'In the Arms of God'

I just wanted to share with you what God did for me today. My Sunday School class has been doing a Beth Moore study, so that's what I've been doing each day during my quiet time. Since we're taking it slow, though, I tend to get too far ahead in the book, so the last couple of days I've picked up Max Lucado's devotional, Grace for the Moment, and read two weeks of devotionals at a time since I've been way behind on that one since Mom passed.

I started reading on September 9th and decided to read to my birthday on September 24th. The thought crossed my mind that I was expecting God to give me something special on my birthday devotion. I have been enveloped in sadness the last four months and eleven days-- not sad that Mom's with the Lord, just sad because I miss her presence so much. This house that we both enjoyed isn't the same without her. On October 25, four months after she passed, I wrote on my calendar, "I didn't cry today." It gave me hope that the deep sadness would lift some day.

Remember I said the thought crossed my mind that I was expecting God to give me something special on my birthday devotion? Well, He did. Here is what the September 24th devotion-- my birthday date-- said:

"In the Arms of God
Everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. John 11:26

We don't like to say good-bye to those whom we love. Whether it be at a school or a cemetery, separation is tough. It is right for us to weep, but there is no need for us to despair. They had pain here. They have no pain there. They struggled here. They have no struggles there. You and I might wonder why God took them home. But they don't. They understand. They are, at this very moment, at peace in the presence of God...

When it is cold on earth, we can take comfort in knowing that our loved ones are in the warm arms of God. And when Christ comes, we will hold them, too."

And today I shed tears of joy with that little reminder that God knows. He's very aware of what's happening in my life... and yours.

Blog Hiatus

For the next few months, I plan to focus on finishing book 6, With Liberty and Justice, so future posts will be scanty... unless I'm about to burst about something that would apply to Comfy Socks. : )

Gangy

Isla Casey

December 5, 1933 - June 26, 2013

Eulogy

Have you ever attended a funeral where they said so many nice things about the dearly departed, and you looked around to see if you were in the right place because you didn't remember all those wonderful qualities about that person? Well, this isn't one of those eulogies because everything I tell you about Isla Casey, our mother, or Gangy, as she's known to her grand and great grands, as she called them, is the truth.

This isn't a repeat of her obituary that was printed in the funeral programs. That's a simple outline of her life, and there is so much more to her than that. I want to share a few more things about the kind of person she was, and those details often fall between the lines of the obituary.

I was so blessed to have spent the last four and a half years as roommates with my parents. I know now that God knew what was coming and orchestrated so many things in our lives to prepare us. Most of you knew Mom had ALS or Lou Gehrig's disease. Just five months after she moved to Taylor in 2008, she began slurring her words. But for fifteen months, we were told she had something treatable, but none of the treatments worked. We were devastated when they finally diagnosed it as ALS, but we learned to live one day at a time and face each challenge as it came. Mom didn't deserve this disease, but she never showed any anger or bitterness about it. She never complained or felt sorry for herself. She accepted it with such courage and grace, and did the best she could. 

I am so grateful to have spent this time with her, and I'll treasure it always. I got to know my mother in ways I've never known before, and it made me love and respect her even more. And I have to mention Dad in this eulogy because it's hard to write or talk about one without including the other. They truly epitomized "two will be one" when it came to their marriage.

I'm a writer, and if I had been in my mother's shoes, I would've taken every spare moment to write down all of my memories and hopes and dreams and thoughts--past and future for my children and grandchildren. And I hoped Mom would feel the same way, but she didn't. I had to keep asking her questions about her growing up years and the places we'd lived, and she'd answer them, but only after being prompted. I'm grateful for the stories she told me, and there was so much more she didn't tell me, but I came to accept it.

Looking back over the years, I realized that Mom put her time and effort into relationships in her life. She valued and focused on people rather than the controversial issues or thoughts of our day. She told me one time after I was probably stressing and over-analyzing something that I would be a lot happier if I didn't think so much. And I think she was right.

My mother was born on a cotton farm during the Depression, but her father took good care of her and her family, and they were able to turn around and help others in need. I think that made a big impression on her because I saw that pattern repeated throughout her life. But Mom and Dad were quiet about it; no telling how many people they helped through the years that we don't know about.

Momma's father died suddenly when she was only thirteen. When she was a junior in high school, she and her mom moved to Three Rivers. Before too long she started noticing this good-looking man working at the hardware store downtown. She told us that two other girls were chasing Jimmy Casey, too, at that time, and that she just outran them.

Mom had just turned eighteen when she married Dad in a simple ceremony in George West, Texas, in a motel office that the preacher managed. They spent their honeymoon weekend in Cotulla, Texas. Little did they know that seven towns and sixteen years later they'd be living most of their married life back in Cotulla. At the time of their marriage, Dad was in the Navy stationed in Corpus Christi, and then he was transferred to NAS Alameda Island near Oakland, California. They were so far from home, but I think that helped cement their relationship because they had no one to depend on but themselves. They had their first two children there-- my sister and me, before heading back to Texas.

They tried their hand at cotton farming during one of the worst droughts of the century during the mid-fifties, and I share this because Mom told me those were the hardest years of her life. By then, baby #3-- a son had arrived, which meant she'd had three babies in three years. She said you have to be young and stupid to do that, but she never regretted it. And eventually they had a fourth child, another son. The only thing that saved her during those farming years, she said, was Daddy taking her and us young-uns to the drive-in movie every Friday night. At the end of those three years, though, they had to sell everything they had to get out of debt, and Dad changed to a career involving electronics.

Mom learned to bloom wherever she was planted, and the phrase fit her perfectly. Until they moved to Cotulla, they moved about every three years in order to advance in Dad's job. When they lived in Fort Stockton, they lived in four different houses in those three and a half years. I never really thought about how hard that must've been for her, but she handled it just fine.

Mom and Dad always lived within their means. That didn't mean they didn't need help at times, but for most of their married lives, they were always willing to help anyone who needed it. Things have never owned them, and they've been content with what they have. I can tell you that the Casey kids ate a lot of baloney sandwiches at roadside parks when we traveled, and we hit a lot of parks and historical sites through the years. But our favorite trips were when my parents spent many inexpensive vacations visiting our cousins back on the cotton farm, which meant nine rowdy kids under one roof. But all of those times together as a family have made the best memories.

I love my mother's heart for helping. When they lived in Harlingen, she volunteered at the big hospital not far from their home. She and Dad volunteered ten years working with the Texas Baptist Men Camp Builders, where they traveled around Texas (primarily) and lived in a camper trailer eight months out of the year working at church camps providing labor for construction projects. And within a few months of moving to Taylor, she began volunteering an afternoon a week at the local hospital gift shop. She and Dad also volunteered at the Food Bank, and Mom helped count the money for the church and she and Dad helped fold the newsletters that were mailed each month. She continued to work for as long as she could after her diagnosis.

My mother so loved my father and took such good care of him. Since I've lived with them, I learned that she spoiled him pretty good. But my dad got his turn to be her hero as he so sweetly took care of her when she could no longer take care of herself. The Casey kids never had to question their love for each other or for us, and we're so thankful for their example of what a marriage should be.

Mom loved games. She loved watching Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune. She especially loved the San Antonio Spurs, and she never missed a televised game if she could help it. Dad and I would walk through the living room and check the score every so often, but it was too nerve-wracking for us to sit there and watch. But she stayed with them 100%. She told me several years ago after moving to Taylor: "A loving family, a beautiful home, and getting to watch the Spurs... it doesn't get any better than this."

Momma loved the Lord and lived out her faith with her actions, not just words. That's how she spoke best. The first thing my parents did when they moved to a new community was find a church home. I told them when they moved to Taylor that we could visit several churches and they could pick whichever one they felt God leading them to. I brought them to First Baptist Church first, and during the invitation Dad leaned over and said, "Y'all ready?" And we walked down the aisle and joined this church.

 

Momma loved to sing, and she joined the choir in every church she attended, including Taylor First Baptist until she couldn't sing anymore. She sang alto, and I don't know how many of us learned to sing alto standing next to her, but probably many.

I don't know about you, but I learned that generally, my mother knew best. We loved her sense of humor, and she loved to laugh. She was game for anything and was so much fun to hang around. When our family gets together, one of the things we do best (besides eating) is laugh.

We all wore moustaches in honor of our youngest brother Bobby's 50th birthday

My mother made good friends every place she lived, and she knew how to be a good friend. Thank you for being a friend to her.

But most of all, Momma loved her family, and she was so proud of every one of her children and her grands and great-grands. And we all loved her fiercely. She was the rock and the heart of our family, and we will never be the same without her. I'm going to write her story one day, if for no one but her family because I want her descendants to know what a special person she was. But if you knew her, you've already read the book, and that's the best part... knowing her.

I love John Mayer's song, Say What You Need to Say. Too often someone passes before we tell them how much they mean to us. I had some time with my mother, which gave me the opportunity to tell her the things I needed to say to her. But I had to write them down because I couldn't help but bawl every time I wanted to say something significant to her. And if it's written, it can be read again and again. I want to encourage you all to not wait until someone's gone before you tell them how much they meant to you.

I dedicated my last book to my mother, and it was after she lost her ability to speak. I'd like to share the poem I wrote for that. It was written in first person singular, but I've changed it to first person plural because it could be the words of my siblings, too.

For our mother, Isla,

whose eyes first saw us;

Our best and worst attempts at anything in life

find safe harbor with you,

along with our pieced and quilted hearts.

We love your intelligence and humor and generosity;

You taught us so much

by how you lived your life;

More so than words,

Much more so than words.

We still see you vibrant and beautiful,

and that won't change,

even when our roles reverse;

You've always been strong for us;

It's our turn now to be strong for you.

We still hear you;

We've not forgotten your voice;

It lives in our memories,

and there it will remain

until it's perfectly restored on the other side.

We love hanging out with you,

even in the storms;

And no matter who gets there first,

Remember our date by the gate;

Until then, we'll walk side by side with you.

Thank you for honoring Mother with your presence today. Thank you for your friendship with her. Thank you for all of your acts of kindness in visiting, sending cards, calling and checking on her, having Sunday School class at the house so she could still be included, and many other expressions of love for her. 

We can't wait until we see her again, and we will, based on our faith in Christ. God bless you all.

Photo borrowed from MyInvisibleCrown.wordpress.com

Mom used the thumbs up sign to say "Yes," or "I'm fine," or to agree with you. And she used the love sign to tell us she loved us.

We love you, Mom!

I don't know about you, but...

 I happen to know the One who hung the moon.

NessaDeeArt

It never ceases to amaze me that the God who created the universe would want to have a personal, intimate relationship with me. God's love is not divided and diminished among the mass of humanity to the point where each of us receives only a distant, microscopic portion of Himself. His love is complete in each of us. You and I have God's undivided attention at any moment of the day. That truth doesn't sink in without totally overwhelming me.

God reaches out to each of us in countless ways to show his love towards us, but how often do we hear folks give luck, fate, chance, or coincidence the credit? God has chosen clay pots to house this treasure of love, but He never meant for them to be self-contained. He intends for his love in us to spill over onto others.

For too long I felt like I had to earn God's love somehow, not realizing there was nothing I could do to make God love me any more or any less than He already did.

Amazing.

Read Between the Lines

My daughter and I attended an SCBWI Writers Conference in Arlington, Texas, a couple of years ago. My son was two months into a three-month assignment in a hot spot on the other side of the world where phone and Internet capabilities were limited. During the morning of the second day of the conference, he sent me an email telling me he wanted to Skype with me that day, and gave me instructions how to set it up so we could see each other as we visited. The time difference was seven hours ahead of us, and he said he had to wait until late at night to call when the usage was lower.

Conference attendees had a thirty minute break at 2:00 p.m., so I tried to connect with him, but the calls kept failing to go through. At 3:30 we were sitting at a table directly in front of the stage listening to one of the keynote speakers when somebody's cell phone started ringing. Loudly. I looked around to see whose it was before I realized it was my laptop ringing like a phone. I opened it up, and there was Van's face grinning at me.

I was horrified that my laptop had so rudely interrupted the speaker, but the momma in me wasn't about to miss this call. I leaned over and whispered to the screen, "Just a minute," grabbed my laptop and started working my way through all the tables in the conference room to get to the hall outside. When I finally sat down in front of the laptop, Van was laughing his head off.

I asked him what was so funny, and he said he'd called all of his co-workers over to meet his mother, and all they saw for a long minute or so was my striped chest bouncing up and down on the screen while I was trying to get out of the conference room. By the time my face was back on the monitor, all the other men had slunk away, probably too embarrassed on my behalf to meet me. That's not the first time I've embarrassed my son, but I figure that's just one of my jobs as his mother.

Less than a year later my grandkids' other grandma called and asked if I'd heard the news of the four Americans' demise in a place that rhymes with 'ten gauze ee,' and I told her yes. She asked if I was okay, and again, I told her yes. It wasn't until some time later that it finally dawned on me that this was the same place my son had been assigned ten months before. And he had been providing security for the same person that had been killed. It hit me like ice water the danger my son's job often takes him, and then for a while, I wasn't okay. I immediately called him 1. to hear his voice, 2. to find out if he was okay, and 3. to hear his take on the situation. He has a group picture with the am bass a door, who he said was very nice and very good at his job. And he was there because he wanted to make a positive difference in that part of the world. It saddens me every time I see that photograph.

My son told me years ago when he was assigned to his first danger post to not worry about him. He said  that when his time was up, it was up, no matter where he was stationed. He said he could be walking across the street in DC and get hit by a car. Since then I've tried not to worry unless he gives me good reason to.

I wondered if I should even write this post since some big outfit with three initials is scrolling through all of our communications and blogs looking for certain keywords. If I get a knock on my door by some men in black, I'll try to keep you posted. But if this blog disappears, you'll know why. : )

Family Friendly?

It chaps my hide every time I see ABC's disclaimer tacked onto the beginning of the 700 Club saying, "The following CBN telecast does not reflect the views of ABC Family." 

Why do they feel so threatened about a show that does more good around the world than any other similar faith-based news show? Operation Blessing, Orphan's Promise, schools started around the world, surgery and health services made available to areas that have little or none, water wells for clean water, micro-businesses started, and so much more are some of the outstanding ministries they support. 

I don't agree with some of the things I've heard on the 700 Club, but that doesn't mean I discount everything about it and go to great lengths to disassociate with it. Overall, I know what the 700 Club represents, and that disclaimer makes me question the sense of the people running ABC Family. 

 As a believer in Christ, I am also thankful that the 700 Club provides news from a Christian world view. They often cover stories that the mainstream media doesn't. They also provide good segments on health and nutrition. I went through eighteen months of health problems and many visits to a gastroenterologist who did every test in the book and wanted to start all of them over when he couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. The 700 Club was one of the first shows to warn of the dangers of aspartame poisoning, and I  recognized that I had some of the same symptoms they listed. I immediately quit drinking diet colas and those symptoms - some of them debilitating - disappeared within two weeks.  

The 700 Club also interviews authors, athletes, actors, pastors, musicians, and others whose lives have been impacted by their relationship to Christ. They were one of the first shows, if not the first, to re-create real-life experiences of people using actors or the actual people involved to tell the story, which other shows regularly do now. 

ABC Family's new logo says, A New Kind of Family, and I just about choked when I heard an announcer say ABC Family was so proud to present Pretty Woman as one of the movies they showed. I noticed they scheduled another new kind of family-friendly movie recently - Burlesque. If those two movies are their idea of good family entertainment, they've gone off the deep end. 

It's hard to find good family entertainment on TV these days. But we think one of the best family-friendly shows on TV today is Disney's Good Luck, Charlie. It's one of the few children's shows with an intact, functioning family. The parents are very much involved each week, which I think encourages all ages to tune in. Four generations in my family watch and love that show. 

ABC Family is also owned by Disney, and is contractually obligated to show the 700 Club, but the poor souls don't realize that's one of the best shows on that channel. 

A Dangerous Mother

Yes. That was me. 

But I didn't know it until I had my first grandchild -- a beautiful baby girl. I tried to do my motherly duty and give my daughter the sage advice I had learned the hard way over the years of raising my own two children.Twelve years ago, I let Audrie fall asleep on my chest and then gently placed her on her stomach in her crib.

"Mother! They don't lay babies on their stomachs anymore!" My daughter corrected me. "They might suffocate!"

Dear Lord, forgive me for almost suffocating my children hundreds of times when they were babies.

I prided myself on the fact that my two children started sleeping through the night at a fairly early age, and it pained me to see Vanessa so exhausted night after night after night of little sleep because her three babies (when they each were babies & the third one still is) kept waking up wanting to nurse. I told her to give them a little rice cereal so they'll feel satisfied and sleep longer so she could rest.

"Mother! They don't feed babies any food other than breast milk or formula until they're at least six months old or they could develop allergies!" 

Dear Lord, forgive me for developing allergies in my children for feeding them baby cereal at too young of an age.

Car seats for babies and small children were just coming into existence when my kids were little, and it wasn't a law back then, so my kids were exposed to countless hours of riding unrestrained in vehicles. Van sometimes stood tucked behind his Daddy's shoulder while his daddy drove 70 mph down the highway. My toddler son even opened the pickup door while riding with his PaPa Van Cleve on I-35 on the way to Laredo. I still shiver when I think about that. I've lost count the times my children rode in the back of the pickup around town and in the pasture. And I learned well after the fact that Uncle Jimmy let Van drive his pickup and trailer to Pearsall, thirty miles away, and the boy was only 10 or 11 years old! 

Dear Lord, forgive me for letting my children go ANYWHERE with their father and uncle and grandfather in a pickup.

It's a wonder my children weren't traumatized by what I made them wear.

I never realized life was so dangerous for my children. 

• I didn't walk out into the street and watch them walk to their grandparents' house 50 yards from our house. It's a wonder they weren't kidnapped! 
• Until they got their driver's license, I made them walk to junior high [it's now called middle school] and high school three blocks away. They could've been run over!
• I let them play out in the 40 acres behind the house. I don't know why they weren't bit by a rattlesnake!
• Van fell off the roof several times putting up Christmas lights and was electrocuted once as he stapled into the wire about the time Vanessa plugged the lights in. They didn't tell me this until after they went to college. 
• They rode horses and worked with big 4-H show calves, and stepped in manure in the pens and were scratched by feral cats in the barn, and also swung like Tarzan off the tall stacks of feed with ropes attached to the rafters. They could've broken bones [oh yeah, Van did break his arm three times falling off a horse] or contracted some deadly disease out there!

Dear Lord, forgive me for raising my children in such a dangerous environment. Thank you for keeping them safe in spite of my ignorance. 

Little August

And now our precious little surprise, August, showed up last July, and I have the inexpressible joy of getting to hold and kiss on a baby again. I'm scared out of my mind that I'm going to do something wrong, so when I keep him, I follow him around like a shadow when he's crawling, or I just hold him on my chest the whole time he's sleeping. 

Dear Lord, please don't let this errant underwire sticking out of my bra stab him. 

I'm so glad my own children survived their dangerous childhood. I'm surprised how healthy and strong and happy they look! They're hiding their suffering well.

 Vanessa & Van

And here are my grandkids, whom I'm trying to be safer with.

Audrie, Finn & August

I think I just butchered that last sentence grammatically. Is it 'with whom I'm trying to be safer' or is it okay to write it like we speak it: 'who I'm trying to be safer with' or what?! I can't even trust myself to be safe with grammar! That even sounds like a nickname for grandma!  Ol' Grammar Van Cleve. 

Okay,  I'll stop now.

A Time of Transition

My Sunday School co-teacher, Penni, referred in a prayer to this time with my mother's ALS as a transition. That stuck with me because we often think of death in terms of an ending, a finality, a loss. But those are terms that more accurately describe the survivors' earthly status to the deceased, but the deceased has actually transitioned to the next stage of life, an eternity with one's Creator, or an eternity without. The first choice is heavenly, the second is heart-rending.

Because of our relationship with our Creator through Christ, I know my mother and I will see each other again after her transition. I've already asked my mother to meet me by the gate-- no matter who goes first. And none of us are guaranteed a long life.

I realize those folks who have grown up outside of a knowledge of God and the Bible, and even for agnostics who are familiar with Christianity, that probably sounds like wishful thinking from a simple-minded anomaly at the top of the food chain. That's okay. I'd rather live a life of trust in my Creator and his Word, which He has proved to me time and time again, than the empty, hopeless worldview without God. There is no transition for unbelievers. Life has no meaning, only a brief speck of existence during a moment in time, and then it's back to the dirt. Lights off. The end. Finis. Terminated. And if folks want to live with that belief, I can respect that. But I choose otherwise.

And it's God's grace that will sustain us as we're getting into the hard days of Mom's disease now. She's lost the use of her legs and most of her muscles, and cannot move without two of us helping her in or out of bed and in and out of her power chair, which right now is the only thing that allows her to defy her paralysis. We are so thankful she can still do things with her hands, including writing to communicate with us. I pray that we will not lose that connection. I pray for courage and peace for Mom, and she's demonstrated that; I can't imagine what it's like for a perfectly healthy mind to be trapped in a body unwilling to do its bidding.

Even as old as I am, the little girl in me still wants to crawl in bed with my momma and hang onto her for dear life. I'm already missing her-- not being able to converse. I'm tired of my one-sided conversations, and silent house. The writer in me wants her to spend this time recording all of her memories and thoughts and messages to her kids so we can have those words to keep us company until we're re-united again. But Mom doesn't think the way I think, and only records thoughts when I prompt her to. I've stepped back from that, telling myself to be content with what she's given me and letting her live out the rest of her life as she chooses.

She loves to watch the Spurs. She faithfully watches Jeopardy, Family Feud, and Wheel of Fortune. She still has one favorite soap opera she watches, and I try to bite my tongue when I want to spout something sarcastic about another predictable, worn-out story line when I'm walking through the living room. And I've stopped fussing about her feeding the dog scraps from her chair. That gives her joy. She deserves it.

And that gives me joy.

Mother's Day in DC

My daughter & her family & I made a flying trip to DC to visit my son/ her brother for five short days, which happened to fall on Mother's Day weekend. Bonus!

We became very familiar with the Metro, DC's subway system. 

My grandkids felt like they were on a carnival ride every time we boarded it.

We slipped into the back door of the Capitol for a tour

And spent a lot of time looking up at some amazing things

like the Rotunda ceiling

and a very tall statue of Abraham Lincoln, 

sculpted by an 18 year old girl!

We walked around the side of the Capitol after a visit to the Library of Congress, which they evacuated while we were there due to an unattended package left in front, probably left by a tourist. But they were playing it safe for everyone's sake.

We made it to the front of the Capitol (I assume it's the front), which faces the Mall.

Little August did great on the trip, and spent lots of time smiling.

This beautiful cascading water structure was in Meridian Park 

across the street from my son's apartment building. 

We got plenty of exercise walking, but the weather was nice and cool.

It was the nicest Mother's Day weekend I've had in years. 

Rigor Mortis or Life?

Too easily I find myself gravitating toward 
                           the path of comfort, 
                                             the place of no conflict, 
                                                             the sound of quiet.  

I look around, and I am alone. 

When I am alone, I can create my own perfect world.

When I am alone, I don't have to worry about offending anyone.

When I am alone, I don't have to worry about disagreement.

When I am alone, I don't have to defend my beliefs.

When I am alone, no one suffers from my mistakes.

When I am alone, no one sees my flaws.

When I am alone, I close my heart to avoid pain.

When I am alone, I forget to live.

I find it all too easy to reside in my world of one.

In my world of one, I feel my strength wane.

In my world of one, rough edges remain when no grit of change polishes me.

In my world of one, I am blind to my faults.

In my world of one, I get lazy when nothing challenges me.

In my world of one, I forget to pray.

In my world of one, I stop growing.

In my world of one, regret haunts me.

In my world of one, I must fight to leave it before rigor mortis sets in.

To live is to come out of hiding, stretch my limbs, open my eyes.

To live, I must stop escaping and live in the now.

To live, I must seek God through his Son, thank Him, talk to Him, & intercede for others.

To live, I must continue to learn, express, think, & act.

To live, I must defend, occasionally offend, sometimes bend, & lend a hand.

To live involves sometimes tripping & falling, but always getting up.

To live is to engage, listen, speak, & listen some more.

To live is to experience loss to attain gain and growth.

To live is to open my heart, at the risk of pain.

To live is to love above all else, and through it all, to love.

Coincidence? No.

I saw in the church newsletter that her birthday was coming up soon. I didn't know her very well, although she and her husband occasionally visited our church during the past year. When her husband died tragically from injuries sustained in a vehicle wreck, she asked my (at that time) husband and me to sing at his funeral.

I hadn't seen her in weeks since she lived on a ranch far from town. We knew she would probably move to another community since the ranch was so isolated, but I couldn't seem to get her off my mind that day. I kept thinking about how everyone is around immediately following the death of a loved one, but the weeks and months afterwards of being alone can be a very difficult time. I decided to write her a letter and wish her a happy birthday.

I hadn't even come close to feeling the kind of pain she had been going through, but I did tell her what I sometimes would do when life got a little overwhelming for me at times. There a few things like swinging on a swing and simply watching the sky or nature to empty one's mind for a bit. Watching tumblebugs do their jobs in one of the worst working environments also fascinated as well as disgusted me. They don't seem to mind their situation, though, and watching them and other insects do their work also helped to soothe my mind for a while.

Mainly, I just wanted her to know I was thinking about her that day. I looked at a framed verse on the wall beside my bed. Some dear friends had given it to me a while back, and it was one of my favorite verses. Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are noble, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report, if there is any virtue, and if there is anything praiseworthy, think on these things. Philippians 4:8.

I thought that was wonderful advice, so I decided to wrap it up and send it to her, too. Not long afterwards, I received a letter from her that said:

You have no idea what your letter and gift did for me that day. I was driving down the ranch road having a good cry, feeling very alone and sorry for myself. I told the Lord that He and everyone else had forgotten me, and was just a little angry about the whole situation. Then I got to the mailbox and pulled out the package you had sent. When I opened it up, I sat there and cried all over again, but for an entirely different reason. God hadn't forgotten me at all!

God's timing is amazing. It wasn't a coincidence that I just happened to be thinking about someone I normally didn't think about on any given day. It was God prompting me, although I didn't realize it at the time. I saw this lady one more time some weeks later when she visited the church. She came by the piano and hugged me and thanked me again for the letter and gift.

Do you ever get a thought to do something for someone? Does someone keep coming to mind at times? Those are usually little promptings by the Lord that this person needs our help, encouragement, or prayer. We'll miss a blessing if we don't act on it.

All too often coincidence or luck gets the credit when it was actually God working in someone's life. We just have to open our spiritual eyes to see that it was Him all along.

*  *  *

Written in 2001

The Walk

"I'm very fond of walking."

"Yes... yes, I know."

Yesterday... the start of my walk in our back patio.

Along the small lake at the park where the cowbirds gather to build their nests.

 Five baby ducks or goslings (3 in the water and 2 on the rock edge) along with their parents, I assume.

"You must know, surely you must know that it was all for you."

Feelings, nothing more than feelings

Too often we base the moral rightness of something on whether it feels right or not. If our conscience is intact and working correctly, and if our knowledge of a situation is adequate and correct, than we can probably go with that gut feeling. But if a conscience is seared into silence by continuing to break moral laws, then gut feelings can be wrong.

Some years ago a friend of mine justified an affair with a married man with the statement, "How can something that feels so right be wrong?" Country western fans, do those lines sound familiar? Feelings can blind a person to the truth and consequences of a situation. This dear friend had to raise a child on her own ever since that lying buzzard abandoned her when she became pregnant.

Lust is not the same thing as love. Emotional dependence is not the same thing as love. Lust is based on feelings and self-centeredness. Love is based on commitment and self-sacrifice. Lust is conditional. Emotions are conditional. Love is unconditional. I believe too many of us have truly lost the meaning of that word, or possibly never knew it in the first place.

• I must be out of love because I don't feel like I love you anymore.
• I don't love you now because you don't fulfill my needs anymore.
• I don't feel like doing anything for you anymore because you don't do anything for me.
• I don't love you anymore because you don't look like you first looked when we were married.

Another feeling to watch out for is urge. Some people pattern their whole lives on urges. Just because one gets an urge to do something doesn't mean one has to act on it. 

The same goes for anger, another strong emotional feeling. I once heard a teenager say to a friend that she was going to beat up another girl. I asked her why she thought she had to get physical about a disagreement. She said she couldn't help it-- that all of her family had bad tempers and were fighters. I told her that was baloney. Maybe her family set bad examples for her to follow, but she was the one who could control her own temper. Just because one gets angry at another doesn't mean a person has to act out feelings of rage and violence towards another. But we see daily in the media where too many people have yet to learn that.

I believe everyone is capable of having dangerous or illicit thoughts at one time or another. One can choose to snuff them out immediately and do the right thing, or one can choose to allow those thoughts to continue visiting one's mind until that harmful urge, lust, or rage causes one to act on it. 

Doing the right thing involves doing the responsible thing, whether one feels like it or not. Our society used to have clear lines of right and wrong as well as defined roles of responsibility, but the lines have blurred, primarily because we've let feelings control more and more of our actions. And the desire to assuage our guilt makes us want to strike out at any person or group attempting to hold up a standard of morality.

Whether we choose to believe it or not, there are moral principles in place just as sure as there are scientific and mathematical principles governing our world. And until we latch onto a solid rock foundation of morals and live by them, we are doomed to be influenced by every whim and urge that come our way, justifying our actions by fickle feelings that change from one day to the next. 

tudorhistory.org

I think England's Henry VIII would be the ideal poster child for living life based on lust, anger, and his ever-changing moral relativism. And we see how well that worked for him.

Fallen from Grace

One of the things I love about our Comfy Socks group is that we can discuss anything among ourselves, and it's a safe environment to learn. The phrase 'fallen from grace' - Galatians 5:4 - was brought up in an electronic discussion, and it made me stop and think about what that meant.

I think since Paul was writing to Christians in Galatians, he was telling them that their Gospel +plus thinking of going back to things associated with the law to keep them in a right relationship with God or to "maintain" their salvation (and he referred to it as "fallen away from grace") didn't mean they had lost their salvation; I think he was telling them that they had corrupted the meaning of grace and had damaged that knowledge and relationship because it meant they had to do something on their part to gain and maintain their salvation when salvation by grace was actually all of God's doing. 

My mother was raised in a church where they taught she could fall from grace, meaning she could lose her salvation, so she had no assurance of her salvation until years later when a preacher from another denomination referred her to John 3:16 - 'For God so loved the world that He gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believed in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life,' - and asked her how long everlasting was.

I  think I probably caught the opposite easy believe-ism of "once saved, always saved," which meant walking down the aisle to obtain one's fire insurance from hell, and then living life however one wanted to. I remember as a church clerk having to dig back through the years of  records to find when a deceased person was baptized (which supposedly documented their salvation experience) to find a man's name who had moved away from our town years before and had never transferred his membership to another church. I'm sure it was comforting to the family to know he had walked the aisle many years before, but his life should've been the evidence of his faith in Christ. So if a name on a church roll is the only way people knew if someone had a relationship with Christ, then sadly, that's actually more indicative that he probably didn't have a relationship with Christ.

Although I knew most all of the stories of the Bible, and I could tell you the right words and answers pertaining to Christian dogma, it wasn't until my thirties or early forties that I truly grasped the concept of grace (finally)-- that my salvation was completely and totally based on what God did through his Son, and not anything else on my part other than to believe and accept it. I remember how freeing that felt because before that, the logical, human side of me kept needling me at the back of my mind that surely there was something more I could do to get on God's good side, to make my salvation stick if I did more for him.

I went from spending more time working down at the church than the preacher did (& keeping God at arm's distance) to not doing nearly as much work down at the church and focusing more on my relationship with Him. I want any evidence that I'm a Christian to come naturally out of an overflowing heart of love for and gratefulness to and dependence on Him, rather than an obligation to insure that my relationship with Him is on good terms based on what I  do for Him. I was living the Gospel+ life for years and didn't even realize it. But I also believe during that time that I was still God's child based on what He'd done for me, not on my immature and misguided thinking.

According to the book of James, he makes it sound like good works are a requirement of salvation on the surface, but when you take that message and put it alongside the rest of the New Testament, good works are the evidence of our faith and relationship with Christ. And I've learned through the years that most of the 'good works' God intends for us to do are outside of the church. It was so easy for me to work hard (and comfortably) within the walls of the church on activities and events and musical efforts with and for other Christians, and always with the hope that a non-Christian would come through the door. But most non-Christians never cross that threshold. 

I'm not discounting the importance of the church to minister and teach and edify the Body [church members]; my Bible study class is such a source of inspiration and strength to me during this time of my life, and I've learned so much from my pastor's sermons. But when our 'good works' take place only at church, I think we're missing the point of the Great Commission where Jesus says to 'go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always,to the very end of the age.' Matthew 28:19-20.