Saturday, July 30, 2011

From the storehouse of memory...

Ava Grace
God gave us memory that we might have roses in December.” [James M. Barrie]

She was fresh from the womb when first I held her and sensed the awesome love and protection my arms provided, just a few days ago…but time slips by and now two years later we must part.  Not through some tragedy or tempest of life beyond one’s control…but because of love.  Love of God her parents choose to follow Him.  They hear the distant call of frontier lands and missions need in foreign lands—and we must stand and weep and let this Sovereign God have His way.

How sad the parting and yet what joy; our hearts still hold a storehouse of remembrances.  Two years of watch care and love of one so small and dependent.  How precious the memories become of shopping trips, first snows and mountain rides.  Of special prayers she learned to say and songs she loved to sing.  Of playing eye to eye upon the floor and listening as the rain splashes against the window pain.  Special times, when weary from play, we stood and watched her sleep—smiling now and then perhaps of dreams of games we played or just the wind from mother’s milk.

The echo of her voice still rings..."chase me nana, chase me" as round and round the lawn we go.  She turns her head with just a glance to see if I'm still there, safe enough to touch yet far enough for her to slip away.   Now she is gone but not so far that memories can’t breach the distance and we give thanks for love that spans the globe and brings her home again. 

Without a doubt this season of change runs deeper than anything I could ever imagine.  To let go of all familiar things allowing life to softly slip away, no rough edges but like a boat loosed from its moorings  floating from the harbor just before dawn, waters smooth and silent the shoreline silently left behind.  Not knowing what lies out in the vast emptiness of the ocean and the horizon revealing naught by a thin line of light where shadows barely tiptoe on the water.   Saying farewell to yesterday and memories still held fast to the place of their belonging.  One day, one moment in the morrow they will return and serve their purpose as part of the joy and sorrows of life.  It must be so this shifting of all that life held onto, but quietly Lord empower as I embrace the new and unknown destiny you have ordained. 

THE RAINBOW

The Color of Promise!

I am the color of promise—I am the hope that sweeps the sky for every eye to see.  I slip between the tears of heaven and touch the further corners of the earth.   I am the arch of light that gathers all color,  red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and  violet to reveal and form perfection within my bow.  I hold the universe  in the darkest times and draw from deep within man the creativity that weathers the storms of life and pulls from within the inspiration that even now he yearn to release.
I am the covenant of all creative force—to remind, to jog and stir the memory of Sovereign grace that never ends; never changes but continually creates uniqueness and authenticity.   The deeper my hue the greater  distinction of borders and definitions of my perfections hold within them—true to man’s identity. 

I multiply by moving close, so close to each deeper tone that two become one and form a different shade. My presence comes with morning dew to strengthen and refresh, adding harmony to the fading edges of hues tarnished by yesterday’s weariness.  I am the color of agreement, unity and the harmony of all I am entwined with, I am the rainbow!   

Friday, July 1, 2011

MY FRIEND ETHEL...

As time allowed evening would find me treading down the winding path, curving slightly around the main house and leading to the side door— surrounding woods kept it private and hidden from neighbors curious glance or salesmen’s rhetoric.
My friend Ethel, she was always there waiting to hear the details of my day, the people I had met and the needs they had shared with me for prayer and together we prayed.   She was 85 years young when she entered my life and for the next ten + years a joy to my heart and strength to my soul. 
Growing up in leaner times, as a young child she lived in the farmlands of Illinois and grew to become a young woman whose heart of compassion led her into the career of Visiting Nurse.   She shared her stories of families and those she served.  She stood tall and straight and carried herself with the dignity of those who knew the value of hard work, loyalty and love of God and country.  She was Brethren by religion and staunch in her knowledge of the Holy.   Not unfamiliar with long hours and strong sense of commitment she became a farmer’s wife, a good man, but not having salvation in Jesus Christ.  She was full of stories of her life of faith, and shared her story of how her little son became ill and nothing the doctors could do seemed to help.  Her prayer she said was, ”Lord if by your mercy my son’s passing would be my husband’s salvation then so be it”----and it was.  A shock to most human hearts but, it was of such faith she lived. 
Her nurses training included reflexology and prepared her for this later season of life.  Now a widow and crossing my path, she accompanied me to the City Mission for homeless women.   Week after week she knelt before the homeless drug addicts, prostitutes and those just lost in the jungle of city living, massaging their feet and sharing the love of God. 
She lived her final days quietly and joyfully serving others in the nursing home where she herself was a resident.  Pushing those unable to walk into the sunny garden, writing their notes home,  talking and sharing with them as she had me—a life lived in quiet humility unaware of its profound impact on those who received her love.  Ethel passed full of years at 101.
If I could do one thing for her I would reveal how she blessed my life, I would visit the halls of heaven with her to see the influence she had on the world.