A Little Healing, A Little Hope

Mothers know the out of control, helpless feelings that life can bring.  We put on a strong façade, but inside we cry out for something or Someone to help us.  We need to be helped, even as we help others. 

I know that I am not alone in watching helplessly as you see your child in pain.  I also know that I have not seen the ultimate pain of losing a child.  I cannot imagine that pain.  I sometimes make myself “go there” and walk my soul through what life would be like if I saw one of my children die.  We have come close, but we have received mercy and grace instead of death. 

In the day to day, moment by moment living, I do not dwell on such deep things.  I focus more on the laundry that grows ever higher or the second bump or bruise of the morning.  I throw up quick prayers that say, “Ok, how do I deal with this one, God?”  and “Help me to keep it in check, Lord!”  I pray for the “little” things in life.  I even pray for God to heal a little hand from warts.

My son has had his thumb covered with little warts for some time now.  It began as one and then spread all over the thumb, then spreading to the other fingers.  We attempted some of our own voodoo medicine.  Nothing worked.  We didn’t make it a big deal and we would often just forget that they were there. 

I was reminded of the warts when I would go to hold his hand to help him cross the street, or trim his nails, or help him write his name.  And when I would see them or feel them, I would pray. 

My mother and father have a story about warts and prayer.  Apparently, when my mother became pregnant with me, she broke out in warts all over her hands.  They did not know why and they could not get rid of them.  I know that they prayed, because they remembered.  When I was born, the warts just went away.  This gave me a little hope. 

As the warts continued to spread, I became more bold in my prayers.  We prayed together for God to heal him.  I also felt the gnawing guilt that a mother feels when she knows she should do more to help her child.  I felt my finiteness.  I could not heal.

Tonight, after a bath, I helped my son dry off and get dressed.  Then, I pulled him up on my lap to trim his nails and tell him a story of my own childhood.  This is a tradition of mine.  I tell the children a story when I trim their nails, to distract them from the evil metal pinchers that are bearing down upon their hands and feet. 

As I took his hand in mine, I noticed something.  It was smooth.  I looked down and the warts were gone!  I stopped, and I said, “Liam!  Your thumb, it doesn't have any warts on it!  You have been healed!”  And he said, “Yes, I guess I am, Mom.”  Everything stopped for a moment.  I remembered my parents.  I remembered feeling helpless.  I remembered that God hears and heals. 

The warts are a reminder that we are merely human.  Our bodies need healing.  Our souls need hope.  We live from one little healing to the next.  We rest on one little hope to the next. 

I will remember this little healing and I know that this little hope will grow.  It has already.

~Your Fellow Sojourner

Here is the song I sang with Liam at bedtime:

My God is so big!  So strong and so mighty, there’s nothing my God cannot do.

My God is so big!  So strong and so mighty, there’s nothing my God cannot do.

The mountains are His, the rivers are His, the stars are His handy work too.

My God is so big!  So strong and so mighty, there’s nothing my God cannot do, for you!

Someone else's cutie singing the song.

Don't Drink the Water

       While in Mexico, Chris and I were warned to not drink the water.  The likelihood of us becoming ill from the water was very high.  Bottled water became our friend; we could go nowhere without it.  And Mexico in August is hot, especially in the desert.  It makes you thirsty. 

       Thirst is part of being alive.  All living things need water.  But not all water is the same.  Thirst can drive us to do many things.  We can even grab the closest, easiest thing to try to ease the dry burning sensation of thirst.  We go to many substances in an attempt to quench the thirst that is magnified by this life.  We become like my two year old, who went to the toilet.

       One day, late in the morning, the children and I were sitting at the table conversing and enjoying one another’s company.  It was a rare peaceful moment.  Then I see a look of shock and horror come across my daughter’s face.   “What are you drinking, Elias?  Is that from the toilet?!”  I glanced over and saw my  son calmly walking away from the bathroom.  He was cherishing a green Tupperware cup full of precious water that he had collected from the toilet.  He took a long deep drink from the cup and my children erupted.  Some tried to grab it away from him, others expressed their disgust and turned away, and I admit, I just laughed.   He would not let us take it away from him.  He had found a way to take care of his thirst and he was quite proud of his discovery.  He was tired of waiting and asking for a drink of water, the water that comes from our well.  Our well water is quite good.  My husband says it is some of the best water he has ever had.  We are blessed with our water because the source is good. 

        My son did not know that the source he had gone to was a potentially unhealthy one.  He would have to rely on someone else showing and guiding him to a better source.   He needed to drink from the well. 

       Our responses to my son’s efforts to satisfy his thirst were varied.  Probably none of them were good.  We turned away, showed our disgust, and we were thankful that none of us were holding the cup of toilet water.  Someone needed to take Elias by the hand and explain that there was a better place to drink from. 

       Chris and I went to Mexico to be water carriers.  We came with the Source that had quenched our own thirst.  Some laughed as we offered the life giving water we had brought, others were intrigued, and still others practically grabbed it out of our hands and drank it down. 

I still carry around the same life giving water I had with me in Mexico.  Sometimes I offer it freely, other times I turn away in disgust, and other times I laugh in derision.  

      Many people are like my son, thinking they have found an excellent source to satisfy their souls.  I was reminded when I saw my son, with his precious cup of toilet water, that I still have the all important task of water carrier.  As I drink from the Source, I am renewed and my heart is softened.   I hold out my cup of water again.  I remember that I can be a toilet drinker too. 

        We all must drink, but the places we drink from can be deadly.  The young woman who opens her throat to another bottle of Vodka to make the pain of a shameful life disappear,  the hurt young man who grabs for a pale cold shadow of love – even for a moment,  the young mother who swallows another pill to deaden the reality of being unloved, a lonely aging grandmother who tries to hide the bottles of wine behind the plates in the china cabinet, the ever promising entertainment and possessions we fill our days and hours with – dulling our senses and causing our souls to hunger all the more.  We find that we are empty and we discover that the thirst remains.   We long for a drink that will satisfy forever.          

                         ~Your Fellow Sojourner

             “Come, everyone who thirsts,

                        come to the waters;

            and he who has no money,

                        come, buy and eat!

            Come, buy wine and milk

                        without money and without price.

             Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread,

                        and your labor for that which does not satisfy?

            Listen diligently to me, and eat what is good,

                        and delight yourselves in rich food.

               Incline your ear, and come to me;

                        hear, that your soul may live;

            and I will make with you an everlasting covenant,

                        my steadfast, sure love for David.

            Behold, I made him a witness to the peoples,

                        a leader and commander for the peoples.

             Behold, you shall call a nation that you do not know,

                        and a nation that did not know you shall run to you,

            because of the LORD your God, and of the Holy One of Israel,

                        for he has glorified you.

             “Seek the LORD while he may be found;

                        call upon him while he is near;

            let the wicked forsake his way,

                        and the unrighteous man his thoughts;

            let him return to the LORD, that he may have compassion on him,

                        and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.

             For my thoughts are not your thoughts,

                        neither are your ways my ways, declares the LORD.

            For as the heavens are higher than the earth,

                        so are my ways higher than your ways

                        and my thoughts than your thoughts.

             “For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven

                        and do not return there but water the earth,

            making it bring forth and sprout,

                        giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater,

             so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;

                        it shall not return to me empty,

            but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,

                        and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.

            “For you shall go out in joy

                        and be led forth in peace;

            the mountains and the hills before you

                        shall break forth into singing,

                        and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.

             Instead of the thorn shall come up the cypress;

                        instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle;

            and it shall make a name for the LORD,

                        an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off.”

              (Isaiah 55 ESV)

Turning Back

      I am a collector of stories.  I want to know the telling of someone else’s life, both true stories, and those stories that have been birthed only in the mind.  When I hear a story that has no ending, I put it into a category all its own.  “To be continued…”  Just like those television series that leave you on the edge of your seat.  You have to tune in next week for the conclusion, hopefully. 

      Stories are even more poignant when I am personally part of the story that is unfinished.  It means I must wait.  Some of the waiting can be easy and some can be all consuming.   But when a chapter of a story that has yet to be finished, ends with “thank you”, the waiting is eased.  I can put that story into the “ok, this is going to end alright” category.   The anxiety is lessened because I have been given the privilege to glimpse a little bit of the ending, and it promises to be good.  

       Many times I hope that the things that I do will make a difference in someone at some point.  My motives are not often good, for I find that I am looking for a certain ending in return.  But I am learning that I have no right to demand a particular outcome in someone else’s story, just as I am called to give without looking for payment in return.  “Go and be blessed” should be my refrain.  

     This is a freeing frame of mind for the giver.  It does not keep one in a place of burdened waiting, seeking the outcome of a life style change, a better person in the one that has been helped.  This outcome is not for me to seek.  This is the beauty of giving with an open hand, a hand that cannot close its fingers around anything.  It is the hand of giving that clings to nothing.  There is an immediate return of joy and peace for the one who gives and then seeks nothing else. 

     Two times I found myself on the receiving end of “thank you” this year.  To say my heart was full was an understatement.

      A neighbor girl who lived next to us for the latter half of her childhood turned back to thank me this year.  We had talked and prayed and cried into the night with this girl, pleading with her to run to God for the healing of her hurt and wounded heart.  A meal here, a time to laugh there, the gift of a kitten, a pair of shoes for the prom, a bowl of ice cream, a Christmas card and a hundred hugs.  But the story continued on, and we did not know the ending.  Then, from another state and another time in her life, she turned back.   “I never told you, Ms. Kate, but …”  I sat there, tears of joy flowing into a hand that had been kept open.  Category change.

      Another one came and knocked on our door last night.  A family, not yet all together, came to say hello and to let us know they were ok.  They had moments of need and crisis in the past and we helped in the meager ways that we could – some meals, “you are welcome here”, some money, handshakes, and prayers.  It was not much and we knew it would not bring an ultimate solution to their problems.  But, we hoped that somehow they would remember our care for them.  They could have been us – it was an honor to help them.   “We just wanted to come by and tell you…”  A joyful  miraculous gift on Christmas.  A gift of “thank you”.  Another category change.

      Why does “thank you” mean so much?  I believe that a genuine thank you happens when a person has a deeper understanding of what it cost the giver.  It could have been a monetary cost or an emotional one, and most probably, the choice to give meant that the giver made himself vulnerable.  They know that someone else cared to help fill a need and mend a wound.  Saying “thank you” is a way to give back.  In the act of turning back, the thankful one stops to honor a person.  They build a memorial, not with stones, but with words.  Thankful words full of meaning that plant themselves into our souls.  Words that sow seeds of future grace.  Grace to open our hands again.  And so I pray, “Keep my hands open, Lord.  And when I receive from someone who is turning back, may I turn again to You, and give You thanks. Amen.”

                                                                  ~Your Fellow Sojourner

            “On the way to Jerusalem he was passing along between Samaria and Galilee. And as he entered a village, he was met by ten lepers, who stood at a distance and lifted up their voices, saying, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us.” When he saw them he said to them, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went they were cleansed.  Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice; and he fell on his face at Jesus' feet, giving him thanks. Now he was a Samaritan.  Then Jesus answered, “Were not ten cleansed? Where are the nine? Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?” And he said to him, “Rise and go your way; your faith has made you well.”

 (Luke 17:11-19 ESV)

I've Never Met You, But I Love You

            When I do not love someone the way I ought, it is because I love myself more.  It is the great paradox of life.  To love in the purest way is to die to one’s self.  The world rails against selfless love and cannot comprehend it.

            Chris and I wondered at how we could love a small little family that we had never met before.  We recognized real genuine love and care for these people welling up in our hearts.  How does this happen?

            We love because Someone loved us first.  I cannot love like that, no expectations - no strings attached, if I had not known a love like that from someone else first.  It is a mystery and a miracle.  It is the love of God that compels us to put another before ourselves.

            If it was dependent on me, I could never love sacrificially without any expectations.  It must come from somewhere else.  I can be thinking only of myself and caring only for my own desires, and then from somewhere inside of me, a love and care evidences itself. I cannot love apart from a power that comes from God.

            And so, our little church family gathered around total strangers, motivated by love.  The love was mutual.  They had the same power to love, and we felt it. 

            For the rest of the day, whenever I spoke with someone who had met this family, their welfare was on their mind.  How can we help?  How can we pray?  What can I do?  We want them to know the type of love we have for one another. 

            As my husband said, “It is not wrong that we would be drawn to them and care for them like that.”  We were both quiet.  We knew we were experiencing a love that does not come from this world.  I knew we had an encounter that was planned from before the beginning of time.  Yes God, You care, You use us, You love us. 

            What did this meeting of strangers, that I now love, do in me?  It made me want to look up and out all the more.  Who else will I meet?  Who else will need prayer?  Who else will I have in my home?  Who else will I be privileged to love?

            As Ann Voskamp has said, ”When God is our God, we take His people as our people.” I hope the paper with my name and number and email causes them to know how much they are loved.  Loved by strangers, who never knew them, but who count them as their brother and their sister. 

                                                ~Your Fellow Sojourner

            [15] And she said, “See, your sister-in-law has gone back to her people and to her gods; return after your sister-in-law.” [16] But Ruth said, “Do not urge me to leave you or to return from following you. For where you go I will go, and where you lodge I will lodge. Your people shall be my people, and your God my God. [17] Where you die I will die, and there will I be buried. May the LORD do so to me and more also if anything but death parts me from you.” [18] And when Naomi saw that she was determined to go with her, she said no more.

(Ruth 1:15-18 ESV)

Come Thou Long Expected Tomatoes

            This summer I was bequeathed with a tomato plant.  I adopted it because I was the last stop before the garbage heap.  So, I rose to the challenge, and took the tomato plant home.

            I had grand ideas of luscious tomatoes all appearing on the vine in late summer due to my careful attention.  I decided to plant it close to the porch for protection and sun exposure and a reminder that I needed to water it. 

            I knew that my past track record in plant care was not a good one, but I was hoping that this time would be different.  And it was.  It grew and grew and became tall and healthy.  But no tomatoes.  How long until I would see the fruit?

            Today marks the first Sunday of Advent.  Our children know this season well.  We have been observing Advent for about four years now.  The Scripture reading, the Christmas hymns, the prayers, and of course the candle lighting.  You should have seen the first year we attempted to include Advent readings in our Christmas celebration.  It was interesting.  Children crying, Chris wondering if this was worth it, and several near misses involving fire.

            Now we are several years into it and our older children know all that will happen each night until Christmas.  It just flows.  Or, semi-flows, depending on how our two year old is feeling.  The years and repetition of looking expectantly for Jesus on Christmas Day are becoming a part of their own waiting.  The seeds we planted and the watering and care we have given to this part of our family worship is bearing real fruit now.  We can taste and see that yes, the Lord is good. 

            For several years now, I have been leading the children in a morning family devotional.  It was nothing short of painful for a long time.  The only thing that kept me forging ahead was the Word of God.   I could not get around it.  God wants me to disciple my children.  They need the daily life giving manna of God’s Word.  So, most mornings, we got our Bibles out, sat on the couch and read and discussed and prayed.  The moans and groans slowly started to fade away and then one day, a little hand tugged at the sleeve of my robe and asked me when family devotions would begin?  The fruit was showing. 

            I see a pattern in the beginnings of things that Christ calls us to do.  It is hard to break up unused, fallow ground.  It is especially hard when you are doing it alone without any fanfare.  It becomes tiresome, and discouraging, doubting thoughts begin to circle overhead.  But then, after the months and years of the same thing, day after day, you begin to see what He is up to.  The seeds begin to sprout, the growth begins, and then one day, you catch a glimpse of real fruit.  For a planter and a tender of a garden of souls, there is absolutely nothing sweeter than this. 

            The tomatoes did come.  That beautiful plant that had survived the summer began to be heavy laden with big green tomatoes.  I had to laugh.  It was not until September that they showed.  Much too late I thought.  October came and the green tomatoes kept coming.  November was around the corner, and I was not looking forward to the day when frost or storm would take the green tomato plant down.  I had come so close.  I had decided that I probably would not attempt to care for another vegetable plant next summer.  I certainly was not gifted to grow anything.  Then, one late fall evening, my husband comes in with some red tomatoes.  “Where did you get those?”  “Oh, from your tomato plant.  Those green tomatoes – they are starting to turn red now.”  What?  I laughed out loud and then, I made a salad.  And yes, there were red tomatoes in our salad that evening.  The fruit had come, and I was in awe of how sweet November fruit can be.

                                                     ~ Your Fellow Sojourner

      “Blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD,

whose trust is the LORD.

       He is like a tree planted by water,

that sends out its roots by the stream,

       and does not fear when heat comes,

for its leaves remain green,

       and is not anxious in the year of drought,

for it does not cease to bear fruit.”

                      (Jeremiah 17:7-8 ESV)

Dinner With the Millers

       I tear up when we watch The Waltons.  Why?  I think it is because they remind me of my own family.  A simple way of life centering around God and family in a rural setting.  Older caring for younger, and hard life lessons that are not as harsh as they could be because of the love that binds them together.  And there is sin.  But as Scripture tells us, we are to let love cover over a multitude of sin.  And this we have experienced, just as the Walton family does.

            This summer we had dinner with the Millers.  While we were sitting at their simple dining room table, I commented to my oldest that I felt like we were having dinner with the Waltons.  He smiled and agreed with me.

            The Millers are a simple Mennonite family that we came to know through mutual friends.  We purchase home grown vegetables from them weekly during the summer.  They invited us to eat with them at the end of the season to share in the bounty that God had blessed them with.  Bounty from the land and from the love that they have for one another.

            I have connotations just like you.  I make assumptions about people based on what I often do NOT know.  I confess that I came into their home with assumptions that I had made about this family.  I smile now to think on those thoughts now.  How many of them were wrong. 

            They dress like the Amish.  Men in jeans and button downs with suspenders, women and girls in cotton dresses with heads covered, and most of them bare foot.  The home is functional not decorative.   Mr. Miller likes to say, “Everything has to earn its keep here.”  I like that! 

            Hospitality is a main event for the Millers.  Who will be at home for dinner?  What stories will be shared?  What will we laugh about?  Like the Waltons, there is no television, books are precious, the table always ready for another chair. 

            So we ate and shared stories.  The Millers are wonderful story tellers as you can imagine.  We were regaled by stories of packing van loads of children and grandchildren to go to Paraguay, where they spent years as missionaries.  Tales of Paraguayan jails and doing laundry out in the open air and walking barefoot to church and school. 

            After dinner, Mr. Miller took down the family Bible, old and black and tattered. He waited for the family to gather around him in their simple living room.  He never said a word, but he soon realized the children wanted to play and he gently put the Bible back on the shelf. He then settled into his chair to continue with his stories.  The older Miller children, there are five still at home, took our five children outside and played.  Our children learned how to play blind man’s bluff, mother may I, tag, and circle story telling – all under a beautiful, starry, late-summer Delaware sky. By the end of the evening, all of our children were barefoot and dirty, but thrilled.  The dirt washed away, but the encounter will be a part of their memory. 

            We had spent time, almost time out of time, with fellow brothers and sisters who like us, love the simple ways of life.  No frills, just life for the sake of Another, toward others. 

            I left meditating on one thing in particular.  They did not have much.  They gave much.  They lived plainly.  But every one of them smiled.  They smiled continually.  It was their joy that touched me; joy in living a life that makes room for others.

            As you can imagine, my children instantly wanted to see them again.  This summer, you can bet that the Williams children will all look forward to taking the ride to the Miller’s for the vegetable box with their daddy.  I think that I will look forward to it too.  I need that reminder of what life is really all about. 

            ~ Your Fellow Sojourner

            ” Now concerning brotherly love you have no need for anyone to write to you, for you yourselves have been taught by God to love one another, [10] for that indeed is what you are doing to all the brothers throughout Macedonia. But we urge you, brothers, to do this more and more, [11] and to aspire to live quietly, and to mind your own affairs, and to work with your hands, as we instructed you, [12] so that you may walk properly before outsiders and be dependent on no one.”

(1 Thessalonians 4:9-12 ESV)

What's For Dinner Mom?

            It had been a long day at home.  We had been busy and evening was upon us.  Chris and I were sitting on the couch and our children were intently playing outside.  We were tired and not feeling very creative.

            “You know we just had a late lunch.  I’m not very hungry.”  “I’m not either.”  “I bet the kids will be fine.  They can just eat whatever.  I’m not making dinner tonight.”

            And somewhere in the distance, a peal of thunder and lightning could be heard.  After I said those fateful words, everything began to change. 

            I felt new found freedom.  Maybe even euphoria!  All this time.  What am I going to do?  I felt like dancing.  I would not be making dinner for 7 tonight.  Mwah ha ha!!

            The first of the children trickled in and asked what we were having for dinner.  “I am not making dinner tonight.  You can have whatever you find.  I think there are some cookies on the counter.”   Cookies?!  Well, why not?  It won’t hurt every now and then. 

            Within a couple of hours, cookies were not cutting it anymore.  I began to suspect that my decision to “take a night off from the kitchen” was not going to be without its bumps in the road. 

            Now, we often don’t have fabulous, five course, home cooked meals.  But, Chris and I always have some kind of dinner for the kids, even if its just eggs and toast.  But I decided that I wouldn't help with anything.  Not even look for the hidden box of cereal. 

            Then, my husband began to feel the effects of my freedom declaration.  He came to me with a questioning look and asked what he was to do?  I just told him, “I don’t know.  Do whatever you want.”  It was not one of my shining helpmeet moments.  He was lost.  I was stalwart.  His support system was leaving him out in the open without any back-up.  The rabble were becoming more and more dissatisfied. 

            Within the hour, the pizza delivery menu came out. 

            So, when the children would have been going to bed, they were devouring pizza that had cost us more than dollars.  It had cost us peace and joy. 

             We laugh about it now.  But, I want you to know that I purposed to do things differently after the night that I freed myself from the kitchen’s chains.

            How many things do we do in our home, in our church, in our family, that we think don't matter much to other people?  That hug and kiss every morning and night.  Those fresh laundered sheets, still warm from the dryer on a child’s bed at night.  Finding the lost keys again for the thousandth time.   Telling a story from your childhood.   Taking the trash out. 

            Scripture tells us to not grow weary in well doing, and that we are to be faithful in little before we can be faithful in much.  As my husband likes to say, the home is the training ground for leadership in every other area of life.  All good leaders are servants first and foremost.

            I saw my role as helpmeet and mother through the eyes of six other people that day.  They looked to me for a reminder that they are loved and cared for. Love and care wrapped up in a meal.  It broke my heart.  I did not know that a simple thing like a meal could impact so much. 

            So, do not loose heart.  Press on.  Iron that shirt, scrub that toilet, spend hours on the cake that will be eaten in minutes.  Doing for others often rewards us far more than doing something that only benefits ourselves.  Show the love of Christ to someone else.  Let us die a little, and find life and joy in the serving of another.          

                  ~Your Fellow Sojourner

“We love because He first loved us.” 1 John 4:19