The Child will be All Right

     I'm guilty of sin, along with the rest of mankind. But truly, most of my sins have not been deliberate and pre-meditated. There was once, however, when I was so torn between what I knew to be right and what I wanted to do that I nearly lost my way.
     We'd survived a church failure, and we moved to Portland with 2 small girls, leaving 10 years of close-knit friendships and family. It rained every day, I didn't have a car, we lived 20 minutes from the church and 40 minutes from the only friend I'd made. My husband was depressed, our bedroom was so cold we bundled in pj's, bathrobes, wool socks and piled every blanket we owned on the bed--the wind literally came in the windows and moved the curtains. First service on Sunday was at 8 am--Paul had to be there early, and as we only had one car, so did I. I got up at the crack of dawn to get myself and two small children ready.
    And then I found out I was pregnant. I'm not by nature a depths-of-despair kind of person. But this sent me to the pit! I had gained weight with my first two pregnancies that I couldn't lose. I was stuck in the house in the rain with no friends or family, and my neighbors all worked. And I just couldn't imagine how I could manage THREE children on Sunday morning.
   In my despair, I stood in the shower one morning and told God, quite frankly, that if I didn't know it was a sin, I would have an abortion. I couldn't even tell my husband how depressed I was because he was SO EXCITED for the first time in over a year. Talk about trapped!
     Every time I told God what a hard time I was having, He just told me to trust Him. No promises, just trust.
     Well, I hung on. Yes, I gained almost 100 pounds due to gestational diabetes with complications. Yes, the doctor told me 60% of babies born to mothers with my condition were not normal. Yes, I contracted bronchitis and cracked two ribs from coughing. Yes, we moved again when I was 7 months pregnant. Yes, Paul went on ahead and I packed up the household by myself.
     The church that hired Paul was in the midst of revival meetings, Sunday through Wednesday evenings each week. I went every night, ignoring my swollen legs and distended belly, and stood during worship, letting the tears flow as I sang praises out of my place of fear and pain. One evening following worship we were told to turn and greet those around us. The couple sitting behind us were elderly, and the man was known to have a prophetic gifting. Knowing nothing of my fear or prognosis, he took my hand, looked me straight in the eyes, and said, "The child will be all right." An electric shock wave went through my entire body.
     A few weeks later, after two long days of labor, Tim was born. August 5, 1982 at 1:45 in the morning, weighing in at 9 lbs. 8 oz. The birth was so difficult the nurse literally jumped on my stomach and the doctor had to break his collarbone to deliver him. Tim didn't move his right arm for several hours and we were warned he may never use his right arm/hand. It took the doctor an hour to sew me up. Finally, after repeatedly poking Tim's finger with a pin, the doctor got a response--his hand twitched, he cried loudly, and the doctor gave us a very relieved thumbs-up.
     When I look back now, I see how Satan repeatedly tried to destroy Tim and his amazing potential. My son is a spiritually sensitive and gifted worship leader for Menlo Park Presbyterian, a pied piper with youth and adults alike, a master guitar player, a composer, poet and lyricist, a great communicator, and an all-around happy and fun fellow. And besides all that he is a 6'2" handsome hunk. And he loves his mama! Now I tell Tim the doctor was right; he is not normal--he is incredible!
     All this to say: Tim and his darling wife Brittany are pregnant. Our God is an awesome God.

He Sees the Sparrow Fall

In our ongoing  three-and-a-half-year struggle with Paul's non-cancerous brain tumor, he has undergone five endo-nasal approach surgeries and one craniotomy. This coming week he will undergo six one-hour cyberknife radiation treatments to render the cells inactive so they stop producing the sebaceous material that keeps filling the cyst. Due to its location it cannot be removed without compromising the carotid artery, so management is the best we can hope for (outside of Divine healing!).

As we walk through this "valley of the shadow" we are so grateful to our family, church family, community and many friends world-wide for their love, support and prayers. And God has been especially near. Last week during our ladies' Tuesday morning prayer meeting I felt God impress upon me the reassuring verses in Matthew 10 that remind us he sees the sparrow fall and we are worth more than many sparrows; we are not to fear, our hairs are numbered. I recorded the reference in my journal with a sense of encouragement. The first one to leave the building after the meeting concluded, I opened the door to find a tiny dead sparrow right in front of the door. I felt God say, "I saw the sparrow fall; I know all about your situation!"

His love and tender mercies are new every morning; great is His faithfulness!

The Servant Test

“The true test of my servant heart is being treated like one.”

At times we all feel used, abused, taken advantage of, put upon. On those occasions, in those situations, have you found it hard to remember that Jesus called us to be servants; that the greatest will be the one who serves? Grrr. I hate that when that happens . . . my pride rises up, my feelings get hurt, I get impatient, I pick up an offense—and my “servanthood” evaporates into thin air. And often I am even certain that my rights, my boundaries, my perspective is justified.

As summer is upon us, routines fall by the wayside. Heat takes a toll on good humor. Kids need ferried and funded and friended—leaving us feeling frazzled. Let’s offer the sacrifice of a humble heart and give our service cheerfully “as unto the Lord.” Seems He told us that He resists the proud, but draws near to the humble. And oh, I do so want His presence and favor in my life! How about you?

Lost and Found

Something I thought lost forever has been found! When I was fourteen, my family sold everything and moved to Australia. Our departing luggage was overweight, so my siblings and I left our Bibles in the basement of the friends (an elderly widow and son) where we stayed our last night in the U.S. My dad promised to replace them, and I still have that dainty white leather Oxford Press Bible. But the one I left behind fifty-five years ago, the one with a long list of verses I memorized and recorded in my childish script, was returned to me this past Mother’s Day! My cousin discovered it when she packed up her parents’ belongings to move them into assisted living. But the tricky part is that at the time of our move, my aunt and uncle did not live in the same town as our friends. And to make the discovery even more mysterious, twenty years ago my aunt and uncle sold their farm and most of their belongings and moved hundreds of miles away to live near my cousin, and the widow and her son both died many years ago. How my Bible got to my relatives and made the move with them and then remained tucked away in a box for half a century remains an enigma. Made me reflect on our God; He never loses anything . . . and not just Bibles. WE are engraved on the palms of His hands. Isa. 49:14-16

Armed and Dangerous

My study in I Peter has been rich. After all, you can’t talk about the role of authority in our lives—especially in independent-minded America, without stimulating a lively discussion. Or how about the role of women in the home, in the church, in the community? And then there’s that challenging word, “suffering,” that doesn’t quite fit into our “faith” theology or jive with our misconception that “I’ve been good so therefore God owes me a life of ease.” In fact, Peter uses military terminology, “arm yourself,” to tell us to mentally prepare to deal with hard times that are part of God’s will for us. (I Peter 3:14-4:1)

                Seeing the devastation caused by earthquakes, tsunamis, and aftershocks in Haiti, Japan, Indonesia and New Zealand, for example, we can see why the Apostle Peter would write to First Century suffering Christians and tell them to view hardship and persecution, both personal and societal, as an open door for ministering to people’s needs and for sharing the hope we have in Christ. Let's be alert and see life as filled with opportunities!

Aint No Ants on Me!

               When we first moved into our new condo we struggled with periodic invasions of itty-bitty ants. We discovered the building site was formerly a massive ant hill. At the most unexpected times an almost microscopic chain gang crew dressed in black would march across our tile floor or invade the laundry or bathroom. Sneaky little critters! Always looking for a hole or crack that would let them in.

                Sort of like sin, hu? Little—like white lies. Seemingly harmless. But relentless. Finding the holes in our armor.
                Yes, I rubbed them out with the sole of my shoe. And I called the exterminator. No ants welcome here. Satan, be gone! As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.

Secrets

The other day I was reminded of the inspirational idea given to me by an older friend when I was a young mom. She said she looked every day for an opportunity to “anonymously” bless someone in her family—to do something nice, something unexpected, something not done for reward, thanks or recognition for her husband or one of her children each day. Have I done it every day of my life? No. But more times than I would have without the inspiration. So—in the busyness of getting back to school and routine, look for ways to quietly bless those around you. God, who sees in secret, rewards openly.