Learning To Lean

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

"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

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

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

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

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

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