But, somehow, when we look to Jesus, our vision changes. We see Him standing near, ready to come to us at a moment's notice. He stands ever so closely and is ready to reach out His hand and lift us from the storms of life. When we look ahead to the glorious promise that awaits us, the promise of Heaven and eternal rest with Jesus, our Lord, oh, how the vision corrects itself. Things of this life pale in comparison to what we see in our spiritual sight. The blessings of our lives become visible again as the problems become bearable when we see Jesus. Look to Him, today. He is near, He is present, He is waiting. Look to Him.

In Grace,
Marie

When Jesus Passed By

2010-04-14T13:17:00.001-07:00

Traveling with my Daddy could sometimes turn into an ordeal. Having traveled extensively in the early days of his ministry, he was familiar with many of the major highways across the eastern United States. Being a native of the mid-south, he was also familiar with many southern routes as well. I remember many times, as we were traveling, that Daddy could tell a story pertaining to his previous journeys on the same road we were now traveling on. He knew so many people and could tell so many wonderful tales about them all. Consequently, he would want to stop and say hello to many of his friends and ministerial colleagues as we traveled along. He would often say, "I can't come this close and not stop to visit for just a while. I cannot drive on and just pass by the good friends God has given me.". So, we would pause long enough to enjoy some wonderful fellowship and prayer together and it seemed that the journey was sweeter after each visit. Such a change sweet fellowship in the family of God can make in your life.
As I read and study the precious Word of God, I find that many changes occurred in the lives of people each time that Jesus passed by. His fame and reputation preceded Him and many would come to where He was, hoping that He would choose them to receive His healing touch. No one who came in contact with Jesus was ever the same afterward. Those who received healing, deliverance, or forgiveness, would be willing to follow Him to the ends of the earth if need be. He was, indeed, the manifested Word of God, living and breathing among us. Possessing the same Divine nature as well as the same righteous character as His Father in Heaven, Jesus never turned His back on any one. Rather, He gave until His natural body was weary and, even then, continued to meet the needs of those to whom the Father had sent Him.
Wherever Jesus went, something changed. A life was restored, demons made to flee, blind were made to see, lame were made to walk, deaf ears opened to the sound of His voice, and little children were held in His arms. Oh, how glorious that must have been---to be physically present when Jesus passed by. I am reminded of the words to a very, very old gospel hymn:

"When Jesus passed by,
When Jesus passed by.
Gone were all the heartaches,
The trouble and strife.
Just reach out and touch Him,
He'll hear your cry,
All things were possible
When Jesus passed by."

I am so very grateful that Jesus passed by my broken, shattered life one day. He came to me when I was not strong enough, or well enough, to go to Him. He came to where I was, He passed by the dark place where I was hiding from life, and He lifted me. He picked me up, gave me a new purpose, changed my vision of life, and filled that life with possibility. He added hope where there was none, joy where there was only sadness, and gave me laughter for my tears of pain. He has not been easy to follow, but I dare not lose my vision of Him. "Where He leads me I will follow, I'll go with Him, with Him, all the way."
The presence of Jesus, my loving Savior, makes life an adventure. It is a journey I make gladly, regardless of what tomorrow may bring. I smile when I read the Biblical accounts of those who were touched by His loving hand. Sometimes, I don't realize that I am smiling as I read. My little grandson, Gabriel, once asked me what I was smiling about when I was reading my Bible. I told Him that it made me happy to read about others whose lives were changed when Jesus passed by. He then looked up at me and said, "Jesus makes us happy." Hmmm, even a child can tell the difference when Jesus has passed by.

In Grace,

Praying As Before

2010-03-17T06:24:00.001-07:00

Sometimes maintaining a prayer life can be so difficult. We face circumstances and situations that bring us so low, we can hardly find the words for prayer. There have been times when all I have been able to do is just lay my head down and weep. Prayer seemed so futile in the face of my agony. Of course, this was my brokenness taking over and dissuading me from seeking the Lord. I am reminded of the scripture regarding King David. He and his men had just come back from the war front only to find their city burned and their wives and children taken captive. The scriptures tell us that the men in David's army were so grieved that they "...wept until they had no more power to weep.". I know how that kind of sorrow feels.
Another great Bible hero has given me such inspiration when I face difficult times. Daniel was such a great prayer warrior. In scripture we are told that he prayed morning, noon, and night. With his face toward Jerusalem, he sought God faithfully each day. No matter what the circumstance, Daniel prayed. When he was taken captive as a young teenager---he prayed. When he faced hatred and enmity from the king's advisors---he prayed. When all was going well---he prayed. No matter what came into his life, or how difficult daily life became, Daniel prayed.
There came a time when those closest to the king began to plot against Daniel. Challenging his devotion to his God, a decree was made that would cost Daniel his life if he continued in prayer. The story continues by pointing out how Daniel entered into his chamber, opened his windows, faced toward Jerusalem and "...prayed as before". Nothing would stop him from seeking help from God. Nothing could break the trust that Daniel had placed in a God that could not fail.
How many times have my life's battles brought me to my knees? How many times have I been driven to seek the Lord because nothing else would do? Oh, dear friends, I have found such solace in seeking Him---such peace in knowing He is ever present---such comfort in the midst of my sorrows. There is no one who can take the place of our God and the richness of His presence. Somehow, when life brings us low and joy seems so far out of reach, prayer brings us into the throne room of God and we bask in His love and mercy. The circumstance may not change, but we do. We have come to source of our life's supply and He has given us what we need to go a little further.
I yearn to be a woman of prayer. I desire to be faithful and true, trusting the God I love so well to meet all my needs. I am reminded of the words of President Lincoln when he said, "I have often been driven to my knees by the realization that I had no where else to go.". There are those times when we don't know what to do---except continue in prayer. God is faithful and He will never leave us. Whatever comes, good or bad, I long to face it well. I hope to carry on no matter what life brings---praying as before.

In Grace,

A Bear Named Max

2010-02-19T08:53:00.001-08:00

Those of you who follow this blog will remember my writing previously about my nephew Derek and the strong faith he had after his father's death. He was eight years old at the time and his commitment to his faith and trust in God during that time was an encouragement to our entire family. However, this was not the first time Derek became a source of strength to me.
Derek is my youngest nephew. When he was born he brought joy all of us. We loved him so much. We passed him around and cooed at him uncontrollably. We made such fools of ourselves over this baby. Adults who were somewhat prim and proper were down on the floor playing hot rods and wrestlers, tickling and crawling---and enjoying every minute. When Derek looked at us and smiled, we would move Heaven and earth itself to give him what he wanted. He was sheer joy.
When Derek was six years old, I went through a devastating event in my life. My heart was broken and I was so sad I could hardly make it through each day. I felt like I was dying inside. I yearned for something to comfort me---I needed Derek's bright spirit. I went to my brother's home just as Derek was getting ready for bed. When he heard my voice, he came running out of his room and jumped into my arms. He wrapped his little arms around my neck and kissed me on the cheek. He looked at me for a moment but didn't say anything. I set him down and watched him as he went to his room. In a minute he returned with a beautiful white teddy bear in his arms. He came and stood in front of me as I stooped down to hear what he had to say, "Aunt Ree, I know you have been very sad lately. But I have something that will help you. This is my favorite bear. His name in Maxamillian Snowflake, but I just call him Max. I want you to have him and whenever you feel really sad, just give him a hug and he will make you feel better." Little arms reached up and handed me a soft, white, cuddly bear. Big blue eyes looked at me expectantly as I hugged Max close to me. I could smell Derek's bubble bath in the bear's body but, more importantly, I could feel Derek's love reaching out to me. I knelt down and hugged him tightly, basking in the comfort he had just given me. He smiled at me, kissed me goodnight and went off to bed. My brother and his wife were wiping the tears from their eyes. I could not speak, I was so overcome with emotion.
That was fifteen years ago and Max has never left my side. He is pictured above in his place on my bed--and I still hug him almost everyday. Max has traveled with me wherever I go and is never far from my reach. I taught a seminar not long ago on "Spirituality in Nursing", emphasizing the fact that nurses (and everyone for that matter) need to find ways to nurture their emotional and spiritual selves. We give out so much of ourselves as women that we sometimes forget to give to ourselves. Max sat with me on the podium that day. I told my story about Derek and Max. I shared how Max has been a point of connection between my nephew and myself---how hugging Max brings the love of a six-year old to life and comforts me. Every person at the seminar came forward to hug Max before leaving. He gave comfort to a lot of people that day.
I relate this story to say that God meets our needs in mysterious ways. A teddy bear may not seem important to anyone else, but, to me, it became a lifeline. I am often amazed at how God uses children to touch our lives and enrich our spirits. Children make the world a wonderful place. Nothing can take the place of the love of a child. I have been so blessed by the children in my life. My children, my nephews, my grandchildren, the children of my friends, have all been such a joy and comfort to my life. I am so blessed.
Today Derek serves in the United States Army. He told my mother shortly before He left for training that he had prayed about it and this was what he felt God wanted him to do. I am so very proud of him. I am sure he doesn't think about Max very often---his life is full of other things. But, now, when I look at Max, I am reminded to pray for a young man whose faith has never failed him. A young man who has faced life's adversity with courage and trust in the God of his childhood. Each time I remember, I hug Max and pray for Derek. I remember how one child impacted my life---a six-year old and a teddy bear named Max.

In Grace,

Walking By Faith

2010-02-08T08:05:00.000-08:00

Driving home from work a few mornings ago, I found myself driving in a very thick, dense fog. Although I could only see a few feet in front of me, the driving didn't bother me too much as I was on the interstate and could see the lights of the car in front of me. As I exited off the highway, though, and onto the road that would take me home, I discovered I was traveling alone---or at least I appeared to be. The stretch of country road was visible only a car length in front of me. I could see nothing ahead and nothing behind. The fog was dense, wet, and gray. It almost appeared ominous. Still, I was relatively unafraid. I drive this road several times a day---I know every turn, every bend, every crossroad. It was familiar territory.
I pulled into my parking space in front of my home and the thought hit me, "That is exactly what it's like to walk by faith and not by sight." As I drove home that morning, I had faith in my memory of the road ahead. I trusted my judgment and had faith in my knowledge of what to expect up ahead. It made the journey home one of trust and confidence in what I knew about the route I chose. Walking by faith, not by sight, is a bit more complicated. By nature, we want to be able to handle the road of life ourselves. We want to make good choices and capable decisions. We want to be able to rest in our own abilities and trust our own judgments. As children of God, it is not that simple.
God leads us, many times, into paths of the unknown. We face heartaches that are unexpected--we must make decisions for which we feel unqualified---we must let go of things/people that are dear to us---all of which lead us into the dense fog of God's will. The path is not always clear. We hold a divine hand that leads us gently forward and yet we cringe at the thought of what we may find. Our earthly vision exists only from an earthly point of view. God's vision rests on us from the heights of Heaven itself. I am reminded of a beautiful song, the chorus of which says it all:

"I'll soar like an eagle
Flying high on wings of grace,
Far into the Heavens,
I can almost see God's face.
Rising in His splendor
To heights I never knew.
What once looked like a mountain's just a hill
From Heaven's point of view."

Walking by faith necessitates a vision that is not earthly. Though we cannot see what lies ahead, we know we are held by the divine hand of God and that He leads us where we need to be to become what He needs us to become. Rick Warren, author of "The Purpose-Driven Life", says, "God is not interested in your comfort. He is interested in your character." I cannot state it better than that.
Of all the times of sorrow and despair that have made their way into my life, I can truthfully say that I know God so much better now. I am aware of how He leads, how He guides, how He comforts, how He heals. I can see the path ahead no clearer now than I did years ago. I have no idea what lies in the thick fog of the future. But, I know that from Heaven's point of view, I am a survivor. I have walked by faith and pray to be able to do so until I see Him face to face.
You see, I would rather walk into the unknown future with a known God, than to see it all without Him by my side. So, I journey on---walking by faith.

In Grace,

She's Been With Jesus

2010-01-29T06:52:00.001-08:00

My friend, Tammy (over at Tammy On The Go), posted a statement on her Facebook page a few days ago. It struck a chord in my heart and I asked her permission to use it for this post. "The woman who washed Jesus' feet left the building smelling just like Him.".
I pondered Tammy's words for a couple of days before going to the scriptures and rereading the story (Luke chapter 7). As I read carefully and prayerfully, my heart was, once again, captivated by the love Christ has for us. I am amazed at the ability Jesus had to love, forgive, restore, and renew all those who sought Him with a pure heart.
Jesus had come to dine with a Pharisee named Simon. Since the Pharisees thought themselves superior in knowledge and intellect, one can only assume that Simon invited Jesus out of curiosity and arrogance, not out of respect and honor. It was the custom in those days to offer your guest water to wash their feet and refresh themselves from the dusty rigors of traveling by foot. It was also customary to greet your guest with an embrace of welcome, letting them know you were glad they were in your home. It is of note that Simon did neither. No honor was given to Jesus as a guest. Daily courtesies afforded any traveler were denied Him as He entered into the home of a man whose only mission was to find a fault in One who had no faults.
Into this gathering comes a woman---a woman of ill repute. A woman whose life was sin ridden and empty. Yet, she came to Jesus. The scriptures do not tell us why she came. We do not know what she had in mind when she appeared in Simon's home. Still she came, standing behind Jesus, so ashamed she could not raise her head to look into His eyes. Instead, she fell to her knees, weeping uncontrollably. Her tears mingled with dust on the Saviour's feet and she wiped them away with her hair. She had not come prepared to wash His feet, but she had come prepared to honor Him with an alabaster box filled with precious ointment. No doubt, this cost her much to purchase, the box itself being of great cost, the ointment so valuable that only a box of this material could preserve its fragrance. It was all she had to offer---the most valuable she had to give.
She opened the box at the feet of Jesus. Immediately the crowded room, filled with traveler's dust and empty hearts, became a fragrant repose. The scent of her offering filled the room as she tenderly poured it onto the feet of Jesus, kissing them all the while and honoring Him in the only way she knew. Bowing before the King of Glory, anointing His feet with a priceless ointment, she not only washed the Saviour's feet---she found cleansing for herself as well.
I cannot begin to imagine how she must have felt when Jesus finally spoke. After reproving Simon for his dishonor and lack of respect, Jesus immortalized this dear woman with words of love and forgiveness:

"...her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much..."

Turning His attention to the woman of sin He said to her:

"...thy sins are forgiven...thy faith hath saved thee; go in peace."

With the scent of precious ointment covering her hands, her hair, her face---with the memory of the voice of Jesus ringing in her ears---she left the house of the arrogant Pharisee with something money could not buy. She left forgiven. She left with peace. She left smelling just like Jesus. Wherever she went that day, all could tell she had been with Jesus---she smelled just like Him.
Oh, dear friends, so many times I have come to Jesus with my list of needs and requests, totally ignoring my need to first honor and adore Him. My forgiveness and peace, which comes from His dear hand, is lost in my "pressing" needs and the importance of telling Jesus what He needs to do for me. I leave my box unopened. But today, I am the woman with the alabaster box. Today I want the people I meet to smell Jesus on me. I want His anointing and His presence to be so rich that others can say, "She's been with Jesus.". I want the fragrance of the Rose of Sharon, the sweetness of the Lily of the Valley, to envelope me today so that others may see Jesus in me and glorify Him.
I am certain that this precious woman in our story today had no idea that she would become an inspiration to others because of her selfless act of love. I am also certain that we have no idea ourselves whose life we will touch because of our devotion to a loving Saviour. May the scent of His anointing follow us and may His glory be evident in our lives today. May those we encounter leave us saying, "She's been with Jesus.".

In Grace,

Running On Empty

2010-01-14T15:00:00.000-08:00

I almost ran out of gas the other day. I had been out and about, running errands and paying bills (yuk), and had not paid attention to how much gas was in my car. Suddenly the gas light, accompanied by its little chime, lit up. I knew I had to find a station soon or I would be stranded. The problem was, I was about 10 miles from the nearest gas station, so I did what anyone else would do---I panicked!!! I berated myself for how silly it was to not check my fuel gauge---I lectured myself for taking the route I had chosen---and I blamed how "busy" I was for distracting me. Bottom line is, I was negligent and thought that I could travel farther before having to refuel. My judgment was faulty.
Once I returned home, with a full tank of gas, I just couldn't stop thinking about how easily I could have gotten myself stranded. I couldn't get it out of my head that my own misguided judgment nearly got me in a precarious situation. I felt out of sorts, frustrated, and anxious. I settled down with my Bible, looking to it, as I always do, for comfort and direction. I read a few chapters but couldn't keep my focus. I began to pray and ask God to reveal to me what was so persistently pulling at my mind and spirit. Very gently He spoke to my heart, "Daughter, you are running on empty.".
Suddenly, I knew why my heart felt heavy and why my spirit seemed subdued. The joy of the Lord had become hidden under the cares of everyday life. His peace had been replaced with my struggle to play "Miss Fix-It" to life situations. His love had been forgotten under the demands of work. Without time in His presence---without communion with Him---without His word hidden in my heart---my spirit and soul had been emptied out and I had nothing left on which to run. I was, indeed, running on empty.
Oh, dear friends, do I need to tell you that the rest of the day was spent hovering over His precious Word and hiding it deep within my soul? Must I describe to you the tears of repentance that fell down my cheeks as I asked His forgiveness for my thoughtless neglect? Yes, I must tell you that my weary being found rest and reprieve at His feet and, for a day, I was Mary, yearning to look into the face of Jesus. For a day, I was blessed to hover in His presence and find, once again, refreshing for my heart and mind. At the end of the day, I was full. My cup had begun to overflow.
How easily life takes from us the very things that we need to survive in today's society. We get lost in daily routines, task lists, deadlines, and obligations. How easy it becomes to put time with God to the bottom of the list---not intentionally---but it happens nonetheless. We come to the end of the day, weary and worn, giving God what is left over and hoping He will give us some small encouragement from on high. We come to the place where we are certain that we can handle things on our own with only a token recognition of God's ability to do above and beyond what we could expect or imagine. We remain unfulfilled and empty.
God makes no demands on us. He allows us to pursue our dreams, meet our goals, and live our lives. Through it all, He waits. Waits until we are ready to be filled, daily, from His wellspring of love, grace, and mercy. Waits until we realize how empty we can really be. Then He reaches down and, through His tremendous compassion, occupies our heart and fills it until we overflow. How blessed it is to lean on our Lord, knowing He can direct our lives far better than we ourselves.
I don't think I will allow myself to come so close to running out of gas again. It was a very scary experience for me. Even more frightening is a day without the presence of the wonderful God I serve. I yearn for Him, long for Him, cannot wait to feel Him near. He thrills me, fills me. I'm running the race, indeed, but with a full heart---a heart that is no longer running on empty.

In Grace,
Marie

Looking Ahead

2010-01-06T22:28:00.000-08:00

Sometimes our past mistakes and failures hit us unexpectedly. Some thought or phrase, maybe even a song or a particular place will trigger the memory of a time or event we would rather forget. Unlike memories that we cherish and revisit fondly in our minds, these thoughts pull at us, drag us down, and fill us with remorse. We all have them, we all hate them, we all wish we could turn back time and correct some of the awful mistakes we have made.
The Apostle Paul had such memories. Such an awesome man of God he became, but, oh, the pain he caused and endured in finding the path to his destiny. Born a Roman citizen, he was entitled to all the luxuries such citizenship afforded him. He was highly educated and a member of the Sanhedrin Court---a position of high rank and honor. He was also a Jew and followed the law of Moses to the letter. As such, he could not believe that Jesus was the promised Messiah of God and, so, obtained legal right to persecute those who followed the teaching of Jesus Christ. He was so zealous to protect the religious law he so deeply cherished, that he honestly came to believe that those who did not honor the law were deserving of persecution and imprisonment. On a journey of tracking down believers, his whole life changed in a moment of time.
Paul (whose name was Saul at the time) was struck down on the Damascan Road, blinded by God, and given instruction specific for his deliverance and healing. He heard the voice of God for himself and came face to face with who he was and what he had done. For the first time in his life, Paul was helpless and needed to lean on others to get to where he was going. God had a special plan for Paul, but He needed to get Paul's attention first. The end result was Paul's deliverance, healing, and acceptance of the teachings of Jesus and the yielding of his life to the will of God.
Paul is my favorite New Testament character. But, here of late, I have been thinking about the significance of Paul's words found in Philippians 3:13,

"...this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind,
and reaching forth unto those things which are before...".

It brings me to the realization that Paul had much to forget from his past. I am sure many times he had to shake off the memories of the faces of those he led to persecution. How many times did the faces of those he imprisoned haunt him as he journeyed from place to place? Did he ever hear the cries of the mothers separated from their children or the sobs of husbands and wives taken from each other's arms? I wonder how often he bowed his head and, once again, asked forgiveness for his ungodly crimes? Though he thought he was acting in the will of God at the time, once he came to really know God and His son, Jesus, his actions would rise up to haunt him.
I, too, have been in this place. My unkind words and deeds have often caused me grief. I have recalled the hurt looks on faces I loved, and the disappointment of those who had trusted me. I have looked back with regret that I didn't spend more time with my children, that I didn't pay enough attention to my parents or that I should have been more devoted to my church. I have chided myself over personal faults and failures and have, many times, questioned why God made me the way I am.
But oh, dear friends, I have learned, as Paul learned, that we cannot cling to the past and look to the future at the same time. Looking ahead, asking God's guidance day-to-day, doing the best we can to live above our frail humanity, these are the secrets to "forgetting what is behind". It is only through God and His amazing Grace, that we are able to move beyond ourselves and walk in the joy of the Lord.
My father says it so well, "The only thing we do when we dwell on the past is mess up the present. We can't change the past, but we can control this moment and the choices we make now.".
Perhaps there are some of you who, like me, struggle with the memories of past failures and mistakes. Let me encourage you to leave your past with our precious God who loves us so much. A dear friend of mine once said this to me, "It is a divine prerogative of God that He cannot remember something He chooses to forget.". If God, as awesome and great as He is, chooses to forget, can we not do the same? I don't know about you, but, today I'm doing my best to avoid looking back. I have my human nature to deal with but I have a God who gives me strength and overcoming power. I have come to realize that the best way to avoid looking back is to change my field of vision---I'm looking ahead.

In Grace,

It Started At The Well

2010-01-04T11:08:00.001-08:00

She had come to the well at midday---long after the other women of the village had come and gone. Her steps were weary---almost as weary as her heart. She had spent her life living with one man after another, longing for a happiness that never came, searching for a peace that did not exist. Rejection had become her lifestyle. An outcast had become who she was. No one loved her---no one cared---she didn't matter. So, she came to the well the same way she lived her life---alone and neglected.
He had come to the well by necessity. His journey to Galilee led Him through the town of Sychar in Samaria. He was "...wearied with his journey...", hungry and thirsty. He sat on the well side to rest. Many people had come to Him for healing, deliverance, and salvation---He had met the needs of them all. He had poured out of Himself and given all He had to those who came to Him. Now, He had traveled so far and His body had grown tired. He needed rest, food, and drink.
They met at the wellside---the woman who had no life and the man who was the giver of life. She had given up all hope and He had all hope to give. She knew He was a Jew and speaking to Him was forbidden. He knew she was a Samaritan and needed the words He would speak. Their meeting was not coincidence but, rather, one of Divine destiny. This was her day and He was her salvation.
He asked for water to drink. She was afraid to honor His request. He told her about water that would allow her to never thirst again---living water that would satisfy, not the body, but the thirsting soul instead. A conversation began in which He was revealed as the promised Messiah. At that moment she began drinking from a well that would never run dry. Never again would she have to come to the well that man had made. Never again would she have to worry about what people were saying. She no longer had to seek the approval of men to satisfy the thirst of her soul. She had met the Deliverer and all that she had known before was if it had never existed.
Excitement and joy flooded her very being. A life that had been weary and sad was now exchanged for one of peace and love. Running to the village with the news, she knew she would never be the same. "Come see a man who told me all the things I've ever done..."---and they came. They came and they believed---they believed because of a woman who defied tradition and spoke to a weary man sitting by the well. A woman whose life would witness through the ages of the life changing power of the Man of Galilee. A man called Jesus.
I relate this story today because it tells of a woman who, through faith in Jesus, obtained a new beginning. The old life of sorrow and despair became one of joy and peace---all because of Jesus. As we face a new year, a time of new beginnings, may we all remember the woman of Samaria. May we all be reminded that life is never so dreadful, so unhappy, so unfulfilling, that it cannot be changed by the One who waits at the well. He knows we need Him and His unending supply of salvation and deliverance---and so He waits---waits until we are thirsty for a new life, until we are ready to drink from His well that never runs dry.

"Behold, God is my salvation: I will trust and not be afraid:
For the Lord JEHOVAH is my strength and my song; He also is
become my salvation.
Therefore with joy shall ye draw water out of the wells of
salvation." (Isaiah 12:2 & 3)

I am at the well today, thirsty for more of what He provides, yearning for one more touch of His presence. Come to the life-giving water today and, as He promised, you will never thirst again. New life and a new beginning is not hard to find---it all starts when you come to the well.

In Grace,

A New Year---Fill It Well

2010-01-01T06:00:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite movies is "Anne of Green Gables". It is the story of a fiesty young orphan who endears herself to an elderly brother and sister and becomes the child of their hearts. Anne has her share of mishaps and disasters--all due to an insatiable curiosity about life and an irrepressible imagination. Needless to say, these characteristics place her in many a childhood scrape. A beloved teacher gives her a nugget of thought that enables Anne to face each day with hope and faith: "Tomorrow is new with no mistakes.".
I share this thought because today is the first day of a new year. A year that stretches ahead of us with unlimited possibilities. We are given a new opportunity each day to live a life filled with joy, peace and hope. Some of the days ahead may be filled with unexpected sorrows---tears may fall and our steps may falter. But we must remember this---you need never fear facing an unknown future when you face it with a known God. Each day we will face is an opportunity to know our great God as a God of love, faithfulness, truth, honor, integrity and forgiveness. No day that lies ahead will ever take us from the presence of God but, rather, it will drive us to Him as we serve Him in good times or in the midst of difficult days.
The year ahead is new--with no mistakes. It lies before us and beckons us to fill each day with all the wonder and merriment we can. May we look for ways to make life rich and full. May we rejoice in the dawn of each day and thank God for His blessings at each day's end. May we surround ourselves with those we love---drawing wisdom from those who have gone before us and treasuring the innocence of those little ones coming along behind. May we laugh more and worry less. A new year lies ahead---fresh and with no mistakes. May we fill it well.

In Grace,

My Real Christmas Angel

2009-12-19T14:49:00.001-08:00

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

2009-12-11T08:06:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-03T10:05:00.001-08:00

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

2009-11-25T14:06:00.001-08:00

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

2009-11-24T15:53:00.001-08:00

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

2009-11-11T05:40:00.001-08:00

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

2009-10-31T06:22:00.001-07:00

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

Gabe's Message

2009-10-16T04:43:00.001-07:00

My oldest grandson, Gabriel, and I have always had a special bond. I loved him the moment he opened his beautiful blue eyes and looked up at me as if he had always known me. He was a peaceful, sweet baby. He loved to snuggle up with me when I laid down to nap with him and his smile was almost a permanent fixture. When he started walking, he followed me everywhere I went. When he started talking, he told me about every toy he played with, every cartoon he watched on television and asked a dozen questions about everything. I didn't mind. He was my little companion--my little friend--my little joy bundle.
When his brother, Michael, was born, Gabe stayed with me while his mother was in the hospital. We went everywhere and did everything together. I revelled in the sound of his laughter and spent hours watching him sleep. He was so precious---he still is.
As a toddler, Gabe asked a hundred questions about God. It was almost as if he hungered after everything I could tell him. When I would say "Hallelujah" during my personal praise and worship, Gabe would throw up a hand and say "Hall-u-jah" and clap his little hands until I joined in and clapped, too.
At age four, I found him staring at a crucifix I had hanging in my foyer. He got a chair, climbed up and looked right into the face of the scuplture of Jesus on the cross. I just watched him and didn't say anything at first. I waited for his questions. The first question was, "Is that Jesus?". I told him yes. His next question was , "What's He doing?". I explained that Jesus loved us so much that He took all of our sins and went to the cross. I told him, in very simple terms, what sin was and how it took us away from God. I described, as best I could, how very much Jesus loved us. I was totally unprepared for what happened next. As he stared at the crucifix, he whispered, "I love you, Jesus.". He then looked at me and said, "Jesus really loves me, Gigi" (this is what he has always called me. Gigi, pronounced with a hard "G"). I could not hold back the tears as I hugged Gabe tight and said, "Yes, Gabe. Jesus really loves you.".
A few days later my father came to my house while Gabe was visiting. Gabe got the chair again, climbed up and proceeded to tell my father the story of Jesus. My father, the wonderful man of God, had tears in his eyes by the time Gabe was done. I could not believe how much Gabriel loved telling the story of Jeus.
Recently, I was reminded again of Gabe's deep love for God. I had taken the boys to church with me and, after driving them home, decided I would join them and their parents at the neighborhood park near their home. We had a lovely time. We fed the ducks, the boys played in the creek and we enjoyed a simple lunch of sandwiches and chips. After lunch, I was enjoying the fall beauty of the park when I heard Gabe call to me, "Gigi, come look at this. It's really important.". When I saw Gabe, he was standing in the sandbox and was waving for me to come to him. As I walked toward him, he had that gorgeous smile on his face. "Look what I wrote," he said. I looked down in the sand and read the following, "Id dy 4 God.". I had to read it twice before it registered in my mind. As I read, Gabe just stood there and smiled. He was proud of what he had written. Tears filled my eyes. "Id dy 4 God.". I looked down at the face I loved so well, stroked his cheek and stared into those beautiful blue eyes. "You really mean that don't you?" I asked. "Uh huh. I sure do." was his quick reply. I hugged him tight and told him how proud of him I was. It was one of the most precious moments of my life.
The picture above is the message Gabe wrote in the sand. A message that should challenge us all to love God with all our hearts, souls, and minds. How much do we love Him? He loved us enough to send His son. He loved us enough to forgive all of the sins of our weak humanity. He loves us just because. I pray that I find the conviction of a seven-year-old boy---a love that says, "I'd rather die for God than live without Him.". I pray that when my faith grows weak, I remember the message in the sand. Gabe's message---"Id dy 4 God.". Me too, Gabe---me too.

In Grace,
Marie

This Precious Book

2009-10-08T11:15:00.001-07:00

My Bible is one of my most prized possessions and is never far from my side. The study Bible I use most has become worn and a little ragged. It has seen me through many times of questioning and pondering regarding life events. It has opened my eyes to the will and purpose of God in the lives of His weak humanity. In times when there were no ready answers, it has comforted me--held me firm--kept me strong. There is no other book like it.
I have often said that it was my father who gave me my love for the Word of God. At every opportunity he would say to me, "Let's see what the Word has to say about that.". No matter what my question or whatever the circumstance, Daddy pointed me to the Word---to the precious Book. It became my first line of defense in times of despair and my greatest source of comfort when my heart was hurting.
Though there were many times when I turned to the Bible, there is one particular situation that comes to mind the most. It was during the time following the death of my brother, Don. I grieved for him so deeply. I wanted him back and yearned for the sound of his voice, his way of making me feel everything was alright, and just his presence. Oh, my heart hurt so badly. I grieved from the depth of my soul for the first six months following his death. I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't do anything. Don was gone and life as I had known it would never be the same. God's Word came to my rescue at about three o'clock one morning. As usual, I had not been able to sleep. I paced the floor with tears streaming down my cheeks and great, heaving sobs rolling from my body. I needed my brother and he wasn't there. I sat down on the sofa and picked up my Bible. I held it in my hand and, from somewhere deep in the recesses of my spirit, it came to me that the comfort I needed was within its pages. I held my Bible in my hands and said this prayer, "God, if you don't give me something to hang on to, I am not going to make it. Please give me something. I need healing. Please help me.". I looked down at my Bible and just let if fall open randomly. In front of me was the following scripture from Proverbs 18:24: "...there is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother.". Oh, how my heart soared. I was instantly made aware of the fact that, no matter what the joy or the sorrow, God was with me. I knew how close my brother and I had been. He was always there for every joy and crisis of my life. If my God was closer than my brother had been, then He was there with me in the midst of all my sorrow, my pain, my loss, my grief.
I cannot tell you that my grief was instantly relieved. I cannot tell you that the yearning for my brother was at that moment taken away. What I can tell you is that I no longer felt alone. I knew, as I had never known before, that God was with me. His Word came to my rescue and became the turning point of my healing. Years later, while doing some research for a seminar I was teaching on "How To Study The Bible", I found the following poem. I copied it and placed it in the front of my Bible.

Something new and beautiful,
Each day within God's Word
I find if I but search until
My listening heart is stirred.
Sweet and precious promises
Unfold with fragrance new,
As saints who've tried and trusted them
Come marching into view.

Could I but reach out lovingly,
And in some way impart
A portion of this mine of gold
To every troubled heart.
This Book. This Book. This precious Book
Forever holds the key
To every door I'll need on earth
And to eternity.

Alice Hansche Mortenson

May we ever see the need for daily doses of God's Word in our lives. Oh, how well it knows us and meets us at every turning point of life. How good of God to place Himself within a Book that will, forever, keep us--lead us--guide us--direct us.
This precious Book---my favorite Book of all.

In Grace,
Marie

A Job Well Done

2009-09-10T13:57:00.000-07:00

Those of you who read this blog on a regular basis will remember my writing previously about my brother, David. He passed away in October of 1997 at the age of 39. A diseased liver took his life before he could receive a liver transplant. He was such a wonderful man---I miss him so very much.
David left behind a wife and two sons, David Lee and Derek. Eleven years separated the birth of his two boys. When Dave found out he was going to have a second child, he was ecstatic. Having loved children all his life, being a father was to him the greatest gift God could give. He was a firm but loving father and his two boys adored him. David Lee was 20 years old when his father passed---Derek was only 8. As much as my heart ached for my own loss, it ached especially for his two sons who would find life so empty without their Dad.
Two weeks after my brother's passing, I invited Derek to spend the night with me. It was Saturday, my children were away for the weekend, and I just wanted Derek to be with me. He was so much like his father and it comforted me to have him near. He reminded me a lot of my brother when he was a little boy.
Derek hadn't spoken much about his father since his death. I sensed that, in his childlike mind, he probably had many things about life and death that would remain unanswered questions in his mind. Little did I know just how much of a grasp he had on the subject.
As we drove along, Derek suddenly looked at me and said, "Aunt Ree, I didn't expect my Dad to die. I thought he would go to the hospital and get a liver transplant and then everything would be alright.". I loooked into that little face I loved so well and replied, "I thought so too, Derek. I must say I don't understand why God allowed this to happen. I don't understand why God allowed my brother to die.". The reply that followed shocked me. "Oh, I understand it all. I understand it very well.". "Well," I said, "would you please explain it to me? I'm not trying to be sarcastic, but I'm having a really hard time with this.".
"Well,", he explained, "it's like this. Everyone is born with a job to do. While you are alive, God comes down from Heaven from time to time and gives you what you need to do the job. Then, when your job is done, He comes down one last time and takes you home to be with Him.". He looked up at me with those big, dark eyes of his and said, "And, Aunt Ree, my Dad's job was done.".
Oh! how my heart leaped at his words. A child of eight years old had just provided me with the comfort I needed to begin the healing of my heart. A child, who had just lost one of the most important people of his life, had an insight into the workings of God's spirit that I could only yearn for. My eyes filled with tears as I looked at him and saw within his eyes the faith that undergirded him---a faith that had been passed on to him by a loving father---a faith that, even at that moment, refused to fail him.
I could not speak for a few moments. My mind replayed the words again and again until finally I looked at him and said, "Derek, you have just given me the explanation that I needed. Your Dad's job was done and now he is at rest in the arms of God.". He smiled a little smile and nodded his head as if to say, "Glad you finally got the message.".
God has, indeed, placed us all here for a purpose. When we yield ouselves into His Divine hands, He uses us to accomplish His will and, hopefully, accomplish His great plan. My hope and prayer is that my life will end in a job well done. God does strengthen me, indeed, each of us, to do His will and fulfill our destiny. I so long to do my job well. I so long to have His strength and comfort so that, when He comes to me that one last time, I can go home to be with Him. I pray to finish well. I pray to see His face one day and hear Him say, "Well done, Marie. Well done.". I will know then, on that day, my job is finally completed.

In Grace,
Marie

Beside Still Waters

2009-08-29T11:44:00.001-07:00

The twenty third Psalm has always been a mainstay of my life. I have been drawn to it time and again over the course of my forty-three years of serving God. There is a simple truth that lies in each verse---a truth that speaks to me in the midst of the severest trial or the most heart wrenching tragedy.
Verse two speaks to my heart today, "He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside the still waters.". Green pastures---still waters---a beckoning to rest and trust. The opposite of storm and strife, the place of refreshing, a time of letting go---how we all need this place and time where weariness can disappear and where cares can be laid down. How I need this place today.
It is interesting to note David's choice of words, He MAKETH me...". This leads me to believe that perhaps we are not good at recognizing our own need for letting go of burdens and cares. Is it possible that we tend to think that, if we carry the load just a little further, we will eventually be able to resolve it ourselves? Is it possible that we tend to think of our burden as something we just have to bear and so we try to carry on without realizing God is longing to help us? It is the persistence of our human nature that places God in the position of "making us" lay the burden down and give it to Him. But it is here, in the place where we are made to go, that we really see how God cares for us and desires us to be refreshed and renewed.
Green pastures---just the phrase brings to mind a view of lush grasses, beautiful wild flowers, gentle breezes and shading trees. My grandparents had such a place in the mountains of Kentucky. I would often sit on the front porch of their little cottage home and gaze out upon the beauty of the pasture land before me. Even as a child, I can recall the settling of my spirit as I looked upon the beauty of the view. My grandfather had a huge porch swing and I would just sit and swing looking at all the trees and flowers and the green grass and thinking that no artist could ever paint a picture as beautiful as the one I was seeing. I can recall many times falling asleep in the swing. I was as if the view lulled me to sleep. I wonder if that is how God would like it be with us? Do we dare to believe that God wants us in a place where we can be lulled to rest, even if for a short time, so that we can continue on with renewed strength and vigor?
Let us not forget the still waters. Do you know that sheep will not drink from running water? No matter how thirsty they are, they will not drink from any source where the water is not still. It is as if they are frightened by the rushing of water over the rocks in the river bed. How frightened have we been sometimes by what we are called upon to face and endure in this life? How many times do we call out to God to help us and, at the same time, we cannot see Him as the source of Living Water. Not a dry riverbed, not an empty well, but a source of supply that never runs dry---a constant satisfaction to a life that is barren and dry. This is where He leads us. He leads us to Himself so that we can "with joy...draw water out of the wells of salvation." (Isaiah 12:3). You see, salvation does not just mean repentance---it also means "deliverance". So, to draw refreshing and strength from God, the source of living water, is to also find deliverance, not necessarily from the burden (although that does happen), but from the weariness of bearing it.
Oh, how we need to be led by the still waters. How we need to lie down for a while in the green pastures. The next verse of this lovely Psalm tells us that, after this rest, He restores our soul. Oh! how we need this lovely repose today. How we need the rest of the green pastures of God's spirit. How we need the still waters for refreshing and restoring.
May today bring to each of you a time of rest---a time of peace---a few moments where you can lay down the load and rest yourselves in Him. The beauty of the old song comes to mind:

"Where He leads me I will follow,
Where He leads me I will follow,
Where He leads me I will follow,
I'll go with Him, with Him,
All the way."

Today may He lead you, may He rest you, may He refresh you so that you, too, may go all the way. He restores my soul in pastures green and beside waters still. You come, too.

In Grace,
Marie

My Redeemer Lives

2009-08-27T07:34:00.000-07:00

You will need to stop the music on the playlist to listen to the post for today. This video of a disabled son and his father has brought tears to my eyes and hope to my weary heart today. Dick Hoyt's son, Rick, was born with cerebral palsy. After refusing to put him in an institution, his father determined to make Rick's life as rich as he possibly could. When Rick learned to speak via an elaborate electronic device, life became "normal" for Rick in that he could communicate with those around him.
The Ironman competition came as a result of Rick's desire to help another disabled individual. Dick was challenged by his son's desire and so began an inspiring adventure in which Team Hoyt has touched the hearts of millions across the world.
As I watch I wonder--how many times has my God carried me through the deserts and mountains of my life? How many times has God pushed me through when I could not do it for myself? How many times has he carried me across the dark waters of tribulation and heartache when my life was so broken I would surely have perished on my own? My God has done all this and more for me.
Just as the love of Dick Hoyt for his son, Rick, pushes him almost to the point of going beyond his endurance---just as the desire of a father becomes showing his son the joys of life---just as the father takes pride in the son and what they have accomplished---so does God do this and more for those of us who love Him.
Dick Hoyt is a hero to his son Rick. In like manner, God is a hero to me. In fact, He is more than my hero---He is my Redeemer. And, yes, I know my
Redeemer lives. Please note the look on the son's face as they cross the finish line. I know I will have the same smile when I cross the finish line of my life and, weary and worn, enter into the presence of the same God who carried me to the gate of Heaven. It is then I will know for sure, indeed, my Redeemer lives.

In Grace,
Marie

When I Dream

2009-08-13T17:49:00.000-07:00

As a child, I had a huge imagination. I would make up my own stories and write my own "books" (I have always loved to write). As I got older and began to plan my own life, I started having my own dreams about what my life would be like. I dreamed of being a gospel singer---I dreamed of being a teacher---I dreamed of being a nurse---I dreamed of being an author. As I read about places around the world, I dreamed of traveling to Paris, London, Venice and Greece. I dreamed of cruise ships and moonlight dancing. I dreamed of Prince Charming and I dreamed of the children I would have.
What I didn't dream about was a life that would go on without the people I loved. I didn't think about marriage ending in betrayal and I didn't dream about a body wracked with pain everyday. I didn't dream about a faith that would be tested beyond its limitations. I couldn't imagine a life without hope. I did not anticipate dreams shattering and my whole world coming to a halt. I couldn't see these things happening---but they did.
For the longest time, I lost my dreams. I lost my vision of a happy life and a joyous future. I had no dreams to dream. I awoke every day, I went to work, I continued my responsibilities at my church, I spent time with my children, and I did it all feeling like it was someone else inside me. I felt like I had lost myself. My dreams were gone. No more writing, no more dreaming, no more hopes for the future. It was all gone---lost to the pain and agony of a life unfulfilled.
Ah, but we all know that God brings us 'round at the appointed time. I remember sitting on my sofa, looking at the clock and realizing four hours of time had gone by. I had been sitting in that same spot, unmoving, for four hours. There were times when I would say to myself, "Breathe, Marie. Just breathe.". Oh, how my heart hurt and how I wanted to retreat from life. I purposely stayed in the numbness of it all because it hurt so much to feel anything. But, as I said, God brings us 'round.
I heard His voice--I felt His presence. It was as if He sat next to me, put His arms around me and began to rock me. His presence was so real. I began to cry. No, I began to weep, great weeping sobs that swept over my entire body. Heaving sobs that came from my very gut. All the pain, all the sorrow, all the agony, burst forth in wave after wave of weeping. A scripture regarding the loss of the families of King David's soldiers says, "...they wept until they had no more power to weep...". That was me. I cried until I could cry no longer. Then, I slept. For the first time in months, I slept---soundly.
I awoke knowing that God had reached through the darkness of my life and had filled it with His light. I made coffee, I read the paper, I played my piano---and I sang!!! I sang until my throat was sore. I called my mother and asked her if she would make me breakfast. I ate with Mother and Daddy for the first time in months. Mother looked at me with tear-filled eyes while I ate her wonderful homemade biscuits and gravy. Daddy sat at the head of the table and looked me in the eye and said, "I knew you would come back sooner or later.". Mother hugged me as I got ready to leave that morning. Her heart was so full she could not speak but she hugged me tight. Daddy grabbed me and lifted me off my feet to swing me around Mother's kitchen while I laughed aloud like I did as a little girl. I had begun to heal.
That dark time of my life took place a long time ago. I have not forgotten those awful hours nor do I wish to. I want to remember what it was like to lose hope and dreams. It helps me remember now what it is like to have those hopes and dreams restored. It helps me understand others who are experiencing their own loss of dreams. It helps me pray effectively.
So what do I dream about now? I dream about traveling to Paris for my 60th birthday. I dream about singing gospel music on stage. I dream about writing books that will encourage the body of Christ. I dream about a grand-daughter. I dream about finding the love of my life. Most of all, I dream about being a woman God is proud of. I dream of being the woman of Proverbs. I dream of Heaven and I dream of the smile of God. Praise my precious Lord whose great love and mercy gave me back my dreams. I dream of Him--when I dream.

In Grace,
Marie

How Long, O Lord?

2009-08-07T08:36:00.000-07:00

Our pastor recently ministered on Psalm 13 where David asked the question, "How long wilt thou forget me, O Lord?". His message centered on the fact that so many times our test/trial seems to go on beyond human endurance and that it is at these times we wonder how long it will last. It was a very moving sermon.
As he spoke, my mind went back to the testimony of a lady I had met at a women's Bible study several years ago. Her name was Cindy Ruhl and she spoke from deep personal experience. Cindy had developed a chronic condition that riddled her lower body with excrutiating pain. No medication or other therapy relieved, or even lessened, the discomfort. Finally, in desperation, the physicians on her case placed Cindy in the hospital and began a barage of tests---all of which proved nonconclusive. Her pain became so unbearable that Cindy would often weep and wail from her hospital bed. In a final effort to alleviate some of her pain, the doctors packed her lower body in ice hoping it would numb the pain---and it did. Finally, the pain abated enough that it was at least bearable. It was then that Cindy and
God began their journey through what David called, "...sorrow in my heart...". What wonderful things God showed her at this time.
Lying in her hospital bed, Cindy began to question God's purpose for her suffering. Realizing that nothing comes to us without first being filtered through the hand of God, Cindy knew there was a reason for what she was enduring. For this, she began seeking God with every waking moment available to her. She was surprised when God led her to the book of Acts and the story of Paul and Silas in prison (Acts 16: 24 - 26). The story took on a deeper meaning when the words of verse 24 leaped off the page, " ..thrust them into the inner prison...". The inner prison was the darkest part of the jail, having no windows, no candle, no visibility at all. It was the place where the worst offenders were kept and into this place went the great apostles of God. It was a place of darkness and desolation.
Looking at her illness as a prison of pain and a place of deep desolation, Cindy began to identify with the beloved men of God. From her previous study of this passage of scripture, she recalled that this dark dungeon was also the place where the criminally insane were kept. Here, among the cries of the insane and in total darkness, were Paul and Silas. And here, they began to sing. No doubt, it was the first time that the walls of the darkest cells had rung with the voices of God's anointed. Here, again for the first time, those reeked with the enemy's torturous mind heard the praises of God. Isn't that just like God to place us, the true lightbearers, in the darkest of places so He alone can be the source of light?
Cindy understood that her purpose was not to figure out the reason for this valley of sorrow, but to render praise to God that He counted her worthy to be His lightsource. Determination rose up within her---determination that said, "I will praise Him in this storm. I will give Him all the glory.". Surrendering her life and herself to God's Divine purpose, Cindy made a decision that day to praise God for life, health, and strength. No matter what.
What I recall most of all, and what left a lasting impact with me, were Cindy's final words. As she stood before us, still in pain but finally controlled to a certain degree with medication, she looked over the faces of all of us before she spoke. I will never forget what she said, "When you really desire the will of God for your life, it won't matter what you are enduring. It will not concern you about the passing of time, it will not concern you about what others think of you and how you are facing the situation. What will concern you is how God wants to use you during this time. His will becomes your obsession and your relationship with Him becomes all consuming. With that in mind, you can say, 'let the trial begin'.".
My trials and tests have seemed so small in comparison to what my dear sister in Christ endured. Nevertheless, my circumstances hurt to the core of my being. I was humbled, beaten and broken by life, but, yet, I've endured. By the grace of God I have endured. God is faithful. I can lift both hands today and say to you, "God is faithful.".
My pastor was right when he explained that the answer to the question, "O Lord, how long?" is simply this--as long as it takes. As long as it takes for us to realize that it is not all about us. It is all about God in us bringing light to a dark world. God in us showing the world that it is possible to live in victory no matter what the circumstances. God in us saying, "LET THE TRIAL BEGIN!".

In Grace,
Marie

Who Knows?

2009-08-02T14:08:00.000-07:00

This past week was Vacation Bible School week at our church. It was great!!! The children were beside themselves with anticipation making each night a true adventure. My grandsons were both able to be present every night and, since they missed VBS last year, it seemed a special treat to them to be able to be there this year. Along with the other children they played Bible games, made crafts, learned new songs, listened to stories of their favorite Bible characters, guzzled snacks and treats, and, over all, had a wonderful time.
The last night of the week was a special night. This was the night when the entire group of children gathered together and sang for their parents and family members. It was precious! Tears welled in my eyes as I looked at the faces of the children I have come to love and listened to their voices join together. The joy on each child's face, the pride they took in their singing--it was just so touching to watch them. My mind went back to the time when my own children were small and how they also enjoyed learning about Jesus.
As I sat there and looked over the group of children, my mind recalled the scripture, "And He gave some apostles; and some, prophets; and some, evangelists; and some, pastors and teachers;...for the work of the ministry...". I began to consider just what I was looking at. Which one of the childhood faces I was looking at would be tomorrow's pastors--which one would be a future teacher or evangelist? Which one of those children would be called to a foreign nation to work on the mission field? Going beyond the scriptural reference--which ones would be the worship leaders and musicians of tomorrow? Just where would each one of them fit into into God's future church? Oh! how I yearn for them all to know the beauty of service. How I long for each of them to lay down at night knowing the peace that comes from having touched a life with the gospel of Christ. My heart longs to tell them how glorious it is to stand in the congregation of saints, knowing that you have been used of God to bless and/or instruct them in what it means to know our Jesus. Oh! the richness of Christian service--the joy of being in God's employ. There is, indeed, no greater glory.
I have not always felt this way. There was a time when I sang and played music from a sense of duty. God gave me talent--I gave it back to Him in each service I attended. But I gave it out of obligation, not joy. That is until I accompanied my father to revival services at a small church in the mountains of Kentucky. The church was not much bigger than one of the Sunday School rooms in my father's church. The piano was old (ancient it seemed), with only the middle keyboard making sound. When Daddy preached he had only about a five foot square to move around in--that was rather limiting for Daddy who tended to speak as much away from the Bible stand as he did behind it. And, of course, there was no central air conditioning. And, of course, the revival took place at the hottest time of midsummer. However, I played and sang my heart out during that meeting. I have a strong voice and, since there was no sound system, it held me in good stead.
My whole attitude changed one night toward the end of the revival. I was very hot and decided that I would step out to the small porch at the front of the church to get some air. Daddy had preached a stirring message and I had sang what he had requested. As I stepped out onto the porch I caught my breath in amazement. I could not believe what I was seeing. Men and women alike, who had found no room at the small altar inside, were kneeling at the bumpers of their cars for makeshift altars. They were crying in repentance, asking God for forgiveness for the wrongs of their lives. Tears fell down the weathered cheeks of men who had spent their lives working hard for their families with little reward. Women whose hands were worn and reddened from homemade soap and scrubbing floors, were lifting those same hands in praise to our precious Lord for His forgiveness of their sins. The smiles that covered the lined and worn faces brought radiance to those same faces and brightness to the eyes that were now filled with tears of joy.
I could not move for a moment. The overwhelming presence of God that filled that small church and extended to the parking area which, now filled with humble people praising God, had become an extension of what was taking place inside. I began to weep uncontrollably. I was ashamed that I had taken this glorious gospel, this talent I had been given, this Godly heritage I had been given, all for granted. I came to realize, with repentance and a new vision, that God wants more than just going through the motions. He wants us to use what He has given us and use it with joy. He wants to work through us to accomplish His purpose---and He wants us to enjoy the working. I have never forgotten those lovely mountain people who taught this preacher's daughter that simple fact.
So, I look at the smiling childish faces in front of me and I wonder. I wonder will they really continue to love what they do for the Lord in the future as much as they do now? Will they give everything they have to give and then dig deeper for just a little more--all in an effort to please the God they serve? Will they cheer each other on and stand by each other's side, knowing that together they can accomplish anything? I wonder. Will God bless me to live to a ripe old age so that I can be there to hear the first sermon, rejoice in the first song, thrill to the first music played and, by example, let them know that the joy they feel now is nothing to be compared to what they will feel when that first knee bends because of their obedience to Christ. Dear God, I pray it will be so.
Who knows which one of them will lead the church of tomorrow? Only our great and loving God knows that. But this one thing I do know--it is my responsibility to lay an example of service before the children and youth of today that will make Jesus Christ irrisistable to them. If I can convey, by word or deed, the joy of serving Jesus and do it in a way that will draw the little ones I love to Christ, then I will have been a success. Who knows which one will pick up the blood-stained banner and, in the words of the prophet, shout, "Here Lord am I. Send me." Who knows? God knows and, one day, so will we.

Never Alone

2009-07-17T04:14:00.001-07:00

As you may recall from an earlier post, my daughter and her family have been staying with me while they have relocated to North Carolina and could find a home of their own. This week they moved into a lovely cottage home in the country with plenty of space for the boys to play, lots of trees for the boys to climb, and, in addition, only a few miles from our church. I am so grateful to the Lord for making a way for them to move close to me--I have missed them so very much.
Now that they have a home of their own and have moved out of mine, however, I find myself feeling very alone. I did not realize that I would become so accustomed to their presence in my home and I certainly did not anticipate the empty feeling I would have now that they are gone. I miss the sound of Gabe's laughter and Mikey's hugs and kisses. I miss the companionship of the lovely woman my daughter has become. I miss Mark keeping fresh coffee available and taking out the garbage for me (always a chore I have dreaded). I miss them all.
All of this has served to dredge up a fear I have struggled with for most of my adult life---the fear of being alone. As you know, I grew up in a close and tight-knit family. There was very little alone time and we were constantly in each other's way. Even after growing up and leaving our parent's home, we all flocked back at every opportunity to enjoy the company of family---to remember we were not alone as long as we had each other. When life's circumstances put me in a position of facing life alone, I found it difficult. In fact, I found it almost intoler-
able. Alone was not what I wanted to be.
I tried filling the time in every way I knew how. I worked a lot of overtime, I went to seminars and workshops, I enrolled in online Bible studies---all in an effort to fill my time to the max so that I wouldn't have to face being alone. I accompanied my father on his speaking engagements, I did a lot of speaking on my own and took on more responsibilities in my local church--again, just to fill my time. Looking back, I realize that by filling all the empty time I had with whatever I could find to do, I left no time for God to teach me the real lesson, WE ARE NEVER ALONE. When I fell on my knees one morning after work, weeping from weariness of mind and body, begging God to help me, I heard the inner voice I knew so well. It was not an audible voice but more like an intense thought that took over my mind and spoke one thing, loud and clear: "You are not alone. I am here. Let me help you.". I understood, in a way I never had before, the meaning of Jesus' words, "Come unto me all ye who are weary and heavyladen and I will give you rest.". Oh, how I wanted rest, how I wanted God's help, how I wanted to know it was okay to be alone. I was ready for God to show me--to teach me--to heal me--to give me peace. I wanted alone to be a state of being, not a state of mind. Physically, I was alone. Spiritually, I had a constant companion, a cherished friend, a refuge. I was sheltered in the arms of God.
Life since those days has not been easy. There are times when I have said to God, "This time you have given me too much to handle.". There are still days when I cry and feel so alone. But God never fails to remind me that, though He is not tangible--though He is not visible--though He is not flesh--HE IS STILL THERE. It is His healing presence that enables me to live alone. It is His guiding hand that prevents me from falling. It is His love that keeps me secure. He is, indeed, everything I need.
I am sure that, though my daughter and her family are not physically in my home, they will always be as close as a phone call. Video games and children's movies are tucked carefully away just waiting for the hands of two little boys to bring it all back to life. In the meantime, God and I are getting along famously. He holds me secure in the palm of His hand, His voice stills my doubts and fears, He meets me at every turn. Every now and then I still hear the Godly whisper in my heart and mind, "You are not alone. I am here. Let me help you.". It becomes my mantra that I repat over and over to myself--never alone, never alone, never alone. He promised never to leave me and God always keeps His promises.

In Grace,
Marie

Earthly Sanctuary

2009-07-12T00:43:00.001-07:00

Recently I have faced a number of situations for which I have found no immediate solution. Along with personal illness, and related time off work, I found myself feeling completely overwhelmed and exhausted by it all. My mind was numb and my body weary---I knew I needed help. In crying out to God I was reminded of the one place I had always found peace and comfort in times like this. I was reminded of the church--the house of God--the earthly sanctuary.
As a young Christian, I had always had access to the church. My father being the Pastor provided me with unlimited opportunity to have time alone with God whenever I needed it. When life became too much for me to handle, the church became my sanctuary--my refuge--my calm in the midst of the storm. It was as if God were saying to me, "It's alright. I am here and I will stay as long as you need me to". I felt cradled by a force greater than myself. I felt safe.
So, when the recent events of my life became overwhelming, I went to the one place I had always felt secure. I went to my church. The minute I walked in, I felt the presence of God welcoming me. I felt the same peace and quietness come over my spirit that I remembered from my youth. I knew that, even if I left with no solution to my problems, I would still leave refreshed and encouraged.
I knelt at the altar and began to pray. I asked God for forgiveness for my earthly shortcomings and, like David, I asked Him to restore to me the joy of my salvation. I prayed for guidance and direction. I prayed for strength and endurance. I prayed for the peace that passes all understanding. As hard as it was, I asked God to show me what I was doing, if anything, that would prevent me from receiving the answers to my prayers. It was a prayer that was unrushed and unhurried--a prayer accompanied by many tears--a prayer from the heart.
I rose from the altar with no change in my circumstances. The problems and situations were still there--still unchanged. But, I was changed. My heart was filled with joy and my mind knew peace for the first time in many weeks. I had come to my sanctuary with a heavy heart, a cluttered mind, a wounded spirit. I had received comfort, encouragement and healing. I was refreshed by the washing of His Spirit and renewed by the power of His Presence.
There will always be problems, heartbreaks, illness, betrayals and sorrows in this life. I may not always be able to go to the church and bow at the altar, seeking His beloved comfort. But, for now, for this time, I found a haven. I found an altar of mercy and a God of unlimited grace. I found a refuge from the storm. It was there all the time--my earthly sanctuary.

In Grace,
Marie

Mary's Little Boy

2009-06-29T15:24:00.000-07:00

My daughter and her family recently relocated to North Carolina to be closer to me. Right now they are spending some time with me while they arrange for housing, job transfers and, possibly, new employment. It is such a joy to have my grandsons around--to listen to their stories and to be a daily part of their lives.
I must say, though, that I had forgotten what a handful little boys can be. My home is now filled with cars, trucks, Transformers, Star Wars figures, video games, legos, marbles, swords and shields, in addition to Veggie Tale movies, Ironman, Batman and Superman. Zorro and the Man In the Iron Mask round out their favorites. A lot of pretending to be any of the above mentioned superheroes takes place along with acting out their favorite Bible characters such as King David (their personal favorite), Moses, Noah and Daniel. I have heard more Bible stories recently than I have in years. I have also had more hugs and kisses, more snuggling, and more "I love you" said to me than I could ever imagine. This is the joy of children--this is what makes the world a wonderful place to be. The unconditional love of a child is worth more than all of earth's treasures.
As I slipped upstairs, long after they were in their beds, just to catch a glimpse of their sleeping faces, I wondered about another little boy. I wondered if his mother ever just sat and watched him sleep not knowing the awful death she would watch Him endure. I wondered about Mary's little boy.
We are so programmed to think of Jesus as the Son of God--the last Lamb of Calvary--the one who gave His life so we might live free from the bondage of sin. We think of Him as the healer, the deliverer, the miracle worker and, indeed, He was all of those things. He was, to all who followed Him, more than just a man. He was flesh and bone, yet He carried within Him the divine genetics of His father. He was the Son of God but He was also Mary's little boy--a fact we often overlook.
I am sure that, to the casual observer, Jesus was just like any other child. I know He must have laughed and cried, wanting His mother to kiss away His hurts. I am sure there were times He was as mischievious as all His other boyhood friends. The carpenter shop must have rung with his childish laughter and Mary and Joseph surely laughed along with Him. Did He run along the shores of Galilee with His cousin, John, before they were old enough to fulfill their destinies? And, I wonder, did Mary slip to the side of His bed, just to gaze lovingly upon the face of her child while He slept?
Later, did Mary watch with a sense of dread as her son left to begin a ministry that would surely lead to His own sacrifice? How many times did she cry out to the Divine Father of her child and beg Him to change His plans? How deep was her agony at the possiblity that each time she saw her son, it could very well be her last? Finally, how many times did she have to yield her fears, her dreads, her mother's desire to spare her son---how many times did she yield to the will of God?
In the movie, "The Passion of the Christ", there is a scene that depicts Mary's heart so beautifully. As Jesus stumbles under the weight of the cross, Mary is watching. Her mind flashes back to a memory of Jesus as a child--the child stumbles and falls. Mary immediately rushes to Him, picks Him up and says, "Mother is here.". How she must have yearned to rush to Him as He fell beneath the wooden cross, wipe away the bloody sweat from His brow, throw her arms of love around Him and whisper, "Mother is here". But she could not. Mary had to do the unthinkable--she had to leave her son alone--she had to let Him die so that you and I would have a chance for eternal life, free of the chains of our sinful nature.
I only have one son. He has been such a joy to me and has filled my life with beautiful memories from his birth until this very day. I cannot imagine a life without John in it. To those who have lost a child I can only say that I cannot begin to think of the awful pain and sorrow it must surely bring to your heart. When I think of Mary and the awfulness of watching her only child suffer and die on a cross, my heart breaks and I cannot stop the tears from falling. I am sure the memories of a lifetime flooded her mind during the six hours Jesus hung on the cross. I am certain she thought of every detail of His life with her and mourned His death in a way that no one else could.
When I think of these things, the mess on my living room floor doesn't seem so bad. The whirlwind of superheroes and the Veggie Tales blaring throughout the house becomes so much more tolerable. The little hands that reach for mine, the child's arms that wrap themselves around my neck, the sticky fingerprints on the piano keys--all remind me that there is nothing more precious than a child's life. How wonderful it is to be loved by a child! I have been so blessed by my children and now to have grandchildren--it is an additional blessing I love and cherish.
Tonight I will make my way up the stairs, quietly as I can, and I will look at the faces of two little boys. I will sit there and watch them sleep for a while. I will watch their little chests rise and fall just to make sure they are breathing okay. I will lean over and kiss their cheeks lightly so that, God forbid, I won't wake them. I will thank God for them and the blessing of their love. Then I will thank God for another little boy--a little boy who loved me enough that He was willing to die for me--a little boy who became the reason I am called a child of
God--a little boy named Jesus. Mary's little boy.

In Grace,
Marie

What Makes Us Strong

2009-06-27T02:56:00.000-07:00

My pastor recently ministered on the subject of "The Goodness of God". He spoke about why God has such kindness towards us and why He continues to extend to us blessing after blessing. It was a wonderful message full of hope and expectation. It left me counting the many blessings God has given me. He then made a statement that left me thinking about my adversity as well, but in a different way, "Resistance is what makes us strong. You never encounter resistance when you are doing the wrong thing. It is only when we choose to do the right thing that we encounter resistance from the enemy". It was a new concept for me. I knew about resisting but I had never, for some reason, identified it as something that would make me strong. It usually left me feeling spiritually drained.
I then thought about my son. John was always disappointed as a teenager that he was not as tall as he wanted to be. He was also very thin (not necessarily a bad thing) and not all that strong. John was, and still is, very strong in his personal beliefs and in his faith but was not overly strong physically. When he graduated from high school, though, he got a job at a local fitness center. There he began lifting weights and following a regimen that he still follows today. As a result of that, John developed musculature and strength that he had not had before. I think the word we would use today is "buffed". John is 5'9" and has tremendous physical strength---all because he used resistance to develop his body.
I use the example of my son because it brings to mind the benefit of really resisting against another force. I have never seen a time when the body of Christ is suffering as it is today. We are pushed by life into areas we do not wish to go. We are facing the ravages of illness and disease, the loss of those we love, financial adversity, job losses, and a world that is changing too rapidly for comfort. It is easy to feel powerless and overwhelmed. It is easy to feel like throwing in the towel when life becomes this painful. Faith and trust become harder to maintain. Resisting the urge to give in is a battle we feel we cannot fight.
If I may refer to scripture, we are not told to fight--we are told to resist. We develop ourselves spiritually through resistance against any thought or action that would place us against the will of God. We become stronger in our faith and our ability to trust our wonderful God when we resist any "principality or power" that would pull us away from the shelter of His love and provision.
Dear friends, faith is hardest to find when we are in the midst of situations we do not understand. It is harder to trust when it seems all is going wrong and there seems to be no way out. God's path for us is not always easy, but it is always worth it. Through all of our most difficult times, He is there. We learn what God is capable of doing for us when we resist the forces of evil and stand with the promises of God. We then lift the spiritual weights that strengthen us and enable us to go further in our walk with God.
I must confess I have not always been successful in resistance. There have been times when I have felt so stretched and so overwhelmed by my circumstances and the sorrows of my life that I have allowed myself to become untouched by God. I refused to listen to His words of comfort because I felt He was being unfair with the events He had allowed to come into my life. I lacked understanding of God's ability to make even the most dreaded of life's events bearable. I am reminded of a situation that was breaking my heart and becoming so painful that I felt I was being suffocated by its weight. I finally went to God in desperation and prayed, "God, if you can't take this away from me, please make it bearable". The situation did not change but I did. Many times we yearn to escape from the agony of what we are enduring but we cannot circumvent the issue with an "around" kind of faith. The only faith that will work is a "through" kind of faith; a "though God slay me I will trust Him" kind of faith. This kind of faith is resistance at its best. It develops us into the faith warriors we need to be.
So dear friends, I urge you to stay the course. You will meet resistance, of that I am certain. It is the enemy's purpose to keep us from experiencing the will of God for our lives. But, no matter what the test, never give up. Resistance training is not easy but the reward is worth it. Andre Crouch says it like this, "If I never had a problem, I'd never know that God could solve them. I'd never know what faith in God can do". The greater the resistance, the stronger the faith--the stronger the faith, the more it can do. Resistance training--it's a faith thing.

In Grace,
Marie

He Did It All For Me

2009-06-19T23:42:00.000-07:00

I have been thinking a lot today about the wonderful things people in my life have done for me. I have recalled so many words and deeds--my heart is full with the memories.
I could not possibly detail all the things Mother and Daddy have done for me. In addition to the material things I've received from them, I've been blessed to have their wisdom, their counsel, and their love. I have been so fortunate--they have been so good to me. I love them so much.
My brothers have been my best friends and my closest confidants. I learned from them to respect another's opinion when it differs from my own. I learned give and take for, much to my childish distress, it wasn't always about me. Most of all, I learned that no matter what happens in life, the ties that bind a loving family can never be broken. My brothers gave me that security--the life cords that bind us together will always hold tight.
From my children I have received joy untold and the pleasure of being the mother of two marvelous gifts of God. They have tested my faith at times--tested my temper at other times--stretched the limits of my sanity--but have always loved me. They have done more to fill my life with hope and love than I could possibly tell.
My precious grandsons are my blessed assurance--my certainty that the legacy of faith I have cherished all these years will continue long after I am gone. They give me inspiration with their childlike faith and love. Oh, how I love those little boys.
In case I have not stated it adequately, the people God has allowed to enter my life have given me so much. They have done everything in their power to make my life a lovely place to be. Yet the one thing that secures my destiny is something that cannot be given by earthly beings. No human could do what needed to be done to secure my eternal life. But God did.
As I have written before, I knew from babyhood that Jesus was sent to die for the sins of the world. I knew He came to change the lives of us, weak humanity, into the overcomers we were meant to be. In the process, He also enabled us to lay aside the mantle of our sins and shame and to become "new creatures" through his love and mercy. He did it all so that we could have it all--eternity in His heavenly city and a life in this mortal frame free from the bondage of sin. What can I say about a Saviour who would willingly do for me what I could not do for myself? A dear friend summed it up with a chorus that says, "He paid a debt He did not owe, I owed a debt I could not pay--I needed someone to wash my sins away." How glorious is the thought that I am loved enough, cared for enough, embraced by God enough, that He would wash me clean of the sin from which I could not cleanse myself? Oh, what a Saviour.
I am always remembering the words of songs which have lifted me over the years. For days the following ones have been on my heart:

"He did it all for me,
Each drop of blood was shed for even me.
When the Saviour cried,
Bowed His head and died,
He did it all for me."

How humbling is the thought that the Saviour of Heaven would willingly, because of His great love toward us, take our sins to the cross and, along with Himself, nail them there on our behalf. What love our Jesus possessed! To pray the prayer, "...nevertheless, not my will but thine be done...", knowing He was facing certain death and persecution, yet He was willing because of His unfailing love. He is, indeed, my Lord and Saviour. He is the beat of my heart.
Yes, I possess many things today and hold many possessions dear to my heart. I have many friends and loved ones who have done so much for me. My family would willingly give their lives to protect me and I would do the same for them. But, though they would lay down their lives for me, and as much as they love me, they could not remit my sins--they could not wash them away. Jesus did it all. He took the shame, the blame, and the pain so that you and I could walk in newness of life. He secured our souls with His own blood. I know He died for all but I am especially certain that He died for me. He did it all for me--my heart's desire is to give my all to Him.

In Grace,
Marie

Just A Glove

2009-06-15T11:12:00.000-07:00

I have always loved wearing gloves. When I was a little girl, I could hardly wait for Easter Sunday so that I could put on my new, white gloves to wear with my special outfit. Mother always bought me such dainty ones, sometimes trimmed with pretty lace edging or a lovely pearl button that would fasten over the wrist. I loved putting them on and feeling the satin smoothness of the fabric cover my hand.
My first pair of gloves as an adult was worn with a lovely blue dress and my first pair of high heeled shoes. I thought it was one of the lovliest outfits I had ever worn. I received many compliments that day and felt like such a "proper" young lady with my white gloves and heels. Years later, when wearing gloves to church on Sunday became a thing of the past, I insisted on carrying mine along with my purse--I just could not bear to part with my lovely white gloves.
As time passed, I difted away from carrying gloves and, unfortunately, forgot about them altogether. That is, until I attended a Ladies' Retreat in West Virginia. One of the ladies of the church sang a song that brought back my adoration of gloves. She sang a song entitled "Keep Me In Your Will". It's a beautiful song about finding, and staying in, the will of God so that we don't get in His way as He moves in our lives. The words and music are so beautiful and the message so profound. It was the words of the second verse, though, that left such an impact on my memory:

"Remind me, Lord, I'm just a glove
Into which you place your hand.
Not my will but thine be done,
Though I don't understand.
The best laid plans I've made
Somehow always go astray.
Keep me in your will
So I won't be in your way."

"Remind me Lord, I'm just a glove". I thought back to the days when I wore gloves. I remembered putting them on, adjusting the fingers and, if needed, fastening the button over my wrist. After that, I just enjoyed the wearing. Whatever my hands wanted to do, the gloves just went along. My gloved hands carried out my every wish--they carried my purse, they held my hymnal, they laid silently in my lap, and they reached out to grasp another's hand in greeting. Not one time did the gloves ever resist what my hand wanted them to do. Once I placed my hands in the gloves, they came to life and did exactly as they were bidden to do. Alone, in the drawer of my dresser, my gloves could do nothing, be nothing, accomplish nothing. But once placed on my hands, they could accomplish whatever I desired.
Isn't that just the way we should be when it comes to doing the will of the God we love and serve? Shouldn't we be the glove? Shouldn't we be the ones that wrap ourselves around the hand of God in such a way that He can do whatever He chooses to in our lives and we will submit to His purpose without thinking how much better we could do the job? When we remove ourselves from the hand of God--when we follow our own way instead of His--when we allow our own futile efforts to replace His Divine will--we are no longer the glove. We become self-willed, yearning for our own way and our own path.
This yielding is not easy. We are sometimes fearful to yield to the Lord because we are afraid He will not give us the answer or solution we desire. But, if we can remember that His will is much more perfect than ours--if we can believe that all things do, indeed, work for our good--then we can become the glove. We can have all that we desire in God as He works through us and for us.
I still love wearing gloves. I think a pair of white kid leather gloves with pearl buttons is one of the most beautiful accessories a suit will ever have. A lovely pair of white satin gloves, reaching above the elbow, will make an evening gown even more stunning than ever. But me, with God moving in and through my life, is even more dazzling than any earthly glove could possible be. Me, the glove--God, the hand. What an amazing design. I hope He wears me proudly.

In Grace,
Marie

Keep On Keeping On

2009-06-04T22:04:00.000-07:00

As a pastor's child, it has been my priviledge to meet many wonderful people. Some of them were known from my childhood and some from my older years. One of the most memorable figures I knew and loved as a child was Rev. Wiley Neal.
It could be depended on, regardless of which hymn was sung or what text was ministered, that Rev. Neal would witness at the end of every service. His face would reflect the joy he felt in his heart as he gave his testimony and reflected on the evening's message. It was not unusual for him to raise his hands and give praise to the Lord as he spoke. Many times he would sing his testimony with a voice that was surprisingly strong for a gentleman in his seventies.
Rev. Neal not only rejoiced in the Lord in the sanctuary, but also in his home. Many times as a child I visited his home with my parents. He never failed to touch my heart with how lovingly he spoke about the Lord he served. He would sit in his rocker in the living room and share with my parents how God had blessed him throughout the years he had known the Lord. I recall my father sitting across from him and hanging on his every word for not only was Rev. Neal a godly man, he was also a fine teacher and Daddy often spoke of how inspired he was by Rev. Neal's insight.
As a child, I adored my elderly friend. He took time to talk with me and made me feel important. I felt comfortable asking him questions for he was so kind and patient in answering me. I came to love and trust him because of his loving spirit and his gentleness towards me. He became a grandfather figure to me when my own grandfather passed away. He encouraged me to love the Lord and to always strive to be the best that I could be. I adored him.
My fondest memory of him comes from the words he uttered at the end of every testimony. He would always close with the words, "Pray for me that I can keep on keeping on.". I asked him once what he meant when he said that. Very gently he explained that, no matter what came his way--good or bad--he wanted to keep on serving the Lord until his death. He wanted to keep on being all that he felt God wanted him to be. He told me that, even though he was an old man, he still wanted to do all he could to lead others to the Lord. He wanted everyone he came in contact with to be able to see the love of God in him and to want to know God as a result. He just wanted to keep on doing God's will.
My heart was so broken when Rev. Neal passed. Such a void was left in the lives of all of us who knew and loved him. It took us a while to get used to closing our services without hearing that sweet voice at the end. He left behind such a legacy--such an example. All of us who knew him were blessed to have done so.
So now, I think about my own relationship with God. I realize that I have been so blessed to have had not only a family I love and cherish, but the influence of tremendous men and women of faith. Men and women who lived their faith every single day of their lives and who have left behind a legacy that continues to inspire me on a daily basis. Because of Wiley Neal, I have learned the importance of "keeping on". In the face of all adversity, I want to keep on. In the midst of every storm, I want to keep on. In gain or loss, joy or sorrow, I want to keep on. For it is in the "keeping on" that we come to know Him as the God of all comfort, the lifter of our heads, the strong and mighty tower, the refuge from the storm.
Oh, may I have the spiritual strength and courage to continue on for the God I love so dearly--the God who has led me through much storm and adversity--the God who has been the truest friend I have ever known. May I have the determination to press on and remain at His side, sheltered in His arms.
I look forward to the day when I see Rev. Neal again and hear that rich, sweet voice say to me, "You made it, little one.". My glad reply will be the words I heard so often as a child. I don't think I will be able to resist a smile as I look at him and say, "Yes, I made it through. I just kept on 'keeping on'."

In Grace,
Marie

When I Was Young

2009-05-28T13:56:00.000-07:00

As I look back on my childhood it seems like it was almost idyllic. Carefree, happy, secure--all words that describe how I feel when I recall my childhood years. At home with Mother and Daddy became my favorite place to be. How I loved them both and how safe they made me feel. No one could make me feel as treasured and protected as my parents.
When I gave my heart to the Lord at the age of fourteen, a greater joy came into my life. One that I have never been able to find the words to describe. I only know I was overwhelmed by the realization that Jesus had died for me. I had been taught, and understood, that the Son of God had willingly given His life for the sins of the world. I also understood that I was part of that world. But, for some reason I saw Him for myself, as MY Saviour. He became, and remains, my constant friend and continual source of unending joy.
I approached my life in Christ like there was no tomorrow. I prayed constantly. I read and reread the Bible. Becoming as much like Jesus as possible became my quest. Time in His presence became my treasure. I think I grew more in that first year of knowing Jesus than I did for many years after that. I yearned for Him and all that He had to offer me. Years later, I wrote a poem reflecting my feelings surrounding those days in my walk with God.

When I Was Young

When I was young I sought to do
The things that God would have me to.
My heart's desire was solely spent
On things that would be Heaven-sent,
And constantly I did repent.
When I was young.

When I was young, my heart was light.
The world was fair to my youthful sight.
I came and went just as I pleased.
My spirit soared and rambled free,
And rested in God's richest peace.
When I was young.

Those words, even now, remain so very true. It was almost as if God purposely held back adversity and allowed me to soar with Him in Heavenly places. But then life began to find me, along with its tragedies and despairs. I felt drained and empty--as if someone had removed all the joy from my life and left me a thoroughly emptied vessel.

But as my life began to pass
And I grew older, it seemed at last,
That sorrow found its way to me--
Broke my heart and humbled me.
With pain-filled eyes I came to see
I was no longer young.

It is painful to grow up and leave the comfort and security of the parental home you have loved and enjoyed. Leaving Mother and Daddy behind was sorrowful and I missed them so. Growing older in Christ is much the same. In fact, it can be more gut-wrenching as the Lord uses the crucible of life to mold us into His own likeness. I had a bedrock of faith and a knowledge that God would never leave me or forsake me but it is hard to remember this fully when the agony of your heart is crying louder than the voice of a loving God. I recalled more as I wrote.

I questioned God and asked Him why
I had to live. Could I not die?
My faith was surely and sorely tried,
My pillow wet where I had cried.
Painfully I realized
I was no longer young.

My young, broken heart found it hard to comprehend that a loving God would allow suffering such as this to those He claimed to love. I had a hard time reconciling this in my heart. One early morning, my grief so great, my heart so broken, I cried out to God, "God, if you do not help me--if you do not give me something, and give it to me now, I will not be able to stand. Please help me, Lord.". I opened my Bible randomly and it fell open to the scripture in Proverbs 18:24, "...there is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother.". I knew how close my natural brothers and I had been. I remembered how loyal and protective they were of me--their only sister. No matter what the circumstance, or how hard the situation, I could depend on them to be there for me. I knew then, and understood, that no matter what came to me--no matter how hard it was to endure--God would be with me. Always.

Ah! But then my eyes began to see
What suffering had done to me,
The work it wrought within my life--
Submission to the will of Christ.
I saw more clearly than years ago
When I was young.

And so I journey on through life
With a deeper knowledge of Jesus Christ,
What faith in Him can bring me through,
What trust in Him and His love can do.

Now I know that when I come
To the end of life and all is said and done,
I can let these words fall from my tongue:
"I know Him better now
Than when I was young."

The best part of surviving any circumstance that is devastating and life-changing is
seeing the hand of God in it all and knowing that the end is better than the beginning. If I come to know God more completely, trust Him more fully, love Him more than ever, then the breaking was worth it. To know Him in the carefree joy of youth is precious, but to know Him as the God of all comfort is priceless. Am I glad I came to Him as a youth? Yes!!! Am I glad to know Him now as I am getting
older? Yes!!! Still, I am glad to say, I know Him better now than when I was young.

In Grace,
Marie

The Space In The Middle

2009-05-22T13:05:00.001-07:00

I recently traveled home to Ohio for my son's wedding. It was such a wonderful trip and I enjoyed being with all my family--especially my parents. There is nothing that can replace family--nothing. I felt so blessed to be surrounded by all the ones I love so much.
On Sunday morning I had the priviledge of attending church with my brother, Dwight, and his family. On the way back to my parent's home, I decided to go by the cemetery where my two brothers were laid to rest. The cemetery was close by and I felt a need to be there. I drove slowly, memories flooding my mind. When I came to the stone that bore my brothers' names, I parked the car and walked to the place where I had said goodbye to two of the finest men I had known.
This time, however, I noticed something that had never struck me before. I read the dates of birth and death that were so familiar. I ran my fingers over the names carved in the stone and allowed the tears to fall, as they always do. That's when it happened. One of those rare insights that come when you least expect it.
I realized that the dates were not the important thing. It was not the fact that my brothers had been born and had died that was so important. It was what they had done while they were alive and how they had filled the spaces of their lives that tugged at my heart strings. It was the memory of how they had filled the space between the dates--the space in the middle--that really mattered. The events of their lives, their achievements, the love and the laughter of each day they lived--this is what I miss and cherish the most.
The spaces in the middle are filled with memories of birthdays, Christmas, summer vacations, dinners, and life celebrations. I recall the smiles of each brother and the sound of their laughter. I can sense the quiet strength of my brother, Don, and the fun-loving spirit of David. I could almost feel David's bear hugs and Don's soft kiss on my cheek.
I am reminded of David entering our church and always coming to mother's pew to kiss her on the cheek, no matter who was close by. My mind went back to two weeks before Don's death when he gave his heart to the Lord as he prayed with our Mother one morning after work. These memories are what assures me that their death is but a temporary separation. I will see them again.
Then, I thought about the spaces of my life--my own space in the middle. How am I filling it? What am I doing to make sure that my life is remembered as valuable and the things I have said and done are cherished by those I leave behind? Have I done enough to show others the way to the wonderful Lord I love and serve? I want those who follow behind me to be inspired by what I live and teach in a way that would draw them to Jesus. I pray to leave a legacy of faith and hope for my children and my grandchildren. I have come to realize that each day we have is the only opportunity to make that day count. Once it is gone--it is gone. I don't want to come to the end of the day , and find it filled with regret and sorrow. I want to
live each day to the fullest and fill it with as much grace and honor as I possibly can. I desire to be remembered as a woman of integrity---as a woman who loves the Lord.
A childhood friend of mine wrote a song a few years ago with the same title "The Space In The Middle". I do not remember the verses but the chorus speaks volumes,

"The space in the middle will say it all for me.
And the life I leave behind is my most valued legacy.
On that old granite stone, from my birth to my death,
I know the space in the middle is the greatest thing I've left."
(written and recorded by Gina Vera)

My prayer for each of us is that we fill our lives with the things of God. May the Lord lead us and guide us in being all for Him that we can be, so that, when we are remembered we will be remembered well. The space in the middle will speak loudly for me---may I fill it well.

In Grace,
Marie

The Making of A Queen

2009-05-13T11:45:00.001-07:00

As a child, I loved to hear the stories of the heroes and heroines of the Bible. I would lose myself in their exploits and was awed by the way God would always intervene on their behalf. While my favorite heroes were Moses, Samson, and David, there was only one who remained my heroine---Esther.
I first heard the story of Esther in my Sunday School class at the age of nine. My teacher told her story as part of the lesson but it was Mother who later brought the story to life. She not only read me the scriptural account, but explained Esther's significant role in God's plan for delivering His people from certain death. I was captivated by the way a young Jewish girl, not much older than myself, played such an unbelievable role in Biblical history. I read and reread the story, sometimes putting myself in the place of the young queen and trying to imagine what it would be like to stand in the presence of the King. It was, and still is, a magnificent story.
Esther was orphaned as a child and left to be raised by her cousin, Mordecai. That within itself would grab my heart. As much as I love, and am loved, by my mother and father, my young heart could not imagine how awful it would be to not have parental love. I remember telling my mother how sad Esther must have felt without her mother and father. But how much Mordecai must have loved her to step in and accept her as his own child--to provide her with love and caring. Mordecai, as the story unfolds, was quite a man.
When Queen Vashti was exiled from the palace for failing to appear before the King, Esther became one of many young girls summoned to the King's court. What remained unknown was Esther's heritage--her lineage. Mordecai had urged her not to reveal this to anyone and, so, she remained silent--for the time being. How difficult this all must have been for Esther. Having lost her mother and father and, now, to be separated from the one who had raised her and sheltered her under his care. How her heart must have cried out within her--how lonely she must have felt for the strong arms of Mordecai, her foster father.
And, what about Mordecai? The scriptures teach us that he walked past the court of the house where she was placed everyday. How he must have yearned for just a glimpse of the young girl he now looked upon as his daughter. I am sure he prayed every day for her safety. I am certain he asked for the watchcare of the God he served to be upon her. What an awful experience--to have the only child you have ever known to be taken from you--even if it was to go to the King's house. No matter where Esther was taken, Mordecai's heart would still have yearned for her return. What a true father he became!
When the time came for Esther to appear before the King, the scripture states that
the King loved Esther above all the young women who passed before him, "...so that he set the royal crown upon her head, and made her queen instead of Vashti.". Still, Esther had not revealed that she was a Jew. Her time for that had not yet come. I wonder how she felt when the crown was placed on her head? Did she know that she was about to be used of God to save her entire race? Did she know that she was a key player in the plan of God? I wonder.
Next in the story comes the evil Haman--a Bible-day Hitler, whose idea to destroy the Jews stems from his hatred of Mordecai. Hatred that springs from Mordecai's refusal to bow to anyone other than the God of Israel. The same hatred that runs rampant in the world today and seeks to destroy every effort put forth for the Kingdom of God. But, God intervened in the least expected way. Haman had convinced the King to issue a decree to kill all the Jews in the kingdom. This would have caused the death of Mordecai and the death of the new Queen as well. God, however, was not done with the young Queen. Isn't that just like our precious God? Though we view our adversity with a human perspective, God only sees His marvelous plan for our lives being fulfilled one event at a time.
Mordecai, grieved because of the decree of death to his people, appears outside the King's court in sackcloth and ashes. Esther sees him in this condition and sends a servant to inquire of the reason for his behaviour. He sends the servant back with a copy of the decree and the following words: "...think not with thyself that thou shalt escape in the King's house,more than all the Jews. For if thou altogether hold thy peace at this time, then shall there enlargement and deliverance arise to the Jews from another place; but thou and thy father's house shall be destroyed: and who knoweth whether thou art come to the kingdom for such a time as this?". In other words, Esther had the responsibilty to go before the King and beg for the lives of her people.
What an awesome request of the young Queen. Could you and I have the strength to stand in the face of what could be certain death so that God's people and His work could be preserved? I pray that I would have such strength should I be put to such a test. Oh, how I want to stand strong for the Lord! How I want my life to be an example of what God can do in the yielding of word and deed into His hand. I want to leave behind a life that would inspire others to love and trust my Beloved Saviour!
When I got to the last words of Esther, before she goes in to see the King, my soul was stirred and I waited to know what would happen to Esther. To go in to see the King uninvited was a risk, but, if he held out the golden sceptor, it was safe to come before him with one's petition. Knowing this Esther decided to go before the King and, in her words, "...if I perish, I perish.". What courage in one so young. That captivated my young heart and still does.
So, Esther comes before the King, he holds out his golden sceptor, and she comes into his presence. Esther had received the Queen's crown many days before this appearance, but she became a true Queen when she took the first step towards the King. With that step, Esther became a Queen of renown, a young woman who became the vessel of deliverance for an entire race, a young woman who would risk all for the God she served--the God she loved--the God she believed.
As I read this story now, I find myself still awed by the hand of God in the affairs of man. How He comes into our desperation and, through people and events, moves us into His will. I once made the statement to a dear friend, "I go kicking and screaming into the will of God, but He makes sure I go.". Esther reminds me that it is not popular to stand for what is right, but it is worth it. We may not be the world's most eloquent, or the most beautiful, or have the opportunity to impress a King. But, we can still be used by the King of Kings. We may not be in the limelight, but we can remain in the Lamb's light. My human nature prays to never be put to the test of life and death for the cause of Christ. My human side fears being placed in a position where I must stand or die. But, oh, my spirit says that God will be with me and that He will hold me up when I feel I will fall.
God, help us take the steps towards your will that will make us true children of the King. May we all remember that if we don't stand for something, we will fall for anything. Who knows whether we are brought to the cross of Christ for such a time as this?

In Grace,
Marie

'Til The Storm Passes By

2009-05-08T06:26:00.000-07:00

There have been times recently when I have asked the question, "How much can one person take before they reach the breaking point?". So many of my friends and members of the Body of Christ are enduring horrible events that rip the heart and leave us wondering, "why, God?". I have had several unexpected situations occur in my own life recently that have driven me to my knees, begging God for strength and courage. I seek Him for understanding and find, instead, a silent God. It is then that I surrender, not knowing what else to do but wait.
God did not promise us that we would never suffer. He did not promise us that we would weather the storm without broken hearts and sagging spirits. He does not offer the bed of roses without the thorns or the rains of refreshing without the storm. Though I believe a life in Christ to be the best life, I do not believe it to be the easiest life. Please don't misunderstand. Life without Jesus is no life at all. But, there are times when I feel overwhelmed by the magnitude of life's sufferings. There are times when I feel like I can go no further, I cannot take another step, I cannot stop the flow of tears or find the words to speak another prayer. I feel drained, emptied and I have come to end of the road.
It is there, in that darkened place of my life, I feel an unspeakable joy and a peace I cannot explain. It is there, in my broken spirit, in my sorrow and despair, He comes. Has the storm ceased--has the suffering ended--have the circumstances changed? No--I have changed. I have found a place of yielding. I have hidden myself under the shadow of His wings and there I rest.
Abraham Lincoln once said, "I have often been driven to my knees by the realization that I had no where else to go.". So am I in times of storm. I have sought to heal myself and found my human efforts to be in vain. I have sought to comfort myself and no comfort could I find. But then, Oh but then, I find Him. I hide beneath His Divine shadow and I am safe--I am comforted--I am at peace. Though the storm rages on, I am unharmed for He holds me secure.
I recently received an email with a partial transcript of an interview with Rick Warren, author of The Purpose Driven Life. One statement stood out to me more than all the rest. In reference to the suffering of God's people, he made this comment, "God is not interested in our comfort. He is interested in our character.".
Dearest friends, God wants us to be all that we can be and the lessons we learn through the enduring and trying of our faith serve to mold us into the image of our loving God. We take on His righteousness, His character--we become His expression. When looking at the test or trial through the lens of God's eyes, I see His hand at work. I see Him gathering a group of weak, insufficient humanity and, through hardship and adversity, molding them into His protege. I see our human nature and characteristics falling aside as we seek to become more like the wonderful God we serve. When remembering that nothing comes to us without first being filtered through the hand of God, life's difficulties take on a whole different meaning.
All who know me know how I love the old hymns. One in particular stands out to me. I used to listen to Vestal Goodman sing the song, "Til The Storm Passes By". The words of the chorus have become my mantra, my prayer.

'Til the storm passes over,
'Til the thunder sounds no more,
'Til the clouds roll forever from the sky.
Hold me fast, let me stand,
In the hollow of Thy hand.
Keep me safe
'Til the storm passes by.

Hold on, my friends. Never let our faith waver for an instant but let us hold ever more firmly to the cross of Christ. Let us be willing to be molded into the likeness of the one who cannot fail. Storms may rage, winds may blow, but our God stands secure. If He holds us close to Him, we, too, will stand.
My prayer for us today is "Lord, hold us fast in the hollow of your hand. Keep us safe through the storm--we lean on you." I will be praying for you, "til the storm passes by".

In Grace,
Marie

'Til Death Do Us Part

2009-05-04T08:46:00.000-07:00

I am foolish for weddings. Nothing is as beautiful as two people pledging love and fidelity for as long they live. It becomes even more special when one of those two people is one's own child. Such was the case this past Saturday, May 2nd., when my son, John, married the girl of his dreams, Amanda. I thought my heart would burst from the sheer joy of the occasion.
John is my oldest child and my only son. The day he was born was one of the happiest days of my life. The first time I looked into his tiny face and felt the softness of his newborn cheek, I was smitten. I remember thinking I would move Heaven and earth to give him life's best--I would give my life to protect him. From birth he held my heart in his hands.
I had wanted a child for a long while and had almost given up hope of having one. So, when I discovered I was having a child, I wanted a name that would reflect my gratitude to God for the blessing He was giving me. I never really thought about a girl's name--I was so certain it would be a boy. I chose the name John because of its meaning, "gracious gift of God". That is what John has been to me, a gift of God that has been a blessing to me all of his life.
Now, by no means, do I mean to imply that John is perfect (even though he was born 7-7-77). He was all boy and had his share of scrapes and mishaps. But he also had moments of wisdom beyond his years, the ability to laugh in the face of adversity, and faith to go forward in life--even when faced with heartbreaking disappointment. From childhood his faith in God has been the bedrock of life and it remains strong in his heart today.
Amanda brought real love and joy to John's life. From the moment I met her, I loved her. She has such a warm personality and a heart as big as the world itself. She is kind and generous. When planning the wedding, she was careful to include all of us and made us feel very much a part of the ceremony. I would frequently catch her looking at John with so much love in her expression that it would make me want to cry. I truly love my new daughter-in-law. She is a real joy.
So, when John and Amanda said their vows, I was proud of them both. I was proud to have the gift of my son and proud to have his new wife become a part of my family. As with any mother I suppose, many memories of my son flashed across my mind as I listened to the deep voice say his marriage vows. A recent phone message from John came to my mind: "Mom, this is John. I just wanted to say Happy Easter. I love you and I appreciate you.". Loving words that I will never forget.
" 'Til death do us part". Familiar words to all who have ever attended a wedding ceremony. Words that carry hope, trust, and faith. Words that look forward to the future and a lifetime of happiness shared. Words that declare a love that will never die.
When John was a little boy, I read a book that emphasized the need for mothers to pray for the future mate of their child. I began praying for the girl John would marry. I made a list of qualities that I would like to see in the young lady of his choice. I am happy to say that Amanda has every quality I had on the list--and then some. I am convinced that God is faithful regarding the prayers we pray for our children. I am convinced that His Divine plan is performed even as we pray. How good of God to care for our children in ways that we never could. Both of my children were dedicated to God when they were only weeks old. I placed them in His care, knowing that life for them would not always be easy, but also knowing that He would watch over them when I could not be with them. There are times when it has been difficult to leave them in God's hands and let Him work His plan in their lives. I have learned, though, that when concerns are left in the hand of God, it works out far better than when we try to solve them ourselves.
I am at peace with John and Amanda. I know they will face hardship, difficulty, and just the day to day problems of life itself. But I am confident that the love they share will keep them strong and will stand the test of time. I know they will survive, with God as their guide, to be the enduring love of each other's lives. I pray they will truly love each other " 'Til death do us part".

In Grace,
Marie

A Deep Thinker

2009-04-27T15:38:00.000-07:00

My brother, Dan has always been a deep thinker. Frequently when were young, I would find him sitting on the front porch or stretched out on the bed in his room just staring into the distance. I would ask what he was doing and he would always say, "I'm thinking.". I never asked what he was thinking about--I knew he'd tell me sooner or later.
Dan was the third of the four boys. From his birth he was the happiest baby I had ever seen. You could just look at him and he would smile. He loved everyone and everyone loved him. He would lay in his crib or sit in his high chair and just smile at everyone. Mother had his picture made at age six months. It was so cute! He had a blanket laid across his little head and he was laughing so hard, a little drool came out the corner of his mouth. A minister friend of my father's said the picture belonged on the cover of a magazine. He was, indeed, a happy baby.
At age four, Dan shocked us all by reading the funny papers. He was laying on his belly on the kitchen floor one Sunday morning while Mother was fixing breakfast. She heard him laughing and, turning around to face him, asked him what he was laughing about. He told Mother he was laughing at what he was reading in the funny papers. Mother asked him to read and he took off reading like he had been doing so for years. We were all shocked!!!!! He must have been asked to read five or six times that morning. My oldest brother, Don, just shook his head in disbelief. Daddy, of course, was so proud that he had Dan read for one of our visiting ministers. Our friend was so touched that he later sent Dan a beautiful Bible. Dan still uses that Bible to this day. He told me just a few months ago that the Lord taught Him to read. He said that on that day, the words just opened up to him and he began to read everything he could. He still does.
As I watched Dan grow older and work his way through life, I saw him think his way through a lot of situations that I would never have come through myself. He would frequently ponder and meditate on a solution for his problem and then pursue a course of action. He is a quiet man (he describes himself as an introvert) who lives
his life based on the Word of God. He is my teacher, my mentor, my friend. He is a man I truly admire.
I know without a doubt that the hardest thing Dan has ever faced was the loss of our brothers. He was seventeen when our oldest brother, Don, passed away. I know he grieved but I don't know much about how he worked through it at that time. However, when our second brother, David, passed away, I remember well watching Dan lay his head on the forehead of our brother and weep. He didn't cry long, that's not his way, but just seeing those tears let me know how broken his heart really was. Dan and I both spoke at David's funeral and, as difficult as it was, I know it helped us both in our healing.
Dan has always been a thinker, a writer, and one of the finest teachers I have ever known. I am so very proud of him. He has insights into the Word of God that I have failed, at times, to recognize. In the lowest point of my life, when a painful divorce had brought me low and my heart was breaking, Dan came to me and comforted me with the following words: "I don't think you are missing your spouse as much as you are missing having someone in your life. Just remember, Sis, peace is a choice. You can choose to suffer by dwelling on your pain or you can choose peace and leave the suffering to God. It won't go away overnight, but accepting God's peace will make it bearable.". Like a breath of fresh air, his words lifted me above what I was enduring. Dan was right, it didn't go away overnight. I had to make the choice for peace more than once, but, he was also right when he said God would make it bearable. And He did.
Today, Dan continues to think and write, although now he incorporates the events of our day with the prophetic Word of God. He writes a political commentary (www.usavisionary.com) and encourages people to be mindful of what God is doing in the world today. He remains a source of inspiration to me and is a constant presence through his teaching, his encouragement, and his love. I never grow weary of hearing him speak--I never tire of listening to his ideas--I am always thrilled by his presence. He challenges me, through his own life, to be a better person. He makes me want to be all that God wants me to be.
Maybe someday he will find me sitting on the porch, staring off into the distance.
When he askes me what I'm doing, I'll just say, "I'm thinking.". I think he would like that. I think he would like that a lot.

In Grace,
Marie

A Sister's Pride

2009-04-27T14:28:00.001-07:00

Having four brothers has been one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. I have often made the statement that I cannot imagine a life without brothers. Each of them have contributed immeasureably to my life and brought me such joy. I have loved each of them fiercely and am so very proud of the men they became.
I was fifteen when my youngest brother, Dwight, was born. Back in "those days" children under the age of twelve were not allowed to visit patients in the hospital. So, Dwight was the first of my brothers I actually got to see after his birth. I remember standing at the nursery window with my Daddy and looking at Dwight. He was the most beautiful baby and I wanted to take him home right then. I couldn't wait to hold him--he was so precious.
As Dwight became a toddler, his hair grew long and curly---and blonde!! Everywhere we went, people commented on his hair. He smiled all the time and was such a ham for pictures. He would pose any way you wanted him to and wait for the camera to click. His blonde curls, blue eyes, and ready smile endeared him to the heart of all who knew him. Among the women of my father's church Dwight was "the Baby". He was so loved.
The day my mother took Dwight for his first haircut was an awful day. No one wanted him to lose his curls. Some of the women of our church actually cried when they saw him with his hair cut. I coudn't help but shed a tear or two, but he looked so cute with his short hair that we all eventually adapted to it. Besides, his sweet personality never changed.
As Dwight grew older I watched him play T-ball, survive broken bones, get his first car, and learn to play the drums. Though Dwight has always excelled at everything he has ever done, it was his music that remained his first love. He was an exceptional drummer. In our home church, in church campmeetings, or the basement of our home, he played with such abandon---it was almost as if he lost himself in the beat of whatever tune he was listening to. He was self-taught and he was one of the best.
Dwight married in his early twenties and the drums sort of got pushed into the background of life. I know he still played from time to time but nothing like what he had enjoyed when he was younger. I missed him in church. No one could follow my lead on the piano like he could. I'm sure I may be a little prejudice but, to me, he was the best.
Life hit Dwight very hard in his thirties. A number of tragedies, including a divorce and the loss of our second brother, made life a sad place for my little brother. I remember asking God to be with him, to comfort him, and to touch the pain in his heart with healing and restoration. It was difficult to know what to say because no words we can speak can mend a broken heart. It takes God to do that and, even though Dwight was so hurt he could not pray, I was praying for him and asking God to do the work.
Later on, when I faced my own tragedies, Dwight was there to help me get back on my feet. He put furniture in my home and helped me buy a car. He became a major player in my emotional recovery and, along with my children, became one of the reasons I picked myself up to begin again. Whenever I needed someone to talk to, Dwight was there. I smile when I remember him saying to me, "Keep yourself busy, Sis, and for God's sake don't listen to any sad music on the radio.". He knew me so well--he still does.
Tracy came into Dwight's life at just the right time. The above picture is the one used for their engagement announcement. She became such a part of our family and has added grace and beauty to Dwight's life. It was through her that I began to see my brother heal. I saw him smile again and I heard him laugh--I mean really laugh for the first time in a long time. How I praised the Lord for the sound of his laughter and how I thanked Him for Tracy and her beautiful Christian spirit. Their wedding was so lovely, so peaceful, so joyful---tears filled my eyes when I saw the way Dwight looked at Tracy. Another prayer for my little brother had been answered.
I was so happy for him.
It was with Tracy's encouragement that Dwight began playing the drums again. The church they attend was auditioning for drummers and Tracy insisted Dwight try out. We both agreed that he would not have done it had Tracy not gone with him but , nevertheless, he made the audition and is now one of several drummers at Christian Life Center.
This past Sunday, I sat in the congregation and watched as Dwight played the drums. As always, he appeared to be lost in the music as he played unto the Lord. Every drum roll brought a leap of joy to my spirit and every time he hit the cymbals I could have come to my feet had I not already been standing!!!` I was so proud of him. As I watched him, my mind went over all the things he had endured in life to bring him to this point. I was reminded of when the music in his hands was silent. I thought of the times when he hurt so badly he could not speak. I remembered his smile when he told me about Tracy. Most of all, though, I remembered the little boy who used to slip his hand in mine as we crossed the street---the little boy who would look up at me, smile, and melt my heart. I was reminded of how faithful God is.
If I have learned one thing in life, it is that we must never give up praying for those we love. We must never stop believing in them and we must never stop believing in the God who loves them. I guess I feel like the prayers I prayed for my brother and the love I hold in my heart for him, played a part in his returning to his music. I like to think that the little boy who held my hand and the man on the drums are one and the same. Both of them hold my heart in their hands. Both of them are loved beyond measure. The little boy became the man on the drums---the man on the drums remains my joy. I think he knows how much he is loved---I think he knows.

In Grace,
Marie

Ride The Storm

2009-04-26T15:54:00.000-07:00

My father and I have always been fascinated with eagles. The majesty of the bird and its physical capabilities have held me in awe since I was a child. I have often marveled at the span of its wings, the distance its vision covers, and the height to which it can rise. Daddy has a beautiful eagle figurine on his desk and a picture of an eagle in flight on his office wall. I have, more times than one, found myself standing and staring at the rendition of an eagle in the wild. It is, indeed, an awesome creature.
As beautiful as the eagle is, there is an authority in the personality of the bird that lets me know it can withstand the harshest of storms. There is something in its flight that speaks to me of peace and strength. Is it any wonder, then, that the scriptures compare us, the children of God, so frequently to this marvelous bird? Could it be that the eagle's attributes and its lifestyle are such that we are to take a lesson from what we see and adapt them to a human way of life? Can we learn to use the wisdom and knowledge of such a creature as this to develop peace, strength, and authority in our own lives? Let's look a little closer.
The wing span of the eagle is over six feet in total length. Seven layers of feathers make up each wing. This enables the eagle to climb to enormous heights--many times flying above the storm below. There are also times when the eagle stays in the eye of the storm, stretching out its wings to maximum capacity and "riding" the wind effortlessly. With calm assurance, the eagle stays safe in the middle of the wind and the rain--in the midst of all that is whirling around it--it never frets, never doubts, knowing the span of its wings and the strength of the storm itself will keep it in flight. The speed of its flight can be as much as thirty miles per hour.
What about the vision of the eagle? I am told that an eagle can see its prey from a mile away, swooping down in seconds and snatching it from the earth before it has any idea that the eagle is even close. When hunting prey in water, the eagle has the ability to see the fish that are close to the bottom of the water source. It can actually see through the depth of the water, find its prey, and lift it from the water bed.
I am most fascinated by how the eagle heals itself when disease or injury takes place. The eagle will soar to the highest available rocky place--one that has been baked by the sun until the rock itself is hot. It will then spread its wings wide, exposing its body and lay itself as flat as possible on the hot stone. This is where we get the term "spread eagle". The eagle will stay "bellied up" to the rock until the disease is drawn from its body by the heat or until its death.
Do you now see why we are referred to in scripture as the "eagle saints of God."? Why we are told that "...they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength. they shall mount up with wings as an eagle. They shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint..."? The storm will not deter us if our arms are spread wide and we set them, not on the wind, but on the open hand of God that will take us through every heartache and every trial. The hand of God that will never let us fall, never let us falter, but will guide us through every storm and, sometimes, even lifting us above it so that we are not disturbed by the billowing gales around us. If we keep our eyes on Jesus, there shall be no enemy that shall defeat us. Like the eagle, we can swoop down into the ungodly flesh of our lives and remove those things that hinder us the most. Our anger, our disappointments, our painful pasts--all can be removed by an eagle-like vision that is ever watchful over the attempts of the enemy to make us the prey rather than the victor. And, finally, isn't it time we all "bellied up" to the Rock? Isn't it time we gave our worries, our cares, our tears, our disease-ridden bodies the healing heat of the Rock of our salvation? Oh, dear ones, our God waits ever so patiently to hold us close, to cleanse us of not only the disease of our bodies, but the disease of our hearts and spirits as well.
We, like the eagle, can move victoriously through all the storms of this life. We are high flyers, storm dwellers, and overcomers. With our God leading the way, we have naught to fear. Though we face the storms of life, we are MORE than conquerors through Jesusw Christ, our Lord.
I wrote a song many years ago as Daddy was preaching on this very subject. The words came so easily and now, twenty years later, they return to me and validate my own victory in learning to "fly high".

As I look ahead and see the storm clouds gather,
I see the lightning flashing, I hear the thunder roll.
I can never be afraid for I know Jesus has control.
I know He'll set my wings and help me ride the storm.

I'll set my wings upon the hands of Jesus.
As He guides me I can ride the storm and never be afraid.
If the sky becomes too dark, or my flight too rough to go,
I'll trust in Him, set my wings, and ride the storm.

As the eagle sails so high above the clouds,
Going far beyond the greatest heights that others go,
This eagle saint of God will sail beyond the heights of man,
For he'll set my wings, and help me ride the storm.

Whatever storm you are facing today, God can help you. Let Him take you in His great
hands and bring you through your present storm. "Belly up" to the Rock and find strength and healing today. Ride the storm with God--it will be the experience of a lifetime.

Dependable As The Tide

2009-04-20T20:39:00.000-07:00

I will never forget the first time I saw the ocean. My family and I had traveled to Daytona Beach for a much needed vacation. As we drove along the main highway through Daytona, I caught a glimpse of the ocean and nearly stopped breathing from the sheer beauty of it. I was awed by the aqua blue color of the water and the whiteness of the sand along the beach. I remember feeling so small. I thought of the scripture, "...All the rivers run into the sea, and yet the sea is not full."
Later that evening I stood on the balcony of our hotel room and looked out over the vast amount of blue and watched the white foam of tide crash upon the beach below. It was almost hypnotic in its routine. Nothing stopped the tide from coming in and going out. It was so predictable--so dependable. It was then I had one of those moments that come when you least expect it, changing how you think forever. The dependability of the tide reminded me of the greater dependability of its creator and I was humbled by the thought.
Oh! how I have taken Him for granted so often. Knowing that He would always be there and would always make the way for me became my comfort zone and, like my favorite chair, I often rested in that comfort without thanking the giver. So many times I had failed to thank Him for being present with me. Just as the tide could be depended upon to come in and go out, creating a beautiful vision before our very eyes, so can our God be depended upon to never leave us or forsake us--He will be there.
There have been times in my life when I felt like I could depend on no one, believe on nothing, and my dreams had all but died. I have had moments of loss and sorrow--moments where I wondered if even God Himself remembered me. Ah, but then there would be that stirring in my Spirit, that whispering in my ear, "I am here. I will always be here.". And, then, in my darkest moment, He would come and I would feel safe and secure in knowing He was there.
We may have little to count on in this life. Friends may fail and family may not understand. Society may frown upon us and the path we walk may not be an easy one. One thing, though, stands sure and certain--we can depend on a God who cannot fail. When we stand alone and face the barreness of life, He is there. When our heads bow low with grief and our hearts are shredded from the agonies of living--He is there. Like the tide upon the sandy shore, He comes. He is as dependable as the tide. He may step away from us, allowing us the opportunity to develop strength and character as we lean on Him, but, like the tide, He will return. He is as good as His Word, "I will never leave you or forsake you. I will be with you always, even unto the end of the world.". Sounds pretty dependable to me.

In Grace,
Marie

God Is So Good

2009-04-14T12:40:00.000-07:00

How easy it is for us to take God for granted! His daily blessings are so profound and His faithfulness ever present, yet we go about our lives so many times without really thinking about how good God really is. We don't always remember that it is because of God's grace and mercy that we live happy, fulfilling lives. We are, too often, so busy living that we forget to thank the giver of life. We are human and, as such, sometimes neglect to give God the glory. It's not that we are ungrateful, we are just not good about saying so.
This truth was brought home to me the last time I visited my friend, Ricky Beal. Ricky had been diagnosed some months before with glioblastoma--a fast growing, devastating tumor of the brain that is very difficult to treat and, ultimately, becomes terminal. He had had surgery to remove the tumor and, as a result, suffered dramatic memory loss. It was hard for me to think of my friend suffering in this way. He and his wife, Lila, had been my friends for several years and were very dear to my heart. Ricky played the guitar in our church and his wife sang with our praise team. How I loved to play music with Ricky. His love of music was so obvious and his love of the Lord came out in every song he played. He was such a blessing. The above picture shows him on a hunting trip--something he really enjoyed.
I was priviledged to visit Ricky and Lila in their home just months before Ricky died. As I pulled up the driveway, they both came out on the porch to greet me. I looked at Ricky and saw the grin on his face. He didn't speak but he hugged me tight and I knew he was glad I had come. We went inside, sat down on the couch, and Lila updated me on all that had happened to Ricky. As a result of the tumor and the surgery, Ricky had lost a lot of his memory. I noticed when he spoke that he would forget the word he wanted to say and would look to Lila to finish the sentence. I asked him if he remembered us playing music together and he said, "I remember a little.". He told me that he had trouble putting words together to speak because he couldn't remember what certain words meant.
As I got ready to leave a couple of hours later, Ricky made a statement I will NEVER forget. With some difficulty he said to me, "Marie, I can't play my guitar anymore because I don't remember how to make the chords. I can't read my Bible because I can't figure out the words. By the time I put the letters together, I have forgotten what the word is. I miss reading my Bible most of all. But I can tell you this one thing--in spite of everything God has been so good to me. Yeah, He's sure been good to me.".
Do I need to tell you that the tears filled my eyes as I looked at my friend? Do I need to say what courage I saw in those beautiful eyes? I thought to myself, here is a man who has lost lovely memories of his family and his life; here is a man who can no longer play the music that he loves; here is a man who can no longer read the Word of God for himself, yet he says God is good. What courage, what faith!
Months later, I visited Ricky in the hospital. I walked into his room and thought he was asleep. He must have heard me coming because he opened his eyes, looked up at me with a smile and said, "Hey, Marie.". I didn't stay long. I had a feeling it would be my last time to see him--and it was. Ricky died shortly after that.
His words, however, have stayed with me. "God is so good to me.".
I am challenged everyday to remember the goodness of God in the face of life's adversities. I am reminded that life is not fair but God is. I cannot remember a time when God failed to be there for me even in the midst of the very hardship He allowed. God is so good. As I look back over my life and remember each time life hit me hard, I recall a blessing of God was there through a song, a friendly word, a prayer, the love of my family and friends. I am reminded of His promise that He will never leave us or forsake us. God is so good to me--I can't complain.

In Grace,
Marie

Home Sweet Home

2009-04-10T21:23:00.000-07:00

There is something wonderful about the thought of going home. Whether it is your own home that you love and cherish or a childhood home that takes you a step back in time, home is always the place we want to go.
My parents recently sold the home my brothers and I grew up in. With all of us gone, it seemed rather empty and quiet to them. Mother was weary of taking care of a two story home and Daddy was ready to relocate as well. They moved into a lovely ranch home and have made it their new haven of rest. Mother has added some of the familiar and sentimental treasures she loves while Daddy is happy with an office and a place to study.
I know it must sound strange but when I travel home to visit them in their new house, I feel that same warmth of home that I have always felt. I realize now that it wasn't all the familiar belongings Mother and Daddy possessed that drew us home. It wasn't the comfortable couch or Daddy's favorite recliner---it wasn't my favorite bed or the soft down comforters Mother wrapped me in. It was Mother and Daddy themselves that drew us home. It was, and still is, their love and support that created a place where we, their children, felt the safest and most protected. Their love was the blanket that covered us, the warmth that cradled us, and the shelter we needed when life became too much to handle. Never were they disappointed when they saw us coming but, rather, they greeted us with joy and a warm embrace. Even now, when I travel home, I do so with the anticipation of the greeting I will receive. Daddy and I have a ritual that never changes: I pull in the driveway beeping my horn several times while Daddy opens the door and runs to me. I mean, he really RUNS to me and those strong arms wrap around me as he smothers me with such hugs and kisses that I laugh with the joy of seeing him again. Mother waits at the door and kisses me on both cheeks, then holds me so tight I can hardly breathe. No wonder I yearn for home! No wonder I travel so far just for Daddy's hugs and Mother's kiss. What joy to be home again.
I think that will be the best part of being at home with the Lord. The scriptures teach us that man cannot imagine what God is preparing for us. Mortal eyes have seen nothing that even begins to compare to the glorious beauty of that place called Heaven. Even though I have read the description of it many times, my mind still cannot wrap itself around the glory I will see.
As beautiful as Heaven will be, it will be the presence of Jesus, my risen Lord, that will make it truly Heaven for me. I cannot imagine Heaven without my precious Lord any more than I can imagine home without Mother and Daddy. To be at home with Christ, the one who has loved me most of all. To be in the presnce of the one who died for me--oh, this will be what makes it Heaven for me. To look into His eyes of grace and mercy, to sit at His feet and listen to the voice I have yearned to hear--oh what a day that will be.
There is never any place we can go on the face of the earth that can take the place of home. No fancy hotel or famous retreat can provide the true comforts of home. No view from afar can replace seeing home when it first comes into view. No maid or butler can take the place of the inhabitants of home. How I love to be there! How I look forward to being at home with Jesus in the distant day when I lay down the robe of faulty flesh and put on the robe and crown He has waiting for me.
Many years ago, Lanny Wolfe wrote a beautiful song that sums up all I have been saying. May its words bless you and make you yearn for Heaven. After all, there really is no place like home.

"Heaven for me; Heaven for me.
Jesus will be what makes it Heaven for me.
Its beauty and splendor I'm longing to see,
But Jesus will be what makes it Heaven for me."

In Grace,
Marie

A Noble Profession

2009-04-07T08:49:00.001-07:00

As far back as I can remember I have wanted to be a nurse. I wanted to be the one who would make everyone feel better and I frequently practiced on my brothers. The boys were my patients and, with a paper nurse's cap and a toy stethoscope, I would pretend to listen to their hearts and mend all their imaginary injuries. They would join me in my make-believe and played right along in my fantasy. Don, the oldest brother, would always tell my mother what a good nurse I was.
I waited until both of my children were in school before I went back to school myself. It was difficult balancing home, school, church, and family. There were times when I thought I would buckle under the weight of such responsibility but I made it through thanks to my dear mother and her care of me and my children. During nursing school I learned a lot about how precious life can be and how every day is a priviledge--how life is a priviledge, and how every breath we take is a blessing.
In March of 1988, I graduated from nursing school. Unfortunately, Don had passed away a few years before and did not get to see me get my diploma. Still, I felt he was watching me from Heaven's front row and I could picture him telling the angelic host, "She's such a good nurse.". The other three boys all congratulated me with hugs and smiles. Daddy grabbed me as I came off the platform and said, "I'm so proud of you.". Mother looked at me with tears in her eyes and just hugged me tight--her embrace saying the words she could not speak.
I went to work in a local hospital on a general medical-surgical floor. Two years later I moved to a position in the intensive care unit. I have been in that particular branch of nursing ever since. I take care of patients who have various types of open-heart surgery---it remains my passion.
During my 19 years of working in the critical care setting I have met many patients and their families. I have seen people at their worst and their best. I have helped many recover to wellness and have held the hands of many who have died. Not one time, though, have I ever felt I have not made a difference. Nursing is the only profession I know of that will allow me the knowledge that, every time I swipe my badge at the end of a shift, I have made a difference.
Though I have cared for many patients, there are two that stand out to me the most, both of whom left an impact on my life and my nursing career. The first was a gentleman I cared for as a "baby" nurse. I had been a nurse about six months when I met Mr. Simes. Tall, large in stature, and full of the knowledge of God, Mr. Simes and I hit it off instantly. He had had gallbladder surgery and his recovery was difficult. As I walked him in the hall and assisted him in his room, he talked about the scriptures nonstop. He told me about his faith and how important God was to him. He heard me handle a difficult situation one evening and later told me how proud he was of the way I conducted myself. He didn't miss a thing that went on around him. Later that week, I went in at about 10:45 to say goodnight (I worked evening shift at that time). He reached out and shook my hand and said, "If I don't see you again down here, I will see you up there.". Thirty minutes after I left the hospital, Mr. Simes went into full cardiac arrest and died. It was several weeks before I could bring myself to care for other patients occupying that room. Mr. Simes had so touched my heart.
The second patient I cared for was Jim. Jim was a cancer patient. He was weak from the chemo and knew he was terminally ill. Fluid had collected around his heart and he had just had surgery to drain the fluid. As I walked into his room and introduced myself he looked up at me and said, "Do you believe in the infilling of the Holy Spirit?". That stopped me in my tracks. I knew that how I answered this would be one of the most important responses I would ever make to a patient. I told him I most certainly did believe in, and had received, the infilling of God's spirit. He began to tell me how he had sought the Lord regarding this but still remained uncertain. He then said something that brought tears to my eyes. With a weariness about him and a resignation of life he said, "I know my condition is terminal. I know I'm going to die. I'm not afraid of dying, I just don't want to do it badly. I don't want my family to remember me suffering in the end.". I could not keep the tears from falling. I sat down on a footstool so I could look up into that precious face and said, "Oh, Jim. Your family will not be interested in remembering how you died. They will remember how you've lived most of all. They will cherish the memory of your faith and trust in God as you passed from this life into the next.". He lifted his head and looked me eye-to-eye. I saw the tears fall even as a smile came to his face---one of the most beautiful smiles I have ever seen. He reached out and took my hands in his and said, "I so needed to hear that. Now I am at peace.". Jim died just a few days after that conversation. His family was present and, within minutes of his passing, was recalling his strength, his courage, and his peace. They were, indeed, remembering how he had lived.
Oh, dear friends, you don't have to be a nurse to leave your mark upon the lives of others. We don't need degrees and accolades to leave a word of kindness and encouragement. I happen to be in a profession I love and one that affords me the honor of touching lives on a daily basis. Once called the "noble" profession, nursing reaches into the lives of people and affects those lives with healing, grace, and dignity. We all, however, have the opportunity to touch a life with the power of God. If we are careful to notice, God sends all of us people to touch with the message of hope and healing. In this way, we all make a difference.
I have learned so much from those under my care. My life is rich with memories of life and death, failure and success, courage and despair. My life has been blessed by the opportunity to be the extended hands of Christ to so many. I have given but I have also received--oh, how I have received.

Desperate For God

2009-04-02T19:34:00.003-07:00

There have been many times in my life when I have faced desperate situations. Each situation required intervention beyond my control and each demanded that I fall on my knees before God, seeking His help--begging His guidance. During these times I was, indeed, desperate for God to move, to intervene in some way. Now, looking back on those circumstances, I am ashamed to admit that I was more desperate for God's help than I was for God Himself.
Desperate is defined as, "almost hopeless: grave: overpowering: intense,". In recalling past events and circumstances, I can say that each one of them fit the definition. When the death of loved ones came, it was grave and overpowering. When my daughter was born with both hips dislocated and I was told she would never walk normally, it was almost hopeless. When I watched the one person I loved most in my life walk away--when I was left with nothing but my lonliness--when my despair sucked all the joy out of my life--it was, indeed, intense. All the definitions of desperate have touched my life at one time or another, sometimes all at once. Through it all, I begged God to lift the darkness that seemed to hold my very soul captive. I begged for one day, just one, where I could feel the "SON" on my face. Yes, I prayed. I prayed hard.
Years would pass before I could finally understand that, not only did I need God to move in my most trying moments, I needed "Him" most of all. I needed His presence to be with me. I needed His Word to be hidden in my heart. I needed His love to comfort me. I needed to be more desperate for God Himself than for any action He could perform. You see, I knew how to depend on God for resolution of my problems. I knew that, if I waited patiently and prayerfully, He would come to me. What I didn't know was the joy I could have whether my situation changed or not. What I didn't know was that having a relationship with God would make any circumstance bearable. I needed to be desperate for God, not for what God could do for me.
I found myself weeping in repentance. I became so hungry for God, I could not lay down my Bible. I sang everywhere I went, I hummed at my patient's bedside, I prayed myself to sleep. I do not share this to boast--I share this in the hope that each of you who read may be inspired to deepen your relationship with God.
He is the air I breathe. He is my daily bread. He is my provider. I love the Psalm that says,

"But thou, O Lord, art a shield for me;
my glory, and the lifter up of mine head."
Psalms 3:3

How many times my precious God has lifted my head from sadness and despair! How many times He has shielded me and given me peace. Words fail to describe the love I have for such a God as this! If there is any goodness about me, if there is anything noble within my heart, let me assure you it is Him. Without Him, I could do nothing--be nothing--achieve nothing. I am a desperate woman. I am a desperate child. I am desperate for God.

In Grace,
Marie

Who Am I?

2009-03-28T15:58:00.001-07:00

One of my favorite songs from the early days of my walk with God is "Who Am I?". Not the more recent version by Casting Crowns (although that, too, is one of my favorites), but the older version written and recorded by Rusty Goodman. What a voice he had and how smoothly he could move through a song! The words of the song he penned still bring tears to my eyes.
I have been thinking a lot about those words in the past couple of days. I am more aware with each passing day how undeserving I am of all the blessings my precious God has bestowed upon me. I sometimes find myself thinking that I have done nothing to merit such love and concern as that which God shows to me. Who am I to be chosen to receive from the very throne room of Heaven? What could I possibly have said or done that God would deem me worthy of His very best?
I think of how frail my human wrappings are--how riddled with faults and shortcomings my fallen nature is and I am amazed at Gods complete disregard for it all. I find myself driven to my knees in sheer gratitude that the creator of Heaven and earth would be mindful of me, the least of His servants. I look up at the beautiful North Carolina sky, with all its stars shining like diamonds in the royal blue of night, and I realize that the God who flung them into space from the palm of His hand now holds me safely in that same palm! Who am I?
There are nights when my heart is heavy and rest is fleeting. My spirit grieves over someone I love, or some event of the day for which I find no peace, no resolution. My tears fall easily and my voice whispers to God for help. There, in the shadows of night, I feel the softness of His presence. There comes a change in the atmosphere of my room--a knowing that He is near. I rest in the company of the one who is the throb of my heart, the air that I breathe. Then, I am humbled to know that I have done nothing to be found worthy of the peace He brings to me. I receive only because I am loved.
Nothing says it better than the words Rusty wrote so long ago:

"When I'm reminded of His words,
I'll leave thee never.
Just be true, I'll give to you
Life forever.
I wonder what I could have done
To deserve God's only Son,
To fight my battles until they're won
For, who am ?

"Who am I that a King would bleed and die for?
Who am I that He would pray, not my will thine for?
The answer I may never know,
Why He ever loved me so,
That to an old rugged cross He would go,
For, who am I?"

Dearest friends, we may never really know why God loves us so much. We may never understand why He constantly pulls us towards Himself and why He is so insistent upon sharing with us the treasures of Heaven. I have come to believe that it is that very sense of our own unworthiness and our weak attempt at gratitude that forces Him to continue to give us blessing after blessing. It is the knowledge that we are His children and, like a true father, He wants us to have the best. He gave us His Son to take upon His human likeness all the sins we have ever committed. He did that so that I could be with Him always. I am blessed beyond words. I am loved beyond limits. Who am I? I am a child of the King.

This Is My Cross

2009-03-25T12:13:00.000-07:00

Today I have been thinking a lot about people I know who have shown courage in the face of adversity--people who keep moving forward no matter what the circumstances. My grandmother was one of those people. Her life was an inspiring one.
My father's mother, Roxie Wilson, was born on Christmas day in 1899. From the beginning of her life she was bold and independent. Grandma wanted to do things her own way and in her own time. She was fiesty and could hold her own with any of her siblings. She possessed an inner strength and a sense of purpose that enabled her to approach any situation with confidence. Every obstacle became a personal challenge and every challenge was met with a will that was unshakable. As it turned out, that strong will would be tested beyond her imagination.
Grandma loved the outdoors and the beautiful mountains of Kentucky were her playground. She and her brothers and sisters spent most of their free time in the woods and valleys surrounding their home. At the age of fifteen, Grandma suffered a horrific accident. While riding sidesaddle on horseback, the girth (buckle across the abdomen of the horse that holds the saddle in place) of the saddle broke as the horse was jumping a small stream. My grandmother fell off the horse's back landing on her feet. The force of the fall snapped her spinal cord at waist level--she was paralyzed from the waist down on impact.
I cannot begin to imagine what an accident like that would do to anyone much less someone as active as my grandmother. There was no known treatment, no surgical procedure or physical therapy that could help my dear grandmother recover any functioning of her lower extremities. She was fifteen years old and could not walk or run or do any of things she loved so well. She told me about it years later and described that time as the saddest time of her life.
Grandmother laid in bed as an invalid for five years. At that point, she realized she was not going to die. In her own words she said, "I decided that if I was going to live, then I was REALLY going to live.". Though she did not have a wheelchair, she learned to sit in an armless chair and, moving it from side to side, managed to move herself from place to place. She became a seamstress and made clothes for the wives of physicians and merchants in her small town. She learned to walk short distances on crutches, though it was exhausting for her. Because she could not use either of her lower extremities, she had to position the crutches forward and "swing" herself to the next point. Still, nothing stopped her.
In her early twenties, Grandma gave her heart to the Lord after hearing the salvation message preached by mountain missionaries. Upon conversion, her zeal for the Lord and the body of Christ became the focus of her life. She was consumed by the presence of God in her life and never lost sight of the cross. No matter who came into her home, they soon heard the message of Christ. She read the gospel, she sang the gospel, she lived the gospel. Her life was such a glorious example.
When Grandma read about the infilling of the Holy Spirit in the Bible, she went off to herself to seek the Lord for understanding. She found a "secret" place under a beautiful oak tree and there she sought the face of God. There she lingered in prayer until she was filled with the Holy Spirit. At last, she felt her soul was secure.
I was her only grandaughter for about twelve years, until my cousin Colleen was born. I loved Colleen so much, I didn't mind sharing Grandma with her. Besides, I always felt I was Grandma's favorite (smile). The above picture of Grandma and I was made when I was ten years of age. Next to my own, dear Mother, she was the woman I loved most in this world.
My grandmother died when I was eighteen. Hardly a day goes by that I do not think of her. At her funeral, I was priviledged to play the piano while the hymns she loved so well were sung by family and friends. As the music finished and, before the minister began to speak, I recalled how Grandma had once summed up her life to me. Seated in her favorite chair, she described her attitude towards her life as a paraplegic. She looked at me with eyes as clear as could be, voice strong and vibrant, and said, "This is my cross. I will bear it and be happy." I wonder when she spoke those words to me if she knew how it would affect me. I wonder if she could ever realize that those words would ring through the history of my own life, giving me hope when there was none and determination when all else failed.
I pray God will give me the strength of will and the singleness of purpose to look at every adversity of my life as an opportunity for God to prove Himself once again. I pray that the enduring of every test and trial will be prefaced with the words, "This is my cross. I will bear it and be happy.". Let it be, dear Lord. Let it be.

Music in My Soul

2009-03-23T09:28:00.000-07:00

Music has always been such an important part of my life. When no words could comfort me and all else failed, music could calm my troubled soul. It became my escape, my refuge, my retreat. I suppose that's why I love the Psalms so very much. As a shepherd boy, David also found solace in his music and an escape from the weariness of life.
As a child, the music I remember most was the sound of bluegrass. I can still hear the sound of stringed instruments floating across the mountains of my grandparent's home in beautiful Kentucky. I recall the soulful sound of the violin (fiddle, if you're from the south), the twang of the banjo and the high pitched sound of the mandolin. Add an acoustic (flatop) guitar and Heaven itself had no sweeter music. I would often fall asleep to the beautiful music of the old hymns. What sweet memories!
For me, it was the keyboard that held my interest. I had been singing all my life but at age sixteen, I learned to play the piano. I learned to play by ear and practiced until I could accompany myself. After that, there was no stopping me. I didn't have a piano at home but you would never have known it. I played the piano on the kitchen table, the bathroom sink, the coffee table in the living room--anywhere I could put both hands side by side. Mother used to laugh so hard at me because everything in the house had soon been made into a makeshift keyboard and "played by Marie". She was so supportive of my efforts.
My brother Don played the acoustic guitar. How I loved to hear him play! Many were the times I found him sitting on the back porch with his guitar. Sometimes he would pick out the notes, other times he just strummed the chords. Either way, he was a joy to listen to. A softness would come upon his face as he played and he seemed to be in a faraway place. It was almost magical.
One particular memory stays with me more than all others. Don knocked on my bedroom door one night after supper. I opened the door and there he stood with his old, somewhat battered guitar. "Let's play some music, Sis.". We sat on my bed for over an hour as Don played and I sang. I watched his fingers fly over the strings for the hand clapping tunes and then he seemed to caress the strings for the soft ballads. When he really liked the song he would look at me and grin. Of course, I kept singing just to win his smile. What a sweet memory!
Don died at age 26. My heart had never been so broken. An emptiness filled me--I missed him so. I could hardly stand to look at his guitar. It was only a reminder that I could never hear him strum the notes again. I grieved, oh, how I grieved. Life would never be the same.
One week after Don's death Daddy wanted us all to go to church. He would be ministering his first message following my brother's death and he needed our support.
I did not think I could do this, even for Daddy. How could I sing when my heart was broken? How could I strike a note on the keyboard when the music would only remind me of Don's absence? Music had always been the balm that healed the wounds of my spirit. Not this time. Not tonight.
When Daddy asked me to sing, I thought it impossible. My brother was gone and I did not understand. How could this happen? He was so young, so full of life and love. How could I sing without him there? I bowed my head and asked God to help me to lift my voice and sing as unto the Lord. I then felt a surge of strength--a strength I recognized as the spirit of God. I knew I could do this. I struck the notes on the keyboard and began to sing,

"Farther along, we'll know all about it.
Farther along, we'll understand why.
Cheer up, my brother, live in the sunshine.
We'll understand it all by and by."

Now, I understood. There are things in this life that we will never understand. God owes us no explanation for what He does. He is obligated, however, to keep the promise that He will never leave us or forsake us. I found Him to be true to this promise. He is truly ever present.
Music will always be the constant in my life. It will always be the outlet God has given me when life becomes something I cannot understand. I lose myself in its sound, in its notes, in its words. Music takes me to a place I feel safest--it takes me into the heart of God. There I find joy unspeakable and full of glory!!

In Grace,
Marie

Mother So Sweet

2009-03-19T18:14:00.001-07:00

Some of the fondest memories of my childhood are of my sweet Mother. Never have I seen or known a lady more devoted to her family than she. Oh, how she could calm my fears and make all the wrongs of my life right again. Just the sound of her voice and the touch of her hand could make even the darkest place seem brighter. Whether it was a wounded knee or a wounded heart, mother could fix it with a simple caress and a word of prayer. Daddy was our protector, our defender, but Mother was our healer. She was, and always will be, like an angel to me. I do love her so.
Mother had many responsibilities when all of her children were young and living at home. In addition to caring for the home and making it a haven for her family, she held the position of a pastor's wife--a position I know she found difficult at times. You see, Mother has a quiet personality, not at all like her outgoing husband and children. She found the spotlight frustrating at times and I remember hearing her pray quite often for God's guidance and direction. She never lost sight of the fact that she was Daddy's strongest support and his greatest asset. She took her role very seriously and, many times, said that her job was to make sure Daddy's ministry was a success. Even today, she still feels the same--Mother loves the work of God and remains a strong part of Daddy's ministerial efforts.
But to my four brothers and I she remained the sweetest mother. We all loved her so much and would do anything she asked simply because of our tremendous respect for the life she lived before us. We were also priviledged to hear her voice in prayer. Many times it was in the early hours of the morning or sometimes in the midnight hour. If we listened closely, and long enough, we would hear her call each of our names and intercede for our specific needs. How loved that made us feel! No greater gift could she bestow upon us, her children, than to hear our names fall from the lips of this dear Servant of God. In all of our heartaches and all the despairs that have fallen upon each of us, my brothers and I knew that we would make it through them all because Mother kept us covered in prayer. A true prayer warrior! A faithful believer!
I dont' believe there is anything in the life of a mother that could hurt anymore than the loss of one of her children. I have seen my mother lose, not one, but two of her sons. I will never forget the grief and sorrow that covered that beautiful face. As long as I live, I will know the sound of mourning for I heard it escape from my mother's heart--I heard it rush forth in aguish of soul and I will never be able to abolish its memory. Mother grieved inwardly and spent many hours following my brothers' deaths in lonliness and despair. She yearned for the sound of their voices and longed to hear their footsteps. Mother mourned the fact that her sons had lost their lives before they really had a chance to live. Don was taken at age 26--David passing at age 39. She mourned, most of all, that she must continue on without them. It was so heart-wrenching to watch Mother grieve while I remained powerless to help her.
In the days that followed the death of her sons, however, I saw something beautiful develop in my dear Mother. She found a way to turn her mourning into a ministry that would help others and began to reach out to women she knew who had also lost a child. She found words of comfort that only those with a common loss would know. In placing the healing balm of God's comfort in the lives of others, she began to experience it for herself. It wasn't long until I heard Mother's laughter again. I began to see her smile when I came into a room. I soon heard Mother and Daddy remembering their sons and finding healing in the memories. I asked my Mother a few months ago how she made it through those dark times. She looked at me with those lovely blue eyes, smiled and said, "I made it one day at a time, leaning on the Lord.".
My dear, sweet Mother is such a blessing to me. Through all the days of my life she has loved me so fiercely, clung to me so tightly, and never failed to bring my name before the Lord in prayer. The sound of her voice is enough to calm all my fears, set the world right again, and bring the joy of the Lord to my heart. She is my example, my teacher, my mentor. She really is my Mother, so sweet.

Daddy's Little Girl

2009-03-18T22:18:00.000-07:00

There are definite benefits to being the only girl in the family. Not only was I the only girl but I was also the oldest of the five children. There were two years and two months between my oldest brother and myself. That meant that I had Daddy all to myself until Don came along. I followed him everywhere. I talked to him like most little girls would talk to their toys and I was the apple of his eye. I remember those strong arms holding me close and Daddy's voice, normally so booming and strong, would become soft and low as he called me "Daddy's little girl". Very often I would lay my head on his shoulder and fall fast asleep. The above photo shows me with Daddy at age two, held tightly by my hero. I always felt so safe with Daddy---I still do. I love him so very much.
I suppose my idea of God as my Heavenly father relates a great deal to my own earthly father. When Daddy preached about God's love for us, His children, I could understand because I had seen a father's love in action. I could understand what it meant to have a Heavenly father who would never leave us or forsake us. Daddy stood with all five of his children. Even when he didn't agree with what we had said or done, he never let go of us--he was always there. Now by no means do I mean to imply that my Daddy is equal with God. What I am saying is that he was such a wonderful father that my idea of God was molded by his actions. Daddy is quite a man.
I have always felt so secure with God. I have never felt abandoned or unloved by the God I love and serve. He is my rock and my shield. He guards me from the enemy's snares and guides every step I take. He leads me by the hand when the way is dark and walks by my side when all is well. He holds me close when I am afraid and protects me when danger is near. I lean on Him without fear or dread knowing He is ever present.
When I gave my heart to the Lord at the age of fourteen, Daddy was there. Later, he baptized me and prayed with me when I received the infilling of the Holy Spirit. He taught me to love the Scriptures and he told me I could talk to God just like I talk to Him. My Heavenly father and I have a deep relationship because of the influence of my earthly father.
Daddy just turned 79. He is as sharp as a tack and still spends most of his day in reading the scriptures and preaching to anyone who will listen. I still thrill to the sound of his voice and the touch of his hand. It has been my priviledge to be his daughter.
I just know that when I stand before my God, and finally see Him face to face, it will be the greatest joy I have ever known. To look upon the face of the Father I have loved and served, yet never seen, will be the thrill of a lifetime. I long to be able to be alone with God and thank Him for all He has done--for loving me, for being patient with me, for forgiving me, for never leaving me, and for giving me an eternal home in His kingdom. Most of all I want to thank Him for choosing a humble, loving man to be my earthly father. I want to feel the arms of God, my Heavenly father, wrap around me and say, "Well done, Daddy's little girl. Enter in to the joy of the Lord.".

In Grace,
Marie

Amazing Grace

2009-03-18T14:06:00.000-07:00

I awoke this morning with the words of the lovely old hymn "Amazing Grace" flowing through my mind. I felt such a peace come over me as the words of the song played across the strings of my heart. My pastor recently preached a message regarding the grace of God. He defined it not only as unmerited favor but more as the Divine influence of God upon the heart of man. I liked that definition.
As a child I felt the influence of grace upon my life most directly from my parents. Daddy was, and still is, a teddy bear of a man whose words came across the pulpit with a mix of love and grace. He lived everything he preached and served God with complete faith and trust. Mother sang her grace. Every afternoon was nap time and, no matter how old we were, we had to lay and rest even if we didn't sleep. It was the priviledge of the youngest child to nap on mother's lap as she sat in her rocking chair and sang the old hymns. "Amazing Grace" was one she sang quite often and she sang it with her voice so clear and strong. I recall falling asleep to the sound of her sweet voice.
Oh! My friends, there is nothing like the safety and security of the grace of God. No wealth or fame can compare to the peace it brings, silver or gold cannot buy its worth, and man is lost without it. It is the divine influence of God upon the heart of man that makes the grace of God so precious. It is what makes grace so amazing!

In Grace,
Marie

From My Heart

2009-03-16T07:17:00.000-07:00

It is really amazing to me how God brings people into our lives to touch our hearts and help us fulfil our goals and dreams. When I first decided to begin my blog, I thought it would be really easy and that I, being of basic intelligence, would be able to achieve it fairly quickly. I was WRONG! It was difficult for me to understand some of the concepts regarding computer language, layouts, graphics and so on. I was near tears trying to achieve my goal.
Then, by chance, I was visiting blogs listed on a particular blog I visit frequently and happened upon Jan and Tom at Rose Haven (www.jt-jantom.blogspot.com). The beauty of their blogsite was an example of exactly what I wanted to accomplish. The best part was the fact that Jan was having a giveaway of a blog header and background which she had designed and which was exactly what I was looking for. As you can see by my beautiful blogsite, I was one of the winners. I am thrilled!!!
Now I fully realize that there is a big difference between achieving this goal and overcoming some of the more serious difficulties of life. But, isn't is so like our Lord to be as concerned over the little things that add joy to our lives as He is over the larger ones that break our hearts? It matters not whether our concerns are big or small, frustrating or truly heartbreaking. The bottom line is that God cares about it all and not one detail of our lives goes unseen by Him.
It is a real joy for me to think of all the things that can be shared between us as we follow each others posts and remember each other in our thoughts and prayers. I do so want to be a blessing to each of you.
May you be blessed of the Lord today with all good things.
Oh--thanks again, Jan. God bless.

In Grace,
Marie

My First Post

2009-03-11T13:01:00.000-07:00

I am happy to be able to post my first writing even though the blog is not what I want it to be just yet. Please be patient with me--I promise there is more to come.

I have read so many wonderful blogs lately and have seen so many lovely images that I find myself asking the question, "what could I possibly have to add to what I have read and seen?". It then occurred to me that God has blessed me so abundantly and He has added such richness to my life that I could tell about it every hour of every day and still not be able to tell it all. I long to share my blessings with each of you and pray it will, in turn, be a blessing to you as well.

My dear, sweet father is a minister and, until three years ago, was my pastor as well. He always told me to follow the dreams God placed in my heart and to lean on the Lord to fulfil those dreams. Having this blog is one of the dreams I have long cherished. My desire is that it will be a resting place for each of you, a comfort for those who are weary and an inspiration to all.

As I learn more about posting, imaging and blogging in general, I promise there will be more than just a post. Until then, God bless each of you.

In Grace,
Marie