A STONE OF REMEMBRANCE - In honor of Hilda Kohl

Often on Sunday mornings, while we’re having our coffee before getting ready for church, Jim and I watch Day of Discovery which airs at 7:30 AM on Cablevision, channel 3.  For the last several weeks we’ve been watching a very interesting and inspiring series of interviews with Ed Dobson.  Ed Dobson had been the pastor of a 1000 plus congregation when he was diagnosed with ALS.  To us Americans, ALS is better known as Lou Gherig’s disease, named after the baseball player whose diagnosis with ALS brought the disease into the limelight.

ALS’s medical name is Amiotrophic Lateral Sclerosis.  Wikipedia describes it as a debilitating, rapidly progressing weakness that includes muscle atrophy which leads to difficulty speaking, swallowing, and breathing and eventually leads to death. 

Amazingly, by the grace of God, Ed Dobson has lived 11 years with the disease.  His story of coping with his diagnosis, leaving his demanding and satisfying job as pastor, and his struggle to find answers the question, What now?, is fascinating.  The effects of the disease on his body are obvious – limply hanging arms, slow gait, slow speech – but inside that body is a man with a good mind who loves and serves Jesus with ALS in whole new ways.

Watching the series brought back memories of my dear friend Hilda Kohl, a “senior” member of our church who lost her life to the ravages of ALS some years ago now.

Hilda had been active in our church long before Jim and I got there.  I knew of her, but didn’t really know her until we began going to Wednesday night prayer meetings.  Hilda was what we in Christian circles call a prayer warrior. 

Prayer, conversation with God, is something we take seriously and all of us engage in it.  When Hilda prayed, it was evident that her prayers took her into the very presence of God.  We who listened were transported into His presence as well.  Hilda’s intimate relationship with the Lord Jesus came through in the way she prayed, in the worship displayed in her prayers, in the passion with which she prayed, and in the confidence she had that the Lord heard and would answer. 

It was in those prayer meetings that I also discovered Hilda’s heart for missions and missionaries.  Later I would learn that she had wanted to be a missionary herself but her parents wanted her to go to university.  But she made up for the disappointment by being a support – with her finances and her prayers – to those on the mission field.  She also served on our church’s mission’s committee and as such became our link to what was going on in their lives so that we could pray more specifically for them on Wednesday nights.

I remember as well the time Hilda stood with a number of others at a commissioning service at our church, preparing to go on a mission’s trip to the Philippines.  She was the oldest member of the team.  Some years later she would share with me the profound impact that trip had on her life and serve as my inspiration for going out on my first mission’s trip at the age of 61.

I remember the first Sunday that I noticed that something was wrong with Hilda. She was not her usual joyful self.  She explained that she was having difficulty with weakness in her arm and was going for tests.  If I remember correctly, there is no specific test to diagnose ALS.  Rather, the diagnosis is arrived at by process of elimination.  They test for everything it could possibly be and if all the results are negative, then the symptoms must indicate ALS.  It was months before Hilda knew what it was she was dealing with.

For some time after her diagnosis she still came to the weekly women’s study and prayer meeting at church. But there came a time when she could no longer manage the stairs.  She continued coming to church, walking at first, and then coming in a wheelchair.  But eventually, even that was too much and we no longer saw her there. 

It was after my mom’s death in 2007 that I came home with this thought, inspired I know by the Lord: “I think what I will do now is regularly visit Hilda”.  My experience caring for my mom in the weeks before her death had been such a blessing to me that I wanted to be able to provide some comfort and encouragement to Hilda as I had done with Mom.  And so began one of the highlights of my life, and truly one of those times when we set out to be a blessing and find that we are blessed.  I began a weekly visit with Hilda.  And that visit, every single week, took me right into the presence of the Lord, for He was surely there with us.

When I first began visiting, our visits were shorter.  I’d come, we’d chat.  Mostly we talked about her life: her childhood in Austria, her youthful desire to be a missionary, her time at university earning a doctorate in chemistry (!), her marriage and her children and grandchildren.  I loved learning all those things about her.  However, it was when Hilda talked about the Lord, her mission’s trip to the Philippines, and the missionary “family” she supported with regular correspondence and prayer that she became the most animated.  These were passions of her life of faith.  What an inspiration she was to me.

We always ended our visits with prayer.  I would pray and Hilda would pray.  Those were the sweetest times – Hilda, me and the Lord – fellowshipping together, sometimes with tears, in her little living room.

As Hilda’s disease progressed she could no longer feed herself or write letters to her many missionary friends.  Our visits became longer.  We would have lunch and I would help her with that.  And then I would write letters to all those missionaries as she dictated them.  It was an incredibly sad day when she dictated her final good-bye letters to each one.  I’ve wondered since whether anyone else would write to and pray for those missionaries as faithfully as Hilda did.  How they must miss her letters.

As time progressed our time together became longer and included more of the reading of God’s Word as well as the book, 90 Minutes in Heaven, which tells the true story of a man who was seriously injured and declared dead in a car accident.  The man’s glimpse into the splendors of heaven, as well as his story of recovery from his injuries, encouraged both our hearts and led to conversations about the joy that awaited us in the presence of the Lord.  Hilda knew her time was near.

That December Jim and I went to Florida for a week.  While I was there I worried about Hilda because her disease had progressed so far that breathing was becoming difficult.  Her daughter Veronika, with whom Hilda lived, had begun working from home so that she could be near her mom and care for her. 

When we got back home Jim and I found ourselves caught up in all the preparations for Christmas and so I didn’t visit Hilda again.  She died on Christmas Eve.

Sometime later Veronika asked me if I’d come up to the house and help her go through her mother’s things so that she could decide what to keep and what to give away.  Among Hilda’s things was a considerable collection of rocks.  I asked Veronika about them and she said Hilda had picked them up from all over, anywhere she had traveled.  We both lamented that we wished she had marked them in some way to identify where she collected them and what the places meant to her. 

I thought right away of the Israelites and wondered if Hilda had been thinking of them too.  In so many places in the Old Testament the people of Israel used their collected stones to identify places of remembrance where they had seen God at work.  For example, in Genesis 28:18 Jacob dreams about a stairway leading to heaven and he hears God’s voice confirming to him the promises given to his grandfather Abraham. Jacob commemorates the significance of the place where he met God by setting up the rock he used as his pillow as a pillar, pouring oil on it and calling it Bethel, meaning house of God.

We see this again in Joshua 4.  After the people of Israel cross the Jordan River on dry ground the Lord gives instructions for a representative of each of the 12 tribes to take a stone from the middle of the river bed.  When they had carried them over to the other side they were to set them there in the place where the priests who had carried the Ark of the Covenant had stood. They served as a memorial to remind the people that the Lord God had done to the Jordan what He had done to the Red Sea when He divided the water so the people could cross as they left Egypt.  Joshua said, “(The LORD) did this so that all the people of the earth might know that the hand of the LORD is powerful and so that you might always fear the LORD your God.”

I don’t know what Hilda’s stones meant to her, but her keeping them inspired me to begin my own rock collection .  Since the day Veronika and I discovered them I have been collecting my own stones of remembrance for those times in my life when the Lord revealed Himself in a powerful way to me personally.  I have rocks from retreats in Pennsylvania, and New York State, and a small bag of lovely coral colored stones used in making cement that I brought back from a mission’s trip to the Bahamas.  On each I have recorded the date and some reminder of how the Lord spoke to me or blessed me in that spot.  I hope they’ll inspire my daughters and granddaughter to do the same when they are going through my things after I have gone home to be with the Lord.

As I wrote this I discovered that today would have been Hilda’s 79^th birthday.  How fitting to think of her especially on this day.  

This blog is my stone of remembrance for my dear friend Hilda whose life was a picture of the grace and mercy of God.  May all who read it know how powerful the hand of the LORD was on Hilda’s life, in her death, and in the lives of those, like me, whom she touched.

 I know I’ve written before this quote attributed to Dwight L. Moody: “One day you will read in the newspaper that I have died.  Don’t you believe it!  At that moment I will be more alive than I have ever been.”

Hilda suffered through the ravages of ALS faithfully loving, serving and worshiping the Lord, and then one day she died.  But, Hilda is more alive now than she ever was before – looking into the face of the Lord Jesus whom she loved and served all her life.

Today, Hilda, I remember you with gratitude for a life well lived in glory to God.

THE WINDS OF LIFE CHANGE ARE BLOWING

The Lord is up to something in my life.  I recognize the signs.  He's worked in this way in my life before. The winds of change are blowing. I have that sense that the Lord has something different in store, but hasn’t yet decided to reveal all.  I’m in “quietly waiting” mode, drawing closer to Him and waiting for Him to make the next move. 

Beginning last summer I was sensing it was time to let go of my involvement in Vacation Bible School. I have always loved the non-stop energy of VBS as well as the experience of working together as the Body of Christ – young and old alike – to reach our community’s children with the love of Jesus.  VBS has often been the highlight of the ministry year for me – but recently my heart hasn’t been in it.

For the last several years I’d been responsible, with the help of others, for planning the service projects.  In the past we’ve made a variety of things – a different one for each of the 5 days of VBS.  Some years it was no sew blankets for a pregnancy center, trail mix for our town’s firefighters, cards for military personnel or a local nursing home, collecting flip flops for our high school students to take to the Bahamas on their mission’s trip, among others.  But last year, my enthusiasm was flagging.  The planning and preparation for all that, which begins at least a month before, was overwhelming, and for the first time I thought, “Maybe this will be my last VBS.”  But then the week was so much fun, such a blessing to work together with my church family that by the end I was glad I hadn’t turned the opportunity down.

And then came this year.  I couldn’t face the task at all.  I was tired from a busy year of ministry, so tired that I couldn’t imagine gearing up for the excitement of a busy and energetic week of VBS when I was already worn out.  At first I thought I’d just do it anyway, but then I had to face reality – I really wasn’t up to it this year.

Last year I was also all set to accompany our senior high youth on a missions trip that was scheduled to leave just two days after the end of VBS.  I didn’t realize just how tired I was until that trip was cancelled due to a weather related state of emergency in the state where we would be serving.  I was surprised by how relieved I was!  Until the cancellation, I didn’t realize how exhausted I was.

Since I had raised my own expenses last year and the trip was cancelled, I was technically all set to go on this year’s mission trip, but again, when the time came to commit myself I knew my heart just wasn’t in it.  Suddenly, it seemed like more energy to go than I could muster.  I love missions trips and counted it such a privilege to have been on three, all of them AFTER I turned 60!  But this time, my heart and my body were screaming, “NO!”

I turned 66 in February, so maybe I’m just not up for the energy required to work with 120 kids every day in VBS, or the profuse sweating and labor intensive work of a missions trip in which the primary emphasis is on building things and tearing them down. 

Even as I write that, I’m thinking, “Duh, this is a no brainer, Dot!  You’re 66, of course you don’t have the energy for that!”   Okay, so maybe I just have to admit that age IS at least part of the reason I’m tired and not up to that level of intensity!  I hate having to admit that!  In my mind I’m still somewhere in my 40s!

I know that while the Lord has been showing me that maybe it’s time to let go of those specific activities, He’s also indicating that some new and exciting ministry prospects are still well within my energy level! 

For example, this year I took some training classes our town library offers in how to teach English as a second language.  Armed with a few classes and a plethora of materials the library makes available to tutors, I have been blessed to have the Lord bring Eri into my life to study English.  Eri, a lovely 30 something Japanese woman with two small children, and her husband Kaz, have become real friends.  They come to our church weekly, sometimes we go to lunch or to one another’s homes, I babysit the children now and then, and once a week Eri and I meet to practice English.  Wow, what a blessing this has been and one I didn’t anticipate when I ended VBS last summer.  Eri and I are planning to resume our English tutoring again next fall.

Then back in January I began working for Mary Ann.  Mary Ann was a 69 year old woman, the mother of one of my daughter’s friends.  She had just gotten out of the hospital and was battling both leukemia and emphysema.  I visited weekly to do her food shopping, occasionally take her to her doctor’s appointments and then usually stay to have lunch.  What began as an employer/employee relationship became a friendship, and so when Mary Ann died suddenly after another hospitalization in April, I was sad and missed the blessing of seeing her every week.

It was then that the Lord began to plant an idea in my mind that I am soon to pursue with another set of training sessions.  I’m hoping to become a hospice volunteer.  Back in 2006 when my mom had a stroke she was placed in a hospice home in Florida.  I was so impressed with the care Mom received there that it was always in the back of my mind that maybe one day I’d volunteer, and so when one day recently I saw an advertisement on our church’s bulletin board advertising training classes, the Lord spoke to my heart to follow up.  So, Lord willing, I will attend those 4 training classes later this month and hopefully have another “Mary Ann” in my future to visit and minister to.

And then there's that thing the Lord is doing to change my thinking from: "I never want to move to Florida" to bring me around to this kind of thinking:  "WHEN we get to Florida. . . ."

Oh, and of course, there’s that kidney donor thing that’s still on my horizon.  All of my tests have indicated a GO for donating one of my healthy kidneys, and so now Jennifer, who'll receive it, and I are just waiting on the Lord’s perfect timing for the exchange to take place.

It’s funny how hard it has been to have to face the relentless advance of age, but all I have to do is write about it and suddenly I see it – the Lord isn’t really finished with me yet.  The doors of VBS and missions trips are closing, but other new doors, equally exciting, though less physically demanding, are opening. 

Wow, You’re amazing Lord.  I wouldn’t trade the excitement of being on some new adventure with You for anything!  Thank You for continually opening new doors I didn’t even know existed, until another one closed.

 

TUSCARORA RETREAT REFLECTIONS - MAY 2013

The long awaited yearly retreat at Tuscarora Inn in Pennsylvania has come and gone.  After two weeks of not feeling well, having battled not one but two, major infections I was feeling physically depleted, but also emotionally burned out from a long year of ministry to women and middle and senior high youth. The medication I was taking for the infections was interacting with another medication I take leaving me fuzzy brained and drained. 

All that week before I longed for Tuscarora.  I dreamed of sitting in some of my favorite meditation spots – under the lilac arbor where no one else ever seemed to go – or on the deck, or a bench overlooking the wide expanse of the beautiful and serene Delaware River. I longed to sit by myself with only the sound of birdsong in my ears while my heart stayed still, attuned for the voice of the Lord to speak His Words directly to me through His Word and the mouth and heart of the speaker. 

As the weekend unfolded, the fulfillment of my longings washed away one by one, the first in two days of non-stop rain.  There were no quiet moments in favorite little outdoor nooks – all my quiet moments were spent in the cabin my sister in law and I shared.  Instead of meditating, I found myself napping!  I was so disappointed! This retreat was not living up to my expectations in the weather department!

Having spent a good deal of the year giving out in ministry, I was also longing to be spiritually fed, encouraged, and challenged. In past years the speakers filled my ears and my notebooks with what to me were profound and personal messages spoken directly from God’s heart to mine, and pointing to the area of my life where I needed them most.    

Messages like: 

·        “Stay in the game no matter how old you are!” ministered God’s encouragement when hitting 60 was making me think that maybe my best ministry years were behind me.

·        Or “Come away with me, Dot”, when I was exhausted and drained from too much ministry and not enough time in relationship with Jesus, the only source of spiritual power and effectiveness.  

·        And “Jesus First” when I had forgotten AGAIN that Jesus – not other people, not my computer – had to be first in my affections.

All of these were playing in my mind, enhancing my expectation for what the Lord had for me this year.  A personal message from the Lord is what I longed for as I left New Jersey for Pennsylvania! But this year was not like other years.

This year’s speaker was wonderful but her presentation was not what I expected or thought I needed.  Instead of taking notes, I listened while she told the story of the sacrifices of God, beginning with Genesis, that would lead to the Perfect and Ultimate Sacrifice, the Lord Jesus Himself.  She kept us spellbound as she demonstrated how she and the missionaries in her team in Peru would verbally share the gospel message with those who could not read, and had no Bible in their own language.  It was fascinating and exciting to hear what the Lord was doing in Peru – but not exactly the kind of message I was hoping to hear.  

With no notes to review and no specific Bible passage to reread, I went back to our cabin with my Bible and sought the Lord through the Psalms.  While the time I spent with Him was sweet, the personal words I hoped He had especially for me were elusive.

So while I enjoyed some wonderful fellowship at meals with long time sisters in the Lord, and a sweet time with my sister in law, I went home feeling a bit let down at the ways in which the retreat didn’t live up to my expectations.

On the beautiful Monday following the rainy weekend of the retreat the Lord spoke to me, simply and profoundly.  His message was this:

Dot, your joy and satisfaction doesn’t depend on the Tuscarora retreat you wait for all year.  It doesn’t depend on sun shiny days or quiet spots in which to be alone.  It doesn’t depend on any speaker.  It doesn’t depend on any other person, not Jan (my sister in law), not long-time friends.  It doesn’t depend on delicious meals or the beautiful songs of birds, or the awesomeness of the Delaware River.  All of those things are blessings from me and meant to be enjoyed, but if you are looking to them to fulfill your expectations, you’re looking in the wrong place.

Your joy, peace, contentment, spiritual satisfaction and filling don’t depend on THEM.  They depend on ME and I can be found anywhere.

 At home with your house full of family and very little quiet. On rainy days and snowy days, cold and hot days too.  In the simplicity of the spoken message of the gospel, the most profound truth there is. 

Your expectations were high and you felt you missed out on something, but I was there all along. With your heart focused on dashed expectations, on the gifts instead of the Giver, you missed ME.

So this year’s retreat didn’t live up to my expectations, or what I thought I needed, but the Lord DID speak just the words I needed to hear after a busy year of ministry.  Not for the first time, I needed to be reminded that the Lord, not ministry, is to be first in my affections.

Next year when I go to Tuscarora, I’m going to leave my expectations behind and simply enjoy the Lord where I find Him, whatever the weather or the message.  I think I’m just going to pray, “Lord, reveal yourself in whatever way you choose, but don’t let me miss you!”

IT'S TIME TO RETREAT

Webster’s Dictionary defines retreat in the following ways: 

·        In military terms, it is a withdrawal from a position, especially when forced by enemy attack

·        To withdraw to a safe or private place

·        A safe, secluded or quiet place

·        A period of retirement or seclusion, especially one devoted to religious contemplation away from the pressures of ordinary life

At this particular time in my life, I am desperately in need of a retreat – in all the ways Webster’s defines it!

It’s only mid-May, a good month away from the end of a busy church ministry year, and I’m thoroughly depleted - emotionally, physically and spiritually.  I’ve seen the signs for a while – difficulty getting going, especially for nighttime ministry.  A lack of motivation and enthusiasm, passion spent; once clear vision for ministry, now blurred.  I’m overwhelmed with exhaustion, wanting to just sit under my tree, surrounded by spring geraniums and just BE.

I “heard” the Lord speaking to me about this several times in the last few months in the midst of the craziness of activity that has been my life.  He reminded me that doing things FOR Him mattered less than being WITH Him.  I heard Him, but I was just too busy to stop all that “doing” and draw closer.  I indulged in the pride of believing that I was too valuable to His work to slow down now.  After all, I reasoned, “If I don’t do this, who will?”

I thought, “As soon as this event is over, I’ll be able to slow down.”  Not so.  One event was followed by another, with some new ones added to the mix that I hadn’t seen coming, and suddenly there was no light at the end of the proverbial tunnel.  Just thinking about the relentlessness of it all added to my exhaustion.  Overwhelmed, overburdened, overstretched – I found myself retreating – in the military sense in which Webster’s defines it:  “withdrawal from a position, especially when forced by enemy attack”.

The “enemy”, sent I believe by a loving Heavenly Father who always knows what’s best for me, was illness.  A double whammy of infections made me feel miserable and physically exhausted.  It has lasted for two weeks.  As if that wasn’t enough, the medications I was given added to the mix, messing with other medications I routinely take, leaving me fuzzy minded and drained, until I was really no good to anyone.  So I HAD to do it.  I HAD to stop, and stop I did.  Full stop.  Retreat FROM all that activity – which stood like an enemy at the gate of my heart, threatening destruction.  The Lord came to my rescue, just in the nick of time.

In just a couple of hours I’m retreating in the other senses in which Webster’s defines “retreat”.   I’m heading off to Pennsylvania, to a retreat center on the banks of the beautiful Delaware River to:

·        Withdraw to a safe and private place

·        A safe, secluded and quiet place

·        For a period of retirement and seclusion, especially one devoted to religious contemplation away from the pressures of ordinary life

There I will join with other women who share my faith in Jesus.  We’ll worship together, be fed from God’s Word, rest in the Lord, renew friendships – and especially, contemplate the goodness and faithfulness of our God away from the pressures of our otherwise ordinary lives.

There I fully expect the Lord to wrap me in the comfort of His presence and administer His grace and rest.  There I fully expect to “hear” His voice, communicating what’s on His heart for my heart. 

What perfect timing for a retreat.  Thank you Lord. 

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY

When Jim and I get up in the morning the first thing we do is grab a cup of coffee and watch a little news.  Our choice of news stations varies with the frequency of commercials, so we switch around a lot. I noticed this week, with Mother’s Day approaching, that CBS was doing a series of stories focused on famous mothers and their daughters.  Yesterday it was a former Miss America and this morning it was a well-known politician. 

I love the whole idea of Mother’s Day, a special day set aside to honor mothers.  When I was a kid we even wore carnations on that day – white if your mom was no longer with you, and pink if she was.  We honored my mom with breakfast in bed, or dinner out, sometimes both.  We bought azaleas for the yard, flowers for a vase, candy for her sweet tooth.  This Sunday all over the states, kids, no matter what age, will honor their moms in some way that shows their love and appreciation.

I was really not all that interested though in celebrity moms and their children.  I’m sure those moms had an impact on their children, the way every mom does.  In the society in which I live those celebrity moms already have what many ordinary moms don’t.  They’re on TV for goodness sake.  People know them, they admire them, and that is a reward many “ordinary” moms will never know.  I’m not especially interested in them and the impact they had on their high achieving daughters.

Nope.  The moms I admire would not fall into the category of “celebrity” as our society values the word.

Let me tell you about some of them.

There is my friend Sue who has two grown sons, her only children.  One has severe cerebral palsy and has been near death more than once.  Sue regularly visits this son who is no longer able to live at home.  He cannot speak to her but they communicate perfectly in the way mothers and children do. Her other son, still living with her, has schizophrenia.  She describes him as “a handful”. 

When I saw Sue she often talked about her boys, but I knew her for a very long time before I ever knew about their special needs because she never complained about them.  On the contrary, she was always so grateful to God for those sons and for the life she lives as their mom.  She recognizes openly the hand of God in helping her be the best mom she can be to them.

If Sue ever had a desire for a career, dreams about life after she’d raised her children, a desire to travel or take classes, she long ago set them aside.  She is a mom whose children may not be able to express appreciation to her this Mother’s Day.  Sue is no celebrity. She wasn’t scheduled for a TV slot on CBS, but she’s a mom who is  honored in the eyes of her friends, and whose sacrifice is certainly noted by God.

Then there is my friend Pam.  Pam is the mother of triplet boys, all young adults, all with autism.  I always said when I thought of Pam that the Lord knew the exact kind of mom who could handle multiple children and He saved them for them.  Pam is that kind of mom.  She’s a patient, strong, determined, and very able advocate, as well as loving mom, to those boys.  I never quite knew how she managed!

Pam has a master’s degree and a gift for teaching and she used it in volunteer capacities as well as she could, but her primary role was to be mother to those boys, and it was a full time job!

Last year Pam was diagnosed with advanced cancer.  The last time I visited, near the end of a second round of chemo, I was amazed at her strength – not only physical, but emotional and spiritual.  She spent some time talking about the ordeal she’d been through and then she talked about her boys.  She was getting a lot of help with meals and help at home but she was also trying to make life as normal as possible for them.  She was still trying to pick them up from school, get them to bowling and do all the things she did before she got sick.  Not understanding fully the severity of their mom’s illness they were mostly concerned about how it would affect them.  Pretty normal for kids their age!

Pam didn’t make it on TV this week either.  Her story will probably never make her a celebrity in the eyes of the world, but in my eyes, and in the eyes of God, Pam is a very special mom who is fulfilling her role as mother to those boys just as God intended. 

Then there is my other friend, whom I’ll call Liz.  Liz is a dynamo of a lady, bright, articulate, well-educated and full of energy.  For years she has worked at different paying jobs, while serving in a number of other time consuming volunteer positions in her free time.  She has raised a very bright, polite, gentle, quiet, and absolutely delightful son.

With her son in high school, the world could be Liz’s oyster.  Her considerable intelligence, communication skill, and take charge personality could open doors of opportunity for her to rise to the top of any company for which she might work.  But that’s not what she’s doing.

What she has chosen to do at this time in her life is to care for her ailing parents.  She cared for her dad until his death from Alzheimers and is now taking care of her mom who suffers from a variety of age related diseases.  It’s a full time job that doesn’t leave a lot of time for leisure activity, or the pursuit of a paying job, or even something as simple as time alone. 

What I love about her is that she just does it - daily, faithfully, consistently – seeing the task not as a sprint, but as a marathon, doing what needs doing, pacing herself to see it through to the end.  Not surprisingly, Liz didn’t make it on TV this week either.

I’m going to venture a guess that the majority of you reading this are not a former Miss America, or a well-known politician, or the daughter of one.  Maybe you are “just” the mom of three kids under 5.  Or the mother of a disabled child you’ll care for your entire life.  Or the single mom struggling to make ends meet and be the best mom you can.  Or the adult mother and daughter now caring for your ailing parents as well as your children.  Or the mother of teens, working full time and barely keeping up with all their activities when you are finally home. 

Maybe you were thinking the same thing I was when I saw those celebrity moms: 

“Why don’t they ever show ordinary moms doing ordinary and sometimes extraordinary things – faithfully, lovingly, consistently – over the long haul?” 

Well, you’re a celebrity in my book!  And you matter to God.  The value of what you do isn’t measured by your level of success and celebrity in the eyes of the world.  It’s measured by your faithfulness to live the life God has given you, in the place where He has put you, serving the ones He has given you. 

Whether or not anyone else takes note of you this Sunday, or honors you in a way you might long for, the Lord, the One who sees, takes note Mom.     

Blessings on all of you moms this Mother’s Day. 

I WENT TO THE ZOO TODAY - AND GOD HAD ALREADY BEEN THERE

 

Last week Jim and I were in Florida and spent a morning at the Naples Zoo.  Having lived in New Jersey all our lives, our zoo “standard” is the Bronx Zoo in the Bronx, New York.  That zoo is a huge oasis of green nestled right in the midst of a thriving urban area, incongruous amidst apartment houses, grocery stores, shops and non-stop traffic.  Although all that human activity makes the Bronx a noisy place, if you listen carefully you can hear the completely unexpected sound of a peacock’s call.  When I think of the word “zoo”, it’s the Bronx Zoo that comes to mind.

 

The Naples Zoo is also nestled in a quiet area in an unexpected part of the city of Naples, but in contrast to the Bronx Zoo, it’s tiny . The Bronx Zoo could be an all day visit if you take your time to see everything.  The Naples Zoo can be seen in its entirety in a few hours.  Like the Bronx Zoo, the Naples Zoo has some of the usual exhibits, but not nearly so many. The landscaping of the Naples Zoo does not say “Bronx, NY”.  Rather, it distinctly says, “Florida”.  As you walk the paths of that zoo, there are groupings of different kinds of cactus, palm trees and an assortment of beautiful flowering bushes blooming all year round, and no traffic noise to distract.  And it’s usually hotter, even in February!

 

What I love most about the Naples Zoo is some features I’ve only seen there.  One is the daily alligator feeding.  There is a tranquil little pond in the middle of the zoo where, at first glance, you can see two or three alligators floating quietly on the surface.  But when the keeper arrives with lunch, the two or three suddenly become fourteen - all hungry alligators waiting for the keeper to feed them some chicken.  This the keeper accomplishes – by hand!

 

I’ve seen the alligator feeding a number of times and never cease to wonder how much they pay that guy to do his job, because while he’s feeding one the others begin clamoring around, getting closer by the second, jockeying for position, so as not to miss out on their share.  It’s easy to see why both the keeper and his assistant carry poles with which to poke an alligator’s snout when he gets too close!  They could never pay me enough to do his job!  Alligators can eat you!

 

While the keeper is keeping the alligators occupied, his assistant enlightens us spectators with facts about alligators.  Like the fact that alligators can swim at the speed of about 30 miles an hour, but they aren’t very fast on land.  Water is where they are most at home. And the fact that Florida is home to a whole lot of alligators, as well as some salt water crocodiles.  There’s just no escaping them!

 

What I found most fascinating wasn’t so much the alligators as the birds – a huge number of them – nesting in the trees within a foot or two of the alligator pond.  The keeper’s assistant drew our attention to them, but I think most of us had already noticed the beautiful white crane community crowding the trees at the edge of the pond.  He explained that the birds deliberately make their nests close to where the alligators swim – not because they’re not in danger of being alligator food, because they are – but because those alligators tend to keep all the birds’ other natural predators away, so their EGGS won’t become alligator food.  He said they occasionally lost a bird that way, but for the most part all of the eggs laid by the birds were completely safe from predators due to their fear of the alligator body guards.  How did those birds figure that out?

 

My other favorite exhibit is the giraffes.  I’ve seen lots of giraffes in zoos but never  up so close and personal as at the Naples Zoo.  The zoo has seven young adult male giraffes in a large pen with a high chain link fence, but what’s unusual is that zoo visitors can get relatively close to the fence.  When you do, you get a much better feel for how truly big those giraffes are.  Their legs are as long as my entire body, but when the length of their necks and the bulk of their torso is added, they tower above me.  These most elegant and majestic of creatures have always fascinated me. 

 

With such an up close view, this time I was struck by the boney structures on their heads and between their eyes, and I wondered for a moment why they needed them, but I didn’t wonder long.  While their keeper was filling us in on interesting facts about giraffes, two of the taller ones off in the background began making a lot of noise.  What they were doing, explained the keeper, was “necking”, entwining their necks and butting their heads as a means of establishing which one of these feisty young guys would emerge dominant over their little giraffe community.  I never before knew that giraffes engaged in this kind of rough and tough behavior. It did explain the need for those horns!

 

The other interesting and unique thing about the giraffe exhibit at the Naples Zoo is that they make available the purchase of romaine lettuce leaves with which you can feed the giraffes.  While some of the giraffes were busy establishing dominance, the less dominant few were lining up for free food (free for them, not for us)!  There is nothing so awe inspiring as having a giraffe extend his neck down and over the fence in order to take lettuce leaves right from your outstretched hand. 

 

While we watched one doing that, the keeper drew our attention to the giraffe’s tongue.  The giraffe, due to its height and inability to use its limbs for such things, is able to use its unusually long tongue like a prehensile thumb, grabbing the leaves and then, as an elephant does with its trunk, rolling the leaves up in its tongue to transport them to its mouth. 

 

Before we went to the zoo that day, I had been working on a series of lessons on the life of the Jewish patriarch Jacob whose story is in the book of Genesis, the first book in the Bible.  I plan to teach a series of classes on Jacob’s life in the fall so I thought I’d get a head start.

 

I had just finished looking at Genesis 28, verses 10-22. In the preceding chapters, Jacob had first talked his brother Esau out of the birthright reserved for him as the eldest by tempting him with a plate of food.  Then, with the help of his mother Rebekah, Jacob deceived his father Isaac into believing that he was Esau, and also stole the blessing reserved for the eldest brother.  When Esau heard what Jacob had done, he vowed to kill him as soon as their father died.

 

In chapter 28, Jacob, the home body, favorite son of his mother Rebekah, has hurriedly left home – ostensibly to find a wife among his mother’s relatives – but also to protect him from a very angry Esau’s vengeance. 

 

When night came, Jacob fell asleep with a rock for his pillow, and he dreamed a dream in which he saw a “stairway resting on the earth, with its top reaching to heaven, and the angels of God were ascending and descending on it.”

 

Above it, Jacob saw the Lord Himself, and heard God’s voice speaking words he had probably heard before – maybe from his grandfather Abraham, certainly from his father Isaac.  The Lord said to Jacob:

 

“I am the LORD, the God of your father Abraham and the God of Isaac.  I will give you and your descendants the land on which you are lying.  Your descendants will be like the dust of the earth, and you will spread out to the west, and to the east, to the north and to the south.  All peoples of earth will be blessed through you and your offspring.  I am going with you and will watch over you wherever you go, and I will bring you back to this land.  I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.”

 

The words were very important for they were the words of God’s covenant promise, issued first to Jacob’s grandfather Abraham and then to his son Isaac and which God was now offering to Jacob as well. 

 

What struck me from a passage so familiar to me, and which kept going through my mind as we did our zoo visit, was what Jacob said in verse 16:

 

“When Jacob awoke from his sleep, he thought, ‘Surely the LORD is in this place, and I was not aware of it.”

 

I have visited the zoo, the one in the Bronx and the one in Naples (and even the one in San Diego, CA) before and it would have been natural to visit again and enjoy the zoo for the zoo.  But Jacob was on my mind and I thought, “Surely the Lord is in THIS place”, so I looked for Him there, and found that He had been there before me, long before me.

 

He’s the One who made alligators to inhabit ponds, to move fast in the water, to live long lives, to inhabit warm, humid climates, to lay eggs and offer protection to birds. He’s the One who gave herons the “knowledge” to build their nests in trees near alligator ponds so as to protect their eggs and ensure the continuation of their species. He made giraffes to have long necks and legs. He made them beautiful and majestic, and also strong and protective.  He made them with tongues that were uniquely formed to give them aid in finding food high up in trees and then efficiently and effectively getting it into their mouths.

 

It’s easy to walk through a zoo, or anywhere really, and be completely unaware that the LORD is “in this place”, but if we keep our eyes open, we see Him everywhere - in all that He has made.  His creation brings Him glory and gives us joy. 

 “Great are the works of the LORD; they are pondered by all who delight in them.” Psalm 111, verse 2

  “You make me glad by your deeds, O LORD; I sing for joy at the works of your hands.”  Psalm 92, verse 4

I'M SORRY MRS. ELWOOD, BUT YOU HAVE CANCER

 

 In the spring of 2004 I was visiting with my mom in Florida when I had a medical issue.  I wasn’t worried about it particularly, it was just unexpected.  So I made plans to see my doctor when I got home.  I did, and he didn’t seem especially worried either, but he sent me for a few tests.  When the last one came back he said something like, “this kind of result favors a pre-cancerous condition”, which sounded just a little too vague to me.  He ordered another test, a surgical procedure this time, done in day surgery, which should help with a more definitive diagnosis.

I wasn’t satisfied, so I did something I don’t necessarily recommend, but which turned out to really help.  I looked up the term he gave me on the internet and found that it didn’t just FAVOR a pre-cancerous condition, it actually WAS a pre-cancerous condition.  Now maybe that just sounds like splitting hairs to you and you’re wondering why I didn’t put that together in my head – but this was MY body and MY brain trying to absorb the news and I didn’t get it until I saw it on the internet.  After all the internet is ALWAYS right, right?  J

Armed with the information, between the time the doctor gave me that news and the time I had the surgical procedure, I’d had time to accept the fact that I just might have to have the thing OUT before it became actually cancerous. 

During the procedure biopsies were taken and I was told the results would be in in 3-4 days.  Well, they weren’t, and it seems they never are when we’re waiting for potentially life changing news.  So I waited an entire week without hearing.  I lost some sleep, I lost some peace of mind, and I played some mental ping pong.  “No news is good news.”, I told myself, except when I told myself that not hearing must mean BAD news!

I remember when the call I had been waiting for finally came.  It was the last day of summer camp for my granddaughter Emma, who was 7 at the time, and we were at this great day camping place in New York State where there was food and games and Emma could swim with her friends.  I had a great day in the sun doing some needle work, and chatting with other parents and grandparents, periodically checking my cell phone, which never rang, just in case THAT day would be THE day.   

Around 3 PM we boarded the buses to go home and then the calls, which hadn’t reached me before because we were in the woods, set my phone buzzing like mad!  The first message didn’t bode well.  It was from the doctor’s nurse telling me to contact the office immediately for an urgent message.  That message was followed by a few other equally urgent sounding messages from the doctor’s office.  I called back right away but by then the doctor had left and was actually on his way to a vacation in Cape Cod and would call me himself with the results.  More gut wrenching waiting!  It’s the worst, isn’t it?

I will never forget that particular weekend in August because for weeks we’d been planning a long weekend away in Pennsylvania with our daughters, their husbands and our granddaughter.  If this was bad news, and it obviously was, it could ruin the weekend we had all been anticipating.  So, while waiting for the doctor’s call, I decided that whatever it was, we would not tell the girls until the end of the weekend.  So Jim and I packed up the car and with dampened spirits, headed out to Pennsylvania. 

And then the phone rang, not even a mile from the house.  I already anticipated the gravity of the diagnosis, but still the words sent shock waves through me – “I’m so sorry to have to tell you this Mrs. Elwood, but you have cancer.”  I could see Jim’s face go white as a sheet as he drove and I listened to the rest of what the doctor had to say.  I would need a hysterectomy as soon as possible but we wouldn’t know the extent of the cancer until after the surgery.

The doctor was on vacation but, bless his heart, he had already taken the liberty to schedule the surgery for that Wednesday, and he would return from Cape Cod for a person to person consult with him, and pre-surgery testing for Tuesday. 

It seems crazy now, but the first thing I remember feeling was relief that we wouldn’t have to cancel our plans with the kids.  And then the fear set in.  How bad was this going to turn out to be?  Was I facing the start of end of my life?  I could see the impact of this news on Jim’s face and my heart went out to him.  When we stopped for sandwiches to eat on the way I can remember saying something to him about how we were going to trust the Lord in this and not give way to fear, all bluster for his benefit, because I was scared to death!

The start of the Bible Study Fellowship year was just about a week and a half away and as the teaching leader, I was responsible for conducting an all day training session for our class leaders, so I started making phone calls – to the area advisor who would have to do the workshop for me, to other leaders who would pray for me, to family members who were waiting with me for the test results. 

And then something happened that can only be explained as a supernatural working of the Holy Spirit - faith kicked in and with it peace filled me, the kind of peace that settles like a blanket and immediately calms the heart and mind.  I was definitely afraid of all the unknowns ahead, but at the same time I was suddenly also confident in the Lord.  The Lord was with me, He knew this was happening and He knew the outcome.  I could trust Him, for myself and for my family.

I had decided that I would say nothing to the family until Monday, our last day in Pennsylvania and amazingly, the Holy Spirit kept me so completely at peace that I enjoyed every single minute of our time - in the pool, playing mini golf, having meals, and spending a day at Hershey Park.  Every morning before anyone else was up, I headed out to a cozy, quiet place in the lobby and spent time reading God’s Word and praying.  Those times with the Lord were amazingly calming.

On the day we went to Hershey Park I had a call from the hospital arranging my pre-operative testing and one of the girls overheard, so I had to tell, a day before I wanted.  And it did change the remainder of our time together.  The fun was over for them, and fear and anxiety set in.  It’s funny to think back on it now because everyone else was upset while I was at rest in the grace of God so I was doing the comforting!

The next few days went by in a blur.  The day of the surgery everyone was with me beforehand.  I would be out for what lay ahead, but they’d spend an anxious time waiting for the doctor to come with the results.  And when he came, they were good.  The cancer had not broken through the abdominal wall, and in the end, I wouldn’t even need chemo or radiation treatments.

I don’t know when exactly a specific Scripture struck me, but when it did, it was from the gospel of John, chapter 11 where it says:      

Lazarus, brother of Jesus’ friends Mary and Martha was sick and the sisters sent for Him saying: “Lord, the one you love is sick.”  When the servant arrived with the message, Jesus heard it and said: “This sickness will not end in death.  No, it is for God’s glory, so that God’s Son may be glorified through it.”

That’s how I felt about the cancer that I had and then just as suddenly, didn’t have.  God didn’t plan for it to lead to death, but to glory, His glory, so that Jesus might be glorified through it.

And I hope He was.  I hope that when others marveled at the incredible peace they saw in me they knew it was Jesus, the Prince of Peace, pouring out His grace on His child. 

One day I will receive a diagnosis for a sickness that will end in death.  On that day, I trust that the grace and peace of Jesus will be just as evident in and through me, settling my fears with the comfort of His presence.  I hope that on that day what will be remembered is the love of Jesus for His child and He will be lifted up and GREATLY glorified.

 

“I eagerly expect and hope that I will in no way be ashamed, but will have sufficient courage so that now as always Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death.  For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.”   The Apostle Paul, Phillipians 1:20-21