Category: Faithfulness

My Purpose

I don’t remember how long ago it was, but I do remember that I was having a very normal day. Nothing exciting. Nothing terribly interesting. Certainly nothing spectacular. One of those days that if asked, I would have a hard time really saying what I had done during that day. Not that I hadn’t accomplished anything, but what’s to talk about when it comes to errands, cleaning, laundry, and ironing?

In fact, that’s what I was doing when my phone rang. Ironing. Ironing Gary’s work clothes for the next day. My dear friend, Atha, was on the other end of the phone. I have to admit that when she asked what I was up to, I was a little hesitant to tell her. You see, Atha is Dr. Athalene McNay. She was working on starting her own business. She was a college and university professor. She never, ever made me feel inferior. She is one of my dearest encouragers and friends. It was my own self that made me hesitate before I just told her the truth. I told her I was ironing, feeling in my heart that somehow what I was doing sounded so mundane and boring and unprofessional compared to her life.

And dear Atha, who always lifted me up, said, “Patty, you are established in your purpose.”

I remember standing in that bedroom, overwhelmed by her simple statement. Suddenly I felt that ironing was pretty important after all. I told her how much I loved her words as I processed their significance in those few moments. I’ve never forgotten it. I think of it often. I relish what those words mean.

Established in my purpose.

I was surprised last week to walk out our back door and see our Forsythia bush in full bloom. It’s so early for it to be blooming, but we’ve had unusually mild weather for weeks now.   This past Saturday I pruned just the very top spindly limbs that were way too tall, but I left the beautiful blooms alone. This is the prettiest it’s bloomed in many years. We see it instantly when we walk out back. We can see it from the road behind our house. And when we drive up to our house, it and the other smaller one just jump out at us with their bright color from far away. Impressive. Satisfying to see. An instant draw.

IMAG01630

I’ve also thought of another bloom that caught my eye last year. I came out our front door one day and my eye was drawn down to a beautiful rose colored bloom. There it was, one lone Gerbera Daisy blooming while all the other plants were just green with no blooms in sight. It was just one little flower, it’s open side toward the house, all alone and hardly noticed. No one could see it from the road in front of the house, much less from far away. Some of its petals had fallen off, so it wasn’t even perfect. But I was drawn to that pretty little flower’s bright color every time I came outside. It cheered me and made me happy to see it. Its smallness didn’t diminish its beauty or its effect on me.

IMAG00665

The little daisy was as established in its purpose as is my big Forsythia bush. Both doing what they are intended to do…..bloom where they are, as they are, and to accomplish their purpose.

Established in their purpose.

Can I say the same? Can you? Do you know the purpose that God has for you?

I knew before I ever married that I desired to be at home with any children that God blessed me to have. I loved being able to do that! I loved home schooling them. I’ve always loved being able to keep our house running smoothly. And little did I know that God would give us Aaron, whom I still care for here at home. Atha knew that about me….knew my God-given desires and knew that I needed to know on that day the truth that she said. The truth that was a shot of encouragement in my veins.

I was established in my purpose.

I have to admit that my purpose doesn’t often seem very grand. I’m more like the small daisy, when many times I wish I could be a big bright Forsythia. We don’t like to admit it, but we all place a certain value on being big and bright and beautiful in the eyes of others. Being important and noticed. Making a splash.

Somehow ironing clothes doesn’t quite fit the bill.

But it fits the bill in God’s eyes, if that is part of the purpose that He has given me. All of us has a purpose. So let’s be established in it.

Like Paul said to Archippus: “See that you fulfill the ministry that you have received in the Lord.” (Colossians 4:18)

My established purpose is my ministry, whatever and wherever it is.

My wonderful friend Atha suffered a stroke in December. She is still in a rehab center as she recovers. It’s been a very difficult road. I plan to hold her hand soon and to tell her how her words have been impacting me once again. And to remind her that in the place she is now, as hard as it is, she has a purpose there.

IMAG01538

Be established in your purpose, Atha. God has a reason and a plan in all of this for you.

And I will remember, too, on so many levels, her words to me.

“Patty, you are established in your purpose.”

May all of us be just that!

Fixing My Broken

 

I sit here at the kitchen table, one ear on the washing machine and the other on the baby monitor. Our washing machine was having some trouble two nights ago, so yesterday when Gary got home from work he opened up the back and got it all fixed. At least we hope it’s all fixed. That’s why I’m listening as it washes a second load this morning, wanting to be sure it’s working as it should.   A broken washing machine is no fun!

And my other ear is on the baby monitor because Aaron had two hard seizures last night. He’s been out of bed this morning, drinking his requisite three cups of coffee and then back to bed. He will sleep off and on today as he recovers. I’ll continue to listen for further seizures, which he often has during the day following his night episodes. Poor Aaron. He and I are still hoping to take supper over to Shawna and Aaron’s other friends at the house in which they live. He keeps asking if we can still go and I keep hoping that we can. Why do seizures have to so often mess up his fun times? It makes me sad for him. So in a sense a broken Aaron is no fun, either…..for him, certainly.

I don’t look at Aaron as broken, but I look at his seizures that way. They interrupt his life so often and so it breaks my heart for him. They break into his routine and into his plans, mess up his sleep and his following day, make his bitten tongue so sore, his head hurt, and all the rest that goes along with these awful things.

It makes me think about how we live among so much brokenness. There are so many broken issues and broken people all around us. Just this week I visited my dear friend, Atha, who is still struggling as she recovers from a stroke. Our friends in Texas, Steve and Dona, are working hard on his stroke recovery. Another friend’s son died from cancer early this morning. A friend is undergoing heart tests this morning. Our own daughter will soon have more medical tests run as her body continues to show a problem as yet unfound. Scrolling through Facebook…..looking at my prayer list……visiting with others on the phone or at lunch only confirms the deep hurts and problems that many are facing.

Our broken world is marred by sin, fractured back in the garden as Adam and Eve willfully disobeyed God. We and our world continue to bear the consequences of that sin in a universe imperfect now, not as God planned. But it’s not hopeless. Not at all. God made a way for each of us to come back to Him through His own Son. Jesus paid the price of sin, and for all who are called and respond to God through Jesus, there is life and hope.

God fixes our broken.

But we still have this life here, lived in broken bodies and in a broken world.

I watched Aaron on Sunday morning as he cut the Sunday coupons for me. This is his Sunday routine, performed faithfully for me as only Aaron does. In fact, he won’t let me come near the coupons with a pair of scissors because I don’t cut them correctly. Aaron cuts on the dotted line as best he can. Not near it. Not beside it. Not close to it. He cuts ON the dotted line.

Then he takes the little strips of paper that he has cut off and he meticulously snips them into tiny pieces as he holds the strip over his special trash can that’s just for that purpose and no other. It takes lots more time than necessary, but he doesn’t care about that. He has always, and will always, clip coupons and paper strips in this fashion. It’s very fascinating to watch.

IMAG01602

After the coupon is cut, he slowly and methodically places it into the coupon box. He doesn’t just toss it in. He slowly and carefully puts each coupon in its position, all neat and orderly. Look at the coupon box from this past week.

IMAG01618 1

As I think of the brokenness of life and of our world this morning, I’m reminded that for believers God is much like Aaron as he clips my coupons. God is full of purpose and planning for my life. He carefully cuts, always ON the dotted line, and He puts events and people and order into my life in the exact way that He knows is best. He is structured and precise as He takes each individual element of my life and places it exactly where it needs to be. His timing is perfect. His placement is always on spot. I may not understand it all. I may not like it all. But I know the One Who is doing the clipping and the snipping and the placement of each single area of my life, and of those I love.

And I know that I can fully trust Him to do it right. It’s called sovereignty.

“The Lord will accomplish what concerns me; Your lovingkindness , O Lord, is everlasting. Do not forsake the works of Your hands.” Psalm 138:8

Someday, maybe not until heaven, I’ll be able to open that box that holds my life events. I’ll see it all together, clearly, and I know that I’ll see order. I’ll see the plan of God. I’ll see each piece of my life put down just where and how God wanted it, always for my good and for His praise.

Even when I mess it up, God brings order back into it as I allow Him to do that. He loves me that much, like the verse above says.

So I’ll let God do the clipping, even when I don’t understand it or even agree with all of it. Because I know I can depend on Him to do it right, every single part and piece.

He keeps His ear on us, and He fixes our broken. He’s the only One Who can.

Can You Be Sure?

Aaron had a seizure at 4:30 this morning.  It was around two minutes long, shorter than some but always too long.  No seizures at all is definitely preferred, but that doesn’t seem to be what God has planned for Aaron in his life.  His nocturnal seizures are why Gary and I still sleep with a baby monitor on our nightstand.  Aaron knows that I go into his room when I hear a seizure and that I’m there to help him as needed. 

Aaron got out of bed around 7:00.  I would need to look in his log book that he keeps to see the exact time. 

OK, I just snuck in his room and took a peek.  He wrote down his getting out of bed time as 7:02.  Isn’t he funny and amazing?

He drank his three cups of coffee, as always…..and he bugged me about a fourth cup, as always.  He said his head hurt, too, as always it does after a seizure.  I can only imagine.

And as always after a seizure, he decided to go back to bed.  He told me his plan, but he wasn’t forgetting about that fourth cup of coffee.

“Can I have a fourth cup when I get out of bed?” he hopefully asked.  And I gave him some hope that he could.  He has no idea what all I would gladly do for him on these seizure days.  I try not to show my hurting heart generosity too much, either, because good old Aaron will jump on that like a tick on a dog.  Forget the fourth cup of coffee!  Let’s go for five or six!

After Aaron had the assurance that a fourth cup of coffee was a real possibility, he started to walk away.  But he came back to the top of the stairs, one more request on his mind.

“Can you make sure I don’t have another seizure in bed?” he asked me.

Oh, if only I could!  I might have to think about granting a fourth cup of coffee, but if I could grant that my son have no more seizures then I would do it in a flash. 

I knew what Aaron meant.  I try to get him to express himself more clearly, so I asked him how I was supposed to do that.

“Can you hear if I do?” he clarified.

“Yes, I’ll hear if you do,” I answered.  I assured him that I had the baby monitor on right beside me and that I would be listening.  He was satisfied with my answer and with the knowledge that Mom was keeping her ear open, so off he went to bed. 

It’s sad to see that Aaron shows this fear of having a seizure.  I don’t blame him one single bit.  He doesn’t remember the seizures, but he’s seen friends at his day group have them and so now he knows what they look like.  And he certainly knows what they feel like when he wakes up with a bad headache, sometimes a bitten tongue, losing his sense of taste, and other complications.  It’s a very hard thing to see your child endure this.  Harder still to see your usually unexpressive adult child begin to verbalize his fears. 

Victory in the verbalization…..sadness in the expressed reality.

I am Aaron’s strength right now.  I am his comfort and his hope.  Me….and the baby monitor.  Aaron is depending on us to be there for him and to help him if he has another scary seizure.

This morning I had planned to write about Nehemiah and the guarantee that he gave the children of Israel as they built the wall of Jerusalem.  I didn’t know I would have this illustration from Aaron.  I would rather not have it.  I would rather use another example from some other scenario in my own life that doesn’t involve him.  But this is where God has us.  This is His sovereign plan, one that I trust even when it hurts.

The Jewish people were rebuilding the wall of Jerusalem, but there were enemies who didn’t want them to succeed.  These enemies used words of discouragement and ridicule, but when they saw that the Israelites were serious about rebuilding the wall they changed their tactic.  The enemies became intimidating, threatening to kill not only the workers but their families as well. 

The Jews became scared.  The enemies’ threats were working.  In Nehemiah 4:10, it was said that the worker’s strength was failing.  That word, “failing,” meant to stumble or totter.  The workers were literally tottering under not only the physical work they were doing, but especially they were stumbling emotionally and spiritually under the continued threats they were facing from their enemies. 

They were scared.  And in verse 14, Nehemiah said that when he saw their fear he spoke to them….to the nobles, the officials, and to all the people who were so afraid.  Here’s what he said:

“Do not be afraid of them!  Remember the Lord Who is great and awesome, and fight…..”

This verse has been on my mind for a couple weeks now.  I’ve had some fears and concerns in my life.  Health issues for Aaron, for Andrea, for Gary.  Aaron’s behaviors that impact him and us so much.  Andrew adjusting to a difficult new job.  So many other things that jump around in my brain during the dark night hours when I’m unable to sleep…..

I could name fears that I know so many of our friends are experiencing.  Life has changed in a moment for some.  Then there’s the continuing impact of those changes.  Strokes….dementia…..upcoming surgeries…..serious infections…..the diagnosis of a child with a potentially life changing syndrome…..ongoing multiple children with special needs….exhaustion…..job uncertainties…..

Our life stresses are like the enemies of the Jews in Nehemiah.  They surround us, threatening us with their potential or certain life changes.  We sometimes stumble under the burden of it all.  Fear is very debilitating.  Our mind goes places it shouldn’t but it’s so hard to keep from doing that.

This is why Nehemiah’s words have meant so much to me lately.  I need to refocus my focus.  I need to choose what I allow my mind to dwell upon.  The answer is simple, but difficult, because the enemy wants me to stay glued to my fears and my worries…..both the known and the unknown.

But…..REMEMBER!!

Remember the Lord!!

The Lord Who is GREAT and Who is AWESOME!!

God’s got this….all of this.  Whatever the enemy is throwing at us, whatever we see around us, whatever we hear in our head in the dark of the night….is NOT what we are to remember or to dwell upon.

Our God is great and He is awesome.  The battle is His, not mine! 

And so I fight, but I’m not the one fighting.  I am allowing God to fight for me as I pray and give Him my battles and my fear and my worries.  When I feel that familiar fear being thrown at me from the enemy outside the walls of trust, I remember and I remind myself that God is the One Who will fight for me.

The Lord Who is GREAT!

The Lord Who is AWESOME!

I’ll hear you and I’ll be there if you have another seizure, Aaron.

“Can you be sure?” he asked.  “Yes.  I’ll be sure,” I answer.

I’ll hear you and I’ll be there in your fears, God says to me.  

“Can you be sure?” I ask.  “Yes.  I’ll be sure,” He answers.

“Our God will fight for us!”  (Nehemiah 4:20)

Remember!  The Lord!

Disappointments

Disappointments.  Not a very catchy, interesting title, is it?  Not even encouraging!  But disappointments are universal.  We all have them in one form or another, nearly every day.  At my age, I’ve had enough serious disappointments that I now count my blessings when my disappointments are more along the line of a bad hair day, getting a cold, missing a fun day with friends, or not getting in on a great sale. 

Disappointments related to Aaron usually come in two varieties.  We are either disappointed IN Aaron for some reason, or we are disappointed FOR Aaron.  We are usually disappointed IN Aaron because of his behaviors.  We are usually disappointed FOR Aaron because of something that hurts his heart, and therefore ours as well.

On November 6, two days before his birthday, I was going to take Aaron to one of Paradigm’s residential homes so that we could celebrate with some of his friends.  We were going to take pizzas and have fun.  Aaron was so looking forward to it!  But he came down with a stomach virus and was unable to go.  How disappointing!  We were disappointed for Aaron, very much.

So a week later, this past Friday, we made the same plans again.  But on Friday afternoon, the plans were canceled once again.  One of Aaron’s friends was having a very rough day and it wouldn’t have been a good situation for us to be in the home that night, no matter how much pizza we brought.  It was going to take time for this person to calm down.  In fact, this client had some words for Aaron during the situation, much like Aaron does when he has a meltdown, and it really hurt Aaron’s heart.  And it hurt and disappointed us, too, for Aaron.

All of this made Aaron act out.  He banged on the car that brings him home, making a small dent in the front of the car.  He yelled at me when he got home, escalating as I tried to talk to him.  He looked in his Friday goodie bag that sat on the kitchen table, and then knocked it on to the floor.  This is Aaron’s way of handling his own disappointments.  Instead of talking about his hurt, he becomes angry.  Talking only makes him angrier, especially my talking to him. 

I had two disappointments going on that evening.  I had my disappointment for Aaron as I was hurt for him in his hurt.  And I had my disappointment in Aaron…..in his behaviors that can’t be allowed, but sometimes can’t be stopped.  His defiance was understandable but unacceptable.  I hid his goodie bag from him as a tangible sign that his behavior was wrong…..and I wished with all my heart that he could just verbalize his disappointment instead of acting it out with harsh words and defiant behavior. 

He finally settled down enough to show an interest in going out to eat dinner instead of yelling, “NO!” as he had earlier.  So before long we met Gary at Outback, where we enjoyed dinner together and especially enjoyed seeing happy Aaron return.  In fact, before we left the house to meet Gary, Aaron said, “I’m just disappointed.”  Wow!!  Victory in three little words!  Aaron expressed his disappointment verbally and I praised him for that as I told him that I understood, and that I shared his disappointment.  I shared it so much that I even watched The Blob movie with him that night.  That movie brought me to a whole other level of disappointment, trust me.  It was painful!!  But Aaron was happy!

He had a rough morning yesterday, Monday, as he returned to Paradigm.  But the afternoon was much better.  Today he got up very early, and at 6:11 I was in the kitchen listening to him talk about The Blob movie that we had watched.  I’m sorry, but 6:11 is a little early to be handling talk about The Blob.  I’m still not over that movie.

Our morning went well, and I was happy for Aaron to be so happy as I dropped him off at Paradigm.  But shortly before 2:30 I got a call.  Aaron was having a seizure.  I had just gotten home from spending the day with my elderly friend, so I was thankful that I was free as I drove to pick Aaron up at his day group.  Poor Aaron!  Another disappointment, this time more for me.  Disappointment for Aaron as he faces these awful seizures……his badly bitten tongue…..his headache…..the interruption in what should have been a good day.  He handles it so well, thankfully unaware of how sad I am for him.

This morning, as I had my quiet time, I did what I sometimes feel compelled to do.  I asked the Lord, as I turned the pages in my Bible, to give me a special word…..something He knew I needed on this day.  Today I flipped from Romans, where I have been reading, back to the first place my turned pages led….to Malachi.  And there in Malachi 3:6 I read these words:  “For I, the Lord, do not change.” 

Simple words, but I knew they were somehow for me today.  As I drove home with Aaron beside me, his breathing having that certain post-seizure sound, I looked up at the sky as very dark clouds rolled in.  There was a mix of bright blue, but coming in were the dark stormy clouds that promised rain.  Our day was changing from bright sunshine to dark cloudiness, just like my day with Aaron had gone from bright happiness to dark seizure concerns. 
 
Disappointments.  Changes.  We face so many of those, don’t we?  And I didn’t wonder anymore why God gave me that random verse this morning in the little book of Malachi.  “For I, the Lord, do not change.”  So in the middle of disappointments, whatever they may be…..and in the middle of the changes that those disappointments often bring…..we can as God’s children stand firm in God’s promise that He does not change.  Ever.

Just stop and think about what that promise means.  God never changes.  He is always the same, loving us and instructing us and being there for us.  No amount of world changes, of family changes, of my own changes….and the disappointments they bring….will ever change God. 

I’m very, very thankful for that promise today.  I’m very thankful that God gave it to me…..humbled, really, as I always am when God speaks to me so kindly and specifically. 

One more thing.  I’m never disappointed in God.  Never.  And I know that He will see us through all of our disappointments, including the ones IN and FOR our Aaron.     

It’s My Choice

“I am NOT going to Paradigm today!!” Aaron yelled at me. 

Here we go, I thought.  This will be one of those mornings.  And it was.  It all happened last Friday.  I’m not even sure what set Aaron on that anger path, but he was on it for sure with no apparent sign that he would exit anytime soon. 

“Go away from me!” he loudly said. 

Yet he kept coming into my room while I got ready, standing there telling me angrily that he wasn’t going to his day group.  But he knew the consequences of that decision without me uttering a word.  No Friday pizza.  He was in quite the dilemma as he stood there asserting himself, knowing that the further he dug his own hole, the further away he would be from his pizza supper.  Plus I wasn’t responding back to him the way he wanted.  He wanted anger from me, which would only feed his anger.  Aaron was ready for a verbal fight, and Mom wasn’t cooperating.  I stayed as calm as possible while still being firm, even though I wanted to yell every bit as loud as he was. 

Finally Aaron stomped away, walking up the hall to his room.  And then I heard it.  Aaron threw something up the hall, where it landed on the floor outside of my bedroom.  I knew what it was without looking.  It was his watch…..his broken wrist watch.  He had broken it at Paradigm almost two weeks earlier, although the details are still unclear. Nevertheless, it was broken and I didn’t replace it immediately.  So on this anger morning, Aaron decided to focus his anger on his broken watch….demanding a new one once again and complaining about how much he needed his watch. 

Aaron could tell that I was getting ready to leave the house, with or without him.  “OK!!  I’ll go, if you’re going to MAKE me!!” he said, dripping with frustration.  I silently went to the van, where he followed me and then stopped.

“Wait!” he said.  “I have to get my watch.”

He went back into the house and retrieved his broken watch, stuffing it in his pocket.  He couldn’t wear it on his arm, but every day he had put it in his pocket and taken it with him anyway.  Today was no different.  We were mostly silent on the way to Paradigm.  It was later than usual.  Aaron was sullen and still steaming.  I was deflated and tired. 

Earlier, as my friend Atha and I texted, I had said to her, “There are times I truly wish for a normal life.”  I always feel guilty after expressing myself that way, for I know that this life is what God has somehow allowed me to have.  I want to be like Esther, who came to realize that God in His sovereignty had put her in the place she was for that particular time.  Yet sometimes the place of us special needs moms seems to just be a place of frustration and dreary sameness.  We do get tired, especially on the angry days such as I was having with Aaron.

He got out of the van, still irate but somewhat calmer.  I just drove away, weary.  But I thought about Aaron with his broken watch in his pocket, carrying it with him all that day.  He also carries something else with him, something that often feels broken.  My heart and spirit.  A mother is a mother, forever changed by the children that carry part of her with them for the rest of their lives.  Aaron isn’t the broken one, but I often am.  I need God’s grace and strength so many times on this road, and He never fails me.  But I still feel the pain in my heart, my heart that Aaron unknowingly carries with him…..tucked away, just like his broken watch.

 
Later, I walked in the house and my eyes were drawn to a very little porcelain figure perched on top of our DVD player.  Aaron and I had set it there a couple weeks earlier.  I thought of the story told by that little figure, the love it represents.

Aaron had been to the zoo on Friday of that week.  He came home, excited to tell me about his favorite animals that he saw.  When I asked him if he had bought anything to eat, he told me that he had not bought any food but had instead bought something for me.  But with regret he told me that he had left it at Paradigm. 

“I can’t tell you what it is, Mom!” he exclaimed.  “It’s a surprise!!”

So when I took him to Paradigm after the weekend, on Monday, he was very excited for me to come inside with him so that he could hopefully locate his surprise for me.  He barreled into Barb’s office with me in tow, and Barb immediately pulled out of her desk a small brown bag from the zoo.  Aaron couldn’t wait for me to open it as he handed it to me.  And there inside the bag, wrapped in bubble wrap, was….well, what was it?  It was so tiny that I couldn’t exactly tell.  Aaron was rubbing his hands together as I gingerly pulled out a little porcelain zebra.  Why a zebra?  I have no idea.  But I loved it.  I loved the fact that Aaron had spent all of his money on Mom…..even though I worried that he went hungry.  What a special, loving gift from my son!

Now it sits on top of our DVD player, where it’s mostly safe from being broken.  You can hardly see it from across the room, it’s so little.  But the joy on Aaron’s face when I opened it was huge, and so was the joy in my heart. 

My heart, like all mom’s, holds at times great joy and then at times great hurt.  As with every situation in my life, then, I have a choice to make.  I can’t ignore the hurt forever and I can’t capture the joy forever.  We all experience both.  But I can choose which to dwell on the most. 

I can linger on the brokenness and carry it with me, like the watch in Aaron’s pocket as he carried it there day after day.  Or I can choose to see the beauty, hard as it may be, that does often surround me in my life with Aaron.  Brokenness or beauty…..it’s my choice.  In every area of life, that choice is mine to consciously make.  As I deal with Aaron, it’s also a decision I must choose. 

Will I see Aaron as a blessing?  Or will I see Aaron as a burden?  Will I allow my grumbles and sighing and my desire sometimes for a “normal” life rule my thoughts?  Or will I pull back, take a breath and pray to my heavenly Father, and then choose to see the blessings?  Even at the end of the day, if all I can say is, “Well, at least Aaron and I are both still alive.”  Hey, I’ll take it!  It’s a blessing!!

On that angry Friday, that tiny zebra reminded me that I do have many blessings and joys in this life with Aaron.  Sometimes they’re harder to see than at other times.  Sometimes my spirit is very frustrated and tired…..but so is everyone.  Really, we all experience plenty of both in our lives. 
 

What will it be? 

Brokenness…..or beauty?

Burden……or blessing?

A text from Atha this morning was perfect:  “Enter His gates with thanksgiving and His courts with praise; give thanks to Him and praise His name.  For the Lord is good and His love endures forever; His faithfulness continues through all generations.”

 

 

Unto The Least: A Man Named Richard

 

I remember him so well.  Richard……….nondescript, uneducated, stinky, and often unwelcome Richard.  Our paths crossed because Richard attended the same church where I grew up and where I worshipped.  Our paths also crossed because God ordained it to be so.  God ordained it to be so………so that I would learn a lesson.   It was a lesson best taught by the method that God loves to use – the weak things of the world confounding the mighty. 

 

Richard was a very short little man.  I often think that he was our version of Zaccheaus there in Princeton, West Virginia where I was raised.  Richard didn’t have much education and he was also very simple minded.  Today I’m sure he would be classified as being developmentally delayed, at the very least.  Yet he had served our country in World War 2, returning to Princeton when his time was up.  I remember hearing the story of how Richard wanted to help build the parsonage for our pastor at Johnston Chapel Baptist Church.  The men decided that Richard could dig the sidewalk, and so they used twine and little posts to outline the walkway that Richard should dig.  As Richard dug, his shovel cut the twine and it veered off to the side……..and Richard continued to follow the twine with his digging.  I’m not sure if the men let Richard dig anymore after that or if they found another safer job for him to do. 

 

I remember Mom and Dad loading us five kids into the old station wagon and then leaving for church.  We never missed a service unless we had a fever or were throwing up, or maybe if blood was involved.  This was in the day of services every Sunday morning, Sunday night, Wednesday night, and anything in between.  This was also in the day of revival services that lasted at least a week, and sometimes longer if the Spirit led.  There were mission conferences, too, as well as other special services thrown in here and there.  The Kings did not miss church.  If Dad was working, then Mom loaded the station wagon and off we went. 

 

I loved going to church, but I always dreaded that drive up Thorn Street because often we would see him………..Richard, standing on one of the corners of Thorn Street, not far from his house.  Richard, standing there waiting for a ride to church from one of the church members that he knew would drive by in our little town and see him, and offer him that ride.  Richard, whom I was sure never, ever, ever took a bath.   The smell was just awful!  We kids would strain our necks to look ahead to see if he was still standing there, hoping against hope that some other family had come by before us and picked Richard up.  If we saw him, we would beg Mom or Dad not to stop for him………..to let someone else have that privilege on this day. 

 

But no……..Mom and Dad would always stop for Richard.  He would hop in our already crowded car and immediately we would be assaulted by that odor.  We girls learned a trick.  We would take a small purse-size container of perfume and try to hide it in our hand as we held it up to our nose.  Or at least have some perfume on our wrists that we could sniff in the hopes of blocking out that smell.  I’m not sure what John did to combat the odor but at that point it was each King for himself.   If no one was able to give Richard a ride, then he would walk to church, regardless of the weather……and that was probably a five mile walk.

 

Richard would talk, talk, talk.  He had a very fast, clipped speech.  I can still hear him make a comment and then say, “Isn’t that right?  Huh?  Isn’t that right?”  Then he would laugh and launch into something else, and ask again if that was right.  If he wasn’t talking, he was making a clicking sound with his tongue, as if he was getting food out from between his teeth.  He probably was, since I also doubted that Richard ever, ever brushed his teeth……….which just added to his unique smell. 

 

At church, Richard would lean up on the pew in front of him and talk to whomever was sitting there.  His eyes would dart between the people as he rapidly talked, and clicked his tongue, and laughed, and said, “Isn’t that right?   Huh?  Isn’t that right?”  The large church helped to spread his odor out some and keep it from being as strong……….unless you were the fortunate ones who were sitting in front of him and with whom he decided to engage in his mostly one-sided conversation.   Needless to say, when I was older and had the opportunity to sit in front of Richard……….I tried to find another seat.

 

Richard, though, was good at math.  I remember how that always surprised me.  On Wednesday nights, four men would count certain sections of church and then give the number to the pastor out loud as they were called upon to do so.  Richard almost always added those numbers faster in his head than Preacher Jimmie could do on paper, and he was usually right.  Amazing indeed!  And also amazing was the fact that Richard loved the Lord in his own simple way and was one of the most faithful church members that I have ever known.    I don’t remember seeing Richard carry a Bible and don’t know if he could read, but he knew his Bible.

 

Time marched on.  We King kids grew up, went to college, married and had our own lives.  Mom and Dad both eventually retired from their jobs.  They continued to be active at Johnston Chapel, enjoying the freedom to spend more time visiting the sick and those who were shut-ins.  Among those that they cared for, none stood out more to me than their continued care of Richard.  He had aged, of course, and time had taken a toll.  Richard was not only feebler, but was also dealing with the ravages of cancer.

 

I know that others helped with Richard, too, but Mom and Dad did a great deal for him in his old age.  They helped him find a better house to move into, and then helped him move his meager belongings.  They were shocked at what they found as they cleaned his house.  Such filth was hard for them to imagine!  And there in his closets and throughout his house were stacks of Christmas presents that church friends had given him over the years, still wrapped and unopened.   Inside were clothes and toiletries that he surely could have used over the years, but when questioned about it Richard said that he didn’t open them because he didn’t need anything.  Mom and Dad bought him clean clothes and new things, but Richard still preferred his old belongings and his old way of living.  Mom would take him home-cooked food and encourage him to eat better than he was.  She and Dad bought him a small refrigerator to keep his food from spoiling, but Richard refused to plug it in because he didn’t want to waste electricity. 

 

Dad helped Richard obtain his VA benefits, and then made sure that Richard started going to the proper doctors at the VA hospital.  He took Richard for many of his doctor appointments.  This was no easy task in many ways, but none more so than just the pure embarrassment of being in a public waiting room and doctor’s office with poor smelly Richard.  Mom and Dad tried countless times to teach Richard and to urge Richard to use better hygiene, but I don’t know that Richard ever took it to heart.  Dad would explain things to the doctor, but the people around them that they encountered must have wondered about Richard and about Dad.  Eventually Richard’s cancer became more complicated than what the local VA hospital could handle, so Dad took him to the nearest major VA hospital………..in Richmond……….a six hour trip one way.  Twelve hours confined in a car with Richard, as well as the time at the doctor appointments.  The smell……..the constant talking……….the clicking tongue.   Yet Dad just smiled and did what he knew that God would want him to do………..to take care of this little unwanted and unwelcome man. 

 

When Dad tried to see if Richard qualified for any other assistance such as Medicaid, it was discovered that Richard had money.  In fact, he had too much money to qualify for any government help.  Richard never offered to give Mom and Dad, or anyone else, any money for the things they did for him.  They wouldn’t have taken the money anyway.   That was not the motive.  A brother that no one knew about showed up at Richard’s death, and Mom and Dad walked quietly away from any further involvement……..but not before they gave Richard one of their burial plots since he didn’t have anywhere to be buried.

 

Mom and Dad didn’t want any public acclaim for what they did for Richard.  They just loved the Lord and they let the Lord’s love fill their hearts and direct their actions.  I know at times their service to Richard was tiring, was frustrating, was annoying, and very thankless.  Yet Mom and Dad, and the others who served Richard, did so because they lived out their faith and they believed Jesus when He said, “When you do it unto the least of these, you do it unto me.” 

 

Dad is with Richard in heaven now.   I sometimes try to imagine it, the two of them together up there.  Both have new bodies and are totally equal physically and mentally.  Did they hug when they saw each other?  Are they ever beside each other as they sing and as they worship?  Richard doesn’t smell anymore and Dad doesn’t have to explain him to anybody, or be embarrassed.  I wonder if Richard still talks fast, and does Dad still smile patiently at him?  I doubt it, but it’s fun to think about. 

 

And we kids are left with not only memories, but more importantly, we are left with a real example of selflessness that my parents demonstrated.  They loved the unlovely in more than word…………they loved also in deed.  I know that each of us has taken this lesson to heart in our own lives in various ways.  But I doubt that anyone could be any more kind and any more patient than my sweet parents were to Richard.

 

I can’t wait to see Richard in heaven!  I’ll give him a hug……….and no perfume bottle needed!

 

 

Lessons From the Random Garden Phlox

In our back yard, Gary and I have two flower beds that I haven’t done much with for the past two years.  Plenty of our perennials still grow there, but some have died that I haven’t replaced.  Gary is planning a patio remodel at some point, and knowing that those beds would be downsized or moved caused me to just let them grow as they will.  Our tall Tiger Lilies bloomed out there recently, but now those bright orange blooms are gone. 

This morning I looked outside as I worked at the kitchen sink.  There among the flowerless Tiger Lilies I saw the bright pink blooms of a random Garden Phlox.  The pink was very noticeable now that the lilies weren’t all in bloom.  What a pretty sight that Garden Phlox was as it stood among all the green leaves of the lilies!  The Phlox is shorter than the all those giant lilies surrounding it, but it stands out beautifully because of its bright, pretty flowers.
 
 

As I looked at that Garden Phlox, I thought of a nurse…..a nurse that I have never met and whose name I don’t even know.  Andrea, our daughter, told us about her last night.  Andrea has moved to a new area of the big city in which she lives, so yesterday she had her first appointment to get established with a family practice doctor there.  The doctor’s nurse who worked with Andrea was not only very nice, but Andrea said that she also gave a clear testimony of her relationship with the Lord.  She was definitely born again, a follower of Jesus, so she and Andrea shared that common bond as they talked together.  She then gave Andrea the name of two good churches in the area for her to visit.

This interchange may seem like no big deal, but it was very encouraging to Andrea…..and a huge answer to prayer for Gary and me.  As our two children that have moved far away get established in their new lives, Gary and I pray often that God will protect and lead them.  Part of our prayers for them is that God will bring others into their lives who are believers…..who will be there to encourage and befriend them.  It’s a rough world out there for all of us, but as parents we especially worry about our adult children as they navigate life far away from home and family. 

I just love seeing how God answers prayers in ways we don’t orchestrate at all.  Who would have thought that God would use this nurse to speak her testimony to Andrea, to lift her up in that way, and to give her the names of two churches?  But God knew just where Andrea needed to be yesterday morning.  The first doctor in that group couldn’t see Andrea, so she ended up with another doctor…..who has this nurse….and she was working yesterday when Andrea was there.  Thank you, God!

And thank you, dear nurse, for not being afraid to speak of your relationship with Jesus.  She truly let her light shine, just as Jesus told us to do, so that others will see the Lord in our lives.  This nurse was a huge blessing and an answer to prayers for us…and she may never know it this side of heaven.  But she was just walking in obedience, letting her light shine, and she sure did brighten Andrea’s day and ours as well.

Then I have to think about myself.  Often as I’ve prayed for those who will come alongside our children, I wonder if I might be on the other end of such a prayer.  Could I be the one that God wants to use to answer a mother’s prayer for their child?  Could I be that person who could encourage and bless a person for whom someone is praying?  Am I letting my light shine in the lives of others?  That thought has given me great pause over the years as I’ve prayed for our kids, and now even more so as I think of this nurse…..this random nurse…..who meant so much to our family yesterday in such a seemingly simple way.   

This nurse was like my Garden Phlox showing its beauty among the lilies.  She was a bright spot in Andrea’s day, and she was a bright blessing to Gary and me.  I need to be willing to do the same…..to grow where God has put me and to share the beauty of my relationship to Him because of what He has done for me.  I need to be careful to reach out to ones that God puts in my path, in whatever ways that I can.  Even the simplest acts can be just what a person needs at that moment, and just might be the answer to a parent’s or another’s prayer. 

So may I not let fear or selfishness or lack of caring grow around me so much that I don’t even try to help those who come into my life.  I pray that I will be open to God’s leading and obedient to his command to let my light shine so that others will see God, and thereby be uplifted.  May I shine like my bright pink Garden Phlox amongst all the tall, crowded lilies. 

I’m certainly thankful for that nurse who was a beautiful blessing in our lives yesterday.  May God bless her richly as she shares His beauty with others.

Lessons From the Lone Daisy

 

We have a flower bed off our front porch that has been a challenge to fill with flowers that will thrive.  It’s a mostly shady area because of our large Golden Rain Tree whose branches provide that shade in abundance.  However, through some pruning of the branches over the years, and some further pruning of a huge bush beside the flower bed, there is now a little more light that comes into that area.  I’ve tried a large variety of plants and flowers over the years in that spot, but even now with a little more sun, finding a plant that will keep growing has been difficult.

 

This year I decided to plant several flowers in that bed, flowers that are designed to bloom in shade or partial shade.  I’m still not tremendously pleased with how they have done this year.  I’m just not seeing the huge display of blooms all summer that I had hoped to see.  One of the flowers that I chose to plant are Gerbera Daisies.  They bloomed for awhile….at least enough blooms to give me hope…..but now they are just sitting there in the dirt, living but not blooming.

 

Except for one that put out a beautiful bloom last week.  It was a perfectly formed, bright pink bloom that caught my eye when I walked outside one morning.  Today the bloom is a little worse for wear, but still pretty in that sea of green.  That flower is a beautiful pink splash that still draws my attention when I look outside.  It doesn’t matter that it’s small……it doesn’t matter that it’s alone……it just matters that at least one of my little Gerbera Daisies decided to bloom and give me some pleasure.  I doubt if anyone driving by our house even notices it, but I do, and I’m thankful for it.

 

That small flower reminds me of something that happened recently.  Someone we know was going through a crisis with a family member.  It’s not who any of you are thinking of…..it was someone else.  J  Anyway, I felt compelled to run to the hospital and pay this dear family a quick visit.  Now I generally pull back from going to the hospital very often.  It’s not because I don’t care but it’s because I always worry about being in the way, showing up at the wrong time, or just not knowing what to say or do that would be helpful.  I do care for these sweet people and I felt like the Lord really wanted me to go, so I got in the van and I drove to the hospital.

 

The nurse on the floor helped me find the family.  They were in the family lounge, waiting while a procedure was being done on their loved one.  The Mom, my friend, was so happy to see me.  We hugged, long tender hugs, several times.  She asked me if I wanted to stay, to sit down in a nearby chair, but I said no.  I told them that I just wanted them to know that they are loved and prayed for, and that I wanted to give her a hug conveying that love.  I told them that they are not alone.  I was there less than five minutes…..maybe three minutes.  I felt like they needed time together in that otherwise empty family area…time to let down, to talk to each other, to pray….and so I gave one more hug and I left.

 

I walked back to the parking garage and drove home wondering if I should have stayed longer.  I wondered if it looked silly for me to make such a quick visit.  Did they think I didn’t care enough to sit down and talk awhile?  Did I come across as uncaring?  So I prayed and I asked the Lord to use that very brief visit to encourage them, the way that I intended, and I tried to quit fretting about it.

 

I got a text yesterday.  I hesitate to say much because I don’t want to sound like I’m boasting at all, but I want this to be uplifting to each of us.  This mother and friend told me that my visit was the most meaningful to them, and how grateful they were for it.  Now I was the one being encouraged!  And why do I share this?  Because that simple visit was like my Gerbera Daisy in my front flower bed.  That very brief and plain visit turned out to be a splash of loving color in their sad and worried hearts.  I felt like I didn’t accomplish much, but little did I know that God took my small effort and used it as a huge blessing in their lives.

 

I bet no solo I ever sang on that podium for all those years touched them like that one small visit.  And I want all of you to know that you don’t have to do big things to be a needed encouragement in someone’s life.  I’m not trying to build myself up…..I want to build each of you up to know that the littlest kindnesses are really huge, especially when God takes them as intended and uses them to touch a life.

 

My little lone Gerbera Daisy has given me a smile inwardly every time I have seen it for the past few days.  And your little lone touches in a person’s life can make them smile and give them hope to keep going in ways which you may not even be aware.  We don’t have to stand before hundreds, speak before crowds, write bestselling books, or any of the other multiple things that so often spell success to us.  We just need to give Jesus our simple loaves and fishes, and then watch Him multiply them over and over.  We have no idea of the effect of our prayers in our closet, of a card sent in the mail, of an email of encouragement, of a home cooked meal, of a simple hug, or of a phone call.

 

You may feel alone or ineffective, but you are never those things when you give to God your simple desires to bless others.  You can be a beautiful splash of color and hope in someone’s life when you do the simplest acts with a loving heart.  Remember the daisy.  It doesn’t matter that it’s alone…..it doesn’t matter that it’s small….it just matters that it decided to bloom and therefore to give me great delight every time I see it.

 

So bloom today where God has put you.  Look around and see how you can bring pleasure and delight to someone who needs that in their lives right now.  And remember that it’s usually in the smallest, simplest ways that we impart those blessings to others.

Lessons From the Weedy Crepe Myrtles

Gary and I were working in our garden, tending the vegetables and yanking out the unwanted weeds earlier this spring when I looked over and noticed another area that needed tending.  We have several tall Crepe Myrtles that are on the street side of the garden.  It was early spring, and I saw that all of them were crowded with weeds.  The weeds had become so thick that I knew if there was any hope of the Crepe Myrtles growing then I would need to pull those weeds…..sooner rather than later. 
 

After we finished the garden, I grabbed my little shears and I walked over to the row of Crepe Myrtles.  It seemed that there were only weeds growing until I bent over to take a closer look.  That’s when I saw that there were small new shoots of Crepe Myrtle poking through the thick weeds, trying hard to thrive but having to fight the persistent, fast growing weeds that threatened to crowd out their future growth. 

I began to do some snipping here and some cutting there, but I soon realized that I would need to slow down and take my work to a more personal level.  I got on my knees and slowly, carefully pulled more weeds from among the tender shoots of the bush that was trying so hard to grow.  I didn’t want to pull the small green and maroon Crepe Myrtle growth from the ground, so I had to carefully identify each weed and then gently pull it from the ground by its roots.  This was slow going, but it was worth it when I finally stood and looked down to see only pretty new Crepe Myrtle growth, unhindered now by the noxious weeds.

 
Over the next few weeks I was very pleased to see the Crepe Myrtles getting taller and taller, thriving in the rain and the sun.  They could grow now and show their beauty.  And just yesterday, as I pulled weeds from around our vegetables in the garden, I looked over to our little row of Crepe Myrtles and was so happy to see how tall they were.  How healthy they looked!  They will bloom now any day, a little late this year, but we will enjoy their blooms regardless.  I think I’ll enjoy those pretty fuchsia flowers even more this year as I think of how carefully I had to remove what was threatening to kill their beauty.

 
This has been a rather difficult summer for me…..for our family.  My mother passed away on May 4 and we buried her the Friday before Mother’s Day.  Then in June Aaron was in the hospital for a week with pneumonia and other complications, and had a long recovery when he came home.  I got sick a week after he got home, and am still finishing up my third round of antibiotics for that infection.  Last week Andrea, in Houston, got pneumonia in both her lungs. 

Those have been big things, like the big weeds in the Crepe Myrtles.  Sometimes the big things that bring exhaustion and discouragement are easier to deal with because they are so evident.  We expect to be tired and downhearted from issues like death and severe sickness, or prolonged illness.  We can identify the big problem and hopefully understand it as we deal with it, or as we ask others to pray for us over those matters.  It’s out there for all to see, including us, and so we can talk about it and handle it.

But deep in my heart, I’ve had another problem.  It’s not out there for all to see, and is even difficult for me to adequately identify and then deal with as I should.  I call it a spirit of discontentment.  It’s a gnawing unhappiness that I find creeping up in my soul, threatening to choke out my joy and my growth.  People can say, “Oh Patty, you’ve had such a hard time the last few months.  It’s just so much to handle.”  And while some of that may be true, I know better. 

I know better because I know my tendency to become discontent.  I’m like the Psalmist who said, “Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me?”  (Psalm 42:5)  I know myself very well, but I don’t always want to admit the problem.  That’s when I need to get up close and personal, like I did when I was on my knees beside the Crepe Myrtles, pulling out each individual choking weed that was stunting needed growth.  Sometimes it’s painful to identify the issue and to then take care of it in the necessary way, but it’s the only avenue to becoming content and peaceful once more.

My discontentment begins when I take my eyes off of God and His sovereignty in my life.  It’s when I allow myself the “luxury” of a wandering thought life.  What if I had this?  What if life was like that?  Why don’t I do such and such?  Why am I a failure?  If only I did this or had that or accomplished something, then I would be happy.  And as a woman, especially, that ugly comparing game.  How often we do that, whether it’s about our house or our figure or our work or our children or our husbands…..

It’s all so defeating.  And the bottom line with me, the very damaging weed that I need to get rid of the most, is an attitude of unthankfulness.  Paul tells us to be thankful in everything.  That means EVERY THING!  Every situation, every day, every person in our life, every moment, can and should prompt us to be thankful.  Even when we don’t feel like being thankful, there is always a reason for which to give thanks.  We may have to look hard, but it’s a command to be thankful.  Even if I can’t find a reason, I am still to be thankful to God for what He has allowed.  For me, a thankful heart is like pulling out many weeds that are choking me.  A thankful word on my lips and a thankful thought in my brain often takes a very conscious effort, but it does so much to sweep away that discontentment that makes me so down and miserable.

After the Psalmist asked the question about his turmoil in Psalm 42:5, he finished by saying, “Hope in God!  For I shall again praise Him, my salvation and my God.”  Sounds simple, but we know it isn’t always so.  Down on my knees I will go again and again, I am sure, to weed out the attitudes that are causing my discontent.  Remembering to hope in God and not in my surroundings.  And then knowing that I SHALL again praise Him, even if it’s while I’m on my knees doing that weeding and I don’t really feel like praising.  But praise I should, for He is my salvation and He is my God.  What a gift!  There it is.  Something for which to be thankful!

I want to be growing into the beauty that God has for me, like my Crepe Myrtles are now growing.  But I know it takes effort on my part to be obedient to what God tells me to do…..to be on my knees pulling out those weeds that are trying to destroy my joy.   

Oh, there’s more to that verse.  More to help me when I mess up.  “My soul is cast down within me; therefore I remember You from the land of Jordan and of Hermon, from Mt. Mizar.”

In other words, when I am cast down again….and I will be…..then I can remember the God who has strengthened and enabled me in the past.  He is still here in my present situation, whatever it may be. 

Weeds always grow, but God is always faithful, too.  And for that I am…..very thankful!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Pieces of a Beautiful Life

Two weeks ago, Gary and I were finishing the last leg of our drive to West Virginia as we traveled home for my mother’s funeral.  Has it just been barely over two weeks ago that she breathed her last breath?  So much has been packed into this short time that it seems like she left us much longer ago.  That’s how my mother lived her life, though.  Like my brother said at her funeral, Mom squeezed every bit of opportunity out of each day that she lived.  So much was packed into her life…..so much that will impact so many for eternity.
As Bob and Jan, and John and Jeanie, planned Mom’s funeral, they incorporated two very sweet and personal elements into the service.  Jeanie asked each of the grandchildren to write down their memories of their grandmother.  At her funeral, Jimmy read every word that had been written.  It was a very moving and sometimes humorous part of the service.  Then Jan asked each of us to bring our quilts that Mom had made us.  Each hand stitched quilt that we brought was hung over the railings at the front of the church, adding a beautiful background as we remembered our mother.
 
Something really stood out to me as I listened to the grandchildren’s memories being read.  It’s the same thing that I noticed during her visitation at the funeral home the night before her funeral.  That night, we stood in line for nearly three hours as person after person hugged us and told us of what our mother had meant to them.  Most of their stories were fairly simple.  It wasn’t that Mom had done earth shattering acts of great note.  She wasn’t interviewed by the newspapers, seen on television, or given big awards for her acts of kindness.
So what did people talk to us about as they shared my mother’s impact on their lives?  It was her service to them, her love, expressed in so many ways.  It was meals she cooked, her home she opened to so many, stockings she knitted, clothes she sewed, miniature roses she delivered in Cracker Barrel syrup bottles, boiled custard that she cooked because a friend loved it, sending out missionary prayer letters, making dozens of quilts for others, and so much more.
It was her great sense of humor….her ability to lighten any situation with an attitude of light heartedness that was often amazing.  It was her word fitly spoken to so many, especially to those who had messed up and made poor decisions.  She comforted without judging, and extended help where others might have looked the other way.  Story after story we have heard since Mom died.  What a balm to our hurting hearts!
The grandchildren’s memories were more of the same, on a more personal level.  Again, what is striking is that no one mentioned my mother’s education or her job.  Not that this isn’t important, because it certainly was a great accomplishment for her to have a Master’s degree and to have a supervisory position with the State Board of Education.  Yet with all of her educational goals that she met and with her very responsible job, my mother maintained our home and our family in an incredible way.
It was, again, the seemingly small acts that all the grandchildren remembered the most.  Guess what was mentioned most often by her grandchildren?  It was the Cheerios that she kept in the coffee table drawer in the living room.  So many of them talked about that memory and of how much fun it was to go to their house, pull out that drawer as a little child, and eat as many Cheerios as they wanted.  Other memories were of the toys, the laughter, sitting on the front porch, all the play time in the yard, her cooking, gardening, sewing, and her unconditional love.  It was how she filled her home with joy and filled their lives with personal touches for each grandchild.
In her memories of her grandmother, Andrea wrote, “I remember how she patiently showed me how she pinned her fabric together in preparation to sew her gorgeous quilts by hand.”  As I sat in the church during mother’s funeral service, I looked at the quilts that we had hung on those railings.  Each one is full of hundreds of fabric pieces, placed together in ways that make a gorgeous design.  When you step back and look at the finished project, you see how each piece combines to make a perfectly beautiful work of art.
So it is with the life that Mom lived.  Each act of love that was remembered and many that have been forgotten, have all fit together to produce a beautiful life.  It’s the handiwork of God in our mother’s life that has blessed and profited so many of us over the 88 years that she lived.  Her life was a pattern that I want to follow.  A pattern of service and kindness that means more to people that any public acclaim ever will or could produce.
Like she so often sang:
          I’d rather have Jesus than men’s applause.
          I’d rather be faithful to His dear cause.
          I’d rather have Jesus than world wide things
          I’d rather be true to His holy name.
 
I’ll be learning lessons from the design of my mother’s life for the rest of mine, I’m sure.