The Little Hen That Brooded

Recently my friend Jan shared, "I know God can do what I pray for, but I don't know if He wants to, so I think I need to worry!"

In light of what she said, God showed me I mistake brooding for praying and gave me a picture of myself as a little hen who sits on her nest, believing if I brood there long enough, one of the eggs will hatch a solution to my situation! It's such a waste of time and only ends in perplexity and anxiety.

The Bible Study Fellowship study of Isaiah has given me a glimpse of the immensity and enormity of God. Yet, the Creator of the universe, the orchestrator of history, has the time and the inclination to give me His tender, singular attention.

He is trustworthy and faithful and calls me to "not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God." He doesn't promise every prayer will be answered as we hope, but He does promise when I follow this direction, "the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." (Philippians 4:6-7)

Two True Stories

This true story, which I heard a long time ago, came to mind this past Wednesday:

One particular Sunday morning, there was a terrible snowstorm. The pastor of a community church did not know what to do about the service. His wife encouraged him to cancel because no one would be coming out in the horrendous weather, but in reflection, the pastor did not feel right to do that, so he went ahead to the church and prepared for the service. Only two young boys were in attendance that day, and after the sermon, both boys came forward and said they wanted to become Christians. The pastor knelt at the altar with those boys and led them to Christ. One of them was the pastor's son.

~ ~ ~

Wednesday morning greeted the Greater Kansas City area with two inches of snow -- a mere dusting after the blizzard conditions of a week ago, but it made the drive to Bible Study Fellowship slippery and tense. By the time I arrived at the church, the administrative team was shuffling and moving small groups (so no one would have to cross the parking lot to meet in an adjacent building), the whole time being bombarded with questions as class members and visitors arrived. The lobby was crowded and noisy with ladies picking up lessons for friends who didn't brave the bad weather. A bit 'shell shocked' and "rattled" is how one administrative leader described us.

The entire time our teaching leader (JS) felt pulled and pressed, thinking, "Why didn't I just cancel?" Group leaders meet for pre-prayer, but J couldn't escape the chaos to get to the room. Hurrying, she said her heart "pounded with nervousness, but when I walked through the door, it was like I entered the throne room of heaven. I did in a way because we were in the presence of our great God! All that tension left, and tears of relief and comfort just flowed out of me. I was so touched and humbled by the grace of God and all of the leaders' tender, precious prayers! It was beautiful and just what I needed; probably what we all needed."

I shared the story about the pastor and his son with JS, and we agreed God reminds us that He is sovereign over snowy roads, icy parking lots, crowded classrooms, ticking clocks and upset plans. His purposes will be accomplished no matter how chaotic things appear.

We learned through the study of Isaiah that comfort means "with strength," and JS concludes, "That's exactly what I received during those few minutes in prayer with you all. The 'chaos' was over in my heart, and I could face the rest of the morning with His strength. Just like that pastor found out one Sunday morning . . . if one person was touched by the Lord Wednesday morning, then that wildness was worth it all!"

Thanks to JS for allowing me to use the text she wrote in an email message to create this post.

Happy, Happy, Happy

Recently a college friend whom I see only occasionally told me that I looked young, beautiful and happy!

Now, it was nice to be regarded as young and beautiful, especially when the reflection in the mirror reveals a sixty-year-old face with lines around the mouth, a slackness in the jaw, and dark circles under the eyes. The image is definitely not air-brushed!

But when I heard the word HAPPY, my heart leaped because that is a transformational gift from God! Through biblically based counseling at Living Foundation Ministries, God renewed my mind (Romans 12:2) and healed my broken heart (Isaiah 61:1) as He unraveled the tangled threads of depression and perfectionistic thinking embedded so deeply within me. Recovery demanded a lot of tears and a lot of prayers, but over time, I began to notice a deep joy bubbling within.

What joy
to be free of false guilt
to be free of unhealthy shame
to walk in the grace of God
to laugh at myself
to be authentic
to enjoy people with all their quirks and foibles
to love them with abandon
to experience God's faithfulness and redemption

Life is not perfect; I am not perfect! When pounded by busyness, grief, or fatigue, this spring seems to slow to a trickle. But, in truth, life's stresses and burdens will never squelch this bubbling joy, for it is the Living Water (John 7:38) Jesus Christ who said, "Whoever drinks of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst, but the water . . . shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life." (John 4:14).

He is the same yesterday, today, and forever. (Hebrews 13:8)

Satisfaction

What satisfies me?

• Celebrating special occasions and holidays with family
• Reading a good novel: one that pulls me into the setting and lives of its characters, one that leaves me thinking about that place and those people for days afterward
• Viewing the night sky through my telescope
• Smelling spring in the April air after March's cold and blustery rain
• Lingering over lunch with good friends
• Presenting someone I love with the perfect gift
• Enjoying dinner and a movie with my dear husband
• Playing with my granddaughters
• Finding bargains when I shop
• Sorting clutter and getting organized
• Spending Sunday morning worshipping God through music and study

This week in Bible Study Fellowship we covered John 4, where in Verse 34, Jesus tells His disciples, "My nourishment comes from doing the will of God who sent me and from finishing His work." (the Living Bible)

This question was presented: What should a Christian who does not have "heart" satisfaction do to find the same meaning in life? At first, I listed

• Spend time alone with God
• Meditate on His Word
• Surrender to the Holy Spirit
• Pray for the Him to infill and guide
• Confess sin immediately
• Share Jesus with others

Then I stopped to re-read a referenced verse in Acts 20:24, where Paul says, ". . . neither do I count my life dear unto myself, so that I might finish my course with joy, and the ministry, which I have received of the Lord Jesus to testify the gospel of the grace of God." (King James)

To allow God to order my time in service to Him, to rest and abide in the confidence that He can take care of my life's details while placing me just where He needs me at any given moment, to place His kingdom work at the top of my to-do list, to pray for the grace to share Jesus with any needy soul, to let go and let God -- herein lies true "heart" satisfaction.

Well-Wishers

This was posted at my former blog "marmee's musings in April, 2006. Today my Bible study included John 4 and reminded me of this post. It appears here for the first time.

I have a definite image of what a well should look like: a stone and mortar structure, topped with a rack-shambled roof and a sturdy, cranking handle to lower and raise the bucket that dangles from a rope. The kind that might be depicted in a children's book with old-fashioned illustrations. The kind you throw a penny in and make a wish.

My grandma had an abandoned well on her farm, which had always been covered by only a concrete slab. Equipped with an electric pump, it had once provided water for the house -- no penny wishes, no dipping bucket. It was a point of interest because my mother continuously warned my sister and me not to remove the cover. I marveled that she thought her four-year-old had such brute strength!

Today my interest in wells turns to the Bible, especially regarding two women: one from the Old Testament and one from the New. It was barren Sarah's doing that Hagar was pregnant, but when Hagar lorded it over her mistress, Sara demanded her departure. (See Genesis 16.)

As Hagar sat by a well (fountain) in the wilderness, did wishes march through her mind in drumming despair? Did she wish Abraham loved her? That she had displayed a humble spirit? That Sara had never suggested their arrangement in the first place? In His mercy, God sent an Angel of the Lord (the preincarnate Christ) to Hagar who commanded her to return to Sara and comforted her with news that she would have a son whose seed would become a great multitude. In gratitude, Hagar named this well Beer-lahai-roi -- "a well of the Living One who sees me" (Genesis 16:14).

Returning must have been difficult, and perhaps it was not what Hagar wished, but surely the Lord's presence quenched her misery, and His promise made the circumstances bearable.

Over two thousand years later, Jesus met a Samaritan woman by a well. (See John 4.) She, too, was an outcast, perhaps wishing for acceptance and respectability, for a way to escape her promiscuity. By visiting the well at mid-day, she avoided respectable women who gathered water in the cool of morning or evening.

So, imagine her surprise when a Jewish man not only asked her for a drink (Jews considered Samaritans as unclean.) but also identified the reason she was shunned and then offered her a drink of the Living Water. The Water that cleanses, refreshes, renews; a water that would reside in her as a "well. . . springing up into everlasting life" (John 4:14).

What are your wishes today? Peace of mind? Reconciliation? A second chance? Healing? Whatever wish resides in your heart, turn to the Living One Who Sees, the Living Water. He is not a Disneyland magican who makes all your dreams come true, but He promises to never leave nor forsake you, to see you through every trial, to shield you from every temptation, to bring you safely home into His arms for all eternity.

Isn't that worth wishing for?

The Church's Place in Public School Education

Yesterday my book club had a lively discussion about Outliers: Stories of Success by Maxwell Gladwell, which included the question: Just how much should a public school system supply in the place of negligent parents?

On another note, I also lamented that Gladwell ignored how the spiritual aspect of a person's life might affect his/her personal story.

Both of these points led me to look up some information about a program I learned of a few years ago:

The National Church Adopt-A-School Initiative (NCAASI) began with Oak Cliff Bible Fellowship Church in Dallas, led by Pastor Tony Evans. Evans grew up in urban Baltimore and faced the inherent challenges of that environment. He says: "Government has spent trillions of dollars to reverse and elevate this spiral of social disintegration, yet the problems and pain grow worse with each passing day. I believe the reason for this is the separation of the spiritual from the social. There is a horrific disconnect between the role of the church on Sunday and the condition of hurting people on Monday. This changed in my own life and family when my father discovered the life-giving power of faith and began operating differently because of it. Our home became different from most of the other homes in my neighborhood because the connection had been made between the spiritual and the social." (The Vision of Dr. Tony Evans)

This church networks with the Dallas public school system and suburban community churches to create an extensive ministry out-reach to the urban families in Dallas. Also, it offers training to other churches/school districts/communities to replicate their success across the country. Their purpose is to come alongside the students and their families "by seeking holistic, long-term solutions of meeting needs in a way that changes how people think, which ultimately determines how they live." The philosophy is "not a hand out, but a hand up." (Kingdom Agenda)

They provide

• Mentoring
• Tutoring
• Life Skills and Character Education
• Sports and Recreation
• Family Support Services such as food, shelter and clothing; adult education; career development; job placement assistance; and preventive medical checks.

Making school days/year longer will not make lasting changes in the lives of students. Yes, it will give teachers more time to mentor and influence young people, as one club member so eloquently stated from his own experiences. (I can not underestimate the power of one individual to reach another -- many teachers influenced my life for the better.)

But, to me, only adding more time to the day/year, only providing breakfast, only doing whatever we can think of to do because the parents are not doing it, is a "hand out, not a hand up." I do not mean, educators all need to be Christians who evangelize and proselytize their students. I do mean that the best way to change students' lives is to address the "whole" person, and the whole community needs to be involved, and that includes the church/synagogue/mosque/temple.

Visit this video link to learn more about NCAASI .

Morning Like This

On cool spring mornings when the sun parts the dark sky, waving pink scarves over the horizon, and the dew beads on the grass as sparkling diamonds, I think of the lyrics to "Morning Like This" as Mary Magdalene discovered the empty tomb. How jubilant the creation must have been because the Creator had risen!

Did the grass sing?
Did the earth rejoice
To feel you again?...
Over and over like a Trumpet underground,
Did the earth seem to pound: “He is risen.”
Over and over in a never ending round
“He is risen, alleluia, alleluia!”

Students

The year before I retired from public school teaching, God and I had a lot of talks. While I was eager to leave the bureaucracy and politics that have encroached on the creativity of both students and teachers, leaving my students was another matter.

I loved them like they were my own children, and I was going to miss interacting with them. God assured me there would be other students, and there have been. I taught summer school in 2005, thoroughly enjoying the 12 juniors who were in that class. I've been able to catch up with many former students on Facebook, and it has been so fun to learn what they are doing now.

Having spent my career at the middle and high school levels, I never thought that my heart would be captured by kindergartners, but that is exactly what happened during VBS. The week was a hectic one, but all I remember is five sweet smiles and eager faces filled with the wonder of exploring and learning. They love God, and I pray that faith will deepen as they mature, that they will walk with Jesus all the days of their lives.

God keeps His promises, and I am blessed!

Children and Kids

Sunday's vacation Bible school memory verse was 1 John 3:1 "God loves us and calls us His children."

D., one of the kindergarteners, memorized it this way: "God loves us and calls us His kids."

There is something warmly familiar in that translation, something comfortable and confident. As a little child trusts that his daddy will spend time with him, teach him, and provide for him, we, too, can place in our faith and trust in our Heavenly Daddy -- Abba Father.

Waiting

We are often reminded to "wait upon the Lord." But do we ever think about God waiting upon us?

Isaiah 30:18a says, "The Lord will wait that he may be gracious to you, and therefore he will be exalted that he may have mercy upon you. . ."

Today's devotion in the wonderful Streams in the Desert states: "God is a wise gardener 'who waits for the precious fruit of the earth and has long patience for it.' He can not gather fruit until it is ripe. He knows when we are spiritually ready to receive the blessing to our profit and His glory."

God created time, and God uses time. While He waits for us, may we also wait for Him in the blessings and trials of our lives.

A Six Year Anniversary

Today is the anniversary of Brock's stillbirth. He would be six today-- and maybe he is six in Heaven! (I don't know.)

I think of him often and miss his presence in our family. But more often I think about how God revealed His goodness to me during the long healing process. That revelation has deepened my faith and changed me in ways that would not have happened if Brock had lived.

As my natural self, I would be willing to give up this spiritual profundity, but in my desire to live for my King, I gladly surrender to His sovereignty and will. I do not understand the whys of tragedy, but my experience is living proof of Romans 8:28 "All things work together for good for those who love the Lord and are called according to His purpose."

Because of Christ's sacrifice on the cross, I have an assurance that I will see Brock again. Do you, dear reader, have the assurance that you will spend the next part of eternity in Heaven? If not, I pray that you would acknowledge your need of a Savior and ask Him to come into your life and justify you before God the Father. Then ask Him to be your Lord, and He will sanctify you to grow in the likeness of Christ.

I made this decision when I was 28, and I have never regretted doing so. It is the most important decision any human has to make.

Speaking of Perfectionism

This was my first post at marmee's musings.

I am a recovering perfectionist.

Sometimes when I say that, people chuckle. I assume they think I'm making a joke -- parodying AA's famous introductory statement: "Hi, I'm Kathy, and I'm an alcoholic." Believe me, perfectionism is no joke.

Some see perfectionism as an admirable quality because they equate it with excellence. However, there is a big difference. People who seek excellence do their best at any given endeavor; they are able to differentiate the finished product from themselves. Their motto is I did my best, and my best is good enough. Perfectionists, on the other hand, see falling short of excellence as a character flaw. They think I should have tried harder; I'm a failure.

So what does this all have to do with strawberries? Well, recently, I was enrolled in a beginner's water color class through a local adult education program. The first night the teacher showed us (among other things) how to use materials such as alcohol, salt, rubber cement, etc., to create certain looks to our paintings. In the second session, he brought some fruit and asked us to create a still life, incorporating one of the techniques he had taught the previous week.

I sketched some strawberries and an apple then dotted the berries with rubber cement, so when I applied the red paint, it would leave white spots. When the red paint was dry, I could then rub off the cement and apply a different color to create the seeds.

The apple was a disaster from the first stroke. I used the wrong brush to get the needed effect, and I applied yellow paint first, which bled into my red, leaving my apple looking more like a peach. So, I abandoned it and turned to the strawberries, which at one point looked pretty good, if I do say so myself. Well, the berries were too pale, and the seeds were too big, but otherwise, they looked pretty good.

Several people, including the instructor, peeked over my shoulder and agreed; the strawberries had turned out pretty well. The class then moved onto a different project -- except for me. I fixated on my strawberries that just looked "pretty good" but not perfect. So. . .

I mixed some more red paint with water and painted over each berry. Now, water color is not like oil paint, which can be painted over and over and over without doing any damage. I turned my pretty red berries into this muddy mess as the seed's yellowish brown color bled into the red color. By the time I was done, they looked like the berries the produce customer would have designated for the compost pile.

Because I am a recovering perfectionist, I was able to separate my self-image from my picture. I did not feel like a moral failure because I ruined my strawberries. Still, I saw my old nemesis raise his ugly head, and I learned another object lesson: leave the strawberries alone.

Perfectionism: A Too Familiar Tune

Once again I find myself in a familiar place: battling perfectionistic thinking. This time it stems from a new job as the assistant to the director of the Greater Kansas City Writing Project. (Katie, the director, refers to me as the assistant director, but I can't quite own that label!)

I love Katie and so many other people I get to work with, and I love the work. More than once in the last several years, I have said being someone's assistant would be fun, and then Katie asked me to take this position for this school year. What a blessing! After (minimal-- I confess -- perhaps my first mistake) prayer, I agreed.

As I settle into a routine, anxiety sits on my chest, much like a 100-pound gorilla. This is old stuff, and I've pulled out every tool God has given me to have victory: reciting scripture, praying, confessing, seeking wise counsel -- yet nothing has changed the fluttery heart and shortness of breath.

Yesterday at Bible Study Fellowship (where we are studying Moses) our teaching leader commented on how Moses 'messed up' when he tried to help a fellow Israelite by murdering an Egyptian. She went on to talk about our 'mess ups' -- in our relationships, in our educational experience, with our children, on the job. And in the middle of her list, God whispered (in my mind) Will you let me be the God of your 'mess ups'? In that simple question, the Holy Spirit revealed that in my fears, I am ultimately saying my mistakes are too big for God to handle. How arrogant of me! I repent and am thankful for a merciful God who forgives.

The question did not have a magical effect by removing every trace of anxiety, but I purpose to go on with God, and I am greatly comforted to know that He promises to never leave me nor forsake me. I'm in good hands.

Sincerely Yours

Tonight I wrote a rejection letter to someone who submitted an essay to Literary Mama. I hate writing them, and every time I struggle with the wording, to be gracious, honest, and sincere. In fact, I closed with "Sincerely," which brought this (with revisions) post (from my old blog) to mind.

I fall in love with words. Sounds silly, I know, but I do! I love how the English language provides a broad variety of words to express precisely what I want to say. I love the connotation and nuance of them. I like to say words that fill up my mouth or create a gymnastic exercise for my lips and tongue: discombobulated, tumultuous, persnickety.

I also enjoy learning about word etyomology, so a story I read many years ago about sincere captured my attention. It was a charming story of how Greek column makers used the roots sine (without) and cera (wax) to advertised their marble columns. Disreputable carvers hid column flaws by filling them with wax, but a column advertised as sine cera meant the column was pure marble. Over time, the word entered the Greek lexicon and was used to describe other things that were honest, pure, or clean.

Sometime later I bought a tape which included the song "Sincerely Yours," about writing a letter to the Lord. My knowledge of the word's root coupled with my desire to love the Lord with all my heart, mind, and soul, prompted me to make the song's words my life's motto.

But as I close, I see a phrase I took for granted,
And it leaps out as I see it written there.
And as the truth of it begins to become planted,
These two words have now become my heartfelt prayer:
Sincerely yours. Lord, I sign my life to You, sincerely yours.
With a strong and honest wish
To be the best that I can be at what I am,
Without a thought for me.
Lord, teach me how to be Sincerely Yours . . .
1979, Paragon Music/ASCAP

Recently I discovered the Greek reference is most likely not true. Instead, sincere stems from the Latin sincerus, meaning "clean" or "pure,"and cere originates from an Indo-European root ker- "to grow. " The combination creates "pure or honest growth." (TakeOurWord) Ever the romantic, I was disappointed to learn the story about the marble columns is not accurate, but that doesn't deter my interest in sincerity, and it doesn't deter my desire to stand before my Lord pure and clean.

Of course, I can not do that under my own power; I am totally dependent on the shed blood of Christ to cleanse me of sin. Do I still sin? Yes, unfortunately I do, but God looks upon the inner person and sees a heart bent to obedience, a heart sincerely seeking Him. Sin has not mastered me, and that pleases God. For His grace and mercy, I am sincerely grateful.

Remembering September 11

Last November I visited Ground Zero for the 2nd time. Unlike my first visit in 2005, the fence surrounding it was covered in most places, perhaps to keep the construction of the memorial and new buildings somewhat private until the future dedication and reveal.

I especially remember FDNY Firehouse Engine 10 and Ladder 10. The station is right across the street from the former towers, and the crew lost five men during the attacks. The station itself was severely damaged, and the surviving men were split up and sent to different precints until the station was restored.

The first time I was there, the station doors were closed, though I noticed a memorial on the wall commemorating their crew members who died on September 11. I often think of that station, and in November, when the station doors were open, I spoke to one of the men on duty, telling him about my father-in-law, who was a fireman and a fiercely patriotic American, and how I was certain, had he been living in 2001, he would have gone to New York to help with recovery and clean-up.

The station sells t-shirts to raise money for a college fund that benefits children who lost their fathers on that infamous day, so I bought one for my husband to show my support (though it seemed a pittance) of the Enginehouse 10 crew and the thousands of people who lives were personally changed. They are nameless to me, but I know they are not to God, and that is why today I pray for them.

Stranger in the Night

Recently I traveled with my husband's baseball team (He coaches 17 and 18 year olds.) to Tennessee for a tournament. We arrived in Nashville in the afternoon and spent our first evening at the Wild Horse Saloon (which sounds like a terrible place to take a group of adolsecents!) a popular tourist destination with a huge dance floor, performance stage, line-dance lessons, and lots of good food -- really a family atmosphere.

At the end of the night while waiting for our groups' cars to pick us up, another coach's wife and I noticed this young man who was dressed in gangsta style (baggy shorts, basketball jersey, lots of bling bling, shaved hair) who had Jesus in a crown of thorns tattooed on the back of his head and another tattoo on the top of his head that we couldn't see. He was smoking a cigarette and talking non-stop to the saloon's security guard who was politely nodding and smiling.

I couldn't take my eyes off that tattoo and became so curious, I had to talk to him. So, I (little Miss Priss, straight-as-an-arr0w conservative) interrupted the one-sided conversation and asked him why he had that Jesus tattoo. He told me he was a Christian and then revealed the outside of his arms which were tattooed with "Amazing Grace."

He was pretty amazed that I had been bold enough to approach him and even more surprised when I told him that I was also a Christian. Then he asked me a question "Do you think it is okay not to attend church?" I could tell from his tone and expression that mainstream congregations (who look like me) had probably hurt him, but I didn't have time to answer, as my ride pulled to the curb. I really wanted to finish our conversation and was tempted to ask the driver of the van to cruise around the block a couple of times. But not wanting to be inconsiderate, I, instead, asked him if he had a business card. He didn't, and I didn't, so I hugged him goodbye. He thanked me for talking to him and expressed how encouraged he was by my friendliness.

I have thought about him several times and expressed regret to friends at home that I now have no way to reach him. BUT they have reminded me that God has a way -- so I pray that any wounds he may have suffered at the hands of Christians who were perhaps self-righteous and judgmental will be softened by the happy memory of our chance encounter.

Still, I would really like to talk to him again because I forgot to ask him about the tattoo on the top of his head!

It Is Finished

According to John's account of the resurrection, Mary Magdalene told Peter and John the tomb was empty. They, then, ran to see for themselves. John 20:6b-7 says, "He (Peter) saw the strips of linen as well as the burial cloth that had been around Jesus' head. The cloth was folded by itself, separate from the linen."

In a Beth Moore Bible study several years ago, I learned that during Jesus' time, it was customary for a carpenter to fold his work cloth and leave it on the finished piece, so the one who had hired him would know the work was finished.

Did Peter remember Jesus' last words on the cross? "It is finished." (John 19:30)

If so, this folded cloth would have sent them a clear message, and it provides a clear message for us today. Jesus is everything we need Him to be because He has done all He needs to do for us.

Happy Resurrection Day!

Lost Glove -- Lost Sheep

I have a bad habit of putting my gloves in my lap after the car warms. When I get out of the car, the gloves drop onto the ground unnoticed. Sometimes I'm fortunate to find them on the ground by my car when I return to it. Other times, not so lucky --

I lost a pair of leather gloves in Milwaukee at an NCTE convention. My sister had driven from Chicago to have dinner with me and my friends, and upon returning to the hotel, she dropped us off at the door. In a hurry to say our goodbyes, I did not miss my gloves until the next morning.

Another time Jim dropped me off at home before going on to an appointment. When he returned, the car lights illuminated one glove. I was so distressed about the missing glove --black leather with fur trim, a Christmas gift from a student who had no idea I had just lost a pair --that Jim retraced his drive and found it in the gutter of a nearby street. Apparently, it had landed on his Explorer's running board and fell off when he turned the corner. It was wet and cold, but I tenderly "nursed" it back to its original condition, and I still have the pair.

This week I lost another leather glove while out running errands. (I never lose the Big Lots-three-pair-for-$1 kind!) It was 7:00 p.m. when I noticed. What a disappointment, especially since I've been remembering to lay the gloves in the passenger seat or to put them back on before I get out of the car.

I had been all over the city -- Brookside on Kansas City's southside and several places closer to home. Tired and late in getting to my parents' house, I decided to take the time to return to my parking spots at a gas station, the church, and my chiropractor's office. No glove! A trip to Brookside was out of the question, so I resigned myself to the fact that I was gloveless once again. Then as I turned my car to head out of the last lot, my eye fell upon my missing glove. Instead of falling from my lap, it had fallen from my pocket when I retrieved my car keys upon leaving the office. I was soooo happy -- so relieved!

I thought of this glove while reading Matthew 18:12-14. Jesus, talking about how precious children are to God, speaks of a sheperd who will leave ninety-nine sheep on a hill to seek one lost sheep. If he finds it, "he is happier about that one sheep than about the ninety-nine that did not wander off."

As happy as I was to find that glove, God's happiness in having a person come to Him through the love of His Son is infinitely greater than my delight. I'm grateful that He uses the common things of life to remind me of His unending compassion.

The Rest of the Story

In several posts lately, I have mentioned my grandson's stillbirth, but I have been remiss in not telling "the rest of the story."

Brock would have been five this past November, and I often think of him, but God has been good to me and has blessed me in many ways:

• with a strong support group at my church and former school and across the world through my online writing class and Literary Mama
• with two beautiful granddaughters who have given my whole family great pleasure
• with a sweet, generous husband who loves and supports me and works hard to provide for his family
• with two handsome sons who have become responsible, personable young men
• with a wonderful daughter-in-law whom I love and value greatly
• with the greatest sister in the whole world Oh! How we laugh!
• with my parents who have enjoyed longevity of life and reasonably good health
• with Jesus who is my Lord, Savior, and Friend
• with His Word to comfort and guide me.

Though life can be hard, God is always good. So, I just want to set the record straight. I am at peace and filled with joy.

It Came Upon a Midnight Clear

The Christmas following my grandson's stillbirth was a difficult one -- I could not concentrate during sermons, Sunday school lessons, department meetings, or any group gathering. Everyone sounded like the teacher in Charlie Brown cartoons: "Wah, wah, wah, wah, wah." But music cut through the cloud that enveloped me, and in that, I came to regard "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear" as my favorite carol.

It came upon the midnight clear,
That glorious song of old,
From angels bending near the earth,
To touch their harps of gold:
"Peace on the earth, goodwill to men
From heaven's all gracious King!"
The world in solemn stillness lay
To hear the angels sing.

O ye beneath life's crushing load,
Whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the climbing way
With painful steps and slow;
Look now, for glad and golden hours
Come swiftly on the wing;
Oh rest beside the weary road
And hear the angels sing.

Through the lyrics, I sensed God's call to rest and marveled at His gracious provision of words I could hear -- words that offered compassion and mercy, warmth and sympathy, kindness and encouragement.

Now during Christmas, I look forward to singing this carol that reminds me of God's faithfulness, and I pray that those whose forms bend low beneath life's crushing blows will also find comfort in its message.