UNEXPECTED WEDDING JOY!

Yesterday we attended the wedding of my granddaughter Emma’s dad.  It was a beautiful day of celebration – and reunion – with so many of his family members we had not seen in many years.  And I was marveling over the fact that we were all there, because nearly 16 years ago, we didn’t know what the future held, but it didn’t look as if that would be it!

At that time, when our daughter Becky was just 16 years old, at a family reunion we were having in Massachusetts, she announced to us all that she was pregnant.  I don’t think any of us will forget that weekend!  We began with excitement, anticipating a weekend of fun, and ended in utter disbelief and shock.

So began a long, emotional stretch of life fraught with conflict – first, over the question of whether or not Emma should be born.  For us, there was no other thought than that Becky would have her child and my husband and I would do all we could to support her.  But not everyone felt that way.  The other family thought the pregnancy should be terminated.

We tried to counsel Becky about whether or not to keep her baby or put the baby up for adoption by raising questions for her to consider, such as:  What if her dad isn’t involved at all?  What if you never get married because a new man may not want to raise another man's child?  What if you can’t finish school? Do you still want to keep your baby?

In the end, Becky did the choosing.  Emma was born, a beautiful, chunky little baby with beautiful dark hair, and she moved into the spare bedroom in our home that had been decorated in Noah’s ark designs.  And we rejoiced.  And Emma’s dad, who had such a hard time accepting that he was a dad, went off to school in the southern part of our state.

Becky wanted him involved in Emma’s life, but she had to fight constantly to get him to see it that way, and we wondered often whether it was worth the effort and stress.  We thought long and hard about how not having a dad involved in her life would affect Emma, and I confess there were times when we thought Emma would be better off without him.  But her dad surprised us all.  After 2 years of living away he came home to finish his schooling at a near-by college because he did want to be involved in Emma’s life. So, Becky finished her last year of high school, started college herself and Emma’s dad got to know his daughter.

The years ahead weren’t easy.  There were so many arguments between Becky and Emma’s dad:  over support - financial, emotional and physical; over important issues they saw so differently (like church involvement or no church involvement); over how a new girlfriend of his could accept or not accept his having a daughter, and the fall out of all that conflict caused pain and stress for Emma and our daughter.

So, when yesterday we were privileged to be guests at his wedding, I couldn’t help but reflect on the last 16 years and thank God that things turned out so well, so unexpectedly well. 

There they were, Emma’s dad and his new bride, a lovely woman, perfect for him and so good to Emma.  Emma, looking right into her dad’s eyes and reading something so beautifully appropriate, which she chose herself in celebration of his marriage, and I marveled over their relationship.

I watched Emma dance with her Mom, take silly photos, play with her nephews and nieces, and just generally have fun, and I was so thankful.

I saw our respective families, all part of that emotionally awful time, enjoying the same wedding celebration – together – and acknowledging the blessing Emma is to us all.  Were they thinking the same things I was thinking?  What if Becky had not kept Emma and the lovely young woman she has grown up to be had not been a part of all our lives?  What a terrible loss that would have been!

I was reading Psalm 25 recently, thinking about verse 3, which says:

“No one whose hope is in You (Lord) will ever be put to shame.”

I think yesterday helped me understand.  Sixteen years ago, out of a conviction that all human life is sacred because each one is made in the image of God, we encouraged Becky to keep her child.  We counseled her with our questions to help her decide whether or not to put her up for adoption, but we strongly felt that we could not encourage her to end the child’s life.  And she agreed.

There were some who thought we were all crazy to encourage a 16 year old in her desire to have and keep her baby, like the first obstetrician we went to who was incredulous that Becky intended to see the pregnancy through.  And classmates of hers.  And some family members. 

As a family, with Becky making her choice and us supporting that choice, we did what we felt was right and welcomed her child into our lives, putting our hope in the Lord for the future – and we have never ONCE been put to shame over it.  Our hope in Him was blessed by Him. 

We have always been so proud of Becky for making her choice.  And we have been abundantly blessed, not only because we have Emma, and she is a HUGE blessing indeed – but also because of what we observed yesterday.  Joy.  The joy of a young man who reluctantly at first embraced the result of some choices of his own – and who now has a relationship with his lovely daughter he would not have had otherwise.

And the joy of two families celebrating a wedding – and a much loved daughter and granddaughter’s part in bringing two families together.

And I see the hand of God in it all. 

 

 

 

THE LORD, OUR STRONGHOLD - Ps. 18:1-3

Webster’s defines the word “enemy” in this way:

·        A person who hates another and tries to injure him

·        Anything hostile or injurious

Maybe you have no enemies in the traditional sense. There is no one you can point to and say “he or she hates me and is always trying to hurt me”. 

But what about the other aspect of Webster’s definition?  Is there anything hostile or injurious in your life that could do you real harm – like an illness, or anxiety, or depression, a hostile work environment, an abusive marriage, or any of a number of other things?

Sometimes when we are faced by an enemy there is an obvious way out – we can leave the job and find another, we can go for counseling and hope to save the abusive marriage, we can see a doctor and hope medication will help.  But what about when there is no circumstantial way out? 

David, who would one day be the King of Israel as God had promised, knew what it was like to flee from an enemy seeking to harm him.  His enemy was the current king, King Saul, who out of jealousy, kept David on the run for about 18 years, while trying to kill him.  The psalms of David written during this time reflect the fear, anxiety, depression, impatience, loss, doubt and sense of uncertainty and insecurity David felt while he ran.  You can “hear” the emotion in his words.  And yet, in the same psalms in which he expresses his negative emotions, he often also expresses hope in the LORD, who had promised him that he would one day replace Saul on the throne of Israel.

It was to the psalms that I turned this past week when our family found itself “pursued” by the enemy of fear, anxiety, doubt and uncertainty. 

If you read the blog I wrote last week you may be wondering about the outcome of the medical situation I mentioned regarding my 15 year old granddaughter, Emma.

When I wrote, we were waiting for a call from the doctor’s office to set up an appointment to follow up on a lump we discovered on her chest.  The pediatrician, the first doctor to see her, didn’t say what concerned him, but we were later to find out that he suspected it could be lymphoma, which is cancer of the lymphatic system.  He wanted her to be seen by a hematologist before the week was out and that was the call we were expecting.  They called last Tuesday and set up an appointment for Wednesday morning.

I was disappointed to discover that morning that Emma didn’t want anyone but her mom going with her.  I really wanted to go, but since I couldn’t go along, I decided that the BEST thing I could do was pray, and so for several hours that morning I prayed my way through the Psalms, praying God’s Word specifically for my daughter and Emma. 

I began with Psalm 18.  My Bible says this about Psalm 18:  “David sang to the Lord the words of this song when the Lord delivered him from the hand of all his enemies and from the hand of Saul.”

What a perfect place to begin my prayer that morning when we were battling some “enemies” of our own!  The way David described the Lord held such comfort, encouragement, and hope for me throughout that long day of waiting. 

v. 1  “I love you LORD, my strength”

If there was anything we needed that day, it was strength:

·        strength to look to the Lord and not allow the “what ifs” to distract us

·        strength to choose peace over anxiety, strength for the sake of others – to help them stay calm

·        strength to face whatever the day might hold

·        strength to endure the waiting

Physical strength for bodies easily prone to stomach upset when stressed. 

Emotional strength for emotions easily driven by fear and doubt. 

Spiritual strength for keeping mind and heart on the Lord and not on the circumstances.

David’s words affirmed the truth that the Lord just doesn’t GIVE strength, He IS the source of strength.  He Himself is my strength thanks to the personal relationship I have with Him through the work of His Son Jesus. 

I also took strength from Him knowing that both the Son and the Spirit were interceding with the Father for Emma’s sake.  And Jesus, by virtue of His finished work on the cross, is HEARD!

And the LORD is not just a source of strength for everyone out there – although those who turn to Him in faith have access to His strength as well.  His provision of strength is PERSONAL - He is MY strength – personal, intimate.  He knows me well enough to know and supply all the strength I will ever need.  His strength is IN HIMSELF. 

For this and so much more, I truly love Him, as did David.

v. 2 The LORD is:  my rock, my fortress, and my deliverer.  My God is: my rock, in whom I take refuge; my shield, the horn of my salvation; my stronghold.

In our culture here in the US, fortresses and strongholds are not familiar pictures. As I read these strong words used to describe the Lord, I tried to think of what they might look like to us. 

In the 2^nd movie of The Lord of the Rings Trilogy - The Two Towers, the people of Rohan flee to the fortress of Helm’s Deep in order to shield themselves from the attack of the armies of Mordor. 

Helm’s Deep is a fortress.  Made of stone and set into the side of a mountain, it is formidable, encompassing several stories in height.  The walls are wide enough to accommodate many men wielding bows and arrows in defense.  Its entryway is sealed with secure, heavy wooden gates.  Completely protected on three sides by the mountain into which it is built, enemy armies can only attack on one side, making it easier to defend.  Underneath are caves filled with food and water supplies and shelter for women and children to retreat to for safety.  The people of Rohan had fled there many times for safety, believing the fortress to be impenetrable, and indeed it had been in times past, but not this time. 

In the end, the armies of Mordor mounted an insurmountable assault and the citadel was breached.  With the enemy army swarming throughout, rescue finally came at the 11^th hour when the horsemen of Rohan led by Gandalf arrive, to route the armies of Mordor.

When I read that the LORD is MY ROCK, MY FORTRESS, MY REFUGE, AND MY STRONGHOLD, it’s a citadel like that of Helm’s Deep that comes to mind.

The difference is that unlike Helm’s Deep, nothing can breach God as Stronghold.  Nothing touches His children unless He permits it to enter.  The LORD is able to keep us safe in Himself for He truly IS a stronghold that is impenetrable, secure, and strong.

And He is MY SHIELD – my full body armor – protecting body, mind, heart, and spirit from the enemies of disease, fear, doubt, anxiety, and the unknown.  Nothing can touch me unless it first passes through the hands of His permissive will.

Verse 3 says: “I call to the LORD, who is worthy of praise, and I am saved from my enemies.”

How faithful the Lord was to save us from our enemies this last week. 

Throughout that day my daughter Becky remained strong and calm for Emma’s sake.  In the past, Becky often had difficulty controlling her own emotions, but this week she was mindful of wanting to stay calm and in control in order to help Emma to do so.

And Emma, who just the night before was having difficulty remaining calm and said she would refuse the testing, and who was terrified as well, endured all the testing calmly.

The result of her visit to the hematologist was that the doctor was 98% sure it was not lymphoma, or anything “bad”.   Tomorrow she has to visit a surgeon to talk about removing it.

How thankful I was to the Lord, Who is our rock, fortress, stronghold, strength and deliverer – and Who upheld us and met us where we were.  For that He deserves all our praise.

Psalm 18:1 “I love you, O LORD, my strength.”

 PS  Emma is scheduled for surgery on Thursday, Aug. 8 to remove the "thing" on her chest.  We'd appreciate your prayers!

 

 

 

 

 

WAITING. . . ASKING WHAT INSTEAD OF WHY

Waiting isn’t easy.  Anyone who has ever waited knows that. 

We wait all the time:

At traffic lights

To see the doctor

For other people to get ready

For weddings and baby due dates

For meals

Today we are waiting – for THE call to schedule an appointment caused by something of medical concern with our 15 year old granddaughter.  It’s torture.  Even a simple appointment won’t mean the end of our waiting, and we know that.  Lots more waiting lies ahead.

Years ago I remember complaining to a sister in Christ about a personal situation that was wreaking havoc in our family and especially in me personally.  I kept asking, “WHY is this happening to us?”.

My very wise friend corrected me.  She said, “You’re asking the wrong question.  You shouldn’t be asking why, you should be asking WHAT.  WHAT Lord do you want to accomplish, WHAT Lord do you want me to learn, through this situation?”

I always want to know the WHY.  Why would the Lord allow suffering in the lives of His children?  Why a child?  Why do we have to endure car accidents, and house fires, and the destruction of natural disaster?  Why disease, pain, suffering?  Doesn’t faith in Jesus give us some kind of supernatural “insurance”?

No, it doesn’t.  Oh, to be sure there are many things from which we are protected that only heaven will reveal, but while we’re here on this planet, marred by the curse of sin, we should be prepared for trials and suffering.   Jesus said so, “in this world you WILL have tribulation, but be not afraid, for I have overcome the world”. 

As fallen human beings living in a fallen world, believers in Jesus are subject to the same kinds of things as the rest of the human race.  Ah, but what a difference it makes to know that Jesus walks through them with us.  Even the “valley of the shadow of death”.

I’ll be honest, asking WHAT and not WHY doesn’t make the waiting any easier, but it does give some purpose to the waiting – waiting I’d have to do anyway. 

So of what good purpose is waiting – especially this kind of waiting?

WAITING CAUSES ME TO TURN TO THE LORD

You can be sure that THIS morning I didn’t put my quiet time with the Lord off for later.  I spent time in Psalm 17 and took encouragement from David’s words:

Verse 1

Hear, O LORD

Listen to my cry

The word LORD is God’s covenant name and I am His child by virtue of the New Covenant written in the blood of Jesus.  So I KNOW that for Jesus’ sake, the LORD DOES hear and answer my prayers.

v. 6-7  I call on you God, for you WILL answer me; give ear to me and hear my prayer.  Show the wonder of your great love, you who save by your right hand those who take refuge in you from their foes.

I already experience the wonder of God’s great love as He brings me the comfort of His presence and the assurance that He has heard!  And what a refuge He is to me from the “foes” of disease, fear, anxiety and all the “what ifs” going through my mind.

For Emma, who knows the Lord as well, I prayed verse 8:

“Keep (her) as the apple of your eye, hide (her) in the shadow of your wings.”

In the gospel of John, chapter 6, verses 67-68, when some of those who had been following Jesus were offended by His teaching and turned away, Jesus turned to the 12 and asked: “You do not want to leave too do you?”, to which Peter replied: “Lord, to whom shall we go?  You have the words of eternal life.  We believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.”

When the waiting comes, it is to the Lord that I want to go because there IS no one else who can help the way He can.

WAITING WITH “WHAT” IN MIND INSTEAD OF “WHY” HELPS ME TO REFLECT THE LIKENESS OF JESUS

If my mind is frantically searching for the answer to why the Lord would allow this, I’m more likely to be distracted by my anxiety, fearful of what next, and no help to anyone.  But if my mind is on the “what” – I’m much more likely to think of how I can glorify Jesus. 

I read this in what David says in the last verse of Psalm 17:

“In righteousness I will see your face; when I awake, I will be satisfied with seeing your likeness.”

Now it could be that David was referring to what would happen after his death when he would SEE the Lord face to face.

But I think it also has spiritual application.  What I want others to see in me while I’m waiting is NOT fretting, anxiety, and emotional irrationality or hysteria.  What I want them to see is the likeness of Jesus – His peace, His trust in the hand of a sovereign Father, His love, His compassion, His “other” focus, His desire to make the Father known.

I am encouraged through my time with the Lord in David’s psalm but that doesn’t mean for a moment that the waiting is easy, it’s still one of the hardest things we ever have to do.  But when I run to the Lord who is my refuge in times like this, He speaks His truth to my heart, and I am helped.

Psalm 18:1-2

“I love you, O LORD, my strength.

The LORD is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge.  He is my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.”

THE POWER OF TOUCH

I am not a big fan of massages.  I’ve had two before and only because I had some achy part of my body I wanted someone to loosen for me.   So when my daughter Amy gave me a Groupon for a massage for Mother’s Day, I wasn’t totally thrilled with the idea.  I know my daughter Becky loves them, so I convinced her to come along.  It didn’t take much convincing.

So last night we drove to the nearby hotel where we would get our massages.  We arrived early so we could sit in the hot tub for a while and chat and that was lovely and relaxing.  We changed out of our bathing suits and into long, warm and fuzzy robes.

When the time came for our massage appointment I was ushered into a room by a very sweet young woman named Ursula.  She gave me instructions for getting ready and left the room while I positioned myself on the massage table under some soft blankets.  When she returned, she asked me to choose the scent of the body oils I’d like from among three.  She lowered the lights until the room was nearly dark and put on some very soothing music, which wasn’t really music, but more like modulating sound, very pleasant to the ears, and comfort inducing.  And then she began her massage.

What happened as soon as she began took me completely by surprise.  I felt like a sensory sponge, soaking up all that I didn’t even realize I needed.  It was as if I was transported into the presence of the Lord so that He could minister His comfort to me through my senses.  I spent the entire hour worshiping Jesus. 

The Lord created us all to be sensory beings.  He gave me my sense of touch, a sense I indulge every time I run my fingers over fabric, or the rough bark of a tree, or the soft fur of our cat, or the fuzz of a peach, or the prickly stems of a rose or the fuzziness of a new baby's scalp. 

He gave me my sense of smell, which delights in June honeysuckle, spring lilacs, roses, a baby’s skin, chocolate chip cookies straight from the oven, spring rain, and a host of other delicious things. 

He gave me my sense of hearing which perks up at the sounds of birds saying good night to one another, and causes my head to turn at the word “Mom”.  The sounds of baby babble, women talking, laughter, puppies barking, cruise ship whistles and a myriad of other things grab my auditory attention and create joy.

He gave me my sense of taste, the ability to savor with relish the delight of summer berries, watermelon, anything Italian, coffee, turkey on Thanksgiving, ice cream, chocolate, and even frog legs!

He gave me my sense of sight, creating wonder at the complexity of spider webs, celebration over the growth of a tomato, joy over a cloudless blue sky, and rejoicing to watch my daughters and granddaughter come into the world, marveling over their perfection.

But until last night I never realized how much I would be blessed by the touch of someone else’s hands.  All I could think about while Ursula was smoothing oil on my tired joints and muscles, was Jesus.  I wondered what it would be like to see Him face to face and to know His touch on my face.  I wondered what it would be like to finally see Him and touch HIM!  I longed to sit on His lap, hug Him tightly, rest my head on His shoulder, know the sweetness of His kiss on my face. 

I thought about Mary who had anointed the feet of Jesus with perfume and with her tears and how much He valued her sacrifice of love, so much so that He drew attention to her at the banquet and said that she would be remembered for that act of worship. 

I thought about the women who came to the tomb on the morning of Jesus’s resurrection.  Because His burial had been a hurried one, there had been no time to anoint His body with spices and so they had arrived that day to complete the task, only to find Him risen.  Even though they thought He was dead, they came to anoint Him and touch Him in the process.

In that massage room all of my senses but one were being ignited, each one ministering to my spirit through solitude, shadow, quiet, aroma, and touch, and lifting my heart and mind up to worship Jesus.     

I think we humans just might underestimate the value of a touch.  We listen to one another, we talk, we share meals, we work side by side – but how often could we miss an opportunity to bring comfort through a touch? 

I came away from that massage last night feeling as if I had been in the presence of Jesus Himself, administering His comfort through the hands of another.  It was for me, a worship experience.

I’m not about to start getting a massage a week, but I will think again about how I minister to those in need of comfort.  Not all of them will want or need a touch, but I’m going to offer it, because Jesus just might want my hands to be His source of comfort to someone else in need.

Who knew what a blessing – beyond the massage itself – that Mother’s Day gift would be to me, or what a worshipful experience?

Thank you Jesus, that YOU were with there last night, in that small, dark, quiet room, administering Your comfort deep in my soul. 

ALL JURORS FROM 1-121 DO NOT NEED TO REPORT! That's so unfair! I'm juror number 122!

Yesterday I reported for jury duty.  I’d received the summons a while ago with mixed feelings.  Does anyone, ever, really get excited when they get the summons?  I doubt it.  Part of me was thinking, “I SO don’t want to do this”, and part of me was remembering the last time I served.  I actually got on a jury that time and for three days enjoyed the entire process.  I was able to have a firsthand part in how our justice system worked.  And as we jurors debated the merits of the case, I felt my opinion really mattered.  So that part of me was excited to maybe sit on another case.

My instructions were to check on line the night before to see whether I was needed.  I’m thinking they access how many jurors they need for whatever is on their case docket and then they dismiss any they don’t think they’ll need. So on Monday night I pulled up the website and saw that jurors numbered from 1-121 were not needed.  I could not believe it!  I was number 122!

While I was moaning and groaning about this twist of fate, faith kicked in.  I thought that maybe the Lord had something in mind for me and that’s why my number was still included in the list of potential jurors.

While sitting in the jury room with about 100 other people, I did see a friend from church and we chatted together at various times during the day. While that was fun, I didn't think that's why I was there.  I had a brief conversation with the lady sitting next to me but then she was called almost immediately to a courtroom for jury selection.  I finally did get called into a courtroom for jury selection, but then when the jury had been selected and I wasn't included, I was dismissed again to return to the jury room.  What WAS I doing there!

So basically I sat in the jury room from 8 AM – 4 PM and did not get called for a jury.  I wondered why in the world I had to do that yesterday.  I had no conversations of a spiritual nature directly with anyone, except with my church friend.  I supposed that could have been overheard and might have had some impact. 

But then this morning I began thinking more about it. I don’t believe that the Lord always fills us in on His purposes.  Sometimes we just go about our daily lives and He reveals something of what He’s doing, and sometimes He doesn’t give us a clue, and He doesn’t have to, He’s God.  Maybe what we are meant to do however is to be aware of the people around us, of our surroundings, and to be alert to “give a reason for the hope that is in us” whenever we have the opportunity.  I think though that the Lord did something yesterday that I might have missed altogether if I had not been wondering why I was there. 

I knew that if I was not going to be slotted to sit on a jury that I was going to spend a lot of time yesterday just sitting around waiting.  I could have chosen to sit in the larger of the two jury rooms and watched movies all day, but I’m not a big TV watcher.  However, I am a reader, so armed with two books, my Bible and my devotional notebook, I was prepared to spend a delightful day catching up on my reading.

Whenever I’m in a spiritually dry time, as I have been recently, I like to “live” in the Psalms.  The Psalms are so full of reasons to praise God, so encouraging, so expressive of emotions I’m feeling myself, that they lift my spirit up to worship the Lord, which is what I need to take me from spiritual dryness to the “tree planted by streams of water” described in Psalm 1.

It happened that yesterday I read Psalm 9.  The psalm begins with the encouragement to praise the Lord:

I will praise you, O LORD with all my heart;

I will tell of all your wonders.

I will be glad and rejoice in you.

I will sing praise to your name, O Most High.

I love it that it’s possible to sit in a room full of people, with the noise of a TV in the background and yet when our hearts and minds are focused on the Lord, we are transported to the throne room of heaven where the Most High sits, getting lost in the worship of the Triune God.  Praise was a wonderful occupation to be engaged in while waiting.

What struck me though as I sat in a building known for administering justice were these words:

Verse 7-10:

The LORD reigns forever; He has established His throne for judgment.  He will judge the world in righteousness; He will govern the peoples with justice.  The Lord is a refuge for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble.  Those who know your name will trust in you, for you, LORD, have never forsaken those who seek you.

And then there is verse 16:

The LORD is known by His justice; the wicked are ensnared by the work of their hands.

I began thinking about all the cases coming up before a judge and jury, all the mothers I saw with their young children seeking child support, people injured in car accidents, doctors accused of malpractice – and a host of other things of which I was not aware that were going on in the courts yesterday – and I began to pray.

I prayed for the oppressed who were seeking to be treated justly and with righteousness and I asked the Lord, who is a refuge for the oppressed to see that they were judged rightly and fairly.

I thanked the Lord that while human lawyers, judges, witnesses and defendants were flawed and sinful and weren’t always truthful, that justice didn’t always reign here on earth – HE is just and will always judge rightly – and thankfully with mercy as well.

I was grateful that those who know the Lord by name could trust in Him because they would NEVER be forsaken by HIM – even if a flawed earthly system did.

I prayed that in all the circumstances coming up yesterday God’s righteous justice would prevail.

I didn’t get selected to serve on a jury yesterday.  At 4 PM I was dismissed and will not be scheduled for jury duty again for another 3 years. Given that I am also a flawed, sinful person who doesn’t always judge rightly, maybe my task for the day was simply to pray that the One who always does, would prevail.

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.