Like so many of my church family and community members, I find myself reeling today from the sudden death of a dear lady. After several days of feeling like she was coming down with something, she received a shocking diagnosis of acute leukemia on Friday, was admitted to the hospital that very night, and passed away on Sunday.
How does that even happen?
The blessing for Pat is she didn't have to endure prolonged suffering. Though I am sure with every fiber in my being that she would've given anything for more time with her beloved husband and children, I'm equally sure that she is now experiencing joy in Glory that is beyond anything we can fathom.
I'm praying her family will find comfort in that knowledge as well, and that God's love and peace will cover them like a warm blanket in the days to come.
Meanwhile, I'm also praying for a childhood friend who has been at the bedside of her dying father for weeks. Today she blogged that nothing has been left undone or unsaid, and though this time with him has been treasured and sweet, the agony of watching his suffering and waiting for his release to that eternal joy in Glory has become nearly unbearable.
Two special people, loved by their families and so many others and especially by God. One is taken so quickly our heads are spinning, and the other, ready and eager now to be reunited with his precious wife in Heaven, suffers and waits.
I don't understand why in either case. As I have pondered it, however, God has reminded me of two things.
"Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his faithful servants." Psalm 116:15. They are HIS servants, HIS children, and I fully trust that he sees them and loves them through the transition from this life to the next, no matter how fast or slow that may be.
Second, I am reminded of God's words in Isaiah 55:9, "As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts." God knows what he is doing, whether or not I understand it. And I take great comfort in that. How could I worship a God small enough for me to wrap my brain around? That would put God on my level, and, well, I think you can get my point.
My faith tells me that God is sovereign, so I can trust that there is a divine purpose in all he does in life and death. My faith reminds me that God loves his children, so I can trust in his promise of salvation and eternal life. My faith upholds me, so in my weakness I can rest in the sufficiency of God's grace.
For all those who are hurting, who are questioning, who are waiting, who are struggling: may you choose faith in the sovereign God who loves you, rest in his grace, and be comforted by his peace.
Monday, October 20, 2014
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
Unmasking Halloween
Halloween has always been stressful to me. I'm not the most creative person when it comes to putting together a costume, so even as a kid, it always felt like so much pressure. I guess that's why I don't really have many fond memories of childhood Halloweens. Of course I recall the fun of trick-or-treating, I just can't really remember a single costume I wore. When my children came along, the pressure to create the perfect costume seemed even greater. Fortunately, they always looked cute and never really seemed to care whether or not they won any costume contests.
Before the Halloween that I, dressed as Pebbles from the Flintstones, met my future husband who was donning a cowboy get-up at the time, there is really only one that sticks out in my memory. I was a recent college graduate, working in a small town and living in my own apartment for the first time. It probably sounds silly, but I remember the excitement I felt as I was buying candy to hand out to the trick-or-treaters who would be coming to the door, MY door in MY place.
That night, I settled in front of the TV with a big bowl of candy by my side. I waited eagerly for the first knock at the door, so excited to see cute little kids in their costumes.
I waited. And I waited. And I waited some more. Not. One. Knock.
I was deflated, disappointed, and depressed. Since I had only arrived in town and started my job a few weeks before, I really didn't know anyone other than a few co-workers. I took a chance and called one, and as it turns out, she was having exactly the same kind of night. She was more than happy to accept my invitation to come over. We had the best time talking and laughing and enjoying a sugar buzz together!
With another Halloween approaching, I found myself thinking about that night. That Halloween doesn't stand out because of the costumes or the trick-or-treaters. It stands out because it was the first time that I felt like I had made a friend in my new community. We bonded over loneliness and laughter, commiseration and candy. We even went on to become roommates for a while. All these years later, time and distance between us, I'm still happy to be able to call her my friend.
Relationship. That's what it's all about. I made a friend that Halloween night because I summoned up the courage to reach out. We may not be in close touch like we used to be, but we've remained friends because I think we've both been able to summon the courage through the years to be real and transparent with one another during good times and bad. I know if I saw her tomorrow, we could pick up right where we left off.
I need to do better at being real and transparent in all my relationships. Halloween may be a night for costumes and masks, but every other day should be about taking them off, sharing our real selves, building real relationships, being real friends.
Before the Halloween that I, dressed as Pebbles from the Flintstones, met my future husband who was donning a cowboy get-up at the time, there is really only one that sticks out in my memory. I was a recent college graduate, working in a small town and living in my own apartment for the first time. It probably sounds silly, but I remember the excitement I felt as I was buying candy to hand out to the trick-or-treaters who would be coming to the door, MY door in MY place.
That night, I settled in front of the TV with a big bowl of candy by my side. I waited eagerly for the first knock at the door, so excited to see cute little kids in their costumes.
I waited. And I waited. And I waited some more. Not. One. Knock.
I was deflated, disappointed, and depressed. Since I had only arrived in town and started my job a few weeks before, I really didn't know anyone other than a few co-workers. I took a chance and called one, and as it turns out, she was having exactly the same kind of night. She was more than happy to accept my invitation to come over. We had the best time talking and laughing and enjoying a sugar buzz together!
With another Halloween approaching, I found myself thinking about that night. That Halloween doesn't stand out because of the costumes or the trick-or-treaters. It stands out because it was the first time that I felt like I had made a friend in my new community. We bonded over loneliness and laughter, commiseration and candy. We even went on to become roommates for a while. All these years later, time and distance between us, I'm still happy to be able to call her my friend.
Relationship. That's what it's all about. I made a friend that Halloween night because I summoned up the courage to reach out. We may not be in close touch like we used to be, but we've remained friends because I think we've both been able to summon the courage through the years to be real and transparent with one another during good times and bad. I know if I saw her tomorrow, we could pick up right where we left off.
I need to do better at being real and transparent in all my relationships. Halloween may be a night for costumes and masks, but every other day should be about taking them off, sharing our real selves, building real relationships, being real friends.
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Minding the Head and Heart
I had to get my head examined today...again. I can just hear the jokes and wisecracks, thank you very much.
It was the annual brain MRI to keep an eye on things upstairs. I really do not like those things. Fortunately I don't get claustrophobic, as some people do. It's just really not comfortable lying on that hard table, and having to keep your head in one position without moving it for an hour. And then there's the dreaded IV, for the contrasting dye they have to inject at the halfway point. Definitely not an enjoyable way to start the day!
As I lay there grumbling in my mind about it, my thoughts drifted to a childhood friend. She has fought a lengthy and courageous battle with brain cancer, which now appears to be winning. Her doctors have exhausted every treatment and clinical trial available, and now she is at home, drifting in and out of consciousness, her heartbroken family gathered around to soak up every precious moment they have left with her.
While we continue to pray for healing this side of heaven for my sweet friend, it's entirely possible that she will, soon, be entering the arms of her Savior. There is deep sorrow in that, but deep joy, for her, as well.
Suddenly I began to feel a lot more comfortable in that cold, hard, magnetic imaging machine. My grumpy attitude turned to one of thankfulness for my own life and its many blessings. I am well, my MS is stable (I think), and even if it's not, hopefully the MRI will reveal to my doctor any concerns we may need to address. For all my friend has gone through, all I have heard for so long is how amazing her attitude has been, how she has kept her infectious smile and freely shared her faith throughout the whole ordeal.
So I started singing praise songs (to myself), and promptly settled into a place of peace.
Funny how I thought I was just getting my head examined. My heart got a check-up, too.
"You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you." Isaiah 26:3
It was the annual brain MRI to keep an eye on things upstairs. I really do not like those things. Fortunately I don't get claustrophobic, as some people do. It's just really not comfortable lying on that hard table, and having to keep your head in one position without moving it for an hour. And then there's the dreaded IV, for the contrasting dye they have to inject at the halfway point. Definitely not an enjoyable way to start the day!
As I lay there grumbling in my mind about it, my thoughts drifted to a childhood friend. She has fought a lengthy and courageous battle with brain cancer, which now appears to be winning. Her doctors have exhausted every treatment and clinical trial available, and now she is at home, drifting in and out of consciousness, her heartbroken family gathered around to soak up every precious moment they have left with her.
While we continue to pray for healing this side of heaven for my sweet friend, it's entirely possible that she will, soon, be entering the arms of her Savior. There is deep sorrow in that, but deep joy, for her, as well.
Suddenly I began to feel a lot more comfortable in that cold, hard, magnetic imaging machine. My grumpy attitude turned to one of thankfulness for my own life and its many blessings. I am well, my MS is stable (I think), and even if it's not, hopefully the MRI will reveal to my doctor any concerns we may need to address. For all my friend has gone through, all I have heard for so long is how amazing her attitude has been, how she has kept her infectious smile and freely shared her faith throughout the whole ordeal.
So I started singing praise songs (to myself), and promptly settled into a place of peace.
Funny how I thought I was just getting my head examined. My heart got a check-up, too.
"You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you." Isaiah 26:3
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Sorry, I didn't "See You at the Pole"
I overheard a conversation this morning that keeps chewing on me, so that usually means I better get this off my chest.
Apparently today was "See you at the Pole," the annual event that draws students to gather around the flagpoles of their schools to pray in the morning before school starts. As usual, my family missed it. Actually, I didn't even know it was happening today, and somehow, we seem to miss it every year.
You know what? I'm okay with that. But the woman I overheard this morning obviously was not. She was bashing her teenaged son for not getting out the door early enough to go. By this time, he was already at school and she was bad-mouthing him to someone else.
Now, I don't know this family's story, so I want to be careful to not pass judgement on them. I got the impression, however, at least from the mom, that these kinds of public displays of their faith are very important to them, and she was obviously quite displeased with her "slacker" son.
I wonder, what kind of impression was her attitude making on the one she was speaking to? I wonder how she would feel about me and my family if she were to read this post and see that I'm okay with my kids missing See You at the Pole. Would it be a good thing for them to go? Sure! But does it mean they are lazy slackers and poor witnesses to their faith if they miss it? I would certainly hope not!
One of the things I love so much about God is that he doesn't expect us to adhere to a set of man-made rules in order to follow him. That's called legalism and it can be ugly and hurtful. Jesus set us free from all that. He wants us to love him and love our neighbors, and he leads us to do that in all kinds of ways that are individual to each of us. Some may feel very much called to attend an event such as See You at the Pole on any given day. For someone else, maybe God didn't prompt them to go because he knew they would need the extra sleep in order to serve him in some other way. Who are we to judge what we can't possibly know?
I don't mean to sound like I'm criticizing See You at the Pole. I think it's a great event and serves an important purpose. But another concern I do have is when people use things like that as a platform for "putting God back in schools." That's another thing I love about God. He is so big, how can we possibly be so arrogant as to think that we can remove him from anywhere, or for that matter, put him anywhere? God has not left the schools. If there is even one Christian in the building, he is there, because the Holy Spirit resides in that person's heart. I pray every day that my daughters have the courage and conviction to live out their faith in school and out, no matter where they are. All that's required for that to happen is a love for the Lord, not a once a year gathering around a flagpole.
Apparently today was "See you at the Pole," the annual event that draws students to gather around the flagpoles of their schools to pray in the morning before school starts. As usual, my family missed it. Actually, I didn't even know it was happening today, and somehow, we seem to miss it every year.
You know what? I'm okay with that. But the woman I overheard this morning obviously was not. She was bashing her teenaged son for not getting out the door early enough to go. By this time, he was already at school and she was bad-mouthing him to someone else.
Now, I don't know this family's story, so I want to be careful to not pass judgement on them. I got the impression, however, at least from the mom, that these kinds of public displays of their faith are very important to them, and she was obviously quite displeased with her "slacker" son.
I wonder, what kind of impression was her attitude making on the one she was speaking to? I wonder how she would feel about me and my family if she were to read this post and see that I'm okay with my kids missing See You at the Pole. Would it be a good thing for them to go? Sure! But does it mean they are lazy slackers and poor witnesses to their faith if they miss it? I would certainly hope not!
One of the things I love so much about God is that he doesn't expect us to adhere to a set of man-made rules in order to follow him. That's called legalism and it can be ugly and hurtful. Jesus set us free from all that. He wants us to love him and love our neighbors, and he leads us to do that in all kinds of ways that are individual to each of us. Some may feel very much called to attend an event such as See You at the Pole on any given day. For someone else, maybe God didn't prompt them to go because he knew they would need the extra sleep in order to serve him in some other way. Who are we to judge what we can't possibly know?
I don't mean to sound like I'm criticizing See You at the Pole. I think it's a great event and serves an important purpose. But another concern I do have is when people use things like that as a platform for "putting God back in schools." That's another thing I love about God. He is so big, how can we possibly be so arrogant as to think that we can remove him from anywhere, or for that matter, put him anywhere? God has not left the schools. If there is even one Christian in the building, he is there, because the Holy Spirit resides in that person's heart. I pray every day that my daughters have the courage and conviction to live out their faith in school and out, no matter where they are. All that's required for that to happen is a love for the Lord, not a once a year gathering around a flagpole.
Friday, August 16, 2013
A Burger With a Side of Tears
It was supposed to be a quick trip to the grocery store, an easy grab and go. Instead, I wasted a full five minutes just standing in the meat department, pretending to peruse packages of ground beef. I must have looked like quite the comparison shopper, but anyone who ventured close would have seen that I was really blubbering like a complete fool and trying to hide my face from public view.
Two days earlier we had moved our eldest daughter into her freshman dorm at college nearly six hours away. It was difficult for all of us, but I managed the fewest amount of tears and had kept my emotions fairly well under control since returning home. That is, until I tried to buy the blasted meat.
Normally if we're grilling burgers, I like to buy the ground beef and season and form the patties myself. But this time I was in a hurry, so I thought I would just pick up a package of pre-formed patties. Big mistake. The patties came in packages of four. We are a family of four, but with one at college there are only three of us at home. And just like that, I was overcome with an avalanche of tears I had been fighting back for days. Right there in Kroger. In the meat department. With hamburger patties in my hand.
It took a few minutes for me to collect myself and make it to the front of the store, red face and all, to check out. Of course my neighbor would be there, and of course knowing we had just taken Kaelie to school very sweetly asked how we were adjusting to life as a family of three. Life really is all about timing, isn't it? More tears, and I know I mumbled something and tried to smile, then high-tailed it out of there with my four-pack of burgers before I could run into anyone else.
Another week has passed, and all in all I think we're doing pretty well. My daughter is having a great time and settling in well at school and just completed her first week of classes. It's hard to be sad when I see how excited she is to be starting this next phase of her life journey. But more importantly, I know, I KNOW, that she is going to soar.
The best reassurance about that I could have ever received came in the gift she gave me for my birthday last month. It's a canvas wall-hanging with verses from 1 Corinthians 13, known as the "love chapter" in the Bible.
The wall-hanging reads "Love is patient, Love is kind. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails."
It's a beautiful passage of Scripture, and I, like many others, had it read it my wedding. But here's the best part about this birthday gift. Kaelie told me she remembered it because one time a few years ago when she and her sister were fighting I made them get out their Bibles, look up and read this passage and think about how they were treating one another.
Honestly, I have no recollection of doing that. Ever. But the fact that she remembers and it obviously had an impact is all that matters. The fact that she would later give me these words on my birthday just a few weeks before leaving for college spoke volumes to me. Through this one simple gift and this lovely passage of Scripture, God reminded me that she is well-prepared. Our daughter is going out into the world wrapped in the love of her family, her church, and her God, and His love, especially, will never fail her.
To my friends who will be taking their "babies" off to college in the coming days, a word of advice. Stick to salad, it's healthier than a burger anyway. Better yet, feast on the Word of God. There's really no better comfort food!
Two days earlier we had moved our eldest daughter into her freshman dorm at college nearly six hours away. It was difficult for all of us, but I managed the fewest amount of tears and had kept my emotions fairly well under control since returning home. That is, until I tried to buy the blasted meat.
Normally if we're grilling burgers, I like to buy the ground beef and season and form the patties myself. But this time I was in a hurry, so I thought I would just pick up a package of pre-formed patties. Big mistake. The patties came in packages of four. We are a family of four, but with one at college there are only three of us at home. And just like that, I was overcome with an avalanche of tears I had been fighting back for days. Right there in Kroger. In the meat department. With hamburger patties in my hand.
It took a few minutes for me to collect myself and make it to the front of the store, red face and all, to check out. Of course my neighbor would be there, and of course knowing we had just taken Kaelie to school very sweetly asked how we were adjusting to life as a family of three. Life really is all about timing, isn't it? More tears, and I know I mumbled something and tried to smile, then high-tailed it out of there with my four-pack of burgers before I could run into anyone else.
Another week has passed, and all in all I think we're doing pretty well. My daughter is having a great time and settling in well at school and just completed her first week of classes. It's hard to be sad when I see how excited she is to be starting this next phase of her life journey. But more importantly, I know, I KNOW, that she is going to soar.
The best reassurance about that I could have ever received came in the gift she gave me for my birthday last month. It's a canvas wall-hanging with verses from 1 Corinthians 13, known as the "love chapter" in the Bible.
The wall-hanging reads "Love is patient, Love is kind. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails."
It's a beautiful passage of Scripture, and I, like many others, had it read it my wedding. But here's the best part about this birthday gift. Kaelie told me she remembered it because one time a few years ago when she and her sister were fighting I made them get out their Bibles, look up and read this passage and think about how they were treating one another.
Honestly, I have no recollection of doing that. Ever. But the fact that she remembers and it obviously had an impact is all that matters. The fact that she would later give me these words on my birthday just a few weeks before leaving for college spoke volumes to me. Through this one simple gift and this lovely passage of Scripture, God reminded me that she is well-prepared. Our daughter is going out into the world wrapped in the love of her family, her church, and her God, and His love, especially, will never fail her.
To my friends who will be taking their "babies" off to college in the coming days, a word of advice. Stick to salad, it's healthier than a burger anyway. Better yet, feast on the Word of God. There's really no better comfort food!
Thursday, February 21, 2013
I'm in Boot Camp and God is in the Bathroom
Bitter frustration. That's all I felt as I made a quick exit to the restroom to dry my tears. I had wanted so badly to see an improvement in my timed mile run, but thanks to painful shin splints I developed last week, I was just lucky to be able to finish it at all. With each step, it felt like daggers in my shins, and tears of anger and frustration blurred my eyes to the finish.
I know it sounds ridiculous that this would be something to cry over. But you have to understand that signing up for this 6-week Boot Camp Challenge was a huge leap of faith for me. I have let myself get so far out of shape that getting back into an exercise program of any sort meant swallowing a boatload of pride and fear. There is a lot of emotional junk that gets all tangled up with being overweight and out of shape. I realized, though, that if my body is a temple of the Holy Spirit (1 Cor. 16:19-20), then I have to do something about the terribly shabby living conditions I'm giving Him. So, I prayed for help with that, and it came in the form of Boot Camp!
Today was the last day of my first 6-week session and we were doing the same assessments we did on the first day.
"Why," I reasoned, "would God allow shin splints to hinder me? Didn't he understand how important these assessments were to me today? How else can I measure my progress?"
As I stood there in the rest room drying my tears and complaining to the Lord, He graciously whispered back to my spirit. "You're using human standards to measure your progress."
Who says God doesn't give immediate responses to prayer? He spoke to me in the bathroom, in direct response to my frustrated cries! I understood immediately, and it was all I needed to hear.
My loving Savior was reminding me that he blesses obedience. In getting all worked up over whether or not I was improving my time, I was allowing myself to slip back to my old ways of thinking that this exercise program was all about me. What happened to improving the living conditions for Him?
At least for today, that gentle whisper was all it took to adjust my attitude so that I could soldier on. Through the next assessments, I meditated on Philippians 4:13, "I can do all things through him who gives me strength." And guess what? I was able to do five more push-ups than I did at the beginning, and 21 additional crunches!
The other day I was allowing the shin splints to cause me to question whether I should continue with Boot Camp. But this soldier has re-upped for the next six weeks and I am sticking with it! As for the shin splints, ice, Biofreeze, ibuprofen, and shin-strengthening exercises on the stairs will hopefully bring them under control. Until then, I will run with perseverance the race marked out for me, fixing my eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of my faith. (Heb. 12:1-2)
I know it sounds ridiculous that this would be something to cry over. But you have to understand that signing up for this 6-week Boot Camp Challenge was a huge leap of faith for me. I have let myself get so far out of shape that getting back into an exercise program of any sort meant swallowing a boatload of pride and fear. There is a lot of emotional junk that gets all tangled up with being overweight and out of shape. I realized, though, that if my body is a temple of the Holy Spirit (1 Cor. 16:19-20), then I have to do something about the terribly shabby living conditions I'm giving Him. So, I prayed for help with that, and it came in the form of Boot Camp!
Today was the last day of my first 6-week session and we were doing the same assessments we did on the first day.
"Why," I reasoned, "would God allow shin splints to hinder me? Didn't he understand how important these assessments were to me today? How else can I measure my progress?"
As I stood there in the rest room drying my tears and complaining to the Lord, He graciously whispered back to my spirit. "You're using human standards to measure your progress."
Who says God doesn't give immediate responses to prayer? He spoke to me in the bathroom, in direct response to my frustrated cries! I understood immediately, and it was all I needed to hear.
My loving Savior was reminding me that he blesses obedience. In getting all worked up over whether or not I was improving my time, I was allowing myself to slip back to my old ways of thinking that this exercise program was all about me. What happened to improving the living conditions for Him?
At least for today, that gentle whisper was all it took to adjust my attitude so that I could soldier on. Through the next assessments, I meditated on Philippians 4:13, "I can do all things through him who gives me strength." And guess what? I was able to do five more push-ups than I did at the beginning, and 21 additional crunches!
The other day I was allowing the shin splints to cause me to question whether I should continue with Boot Camp. But this soldier has re-upped for the next six weeks and I am sticking with it! As for the shin splints, ice, Biofreeze, ibuprofen, and shin-strengthening exercises on the stairs will hopefully bring them under control. Until then, I will run with perseverance the race marked out for me, fixing my eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of my faith. (Heb. 12:1-2)
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Hannah's Prayer
With Thanksgiving approaching, I am feeling thankful for the gift of prayer. I thought it was worth posting this devotional I wrote 12 years ago.
The other day my husband was holding our daughter Hannah while he was visiting with his aunt and uncle. She's only two and a half, and had apparently been clamoring for her daddy's undivided attention, as children are apt to do when their parents are trying to having a conversation with anyone other than them. As he held her, something caught her attention. It was his necklace, specifically the gold cross which dangled from the chain. Gingerly, she to took in her chubby fingers and began a conversation of her own in a voice so quiet that only her daddy could hear. It went something like this:
"Dear God, Thank you for this whole day. Thank you for Daddy and Mommy and Sissy and Uncle Jeremy. In Jesus' name we pray. Aaa-men."
Did I mention that Hannah is only two and a half?
Her daddy may have been the only one standing there who heard it, but you can bet someone else did, too. There's no doubt in my mind that God was listening and he had to have been smiling!
At her very tender age, Hannah is learning to talk to God. She's talking to him on her own, without prompting, at times other than bedtime. She has even made the connection that the cross is something significant, something much more than a shiny piece of trendy jewelry.
Her innocent prayer has taught me volumes about my own faith and the legacy I leave my children. I may not always be there for them (as much as I would like to be), but God promises to be there. I believe that God has given me a responsibility to teach my children how to find him. I can't think of a better way to do that than by example...taking them to church, teaching them to pray, praying together as a family.
The Bible instructs us to pray without ceasing, and that if we present our requests to God with thanksgiving, then the peace of God which transcends all understanding will guard our hearts and minds. Amid all the turmoil that life can hold, what a relief to know that when I ask, God will protect my heart and mind with a sense of peace. How wonderful to know that same peace is there for my children, too, as they learn to go to God in prayer.
"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus." (Philippians 4:6-7)
The other day my husband was holding our daughter Hannah while he was visiting with his aunt and uncle. She's only two and a half, and had apparently been clamoring for her daddy's undivided attention, as children are apt to do when their parents are trying to having a conversation with anyone other than them. As he held her, something caught her attention. It was his necklace, specifically the gold cross which dangled from the chain. Gingerly, she to took in her chubby fingers and began a conversation of her own in a voice so quiet that only her daddy could hear. It went something like this:
"Dear God, Thank you for this whole day. Thank you for Daddy and Mommy and Sissy and Uncle Jeremy. In Jesus' name we pray. Aaa-men."
Did I mention that Hannah is only two and a half?
Her daddy may have been the only one standing there who heard it, but you can bet someone else did, too. There's no doubt in my mind that God was listening and he had to have been smiling!
At her very tender age, Hannah is learning to talk to God. She's talking to him on her own, without prompting, at times other than bedtime. She has even made the connection that the cross is something significant, something much more than a shiny piece of trendy jewelry.
Her innocent prayer has taught me volumes about my own faith and the legacy I leave my children. I may not always be there for them (as much as I would like to be), but God promises to be there. I believe that God has given me a responsibility to teach my children how to find him. I can't think of a better way to do that than by example...taking them to church, teaching them to pray, praying together as a family.
The Bible instructs us to pray without ceasing, and that if we present our requests to God with thanksgiving, then the peace of God which transcends all understanding will guard our hearts and minds. Amid all the turmoil that life can hold, what a relief to know that when I ask, God will protect my heart and mind with a sense of peace. How wonderful to know that same peace is there for my children, too, as they learn to go to God in prayer.
"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus." (Philippians 4:6-7)
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