Category: Faith

Singing With Our Mother


My mother was raised in the little coal mining town of Welch, West Virginia.  Born in 1926, she was the last of six children born to Guy and Lillian Hollandsworth.  Grandpa was the principal of the school in Welch.  He and Grandma worked hard to raise their six children deep in those West Virginia mountains.  They instilled in them a love for God; a love for family; a love of culture; and a love of good music.  
Mom, fourth from the right on the front row
I loved hearing our mother talk about how she met my dad.  They met when Mom’s brother, Luther, married Dad’s sister, Mary.  Beth saw in Jack the sort of man she had never come across.  He was kind and thoughtful, a man of quality to whom she was drawn.  And as they became acquainted, they each learned something that helped seal their interest even further……they both loved classical music.  Dad was just a farm boy from Oakvale, West Virginia, who worked for the Norfolk and Western Railroad………and Mom, from a coal town deep in the mountains, was teaching Home Economics.  But quality music was important to them, so their mutual love for the same music was important as well.
Our home was full of music as we were being raised in Princeton, West Virginia.  It seemed that music was always playing on the old record player, and later the newer huge stereo cabinet in the living room.  Most of what we heard was classical, but Mom and Dad also loved the hit musicals.  I bet all five of us kids still know the words to the songs from Sound of Music, Carousel, South Pacific, and Oklahoma.  Christmas was full of beautiful and fun Christmas music.  I remember children’s records full of fun songs, too. 
Mom, on the far right, as part of the Laidley Hall Trio, 1946-47
Mom, fourth from the right on the front row
Mom didn’t just love to listen to music.  She also had a beautiful voice, and sang in choirs and madrigal groups during her high school and college years.  She was an accomplished soloist and sang in many area churches for revival services and other occasions.  A favorite song of hers…….her signature song, really……was “I’d Rather Have Jesus.”  This is the song she was singing in a little church during a revival service one night in the early 1950’s.  Jimmie Jones was preaching that night.  Mom stood up to sing, and God used the words of that song to pierce her heart.
 
I’d rather have Jesus than silver or gold;
I’d rather be His than have riches untold;
I’d rather have Jesus than houses or lands;
I’d rather be led by His nail-pierced hand
Refrain:
Than to be the king of a vast domain,
Or be held in sin’s dread sway;
I’d rather have Jesus than anything
This world affords today.
As Mom sang those words, she knew in her heart that she had never asked this Jesus into her heart to be her Savior.  She knew that she was standing before those people singing a lie with her beautiful voice.  She walked down the aisle that night during the invitation, and Preacher Jimmie led her to the Lord.  Dad had accepted Christ months earlier but hadn’t said much to Mom about it for fear of angering her.  Now they were united not only in marriage, and children, and their love of music…….but they were spiritually united in their love for the Lord that grew and grew over the following years.
Now our family had the completed element of being raised around God’s Word, and being active at Johnston Chapel Baptist Church where Preacher Jimmie was our pastor for all of our growing up years.  Now, too, were added beautiful hymns to the music that graced our home every day.  
All of us sang and soon we children were singing together for church.  I remember one Saturday that we even sang…..live!…….on our small town radio station.  We sang and Preacher Jimmie preached, and I have no idea how we sounded way back then.  We continued to sing as we got older, and were known as the King Sisters when John left.  And during all this time, Mom was still singing solos and blessing many with her pretty voice.
Many years have gone by since those days of early marriage and raising five children.  Dad went to heaven in December of 2008, during the season of Christmas carols and Christmas joy that Mom and Dad loved the most.  And now our mother has Alzheimer’s, lives in assisted living, and doesn’t know any of us five children or our spouses……or her grandchildren or great-grandchildren……or even her Jack, her husband…..Dad.  We can’t ask her for advice or ask her to tell us a familiar family story or ask her for a favorite family recipe.  All of that is gone.
Gary and I went home a few months ago.  Everyone was there except for Jimmy and Kathryn.  As we gathered at Jan’s house, near the end of our day with everyone, I suggested that we sing to Mom.  A friend of mine, Bev, had told me about singing to her mother who had Alzheimer’s and how her mother remembered the words……and it was their last real connection.
So we stood around Mom that evening at Jan’s and we sang “Great Is Thy Faithfulness.”  To our surprise and delight, Mom joined in.  She knew most of the words, and then to our complete surprise, she sang the descant at the end…….her voice still beautiful and sweet.  You can click on the link below to see the video of her singing that song.
We sang a few other hymns as well, and then we decided to see if we could make it through our family song…….Dad’s favorite song……”Tis So Sweet To Trust in Jesus.”  Again, Mom sang most of the words in her sweet voice.  And at the end, as you can hear in the below link, she tried to describe how special that song was.  She couldn’t put her finger on why it was special……she couldn’t remember exactly……and she couldn’t find the words……but she knew.  Deep inside she knew that this song was a very dear part of our family, and a dear part of her Jack……of Dad.
I’m so thankful that we sang with Mom that evening.  We were all blessed beyond measure for that time with her.  Her heart was happy as she sang.  What memories those songs stirred in all of us, including Mom. 
Memories of wonderful parents who taught us about the Lord…..who filled our hearts and our home with music……but more importantly, filled us all with love.  And over the years, as we’ve all experienced both joys and sorrows, we can fall back on the love they gave us and the Lord they made sure that we knew personally.  Many parts of our early life are gone…..and now the Mom we’ve always known is gone……but the hope we have in Christ will never be gone.  The certainty of heaven will never be gone, where we can sing together forever! 
Tomorrow is my mother’s birthday.  She will be 88 years old……and she won’t know that it’s her birthday…..or how old she is.  But as friends and family gather around her, I hope that she knows how much she is loved.  And I hope that she joins in as everyone sings “Happy Birthday!”  
I bet she will, with a smile on her happy face and a twinkle in those beautiful eyes. 
We love you, Mom!  Happy Birthday!
And thanks for showing us over the years that you really meant it when you sang, “I’d Rather Have Jesus.”  And that we needed to mean it, too.   

My Wormy Cucumber…..and Aaron


Last night was a seizure night for Aaron.  We are so thankful that he doesn’t have constant daily seizures like our friend’s son, Elijah, has.  I told Wendy this morning that I don’t know how she does it apart from God’s grace.  I know that each of us who know the Lord depend on His grace for the many circumstances that we face in this life.  Having a suffering child is tough.  When Aaron has seizures is when I feel most vulnerable emotionally.  His autism is high functioning, though in its own way debilitating, but he at least can function.  His autism makes him at times very frustrating and it causes him to be in trouble more than we like, both here at home and at his day group.  Or then he can also be very endearing and funny, even hilarious.
But his seizures……they make me sad.  They show me the seriousness of Epilepsy…..the danger.  I may be vulnerable emotionally on these days, but he is vulnerable physically.  And as his mother, that scares me….and makes my heart hurt. 
However, I know from experience over the years that I cannot dwell on the scary or on the negative, even when it comes to my son…..my first born.  Being aware is one thing.  Being defeated with constant worry is quite another.  And constant regret……that’s one thing that I very consciously pull my mind away from when it starts down that path.  I would love for Aaron to have a normal life, a job, a wife and children…but he doesn’t and he probably never will.  Living with regret over those issues only pulls me down and doesn’t do anything to help Aaron.  Plus it’s not honoring to God, Who wants me to trust Him in all things.  That means ALL.  Even Aaron, my son, and my hurt over his pain and difficulties. 
 
Aaron slowly made it downstairs this morning after his three seizures.  He tried to stay up and awake but as is typical for him, he laid back down on the couch and fell promptly asleep.  I covered him with his favorite blanket……the animal print blanket…..and he slept deeply until he had another large seizure.  Now he is awake off and on, talking about wanting his coffee that he missed this morning……will it still be hot…….when can he have it……worried that he won’t get to drink it……typical Aaron.
 
Earlier, while he slept and with me being unable to leave this area of the house for fear of another seizure, I stood at the kitchen sink.  I was washing the produce that I had gathered in the garden yesterday evening before dark.  Some tomatoes…..okra…..a red pepper……one pear that I was able to reach from our pear tree……and a few stray cucumbers.  On one of the cucumbers I saw the unmistakable signs of worms.  The brown, crusty spots on the outside of the cucumber were my clue, so I grabbed a paring knife and cut into the peel.  Yep, there it was…..a yucky worm……and then another nearby.  It was tempting to just throw the whole cucumber away, but I’m pretty thrifty about my garden produce that we’ve worked hard to raise.  There was still plenty of good left in that cucumber, so I washed the remainder and put it with the other healthy produce.  Aaron loves cucumbers, so he can eat it later.
 
This might sound strange, but Aaron’s a lot like that wormy cucumber.  He has his issues…..his “worms”……..that disrupt his life.  The autism….the Epilepsy……they have completely changed his life from what we thought it would be.  When placed beside his sister and brother, we can see a stark contrast.  Andrea, a scientist and geneticist in a major lab……and Andrew, working on a professional NHRA pit crew.  Their lives are dreams come true for both of them.  We love hearing about their work, even when we don’t understand half of it.  It’s exciting and fulfilling for them.
Aaron is like that cucumber, yes.  He has some chunks removed……some expectations that we had for him that had to be removed.  But he has amazing value if we but stop and look.  God does NOT create mistakes.  Aaron has tremendous worth.  He draws us to God in ways we probably never would have been drawn otherwise.  He keeps us humble.  Oh, does he ever!!  He keeps us at times bowed down with worry or frustration or embarrassment.  But listen to the verse God gave me this morning:
“But You, O Lord, are a shield about me; my glory, and the lifter of my head.”  (Psalm 3:3)
I love how God gives me what I need, when I need it, from His Word.  He lifts my head to look not only up to Him, but to look at Aaron with new eyes……eyes of faith and trust in the God Who loves Aaron and loves us.  God has a plan for Aaron that is every bit as important and amazing as the plan He has for Andrea and Andrew.  We just don’t always measure Aaron’s value that way, but God does.  And He reminds me on these days that I need to as well.
Aaron……my wormy cucumber……just in this little area of my house, God has once again spoken to my heart.  
Friend who is suffering today, never doubt God’s plan and His love for you.  Let Him be the lifter of your tired head.  He does care…..He does have a plan……for all of us.
Including my wormy Aaron.  My perfect Aaron, with lots of good in him that God is using. 

Lessons From the Lone Tiger Lily


In our back flower beds we have two patches of Tiger Lilies.  They were there when we bought this house 15 years ago.  Every spring they faithfully poke their shoots out of the ground and quickly grow.  Sometime in early to middle July they burst into bloom, with their bright orange color taking center stage for several weeks.
 
This year was no exception, but somehow I thought they didn’t appear to be as strong and as vibrant as in other years.  They bloomed later this year, too.  They just didn’t seem to be the same old Tiger Lilies that we had enjoyed in previous years.
A couple weeks ago we had a thunderstorm during the night.  Between having the windows closed, the air conditioner running, and the dulling effect of sleep, it was hard to tell just how strong the wind blew or how hard the rain fell.  I got up that morning, and as soon as daylight hit I opened the kitchen blinds.  Instantly I saw it……the patch of Tiger Lilies, stripped bare of their pretty petals and standing there with nothing but their fading leaves.  The storm had blown off all the petals.  They looked stark and ugly in the morning light.
Every single Tiger Lily stalk was stripped bare of its beauty……except for one.  There in the midst of all the sad stalks was one lone Tiger Lily that still carried its orange petals.  It was actually only one part of a stalk, but there it was, alone with its blooms…….standing tall in the midst of all the damage surrounding it.
 
That lonely Tiger Lily stood there for days, even through several other storms, with its petals intact.  And every time I looked at it I thought of a verse and I pondered the lessons that this little Tiger Lily was teaching me.  The verse:  “Be strong in the Lord and in the power of His might.”  And the lessons are many.
I’ve never seen a time when so many are so burdened.  I see it in the world……ISIS, Syria, Gaza and Israel, Ferguson…..I don’t need to keep that list going.  Even the death of Robin Williams hit many people deeply.  It’s exhausting to watch the news.
And then closer to home, in our own families and lives, so many are facing issues of deep concern.  Death, illness, financial hardship, marital stress, worries about children, pressures of all sorts, hurts and disappointments……
I don’t mean to sound depressing, but this is just how life is right now for so many.  And even for those of us who walk by faith, who trust in the Lord, who try to lean on Him for our needs…..we can find ourselves overwhelmed and ready to just give up.  We feel as battered as my bare Tiger Lilies……like our beautiful petals are just about to turn loose and leave us stark and alone.  Why read our Bibles?  The words seem empty.  Why pray?  I don’t feel like God is listening and my mind wanders.  Why obey?  Where has it gotten me?
These are lies of Satan.  These are his ways of stripping us of our beauty that Christ has given us, just like my ugly Tiger Lilies that I saw that morning.  I find it very interesting that Paul, when he was encouraging the Philippians to keep maturing in their faith, told them to press forward……to forget what’s behind and to reach toward what lies ahead.

Listen to this contrast in Isaiah 1, where Isaiah was describing sinful Israel.  He said that they had abandoned the Lord and turned away from Him.  Guess what that phrase “turned away” means?  It means to estrange themselves backward.  Going backward…….pulling away from the Lord and going backward instead of forward.

 

There’s my single Tiger Lily again……standing up and standing strong no matter what was going on around it.  Even when all the other Tiger Lilies let go and gave up, this one stood strong…….like he was pressing forward instead of going backward.  And that’s what we need to do.  Don’t give up when things get tough!  Stay true to God…….keep reading His word…….keep praying…….keep obeying…..keep walking in His ways…….keep trusting.  We may not feel like it.  We may be tired and discouraged.  We may even doubt God.  But don’t go backward…..keep going forward.
It reminds me of a verse from the old hymn, The Solid Rock:
          His oath, His covenant, His blood
          Support me in the whelming flood;
          When all around my soul gives way,
          He then is all my hope and stay.
Stand tall.  Stand strong.  Look forward.  And keep your petals on!
         

Caterpillars and Butterflies


This morning I read another small section of Elisabeth Elliott’s book Keep a Quiet Heart.  In the chapter entitled There Are No Accidents, Elisabeth talks about interviewing Judy Squier.  Judy was born with no legs, so Elisabeth asked Judy to write a letter to the parents of a little boy born without arms or legs.  I quote from part of the letter that Judy wrote to these parents:
“’What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the Creator calls a butterfly.’  As humanity we see only the imperfect, underside of God’s tapestry of our lives.  What we judge to be ‘tragic – the most dreaded thing that could happen,’ I expect we’ll one day see as the awesome reason for the beauty and uniqueness of our life and our family.”
She goes on…….the whole section is excellent and struck a deep chord in my heart.  But my mind has been on that caterpillar and butterfly all day.  You see, last November I wrote a blog about how Aaron found a butterfly and how he wanted me to hold it.  It was a special moment for me that taught me such a sweet lesson.  Today I’m thinking of other aspects of that butterfly……who was first a caterpillar.
 
I’m thinking of the day that we first heard Aaron’s diagnosis of Epilepsy.  I remember how shattered I felt as I sat at my desk that night in Germany.  Our little blond headed blue eyed son had what?  Epilepsy?  What does it mean?  What WOULD it mean?  And I cried, deep sobs of pain and acceptance.  Nine years later……another doctor, another place, yet another diagnosis.  Autism?  Asperger’s Syndrome?  What does it mean?  What WOULD it mean?  And again, when the children were asleep, I cried deep sobs of more pain and more acceptance.
Pain and acceptance have been our familiar companions all along this journey with Aaron.  I know that many other parents feels this pain, some more acutely and more severely than we ever will.  The pain of medical tests….the pain of medicines for this and more medicines for that….the pain of hospitals…….the pain of IEP’s in school…..the pain of moving and having to introduce our child all over again in our new world…..the pain of his questions…..the pain of peer rejection……the pain of trying to understand what makes him tick and what just ticks him off, and why……the pain of my guilt when I blow it and I erupt along with Aaron…..the pain of questioning God……
Pain comes naturally.  Acceptance is a decision that I make.  Acceptance is usually slower.  It certainly has been for me.  Maybe he’ll get all better with time.  Maybe the seizures will go away after puberty.  Maybe this new drug will do the trick.  Maybe he can have surgery.  Maybe the VNS will kick in.  Maybe it’s not really as serious as all that.  Maybe the autism will improve with this diet.  Maybe those guys will be Aaron’s friend.  Maybe Aaron won’t move so much and talk so much during church today.  Maybe he won’t be grouchy when his bus comes to pick him up today.  Maybe he’ll just love his day group.  Maybe he can hold a job one day and be like everyone else.  Most of the maybes don’t happen…….and acceptance slowly sinks in.  Reality of life with Aaron has been slow going……very slow going.
But it’s not the end of the world.  It may the end of the world as we know it as far as our hopes for Aaron in certain areas……….but just like that caterpillar, there is beauty in this life that God has given us.  “What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the Creator calls a butterfly.”  I held a butterfly that day last fall as I stood outside with Aaron, and I hold a butterfly in my life as I look at Aaron.  That’s because God is sovereign, and He has a plan for Aaron and a plan for our life with Aaron.  It’s a plan of beauty, even when I can’t see it as such.  
 
I have to hold on to that truth on the bad days, the sad days, the worried days, the heart-rending days of this life.  Oh, we have laughter and delight with Aaron but underneath it all are the concerns and the frustrations and the weight of always thinking about our special son.  And I deeply feel the weight of so many other moms……friends that I love and friends that I hurt for as well as they fight this fight and live this life for their special children.  
I want to tell them that God is weaving a beautiful tapestry of their lives.  They don’t feel it or see it any more than I do on many days, but God truly is a God of purpose and beauty.  So we lift each other up, we cry together, we pray for each other, we try to encourage one another……and we trust our sovereign Heavenly Father even when He doesn’t seem to answer our prayers in the way we want.
Acceptance…..of Who God is…..and how much He loves me and He loves Gary, and Andrea and Andrew…..and especially our special Aaron.  I want to hug my other moms of special children…..Wendy, Goldie, Shikara, Cheryl, Trish, Louise, and so many others.  I want to say that I may not have great words of wisdom, but I do have the truth….as do you…..that God is in charge of making caterpillars into butterflies.  
And He can…..He will………bring beauty into and out of our lives with our special children. 

Too Loud For Quietness


My thoughts lately often turn to the subject of quietness.  I’m not talking about the external quietness that we so often desire.  I get more of that sort of quietness than many people do, especially you moms with young children or those of you that work outside the home.  No, I’m talking about the inner quietness of my heart…….the quietness of contentment and peace, no matter what distractions I have around me. 
This type of quietness is hard to achieve outside of having a deep faith and trust in God.  Yet even though I may give myself daily to the Lord, beginning each morning with a new resolve to stay totally in tune with God and trust Him completely, I often find my heart……my insides……..my thoughts……..churning and stewing over this and that until I drown out the still, small voice of God that calls me to quietness.  
Life happens.  The world keeps turning and the news doesn’t get any easier to hear on most days.  Friends are hurting, neighbors need us, obligations demand us, chores press in on us……….life.  Even the dog needs to be fed!
And for me, there’s Aaron.  Last Monday he was in a terrible mood, but with God’s help I was able to be calm and to defuse him.  A stop for cheddar pasta salad worked miracles, believe me!  I was full of thankfulness, and was thinking over and over about how much God speaks to me through these lessons with my son…………lessons about God’s great love to me when I am most unlovely.  Boy, was that ever driven home the next day when I exhibited my unloveliness!  I totally lost my temper with Aaron, and then was full of guilt and remorse.  That day, I was the one who needed extra love.  And my heart was anything but quiet.
We never know what a day will hold.  There was Wednesday, after the upheaval of Monday and Tuesday, when Aaron had a doctor appointment.  We went to lunch at Chili’s after his doctor visit and just had a delightful time together.  Who would have thought that two hours after this picture was taken, Aaron would be laying in his bed having a huge seizure during his nap?  As usual, there was no warning……..nothing to prepare me or him for that.  And there again was another disruption to my quiet heart.  
 
On Saturday, we had a funnier disruption.  I was sitting on the patio, taking a break after doing some yard work.  Aaron joined me as Gary continued weed eating nearby.  As usual, Aaron was talking up a storm……and the more he talked, the more he rocked in the patio chair.  I looked down for a second and suddenly heard a grunt.   Looking up, I saw that Aaron’s chair had fallen backwards and he was laying in the grass…….laughing, thankfully.  One minute he was rocking and talking……the next he was flat on his back, feet up in the air, and thankfully unhurt.   Funny, but unexpected.
 
I remember when our children were young that there were many times I thought, “Oh, if only I had a day to myself.”  Now the kids are grown and gone, except for Aaron……but he’s gone to his day group every weekday……..during a good week.  Anyway, now I find myself thinking, “Oh, if only I had a day with Andrew and Andrea.  Too bad they live so far away.”   Then there are those evenings now when I think, “Oh, if only Aaron wouldn’t keep talking to me or asking me to do something with him.  If only I had an evening with no expectations or interruptions.”  And many times when I think, “Oh, if only Aaron wasn’t so grouchy……or so loud……or so demanding……..or so whatever.”  In other words, I tend to be pretty demanding myself of what I think will make my life just as it should be.  And out the window goes any hope of a quiet heart as I try to manufacture the perfect life that will create the quiet heart I crave.
I just started reading the book Keep a Quiet Heart by Elisabeth Elliott.  She said, talking about developing a quiet heart in this loud world, that “The secret is Christ in me, not me in a different set of circumstances.”  Wow!
So often I want the different set of circumstances……when in reality, the circumstances I am in are the ones that God wants to use in order to develop in me a quiet heart……..a heart of trust despite what’s going on around me.  A heart of acceptance for what He has allowed and even ordained to be in my life.  
Elisabeth also said, “Every assignment is measured and controlled for my eternal good.  My assignment entails my willing acceptance of my portion.”  It’s how I respond to my circumstances that will dictate my level of quietness and peace………not the circumstances themselves.  Like Paul said, “I have learned in whatever state I am in, therewith to be content.”
I’ve walked with the Lord for a long time, and still I have so much to learn.  I sure am glad that God is patient, even when I’m not.  I still want to tell Him that He’s using the wrong measure for me.  “Lighten up, Lord!” I sometimes say.  Instead I should be accepting and even thankful for what He measures out in my life.  That’s when I know I will experience a truly quiet heart.  
For quietness really is surrender, even while life spirals around us.  It’s Who we surrender TO that makes the difference……not what we’re kept FROM. 
Be quiet…..and know that I am God.

Lessons From the Beetles and Worms


It’s been an interesting June here in Kansas.  We’ve had lots of rain…..over 10 inches!  It’s been really nice.  Our grass is so green, flowers are pretty, and our vegetable garden is thriving.  But looking closer the other morning, as I was finally able to gingerly walk on the muddy ground among the vegetables, I was very disappointed to see a familiar sight.  Some of the squash plants had a familiar wilt about them……sagging leaves that point to that old squash beetle that attacks the roots.  Sometimes you really have to look to find the beetles, but you don’t have to look hard to see the evidence of their destruction. 
Then over the past several days, Gary and I have made another discovery in our pecan tree in the front yard.  Caterpillars.  I know there are technical names for the variety of caterpillar they are, but suffice it to say that these web worms are destroying the leaves on our pecan tree.  We fight them every year, but this year they have just multiplied tremendously in a short time…….and now we have quite a mess.  We can definitely see these ugly worms, and can surely see the damage they are causing.
This morning I walked out to the garden to take a quick look.  It was still too muddy to venture in yet after receiving several more inches of rain night before last, so I just stood there at the edge in the wet grass, looking at the summer squash and the zucchini and the cucumbers.  The summer squash plant that I first saw made me really stop and think.  The right side of the plant was droopy even in the morning coolness.  Not just droopy, really, but downright wilted……gone…..dead, I do believe.  You could definitely see the tall weeds growing up around the dead leaves………weeds that had been able to proliferate because I had been unable to spend time fighting them.  Weeds that were clearly seen now because the leaves were hanging over, dead as can be.
 
The other part of the plant looked healthy and strong.  Its leaves were upright and vibrant in the morning sun, belying the fact that right beside it was its wilted half.  It’s like a fight was going on there…..life and death……good and evil.  Again, I couldn’t see the culprit……the squash beetle was hidden from my sight.  Yet I sure could see the result of the battle that was taking place there.
I later walked around to our pecan tree, checking once again on our worm situation.  There they were, thousands of worms doing their dirty work for all to see.  Both of these plants need our attention if they’re going to live and grow.  Both are in real danger if we don’t do something soon.  


 
I’ve been feeling like my squash plant looks lately.  Part of me is all vibrant in my walk with God, and some days I feel strong and spiritually productive.  But on other days, no matter what, I have a heaviness around my heart and feel like I’m wilting.  What are the culprits on those dead days?  Why is it that I can spend time reading my Bible and praying, and still feel like I’m just getting nowhere? 
Like the squash beetles, out of sight, I know that Satan is trying to eat away at my roots.  I find it hard to concentrate, find it difficult to pray, and often can’t really put my finger on the problem.  It’s easy to just want to give it up…….to wilt and say there’s no use in continuing to try.
Other times, I’m like the pecan tree.  I can see the problem for sure, just as we can see the worms crawling all over that tree bark.  I can point to the sin that so easily besets me and then confess it.  
 
I feel like some of you are like me.  I know that God warns us to be alert.  Satan is slinking around, working overtime to discourage us.  Sometimes we can’t identify the cause of our weaknesses, and other times we can see the cause very clearly.  Either way, we need to take action.  Paul told the Ephesians to “be strong in the Lord and in the power of His might.”  He told them to put on the full armor of God in order to stand against the schemes of the devil.  Paul told the believers in Ephesus that they were in a battle against spiritual forces in dark places, and he told them how and what the armor of God is……how to take it up, put it on, and use it to its full capacity.  God’s Word…..faith….truth…..righteousness……the gospel.
And to pray at all times while being alert.  Pray…..when we don’t feel like it.  Pray…..when we’re wilting.  Pray…..when we see our sin outright.  Pray….when hidden sin is eating away at us.  Pray…..when we don’t understand why we’re weary and tired.  Pray…..when we do understand why we’re weary and tired.  Pray anyway.  Pray always.  Just pray……faithfully pray, with thanksgiving……with confidence……every day.
We’re going to fight our beetles and our worms that are trying to destroy our squash and our pecan tree.  And I’m going to fight, with God’s power, the schemes of Satan that are trying to bring me down. 

I Think I Should Know You


Today is my birthday.  I’ve been enjoying special messages and phone calls and cards and gifts.  It’s wonderful to be remembered on this special day, even though I don’t expect all that kind attention.  But on this one day, this day of my birth, it really is nice to know that I am thought about and loved.  
I’ve heard from friends, some old and some new…….even some that I have never physically met.  Facebook has opened up some friendships with people that I feel like I know well but have actually never seen face to face.  I’ve had messages from friends that I have known from all the different places that we lived during our military career.  Of course, I’ve also heard from family in various ways today. 
The person I have not heard from today, and that I know I will not hear from at all on this special day, is the woman who is responsible for this day of my birth.  My mother.  I no longer expect a card from her, or a gift, or even a call.  The woman who gave birth to me no longer even remembers that day years ago that she came in from mowing the lawn while Dad was at work, and ended up in labor at our local hospital.  Not only does Mom not remember that day, she no longer remembers me.
Gary and I went home to West Virginia last week for a brief visit.  It had been far too long since we had been home to see family.  It was past time to go.   And it was also past time for my mother, who has Alzheimer’s.  I knew from what family said that Mom wouldn’t know me.  To experience that reality, though, is far different from just hearing about it.
Jeanie, my sister-in-law, took Gary and I to see mother at her assisted living home.  She lives in such a beautiful setting in those West Virginia mountains.  We’re all thankful for the good care she receives there and for how happy she has been……she and her precious cat, Princess.
We walked in to her apartment with Jeanie just as Mom was coming out of her bedroom, pushing her walker in front of her.  Mom realized that somehow she knew Jeanie, although she doesn’t really know how she knows Jeanie or who Jeanie is or what her name is.  But as for me and Gary…….there was hardly a glance in our direction, for Mom had other things on her mind as soon as she saw Jeanie’s familiar face.  She and Jeanie talked for a minute, and went to check on Mom’s concerns, with still no notice of Gary and me. 
When they returned to the living room, I went over to Mom but still she didn’t have any reaction to my being there.  No hello…..no “How are you?”………no “It’s so good to see you.”……..no hug…….no emotion at all.  And certainly no recognition.  I patted her shoulder, wondering if I should hug her, and still she hardly acknowledged me.  
Jeanie and I sat on the couch, Gary sat on the recliner, and Mom sat in her chair with the ottoman in front where she could lift her legs, her feet somewhat swollen.  It was then that Mom seemed to realize that we were there and that she didn’t know who we were.  I felt strange, as if I had entered the home of a casual acquaintance or was visiting a shut-in for church or something.  I didn’t really feel like I was sitting with my mother whom I hadn’t seen in way too long.  It was the first time in my life that my mother had not seemed glad to see me.  There was no rudeness, just distance and unfamiliarity.  
Mom was so polite, so gracious to these people that she didn’t know.  Again that feeling of unfamiliarity hung over the room.  Here sat the woman that I had known for my entire life, who loved me like no other…..like a mother loves her child………yet who at this moment was puzzling over who we were and why we were there.  
She talked about her concerns over her colitis issues, although she doesn’t understand that it’s colitis.  To her this is new and serious and has never happened before until recently, and so Jeanie kept assuring her that Dr. Pam knew all about it and that there was no cause for alarm.  I listened to Mom as she tried to talk about other things as well, seeing that many words were lost to her.  Common words like window or cat or bed.  She struggled to express her thoughts in every area because the words escaped her, and I could tell that this frustrated her.  She knows that she doesn’t know, to some extent, but the ability to bring up the correct words is largely gone.  
And there was still the matter of this strange couple sitting in her living room, smiling and talking as if we knew her.  Mom would stop and shake her head, and then say, “You just seem so familiar.  Now who are you?”  
“I’m Patty, your daughter,” I’d hear myself telling her.  Telling my mother that I was her daughter…….how odd.  I was prepared for this.  I wasn’t really surprised, but still that feeling of unfamiliarity was hanging over the room like an unwelcome presence.  It dawned on me as we repeated the introductions over and over that what I wasn’t prepared for, totally, was that when we told her who we were……….when I was identified as her daughter and Gary as my husband…….that she basically showed no joy at that revelation.  Again, she was polite and she smiled and even showed some surprise……but she didn’t show the joy that a mother would show at seeing her long absent daughter.  The connection to that emotion was gone.  Again, unfamiliarity.
“Your voices just sound like someone I should know,” she said several times as we talked.  And she would again shake her head, trying to piece together in her mind what she very vaguely remembered but what was mostly lost.  She was especially fascinated with Gary, more so than with me, and this made us smile. 
“You’re so tall and so handsome,” she said to this new man in her living room.  “Now who do you belong to?” she asked him.  Gary would point to me as his wife, and Mom would look at me and say, “So you’re his wife?”  I laughed and wondered why she was surprised.  She wanted to know, over and over, if Gary worked.   “What is it you do?” she would ask.  And over and over, in various ways, he tried to answer her question as simply as possible.  
Later, as we got up to leave, I hugged and kissed this dear woman who is my mother…….though she didn’t know that she is my mother.  That evening, we picked her up for church.  Jeanie had asked me to curl Mom’s hair.  Mom sat in her chair as I carefully rolled her fine, baby-soft hair around the hot curling iron……so fearful of burning her.  I thought of how many times this dear woman had no doubt curled and cut and combed my hair.  Now here I was, doing the same for her…….except she had no idea who this nice woman was who was fixing her hair.  It was a sweet time, mixed with the bittersweet.  My mother and I…………the once cared-for now doing the caring.  
We walked into the church foyer, Mom rolling her walker in front of her.  Her body is more stooped and frail now, which makes her even shorter than she always was.  She motioned for me to lean down close so that she could say something to me.  She pointed to John and said, “Look at that one.  I think I should know him.”  I just smiled as I told her that that one was John…….her son.   The preacher.  And she was surprised and she smiled at that news……….as she has now for months when she is once again told that the preacher is her son.  
John later motioned for me to come over.  He told me that Mom had come over to him, pointed to me, and said to John, “Look at that one.  I think I should know her.”  So we laughed.  Poor Mom.  That one……and that one……and that one.  Who are all these people that I think I should know?  The familiar is now so unfamiliar, yet she is aware that she should know.  
 
The next day we had a family gathering at Bob and Jan’s house.  It was a wonderful time of talking and laughter, of catching up with each other and enjoying time together.  Mom still asked who that one was or who that other one was, but eventually she just settled in to enjoying the commotion and the conversation.  As the day wore on, I came to the conclusion that Mom doesn’t really even know what the word “son” or “daughter” or “grandchild” means.  I don’t believe the relationship those words conveys really registers with her anymore.  
She, in typical Mom fashion despite her lagging mind, called a little family meeting in order to talk to us about her colitis concerns………though she didn’t refer to it as that.  She just told us that this worries her and she thinks it might be the end of her, but then she showed that spirit she’s always had as she firmly said, “But I’m not going to let it get me down!”  That’s our mother!
We sang hymns, which I want to write more about in another blog.  It was incredibly sweet and touching to all of us.  And before I knew it, I was hugging my mother good-bye and kissing her soft cheek.  She had no clue whom she was kissing or why, but she welcomed the love and she returned it to this woman that she no longer knows.  And she once again noticed Gary before she left to return to her apartment…….that tall, handsome man.  “Now, are you married?” she asked one more time.  We think Mom has her eye on Gary!
My dear little sweet mother.  She doesn’t remember Dad.  At least she is not grieving his death anymore.  None of us can change this disease of Alzheimer’s or the sad effect it has had on her.  She is lively, yet vacant.  She is kind, yet reserved.  She is talkative, yet clueless.  She is aware, yet at a total loss. 
John and I talked on Wednesday night.  He said that Mom is gone.  Yes, the mother that we’ve known and loved is indeed gone.  What made Mom our Mom is forever gone.  We love and honor this dear woman that is in our lives now, and we remember her as Mom.  But she is no longer in that role in our lives.  
Mom said it well, too, when we were visiting her in her apartment.  She was talking about her physical worries, and she said, “I just don’t know why this is all happening……but I know I’m going to a better place.”
John has said that he sees evidence of the Lord in Mom’s life……..of the work of the Holy Spirit……..even when she’s not aware of it.  I saw it then, in this truth that Mom spoke.  Such a blessing!  “I know I’m going to a better place.”  
We have hope, despite the ravages of Alzheimer’s.  And someday, in that better place that Mom talked about, that unfamiliar feeling will be gone……..forever!…….to be replaced with healing and wholeness and love. 
She’ll know us all.  That one…..and that one…..and that one, too. 

Mother’s Recipes


I’m a child of the 50’s and 60’s.  It was for the most part still a time of innocence and good old fashioned values.  Growing up on North Third Street in Princeton, West Virginia was an experience that I dearly treasure.  There at nearly the top of third street sat our house, with large maple trees out front and apple trees in the back.  We were surrounded by neighbors, most with kids the age of us King kids.  I remember riding bikes, skating, playing hop scotch and jumping rope in the street, sledding in the winter down the Lockhart’s hill, climbing trees, having sleepovers with friends, and playing kick-the-can until our parents called us in at night.  It was a wonderful, carefree childhood. 
Certain sounds and smells carry me back to that time.  When I smell fresh mowed grass, I think of Saturdays when Dad or John would mow the lawn.  Then I can almost smell Mom’s pinto beans, onions, cornbread, and fresh tomatoes out of their garden.  That was a summer Saturday routine at our house.  So many of the highlights of my youth seem to end up in our kitchen where Mom worked her magic.  Our kitchen was the heart of our home.  We cooked and ate and talked and laughed and cried in that one room. 
Of all the things that my mother did so very well, I think her cooking is the thing that we and others remember the most.  Mom was an expert seamstress, a great organizer of our home, a responsible director of the school food service programs in nine WV counties in later years, a college graduate, and she was a beautiful soloist.  But oh, her cooking……
I can still see our kitchen table overflowing with her homemade rolls, ready for her to package and put in the freezer.  She cooked in bulk and cooked ahead because she was just that organized.  Down in our basement, there were two upright freezers full of all sorts of goodies and essentials.  Not only did she freeze, and also can, garden vegetables and fruits, she also made endless dozens of cookies and then froze them in empty coffee cans.  Who can count the number of trips we kids must have made to those freezers, where we would open the door, crack open the coffee can lid, and snatch a frozen cookie…….and then breathe into it as we held it in our mouth, our breath thawing each bite just enough as we ran back outside to our play.
Inside those freezers were stacks of her homemade pizza crusts, each crust separated by waxed paper from the one underneath.  There were little bags of frozen homemade pizza sauce in just the right proportion for each pizza, as well as bags of frozen toppings such as cooked hamburger or sausage, pepperoni, and cheese.  Her pizza was the best!
I’ll never forget how she would bake hamburger on large sheet pans and then cut our hamburgers into squares.  And because you shouldn’t put a square hamburger on a round bun, she made her own square buns.   She even made hot dog buns, and somehow got the recipe for Dairy Queen chili, to boot!
Who of us can forget preparing for Thanksgiving dinner?  Mom’s Cranberry Jello Salad was a staple every year.  She would let each of us kids take a turn at her food grinder, dividing up the cranberries and the whole orange slices equally between us.  We would then turn the handle of the grinder as we listened to the popping of the cranberries and the squishing of the oranges.  The experience is just not the same now with the whirring motors of our food processors.  But it all comes back to me in a rush every time I taste that salad in my own kitchen.
Sunday dinners were always a large affair, with a roast or maybe some fried chicken, and all the fixings.  Often we would have a pastor or a visiting missionary eat with us.  Then we would eat in the dining room and use her good china.  She even had autumn china that had leaves on it, which I thought was pretty amazing.  She taught us the proper way to set a table…….fork on the left, knife on the right with the serrated edge facing the plate, and then the spoon. Drinking glass on the right, above the knife and spoon.  We all knew Mom’s strict rules, too.  Do NOT take seconds until the guests have had seconds.  Do NOT put your elbows on the table.  Do NOT interrupt the conversation.  And by all means, do NOT look at each other and start laughing during dinner!!  That was the hardest one to obey, trust me!  Laughter was always just seconds away at our house.  
  
Sometimes when money was low at the end of the month, Mom would make fried mush for us to eat.  We just loved it, all buttery and soft.  Mom was embarrassed, though, and we never understood why until we were older.  And sometimes after church on a Sunday night, we would all sit around the table and drink her wonderful hot chocolate while we ate buttered toast.  
We never left for school in the mornings without breakfast.  But it wasn’t only breakfast that Mom made sure we had.  She would also have us open our Bibles with her, and she would then read the devotional Our Daily Bread with us before we left to hurry off to school.  We would follow along with the scripture in our Bibles as she read, and then we would listen to her read the devotion, and we would pray.  
I have some of my mother’s recipes.  Actually, I have many of her recipes.  I spent a year at home between college graduation and marriage, so I took lots of time at home to copy her recipes.  Most are in my hand writing.  
 
I especially treasure the ones that are in her handwriting.  They are bent and stained and are becoming hard to read as they fade with time, but I would NOT trade them for the best typed recipe in the world.  Not at all!  For her handwriting makes me feel that I have a part of her with me each time I use that recipe.  
 
Our mother gave each of us, however, the most important recipe there could ever be.  She taught us how to live, teaching us about the proper ingredients and the instructions of living life in the right way.  It went far beyond how to behave at the dinner table when company was there.  It was much more than how to cook a meal, clean off the table, and wash the dishes in the unique way that she followed………and that I bet each of us girls still follow today.
Our mother taught us how vital it was that we ask Christ to be our Lord and our Savior, which we each did at an early age.  She made sure that we knew the importance of beginning our day with time in the Bible and in prayer.  Dad left for work very early so it was up to Mom to be sure that happened……and she faithfully did just that, even when she had to go to work as well.  She taught us to consult the Bible about decisions; to let God have the final say when we wondered what to do about all the issues we faced as we grew up; and to be faithful in attending church, not letting any other activity be more important in our lives.
She taught us girls to be modest, and what to look for in a husband.  Her favorite quote, which she shared many times with me, was – “God gives His very best to those who leave the choice with Him.”  She taught us to handle life’s good times with thankfulness and the bad times with trust.  And she showed us how to handle any situation…….ANY and ALL situations…….with humor.  
Her recipes for life are hidden in our hearts, not written on a card and tucked away in a file.  Her five children, and hopefully our children, carry those values with us every day.  Those instructions are seen in our decisions, our values, our attitudes, our hopes, and most certainly in our laughter.  
Our mother doesn’t know us now.  She doesn’t remember Dad.  She is struggling with some health issues and with Alzheimer’s.  But the ingredients with which she raised us are, and always will be, a part of us.  Her life is bearing fruit in her children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren.  It’s a sweet savor, more wonderful than the smell of her fresh baked rolls.
            “She looks well to the ways of her household, and does not eat the bread of
            idleness.  Her children rise up, and call her blessed.”

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.  We love you.

God’s Gift…..Baffled But Blessed

 I was reading 2 Kings 4 yesterday – the story of the Shunamite woman.  It’s a story you may know, but what I read in my commentary/devotional book by Dale Ralph Davis gave me a new insight that totally blessed me……..so I hope it will do the same for you as well.  You probably know the story.

Elisha often passed through Shunem on his travels through Galilee.  A Shunamite woman of wealth and standing began opening her home to Elisha, extending her hospitality by offering him food and rest.  This woman urged her husband to add a room on to their house, a guest room of sorts where Elisha could spend the night.  During one of those stays, Elisha decided that he wanted to reward the woman for her kindness.  He asked her if he could put in a good word for her to the king or to the captain of the army.

The Shunamite woman said no to Elisha, explaining that she had all that she needed or desired right there in her own community.  But Elisha still wanted to do something to thank this woman, and so Gehazi, Elisha’s servant, reminded him that the Shunamite had no son……….and her husband was very old.  Elisha called the woman back and then proceeded to tell her that by this time next year, she would have a son.  At first she didn’t believe it, but sure enough, to this woman and her old husband a son was indeed born. 

When the son was grown, he went out to the field one day to help his father.  He complained of his head hurting and was carried back to his mother, where he soon died.  He was placed on the guest bed in Elisha’s room, and then the Shunamite rode a donkey to Mt. Carmel, where she found Elisha.  She grabbed his feet and in great distress she reminded him of God’s promise of a son for her.  A promise that now ended because her son was dead.  Elisha returned to her house, and through God’s intervention the son was restored to life.

What so impressed me as I read Davis’ commentary was this:  The Shunamite woman, when asked by Elisha if he could put in a good word for her, said no…..that she had all she needed.  She had no need of a favor or a good word or anything, really.  She had position and money, a husband and a home, and a strong community.  No needs.

Yet at the end of this story, she is very needy as she pleads for Elisha’s help.  What had made her needy?  God’s gift had made her needy.  God had given her a son, a beautiful gift of a son, but through that gift she had now become very needy.  God gave her a gift, but then He took it away.  Does this mean……that God is mean?  Does He enjoy giving good gifts only to enjoy taking them away?  Does He “make glad, only to increase the pain?  Does He lift us up only to drop us all the harder?” (Davis) 

The Shunamite clutched Elisha’s feet and sobbed in bitter distress as she pleaded for his help.  And in her sobs and her distressful pleading, she was exercising faith in God.  The God Whom had so blessed her was now perplexing her and crushing her.  And as Davis said, “What can you do when God’s mercy has turned to malice?  Take the bitter distress and in it keep clutching at the God you don’t understand.  We have a word for that: faith. (Which tells us, by the way, that faith is not serenity.)”

My mind turns to our Aaron when I read these words.  He was such a wonderful gift from God to Gary and me.  We had been married for over five years when he was born.  He was a precious little 6 lb. 4 oz. bundle of blessing to us. Our firstborn!  I knew that no other woman on the earth had ever felt as much joy as I was feeling as I looked at him in my arms.  I was so proud and thankful.  A son!  Boys were rare in our family and there I was, with a son.  A SON!

The days turned into months and the months into years.  Then came the seizures, along with behaviors that only increased with age instead of improving.  School issues, finding doctors, trying all sorts of medicines, friends or lack thereof, sibling problems, the autism diagnosis, endless meetings with professionals, embarrassments, and constant awareness that our life was often rotating around Aaron.  It was overwhelming, and totally not what I thought life would be like for us and our Aaron……our son.

It was often hard to capture that joy and pride I had experienced when he was born.  I loved Aaron……I love him now……but it’s often been through a haze of sadness because of his condition, and frustration because of his behaviors.  As I read what Dale Davis wrote, though, it hit me square in my heart.  God’s gift of Aaron to me has made me needy…..and being needy has made me learn to rely on God in a way I might not have done otherwise. 

 
Like Davis said, I have often found myself clutching at the God that I don’t always understand….and that is called faith.  “Faith is not serenity,” Davis said.  That’s certainly true in my life.  Not only is life with Aaron rarely serene, but the raging questions and disappointments in my heart are anything but serene. 

Is Aaron our thorn in the flesh like Paul had?  Maybe.  I do know that beside certain verses in my Bible I have written Aaron’s name and a date, my signpost of ways that God reached down and spoke to me concerning Aaron issues.  God has certainly used this gift of Aaron to draw me to Himself in a way that perhaps I would not have ever experienced without Aaron in my life. 

I want to remember that phrase……..God’s gift has made me needy.  Needy for God and needy for faith………a faith exercised in sometimes very trying circumstances and a faith exercised without always having answers to my questions. 

Davis said, “……the story is here to reveal your God – the God Who delights to amaze His ‘ordinary’ people with good gifts; Who sometimes baffles us with the mysterious sorrow He brings…..”

God baffles, but He also blesses. 

Much like Aaron does in my life………from baffling to blessing, over and over.     

Do You Know Shiphrah and Puah?

If you had asked me this past Saturday who Shiphrah and Puah are, I would have responded, “Uh………you know, as familiar as those names sound, I’m just not remembering Shiphrah and Puah right now.”  Perhaps some of you know of these two women, but I would have drawn a blank.  Not now, though.  Yesterday’s message at church from Exodus 1 reintroduced me to these two women, and I’m very thankful for that privilege.
For a little background, the people of Israel had traveled to Egypt under the rule of Joseph.  Jacob’s family grew and grew, filling the land of Egypt and becoming mighty.  All the original Israelites had died, including Jacob and Joseph, as well as the Pharaoh who knew and loved Joseph.  A new king arose over Egypt who did not know Joseph.  This king became fearful of the numbers of Israelites who lived in the land, thinking that if there was war then the Israelites would join with the enemy and overtake Egypt.  Therefore, this king made the Israelites become slaves……….but the more he afflicted the people of Israel, the more they multiplied and spread out.
Seeing that Plan A wasn’t working, this Pharaoh moved on to Plan B.  He ordered the Hebrew midwives to kill all the boy babies that were born, thinking that this barbaric form of birth control would limit the growth of the Israelites and thus eventually rid Egypt of the Jews.  This is where Shiphrah and Puah come in.  They were midwives……….probably two chief midwives.  Pharaoh instructed them to kill the boy babies that were born to the Israelite women but to keep the girl babies alive.  Simple enough, right?
But Pharaoh didn’t count on one complication.  Exodus 1:17 says, “BUT the midwives feared God…….”  This fear of God forced Shiphrah and Puah to make a decision.  Verse 17 continues, “……….and did not do as the King of Egypt had commanded them, but let the boys live.”  So sure enough, Pharaoh found out that Shiphrah and Puah were not killing baby Israelite boys………and he called these two midwives to come in for a little meeting.
I don’t know how Shiphrah and Puah felt at this point, but I imagine they were more than a little scared.  This is Pharaoh, who had no qualms about killing innocent baby boys and other Israelites as well.  From everything that was going on around him………….everything that he had initiated concerning the Jews…………..this Pharaoh seems more than a tad bit brutal.  I wish we knew all that was said at this appearance before Pharaoh.  I love thinking of the bravery of Shiphrah and Puah!  Yet it goes far beyond being brave.
Shiphrah and Puah were obedient to God, first and foremost.  I imagine that they feared Pharaoh………..but they feared God more.  This is the fear of God that involves reverence OF Him, and trust IN Him.  It’s the fear of God that Peter and the apostles had when they were given strict orders by the authorities not to teach about Jesus anymore………and Peter answered in Acts 5:29, “We must obey God rather than men.”
So back to Egypt.   I had never paid much attention to the fact that in verses 20 and 21, God lets us know that He was “good to the midwives.”  Verse 21 clearly says that “…….because the midwives feared God, that He established households for them.”  God blessed them and was good to them because of their obedience.
I really like Shiphrah and Puah.  I love the example they have set for me…………an example that is both profound and yet very simple.  Obedience to God comes first, in every single area of my life.  Obedience takes many different forms for each of us, but in whatever area that God is requiring obedience to Him, it’s best to obey.  Solomon said it so well in Ecclesiastes 8:12, “Although a sinner does evil a hundred times and may lengthen his life, still I know that it will be well for those who fear God – who fear Him openly.”
Shiphrah and Puah probably wondered if they would have their heads cut off……….or worse………..as they stood before the king and declared their loyalty to God.  I don’t know what my obedience to God will cost me, but obey I must.  I do know that God promises it will be well for me if I obey.  His blessings take various forms, and some we won’t see until eternity.  But we can take God at His word and know that it will be well for us when we fear Him, and fear Him openly.
Shiphrah and Puah are amazing!  Not because they were women, or because they stood up to mean old Pharaoh, or because they saved babies………all of which are important…….but they are amazing because they obeyed God above anyone and anything.  That’s the kind of amazing I want to be, every day, through good and bad.  Whatever the pressure……whatever the decision………whatever the pain……….whatever the outcome………

 

Fearing and obeying God!