Remember your chains

 
     Sometimes it's good to remember.  To remember your chains, as Stephen Curtis Chapman sang in one of my favorite songs.  It's worth reading his powerful lyrics:

I couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking
As he stared out the window to the sky
It seemed he was taking his last look at freedom
from the hopeless, longing look in his eyes
There were chains on his hands and on his feet
And as I passed him by the thought came to me

Remember your chains
Remember the prison that once held you
Before the love of God broke through
Remember the place you were without grace
When you see where you are now
Remember your chains
And remember your chains are gone.

There's no one more thankful to sit at the table
Than the one who best remembers hunger's pain
And no heart loves greater than the one that is able
To recall the time when all it knew was shame
The wings of forgiveness can take us to heights never seen
But the wisest ones, they will never lose sight of where they were set free
Love set them free

So remember your chains
Remember the prison that once held you
Before the love of God broke through
Remember the place you were without grace
When you see where you are now
Remember your chains
And remember your chains are gone

     We forget so quickly, don't we?  We forget what we truly deserved because of our sin and rebellion and selfishness.  We forget the hopelessness.  We forget the fear that could consume and the sorrow that could overwhelm.  And most of all, we forget what it was to be a prisoner to sin and death, enslaved to ourselves and our pride.
     We forget all that Christ saved us from and all He saved us to.  He saved us from that feeling of emptiness and hunger--for He is the Bread of Life that always feeds and satisfies the deepest longings of the human heart.  From emptiness to fullness.  He saved us from the desperate thirst for satisfaction and joy that we could never seem to fulfill--for He is the Living Water that fills us to overflowing with His living, joyful Spirit.  From the exhaustion of unmet desires to continual filling by His springs of water that run dry.   He saved us from the crippling constriction of worry and fear--for He is our Peace and is the Prince of Peace.  From worry to peace.
     He saved us from despair and hopelessness in all the dead-end places of our lives--for He is the Door to eternal life and abundant life and hope.  From despair to new hope.  He saved us from loneliness--for He is the Good Shepherd who knows and loves His sheep and calls us each by name. From loneliness to never alone.  He saved us confusion and doubt in a world of darkness and uncertainty--for He is the Light of the Word.  With Him we need never walk in darkness.  From darkness to Light.
      And He saved us from guilt and shame and an eternity apart from Him--for He is the Resurrection and the Life.  "Whoever believes in Me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in Me shall never die.  Do you believe this?" (John 11:25-26)   Yes, Lord, we believe, is our heart's cry. How I pray it is yours.
     From hopelessness to hope.  From purposelessness to purpose.  From despair to joy.  From blindness to sight.  From hunger and thirst to satisfaction.  From fear and worry to peace.  From pride to happy humility.  From brokenness to wholeness.  From death to life.  From chains to freedom.
     And from sickness to health.  From coma to laughter with friends.  From ICU to a football game at UNC (where Tessa and Janie are right now, praise God!).  From breathing only with the help of a machine to taking deep, full breaths in the fresh autumn air.  From holding a quiet vigil by our still child's bedside to laughing at the weight of her wheelchair as we hoist it into the car.  From looking at the sky from the small window of a hospital room to walking outside and rejoicing in the inky night sky dotted with sparkling pinpricks of starlight.  From worrying about lung infections to worrying about possible homework assignments.  From watching our child fed by a feeding to tube to enjoying a hot meal of pasta (and, of course, cake!) cooked by a dear friend, all sitting together at our kitchen table.  From wiping her fevered, motionless brow to running to get her favorite face wash so she can wash her face and brush her teeth.  So many everyday blessings!  So many stones rolled away!  So many chains removed--O might we never take for granted even one blessing of freedom.  Freedom--it comes in all shapes and sizes, but it is always beautiful!
     We will not forget the chains.  For we know who removed the chains and rolled away the stone for our Janie.  And we will thank the Lord to the day we die for His wondrous healing power.
     But might we all rejoice and never forget the far greater, more glorious, more joyous, and utterly undeserved miracle: that our own chains of sin and death were removed forever by our Savior at the cross on Calvary.  And if those chains still bind you, know that Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life--He is the Way to freedom.  He is ready and willing and able to remove the chains of sin of ALL who call on Him by faith.  Today can be your day of true freedom.                    
     Might we live each day remembering our chains... and then rejoicing that our chains are gone.
     To the God, the Savior, who removed all our chains and freed us to eternal, abundant Life, be all the glory.
     


   

Yes!

     Yesterday morning, it was the usual mad rush.  Granted, life has become a bit more, well, complicated, when you add to the usual morning mix helping a child with a wheelchair and a walker get ready for school.  Everything seems to take exponentially longer.  And then there's the hauling and hefting and hurrying.  By the way, in case anyone is looking for a new fitness regime, I'm suggesting power wheelchair lifting in and out of a suburban.  Great for the arms... not so terrific for the back.
     We had readied, fed, and delivered our high schoolers to school, and now it was time to do the whole wild dash again with our 5th grader (who goes to school about 30 minutes later).   Now just for a bit of background: thursday was grammar test day.  Grammar, I've discovered, is not a barrel of fun, nor is it easy.  We've been trying to go over this stuff the past few days, but seriously, this is not for the faint of heart.  And along with decluttering, car repair, figuring out directions, and balancing my checkbook, is not on the list of our (or at least my) natural proclivities.
     The plan was to go over the parts of a sentence with our son one more time before running to school, but as is my tendency, the plan was based on being able to cram five hours worth of activity into one hour of time.  If only.  Needless to say, we were running late.  So, I did what any good mama would do: I quizzed my son in the car  on the way to school while he zipped up his book bag, finished buttoning his shirt, and tied his shoelaces.
     "Okay, Peter, here's a sentence, and you tell me what each word is:  'Oscar ran to the store.'  First off, what is Oscar?"
     Peter immediately responded with "noun."
    "NO!  What is Oscar?" I demanded.
    "Mom," Peter insisted, "it's a noun!"
     "NO!... uh, wait a minute, that's right.  It is a noun.  Sorry about that," I sheepishly mumbled.   "Mom, I think you need to back to kindergarden," Peter laughed.  And then we both burst out in big guffaws.  I had been so harried and hurried that I couldn't even identify a noun for my now throughly confused 5th grader.   And truth be told, I had been so prepared for him to be wrong--I was just so ready to say "NO"--that I missed his obviously correct answer that merited a big "YES!"  Good grief.
     It can be so easy to fall into that negativity trap, can't it?  We falter, or someone we love falters, and we can sometimes too quickly fail to give them or ourselves the benefit of the doubt.  We look for the "no's" instead of the "yeses."  We see all that is wrong or focus on the few weaknesses rather than viewing all that is right and all the many strengths.
     And sometimes our quick and harsh "No!" causes us to miss life's "Yes!" that is right there in front of us.  I had been so focused on getting everyone ready and on trying to prepare our son for a quiz that I nearly missed the simple joy of fixing them breakfast and spending a few moments with them and just enjoying them as we went to school.  Boy, our busyness can be such a joy stealer and rob us of the ability to treasure those everyday moments that build our relationships
     Ten years from now what would be more important: our son's grade on one test or his mother's unconditional love in the morning as she sent him off to school?  Would he remember my laughter and my love--all my Yeses--or my harried nagging and quizzing--my No's?  I think I know the answer; it's just that I sometimes forget to ask the question.
     But my Savior never forgets.  And His love never fails.. for it is always "Yes" in Christ.   I have always loved the verse: "For no matter how many promises God has made, they are "Yes" in Christ.  And so through Him the "Amen" is spoken by us to the glory of God."  (2Cor.1:20)   All that God has promised is Yes in Christ.  Yes, God loves us.  Yes, He forgives us.  Yes, His mercies are new every morning.  Yes, He will never leave us or forsake us.  Yes, we can do all things through Him who strengthens us.  Yes, He is our Rock and Refuge.  Yes, He is our Light.  Yes, He is preparing a place for each of us. Yes, He is our very present help in trouble.  Yes, He is the Resurrection and the Life.
      Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes... to every promise in His Word. He is always and eternally YES.  And we are the Amen.  O Lord, help us to live that way!  Help us to declare the Amen to Your glory by the way we live and the way we love.  Forgive us when we forget who You are and what You have done, and thus live as if God's promises were nullified. We tend to doubt and focus on life's No's.
     But all God's promises are Yes in Christ!  So might we live what we profess--Yes in Christ's love.  Yes in Christ's grace.  Yes in Christ's power.  Yes in Christ's joy.  Yes in Christ's hope.  Yes in Christ's peace.  Yes in Christ's victory.  Yes, not no.  Yes!
     And we all say "Amen" to the glory of God.

   

The gigantic secret

      A tough afternoon and evening of pain yesterday and today.  Janie is really struggling with severe neck pain... and that fosters discouragement and frustration.  As she keeps saying, "I just want to feel normal."  How I wish I could help her, but all our efforts have been for naught.  What a helpless feeling.  God of all healing and hope, please help her, strengthen her, heal her, encourage her heart.
     Boy, we tend to forget how difficult pain is.  Unrelenting pain can take you down--not just physically but mentally and emotionally.  The one thing I keep reminding myself is that just a few weeks ago, we were desperately praying Janie could just feel pain.  When she was unconscious those two long weeks, we searched and hoped for any sign that she was feeling any kind of pain.  To be awake and to live is to experience pain.  Help us to remember, Lord, when we feel pain, that You have allowed it for a purpose and for our ultimate good... and You will powerfully use it in our lives when we yield to and trust You.
       I just read this morning in my One Year Bible, "Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness.  And let steadfastness have its full effect that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing."
(James 1:2-4)   How many times have I read this verse?  No telling, but a bunch, that's for sure.  And I always thought it sounded  so good in theory.  Only now God has us moving from theory to reality.  To living out His Word in living color and depending upon Him moment by moment and word by supernatural word.
     And I just have to say, we are certainly more comfortable with the theoretical (versus actual) application of God's Word regarding pain and suffering!  Giving a choice, we'd just as soon opt out of  suffering of any kind--especially when it comes to our children.  But, thankfully, God does not give us a choice. If He did, we'd all be spiritual pigmies.  Weak, underdeveloped, uninteresting, unhelpful, ungrateful.  Yep, living on easy street does not produce deep, strong character, does not make us people who can truly be compassionate and encouraging towards others, and, incredibly, does not foster true.... dare I say it?: joy.
     Because here's the thing: we've never faced such adversity, such sorrow, such uncertainty, such helplessness as we have the past few weeks.  But we've also never experienced such close fellowship with the Lord.  Such joy and gratitude for life and all that God has given us and done for us.  Such enjoyment of and laughter with dear friends and family.  Seriously, even in the ICU, we often laughed hard about one thing or another.  God just gave us His joy.  And His joy is simply irrepressible.... even in the darkness.  You cannot explain it.  You simply experience it, and when your circumstances are outwardly difficult or painful yet He still gives you His joy, well, then, it's supernatural and indefatigable and inexplicable.
     And wonderful.  I love how G.K. Chesterton put it: "Joy, which is the small publicity of the pagan,  is the gigantic secret of the Christian."   Always been one of my favorite quotes!!  Or as C.S. Lewis wrote: "Joy is the serious business of heaven."  Or one more from Brother Lawrence: "Joy is the surest sign of the presence of God."
      He is a God of joy, and He  anoints us with the oil of gladness even in the hard, lonely, painful places of our lives when we look to Him, depend upon Him, savor Him, trust Him. That's not to say we don't struggle and experience exhaustion and sorrow and frustration.  We do... but His joy is greater and stronger.  It's like the smallest candle overcoming the deepest darkness.  Darkness can never overwhelm the Light.  Never could.  Never will.
     So, "count it all joy... when you meet trials of various kinds" is no longer an academic exercise with us.  No more theoretical.  This is real life, and it's hard and painful sometimes.  How I wish I could remove or alleviate Tessa's and Janie's pain.  If only I could heal them and enable them to go back to school full time and be happy, crazy-busy high school seniors who run cross country and sing loudly to the radio in the car and laugh with their friends as they rush to off-campus lunch and zip in nearly late to OneVoice singing rehearsals and complain about how much homework they have and wolf down Chick-fil-A before running to Young Life and celebrating the gift of Jesus with all their buddies.
     But I can't heal them.  I'm not God--and that is one whale of an understatement!  He is the One with all power, all wisdom, all knowledge, all love, all grace, and all mercy.  And if He's allowed any kind of pain or suffering in our lives, then we can know He will use it greatly and graciously and gloriously.  All for His glory, all by His grace, all for our good. And in His good and perfect time, He will restore the weeks and months "the locusts have eaten." (Joel 2:25)
     Until then, in the midst of all of our--and your--trials and suffering and waiting, He'll give every one of us His unexplainable, unquenchable joy.  It's our gigantic secret... but I just told you, because some secrets are too good not to share!  Maybe there's someone else you can share the gigantic Good News with too.
     To God--the Giver of infinite, indefatigable joy--be the glory.

(Tessa and Janie enjoying the beautiful sun outside late this afternoon.  Another splash of His joy!)

The relentless Gift-Giver

     Praise God from whom all blessings flow!  This is Tessa and Janie outside our church, Capital Community (which actually meets at their school, Broughton) on Sunday morning!  God is so good--it was just terrific to be able to sit in church and sing praises to God for His grace and mercy and power and to listen to the Word and to bathe in the incredible love of the body of Christ!  Another thing we will never take for granted again--being able to go to church.
      I'm betting you are all a million times more organized than our family (though that bar is set pretty low), but I can tell you that sunday mornings can be a bit hairy at the Fountain abode.  "Where did  those clean socks go," and, "O no, you cannot wear those dirty khakis--although the wrinkles are just fine--gives them character."  "Hurry hurry hurry, we're gonna be late again."  By the time we jump into the car, breathless and sometimes a tiny bit frustrated, it takes me all the way to church to calm down... and to stop fussing: "We are never going to do this again. From now on, you need to set out all your clothes and your Bibles the night before!  And we will leave by 8:55 at the latest!"  HA!  I'm betting all of heaven is shaking with laughter over that one... I, unfortunately, am not.
     But every time we finally get there, well, it's a celebration to worship the God you love with the people you love.  And now, I will never (okay, maybe sometimes) complain about the mad rush to get there.  I will just keep my eyes on the prize of where we are headed and what we will be doing.  And I sure as shooting won't take the gift of corporate worship for granted ever again.  Forgive us Father!  We live our lives so heedless of the manifold blessings we enjoy daily, hourly.  Not anymore.
     Speaking of, here's another one--driving a car to get somewhere and arriving safely.  Or arriving without a headache.  Bless her heart, when we drive Janie, she tends to get pounding headaches.  So Lord, thank You that so often we can drive places and not feel terrible.
      Another gift: going to school.  I need to remind my boys of this one!  Just being able to get up and get going to wherever you need to go--whether school or work.  What a blessing to feel good enough and strong enough to do the work God has called you to do.   Janie is now taking a class a day at school--praise God--and she's hoping to take two classes a day this week, if she can.  We are really learning to take it slooooow, and trust in God's timing.  But she commented that she couldn't believe how excited she was to go to school.  She didn't even complain about Broughton's early start time (7:25 a.m.).  Neither did any of us.  What a privilege to be able to go and learn and see friends--who cares  what time school starts!  
     If you ever want to have an instant gratitude enhancer, make a list of the important people and activities in your life.  And then mentally assume every single one of them has been taken away.  Gone.  Forever.  Imagine what it would be like to never have a loved one in your life or to be able to hear music or to laugh or to chat with friends or to take a walk... or to go to work or even fold laundry or run carpools.
     Now add those blessings back, but just one by one.  Now, imagine God returns to you that precious person you thought was out of your life forever.  What joy, what an unimaginable act of grace!  Or to suddenly find you could again care for your family--all those chores you thought so distasteful, well, now you discover that you have the strength and ability to clean up your messy teenager's room--the teen you thought was gone for good.  Each task becomes suffused with joy.  Each moment becomes a sacred time of celebrating God's extravagant goodness in your life.
     He gives us gift after gift after gift, but as I've said so many times before, we miss them or ignore them or discount them, because they are so common and everyday and because they are so numerous.  We should be walking around in a fog of joy, overcome by the blessings assaulting us at every turn.  Another friend.  Another meal.  Another new morning and fresh start.  Another time to walk your sweet dog.  Another glowing sunset.  Another piece of chocolate cake.  Another moment to open the Word and be fed.  Another hug.  Another opportunity to love and serve someone.
     We tend to become so preoccupied with what we don't have or what we have lost, that we completely miss the enormous, monumental joy of all we do have,  of all that we have not lost.  Sure, we have all suffered losses.  Some of them terribly hard and heavy.  We have all suffered.  But think of all that God has done and taught through that suffering.  Think of all that remains.
      If you have trouble even seeing that (and we all do--boy, I can lose perspectively so quickly), just walk outside and look at the world God created just for you.  Did you demand He give you trees and sunshine and breezes and birds just outside your door?  Did you deserve to have the the gift of precious family and friends placed in your life by a sovereign Lord?  What did I do to merit the joy of my children and husband and siblings and parents and friends?  And even more, how on earth do they put up with me?!  But somehow or other, they do--another gift!
     So thank You Lord for Your relentless love and Your incorrigible desire to give gifts to Your children.  Thank You for spoiling us.  Forgive us for failing to truly see and appreciate and thank You-- our extravagant Daddy--for all You have given us and done for us.  And thank You most of all for the gift of the Lord Jesus who not only saved us from our sins, but who also showed us the heart of our heavenly Father.  Save us from ingratitude, Lord.  Save us from indifference.  Enlarge our hearts... and thank You that You are making them more like Yours.  To love.  To thank.  To rejoice.
     To God-- the relentless, incorrigible Gift-Giver--be all the glory.

Vision in the valleys

     Some sweet friends gave us a copy of The Valley of Vision, a collection of old Puritan prayers and devotions.  I have read the title prayer, "The Valley of Vision," many times and have long loved it.  But as I reread it tonight, the words seemed to jump off the page, for they perfectly reflected what God has done in our lives the past four weeks.
      It is late at night, and I just walked outside with old Moses and enjoyed the cool peaceful night air and the shining white half moon.  Amazing, I thought, all for free.  All for us.  All right here in my front yard... courtesy of a relentlessly loving Father.
     But as we stood outside in the clear, quiet night, the words of this prayer returned to me, and I thanked my Lord for bringing us into the darkness that we might more clearly see His glorious Light.  There is nothing like the valley to clarify your vision, strengthen your faith as you experience His presence and His power even in the depths, and enable you to rejoice more greatly in the mountain heights.  He is there, no matter what--valleys or mountains, depths or heights--and He is enough.  He is more than gloriously enough.
     So I hope you will allow these words to wash over you and give you strength and assurance whether you are in the valley or on the mountaintop.
 
Lord, High and holy, meek and lowly,
Thou hast brought me to the valley of vision,
where I live in the depths but see thee in the heights;
hemmed in by mountains of sin I behold thy glory.

Let me learn by paradox
  that the way down is the way up,
  that to be low is to be high,
  that the broken heart is the healed heart,
  that the contrite spirit is the rejoicing spirit,
  that the repenting soul is the victorious soul,
  that to have nothing is to possess all,
  that to bear the cross is to wear the crown,
  that to give is to receive,
  that the valley is the place of vision.

Lord, in the daytime stars can be seen from deepest wells,
and the deeper the wells the brighter the stars shine;
Let me find thy light in my darkness,
  thy life in my death,
  thy joy in my sorrow,
  thy grace in my sin,
  thy riches in my poverty,
  thy glory in my valley.

Thank You for the valleys, Lord--where we more clearly see Your grace and Your glory.  Give us eyes to see and lips to proclaim Your praise, whether from the depths or the heights.  Thank You for Your continual goodness to us, every day, every night.  I'm heading to bed now, Lord, but I know You'll stay up and keep watch.  Thanks, Abba.  To God--the Lord of the valley and the mountaintop and everywhere in-between--be all the glory.

A pulse for praise

     How wonderful to be home and take a walk today on the first day of fall!  I can so clearly remember standing by a window in the ICU in Greenville and looking outside at all the cars zipping by and pedestrians scurrying down the sidewalks.  It was a rainy day, and I thought, "How I wish we were running errands, rushing to get the groceries, just living our busy lives like all those folks out there."  
Somehow--ridiculously, absurdly I now knew, we thought we were "stressed out" by all we had to do.          
     Suddenly, however, our world had constricted to the narrowest of priorities--waiting and praying for our daughter to survive and wake up.  Gone were all thoughts of the phone calls to return or school projects to work on or birthday presents to purchase or closets to clean out or fund raisers to help out with and on and on.   Now I longed for such normalcy.  Such joyously busy regular old days where I had too much to do and too little time--but all the while I had completely missed the pricelessness, the remarkable wonder of living such a life with and for the people that you love.
      How could I not have been overcome with gratitude and joy every moment?!  I didn't have to do all those routine chores, all that laundry, all those errands, all that cleaning and cooking--no, I got to do it!  I had the inestimable privilege of daily serving and loving the King of Kings... as well as His beloved children in the form of the people He sovereignly placed in my life.
     So today, as I basked in the sunshine and breathed deeply of the fresh air, I rejoiced at the incredible, undeserved joy and privilege of getting to live this life.  Of getting to run to the grocery store.  Of getting to try to get a handle on the mess and clutter (all evidence of  the people that I love so dearly--so God bless the clutter!).  Of getting to write notes or make phone calls to people that Jesus loved so much He died just for them--and I get to write or talk to them!  Of getting to laugh at and enjoy Janie's now oh-so-beautiful eccentricities.  Of getting to help/encourage/ nag/fuss about homework--but now even that is suffused with joy, since God is allowing me to love and serve my family.  Of getting to pray for others in the hospital and doing it with a new intensity and love and faith, because we have been there and witnessed God's supernatural power.
     Thank You for the privilege, Lord.  Thank You for the chores and the busyness and the routine and  the rush and even the ruts in our lives.  Thank You for the messes and even the mess-ups, because You are working ALL things together for good in the lives of those who love You.  (Rom.8:28)  Thank You for the challenges and even the crises, for they drive us closer to You, our Rock and Refuge, and enable us to experience as never before how great and good You are.
     "Thou that hast given so much to me give me one thing more, a grateful heart: not thankful when it pleaseth me, as if Thy blessings had spare days, but such a heart whose pulse may be Thy praise." (George Herbert)
     O Lord, let our pulse be praise!  When we worry, let that be a reminder, an alarm in our hearts to immediately begin to worship.  Give us eyes to see the blessings all around us--remove the blinders of routine and busyness that blind us to the common, everyday treasures that constitute Your  daily goodness and grace to us.  Give us one thing more, we ask, Father: grateful hearts.
     I love how Ann Voscamp put it: "God never stops whispering: Give thanks anyways--do this in remembrance of Me... God says to give thanks, to do this in remembrance of Him--because in the remembering to give thanks, it's our broken places that are re-membered--and we are the ones made whole."  He takes the broken shards of our disappointments and disasters, our failures and fears, even just our busyness and exhaustion and inadequacies, and as we remember to give thanks, He shapes those broken pieces into something beautiful and eternal and glorious.
     Just incredible--but, then, that's the kind of God we serve.  Always restoring and resurrecting and redeeming.  So thank You Lord.  As we go through our days--whether overwhelmingly busy with the routine or sorrowfully constricted with some crisis--give us hearts whose pulse is Your praise.  Because in You, we always have reason for thanksgiving.   To God be the glory.

Remembering...

     Late this afternoon, we were chatting and laughing and suddenly realized: the wreck was exactly four weeks ago today.  We looked at the clock, and it was almost 5:00 p.m.--the exact time of the accident.  It's hard to even conceive how far the Lord has brought us in four weeks.  From fear to faith, from despair to delight, from worry to worship, from believing even without seeing to seeing our belief in the miraculous.
     I drove to pick up some sushi for us girls (honey, if you are reading this: it was buy one get one free), and again, glanced at the clock--around 7:00 p.m., the time wonderful Russ and Creecy drove me to the hospital to see our girl hooked up to a ventilator and all kinds of machines just to keep her alive.  And all I can think now is how God made all things new.  He transformed pain into praise.  And kept pouring out grace and more grace every step of the way.
     I can visualize the faces of dear Beth and Will that night at the hospital before we could get there, talking with doctors, praying, doing whatever they could.  What an incredible comfort it was having them there--knowing Janie was not alone in that hospital and that she had two rocks of faith with her.  And sweet Katherine and Richard.  The Barkers with our boys.  And the Manns and on and on.  God's people holding us up in those first dark and frightening hours,  even while God's arms undergirded and lifted and held us.
     Four weeks ago tonight was surely the toughest night of our lives... but it was also the most loved we've ever felt--by our Savior and by our friends.  And so that night of August 24, 2012 will always be a night that we learned no pit is deeper than God's love,  no despair stronger than God's hope and no darkness greater than God's Light.
     "Thus far the Lord has helped us."  1Sam.7:12
     And He did.  Our Rock and Refuge and Restorer and Redeemer.  Janie's Healer and Helper.  He did it that darkest of nights.
     And He will not fail us or you now.
     Boy, it's good to remember the abyss and be overflowing with gratitude for the spacious place into which He has brought us.  A place of healing and hope.  I really think that all gratitude must begin with remembering--not just remembering God's blessings but also recalling God's deliverances and forgiveness... and the way He works all things for good for those who love Him.
     Why was Janie spared and another child on another night not?  Why tragedy and evil?  I can't answer for a sovereign, omniscient, omnipotent God.  His ways are so far beyond my ways,  His wisdom and justice so infinitely beyond mine, that I can only say "I trust You, Abba Father, even when I cannot understand.  And I praise You and thank You even in this storm.  And in the healing sunlight."      
     We do not deserve this miracle.  But then, we do not deserve forgiveness.  We do not deserve grace.  We do not deserve salvation.  We could never deserve the Savior.  And so it is all by grace--start to finish.  "For  by grace you have been saved through faith.  And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast." (Eph.2:8-9)
     All we can say is thank You, Father.  Four weeks later, we remember, and we praise the Great Physician--the Healer not only of Janie but of our souls.  There is a Balm in Gilead... and His powerful name is Jesus.  To God--our Healer and Helper and Sustainer--be all the glory.
     
     Exactly four weeks later, Tessa, Grace, Madeline, and Janie and a bunch of their friends celebrate with Chinese food, laughter and even singing.  God is good. All the time.  We remember and rejoice.

Lost in the parking lot

     Now that we are back home (whew, I love the sound of that: "back home!"), Janie and I went to her first occupational therapy session today for her right hand.  But the adventure wasn't the therapy.  In fact, our adventure had nothing to do with her therapy or her injury... it had to do with my persistent inability to find my way around even a paper bag.  Seriously, I am like one of those erratic houseflies that zoom all over the kitchen with no seeming rhyme or reason.  They just buzz crazily around,  no discernible meaning to their insane flying pattern.  That is me when it comes to directions.  I can get lost going anywhere... and I mean anywhere.   Just ask any of my friends... or rather, don't ask them, since they may be on the phone talking to me telling me how to get to wherever I'm going since I got hopelessly lost.  Sigh.
     But this morning, it wasn't so much  that I got lost going to the doctor's office that is less than 10 minutes from our house.  O no, we found our way over there quite nicely, thank you.  Though I must say, when you haul a 1000 pound wheelchair in the back of the car, along with crutches, and a giant purse, and a couple of books (just in case--you never know when you're going to get lucky), your attitude can take a bit of a beating.  I digress.  How unusual.
     Anyway, after our appointment, Janie was whipped and had a splitting headache.  We started back to the large multilevel parking lot... and of course, at that instant I realized I had absolutely no earthly idea what floor we had parked on.  Janie thought it might be level 3, and seeing that for all  I knew we parked on Mars, we headed up the elevator to 3... no car.  Undaunted, I pushed the 1000 pound wheelchair up the steep ramp to the next level... no car.  Well, maybe we'll go down to level 2... no car. By now, poor Janie's head is absolutely pounding, along with my pulse.
     We wandered around the lovely multilevel parking lot for a while, and all I could think about was how awful this exhaust was probably for my daughter and her recovering brain.  Finally after much futility and gnashing of teeth, Janie and I rode the elevator back down to the ground floor and started all over again.  Sometimes you just need a fresh start in life.
     Turns out we had taken a different elevator than the one we had taken when we first arrived.  Who knew?  They looked the same and really weren't all that far apart, but this parking lot is actually two parking lots connected to one another but yet distinct.  That is confusing... and so are the parking lots.  Suffice it to say, when you are a horrifically challenged directional person, this is disastrous.
      But, miraculously--or at least close to it--we finally found the car.  After starting fresh and going back down to  the ground floor, going to the correct elevator, and then heading back up to level 3, we finally found it.  Of course, even this still involved me parking Janie and the 1000 pound wheelchair by one of the super beautiful cement walls while I clicked my car clicker and listened desperately for the sound of my car honking.  Don't you wonder why on earth God would entrust me with five children?  He has an incredible sense of humor.
     But I can tell you one thing: when we finally found that car, I felt like dancing and singing and shouting!  I rushed to pick up Janie in the back corner of level 3 and got her back to home sweet home.  And all I could think was--there is nothing like being found.  "Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me.  I once was lost, but now am found.  Was blind but now I see."
     For you see, we felt hopeless to find our way.  We wandered and looked and tried and complained but all to no avail.  All my ideas, all my strategies, all my energy was no help whatsoever.  And we could have wandered through that industrial parking lot all day to no avail--we never would have found our car, because our car was in the attached-but-mystifyingly-separate-next-door parking lot.  We were hopelessly on the wrong track.
     And that is just the moment--the desperate yet wonderful moment--where Christ finds each of us.  "But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: while we were still sinners, Christ died for us." (Rom 5:8)  We were lost and hopeless and underserving and ungrateful, and the Savior came.  He came not only to show us the way out... He was and is The Way, the Truth and the Life.  He finds us and saves us and restores us and redeems us, even at our most unlovely and unpromising.  What a salvation.  What a Savior.
     So tonight, I'm just rejoicing that He found me and saved me.  I may get lost everywhere I go... but I'll never ever be lost from my Lord.  He knows exactly where I am and He will lead me all the way home.  To Home Sweet Glorious Eternal Home.  To God--the seeking, finding Savior--be all the glory.

   

The Stone rolling away business

     Janie holding her stones--her Cane River rocks--as we prepare to get on the elevator to go home.
     God rolled away her stone.  All by His power.  All by His grace.  All for His glory.
     He is still in the stone rolling away business.
     If He could do it for Janie, He can do it for you.
     "... Lazarus was ill... But when Jesus heard it He said, ' This illness does not lead to death.  It is for the glory of God, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it... Then Jesus, deeply moved again, came to the tomb.  It was a cave, and a stone lay against it.  Jesus said, 'Take away the stone.'  Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to Him, 'Lord, by this time there will be an odor, for he has been dead four days.'  Jesus said to her, 'Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?'  So they took away the stone.  And Jesus lifted up His eyes and said, 'Father, I thank You that have heard me. I knew that You always hear me, but I said this on account of the people standing around, that they may believe that You sent Me.'  When He had said these things, He cried out with a loud voice, 'Lazarus, come out.'  The man who had died came out, his hands and feet bound with linen strips, and his face wrapped with a cloth.  Jesus said to them, 'Unbind him, and let him go.'" (John 11)
     What can I say?  What can I add to the Savior who restores sight to the blind, allows the paralyzed to walk, heals the sick, raises the dead?  But who infinitely more miraculously and wonderfully, gives new spiritual life to those dead and paralyzed by their sin.  Who forgives even the most hardened, hopeless sinner who turns to Him by faith and gives that person new hope, new joy, new peace, new life.  Who gives His freedom in exchange for the bondage to approval or addictions or accolades or whatever we desperately seek and crave in  this world that never satisfies and always ultimately enslaves.  He rolls away stones in lives every single day.
     He truly is "The God of all grace." (I Pet. 5:10)
     As we walked into the door of our home last night with Janie, all I could think of was "Grace... grace... grace."  We don't deserve this miracle.  We did nothing to earn it.  We did nothing to help it.  We simply watched our Savior do what only He could do--roll away the stone we were powerless to move ourselves.  We just waited and prayed... along with legions of dear friends who waited and prayed and loved and cared for us all along the way.
     And in His infinite grace, we, like the people watching Jesus raise Lazarus, witnessed the power and glory of God in living color.
     So that we may believe.  "Father, I thank You that You have heard Me.  I knew that You always hear Me, but I said this on account of the people standing around, that they may believe that You sent Me." 
     Lord we believe.  Help us on the days when our belief flags.  Stir up our faith, Father.  Remind us of all those stones You have rolled away in our pasts... and do it again, Lord.  Might this day be our day to step forth into the freedom of fully trusting in You, the God of all grace.  The God of all glory.  We don't want to go back to half-hearted belief or enslavement to the sinful habits or attitudes or actions that bound us--free us like Lazarus, Lord.
     I say it again:
     God rolled away the stone.  All by His power.  All by His grace.  All for His glory.
     He is still in the stone rolling away business.
     If He could do it for Janie, He can do it for you.
     To God be all the glory forever.
  

God's love in rehab

     Whew, it's late at night, and I'm wondering where on earth this day went.  I spent much of the day in Chapel Hill with Janie, watching her rehab, asking questions, talking, laughing, trying to help.  And then I rushed back here in the late afternoon to try to tackle a bit of laundry, clean up, figure out dinner, make the obligatory Target run, and provide some homework "encouragement" (always a delightful way to spend the evening).  Suddenly it's nearly 11 p.m., and the day is gone.  Did I really try to live each moment, Lord?  Live each moment of this never-to-be-repeated day with gratitude for the profound and unearned gift of God's grace and love?
     If there is one thing I have learned these past four weeks, it is that life is precious and sometimes precarious, and we must not take even it's simplest treasures for granted.  The sun rose again--His mercies are new every morning, and He's given me another opportunity to share His love.  Our sweet old dog, Moses, rests at my feet--He will never leave us or forsake us, and His love is reflected even in the gift of His creatures.  A hot shower to start the day, a hot mug of tea to savor, a crimson cardinal flying and a hawk crying, a lunch to share with my sister and daughter--His grace is like a multi-faceted diamond for it shines into our lives in so many different ways and forms and places. All undeserved.  All simply the grace of our God who loves us.
     As I sit on our sofa in our comfortable home,  our dog at our feet, my children in bed (and my husband with Janie at the hospital), I think of the other folks I have seen up there at rehab.  The quiet old man with a white beard who has two prosthetics on his lower legs.  Or the funny fellow who reminds me a bit of Hulk Hogan with his flowing blond hair--he's in a wheel chair and full of life while chatting animatedly with the therapists during rehab.  Or the beautiful young African-American girl in the wheelchair that I saw today with her vibrant smile and tracheotomy.  Or the older woman with long, gray hair and the staring sad eyes.
     Who are they Lord?  Do they have families who come to see them?  Do they have hope in You, Father?  Do they know of Your love?  Have I shown them?  Forgive me for being so focused on my own daughter that I miss the pain--and Your people, Your children--all around me.  I sit here and feel such shame and sorrow that I have not loved as You have loved.  I have not loved the "least of these."  Help me to love, Lord.  Help me to share Your love.
      Thank You that You loved each of us as if we were Your precious child in rehab.  As if we were the only one, and we were the apple of Your eye.  Because we are.  You love us each individually, unconditionally, crazily, completely.  And You love each of us that way.  There is not one thing we can do that would make You love us more... and there is not one thing we could do that would make You love us less.  That is incredible--our love can be so conditional, but Your's is not.
     "God is love" isn't a cliche.  It's a statement of truth.  Of fact.  Of the reality that He made love; He encompasses love;  and His very nature is love. His love prompts His every action; His love provided both a cradle and a cross, a Son and a Savior.  And there is no place that we can run, no where we can hide, where His love will not be there too.
     Might we bask in that love... and then out of gratitude, out of joy, out of the wondrous knowledge that we are so incredibly, graciously loved, share that love with others.  With the least.  With the lost.  With the lonely.  With the lowly.
     For God so loved the... old man in rehab... the young woman in rehab... the Hulk Hogan in rehab... the nurses and therapists in rehab... that He gave His only beloved Son...
     Help us to live in Your love, Lord, and help us to share it with the world You died to save.  To God be the glory.
   
   

The God of the impossible

     Our older daughter just sent us this wonderful reminder of God's promises to claim--especially in the coming days and weeks of Janie's recovery when she (and we) may tend to grow impatient or weary or fearful or frustrated:

You say: 'It's impossible'
God says: All things are possible
(Luke 18:27)

You say: 'I'm too tired'
God says: I will give you rest
(Matthew 11:28-30)

You say: 'I can't go on'
God says: My grace is sufficient
(II Corinthians 12:9 & Psalm 91:15)

You say: 'I can't figure things out'
God says: I will direct your steps
(Proverbs 3:5- 6)

You say: 'I can't do it'
God says: Through ME you can do all things
( Philippians 4:13)

You say: 'I'm not able'
God says: I am able
(II Corinthians 9:8)

You say: 'It's not worth it'
God says: It will be worth it
(Roman 8:28 )

You say: 'I can't forgive myself'
God says: I Forgive you
(I John 1:9 & Romans 8:1)

You say: 'I can't manage'
God says: I will supply all your needs
( Philippians 4:19)

You say: 'I'm afraid'
God says: I have not given you a spirit of fear
(II Timothy 1:7)

You say: 'I'm always worried and frustrated'
God says: Cast all your cares on ME
(I Peter 5:7)

You say: 'I'm not smart enough'
God says: I give you wisdom
(I Corinthians 1:30)

You say: 'I feel all alone'
God says: I will never leave you nor forsake you
(Hebrews 13:5)

  

     Thank You, Lord, for these reminders of Your eternal promises and for Your Word that will never fail.  We will fail; but You and Your Word will not.  Not ever.  

     I just read a verse in our Daily Light that really resonated:  "When my spirit was overwhelmed within me, then You knew my path." (Ps.142:3)  There is never a moment in any of our lives where God says, "Oops," or "That one just slipped by Me," or "What a shock!"  Nope, He knows and is in control of all that happens to us or our loved ones.   

     There are no "accidents" in God's economy--just incidents that He allows and that He sovereignly uses to shape us and mold us and make us more like Him, all for our greater good and His glory.  I don't know how He does this--but I've seen Him do it again and again and again in my life and in the lives of others.  

     And now I've seen it through all this with Janie.  I won't say I enjoy this hard process; I wouldn't have chosen it.  But I can say I'm incredibly thankful for all He has taught us and grown us and all the amazing ways He has used this for His glory.  Even at this early stage, I can even say I thank Him for this, for He has shown us in a dramatic and profound way how utterly reliable and strong and great and glorious He is.  We have seen firsthand that If we have Him, we have everything... and He is always enough.  Enough to give us what we need each day. Enough to see us through tough challenges that we could never endure on our own.  

     I can tell you one thing: I know beyond a shadow of doubt that it has not been my husband or me or any of us who has carried us through.  It has been our Savior.  It has not been 75% God and 25% us. Nor has it been 50% God, but 50% us sort of helping God.  It has not even been 99% God and 1% us.  It has been 100% God and God alone.  His power.  His promises.  HIs presence.  His people that He sent over and over again to strengthen us and to encourage us to keep looking and listening to Him.  

     We have learned to listen to, learn from, and lean upon HIm.  Not to the doctors (fine though they might be, and we are so grateful for every single one!).  Not to our feelings.  Not to our brain storming or bank account or abilities or anything in the world that we might possess.  No, it's God... start to finish... who has seen us through and will keep our hope and faith founded on the Rock.  "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and do not lean on your own understanding.  In all your ways acknowledge HIm and He will make your paths straight." (Prov. 3:5-6)  

     Boy, we know that verse. Many of us have memorized it.  But are we living it?  Trusting Him "with all our hearts?"  Leaning only upon Him and not partially upon our own ideas and agendas?  Whew, this is a daily battle for me--headstrong, prideful, selfish girl that I am--but He has proven so powerfully to me over the past three weeks that I cannot do it, never could... but He can. 

      He is always able even when we are unable.  He is always powerful even in our weakness.  He is always love even when we are unlovely.   He is always peace even in our fiercest storms. He is always forgiveness and grace even in our worst sin and failure.  

     He is always Savior and Redeemer even when we reject Him and neglect Him. 

     It's just simply not about us.  Never has been and never will be.  It's all about Him.  Praise God.  And He can handle anything that any of us will ever face--past, present, or future.  We can just rest in Him and His absolute and perfect sufficiency.  

     Believe me, I  quickly tend to forget and start fretting and fussing and failing... but in His amazing grace, He keeps reminding and refreshing me in His Word.  And then I settle down, quiet down, and trust like a little child.  Thanking Him for coming through once again... and again... and again.

      So we will keep running this marathon--all of us, each of us running our marathons... but really He's the One doing the running and working and carrying.  We will just keep looking to Him, asking Him, seeking Him, loving Him and watching Him do the improbable and the impossible.  Because that's our God.  The God who rolls away stones.  The God who brings the dead back to life.  

     The God of the impossible. 

     To God--the God who is all and can do all--be all the glory.

      

His Love in action

     "A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another.  Just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another.  By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another."  (John 13:34)
     Just a simple reminder of one of Jesus' greatest truths and commands: we are to love one another as our Savior has loved us.  Of course, we can never love to that extent.  Such sacrificial, infinite, unconditional love that would stretch out arms wide open on a cross to say "I love you this much" and give the fullest measure of love that can be given.  Love that would take upon Himself my sin, my selfishness, my pride, my unkindness, my envy... and yours... and take it painfully, completely, yet joyfully.  And in exchange give us His love, His grace, His peace, His kindness, His righteousness.  All so we could live the abundant life He intended for us and the eternal life He planned for us.
     No, that is not a love I can begin to understand or emulate.
     I can only fall to my knees in wonder and adoration and pray, "Help me, Lord.  Through Your Holy Spirit living within me, help me to love like You do.  This day, might I shine forth Your love to others so that You would be glorified even in this imperfect, sin-prone earth-suit.  Give me more love, Lord.  Love through me."
     For I have seen this love in action, up close and in person,  And it is an awesome and wonderful sight to behold. I am surrounded by love's evidences all around me.  As I write this, I am wrapped in a beautiful handmade prayer shawl.  Evidence of His love.  Thank You Father.  Wrapping me in warmth and in the joyous reminder of the dear love of others in the midst of our marathon.  And that love keeps us running.
     Or I jot a note on a notepad someone has sent us.  Or I gaze at a framed "Hope" sign from someone else.  Or I see the cookies and cakes and candy from others... well, actually, I don't see them, I eat them!  Or I put away the groceries someone else has picked up for us.  Or I take up the folded laundry. Or I smell the lovely flowers sent by someone. Or I enjoy these amazing meals others have cooked.  Or I open the books, read the cards, recall the verses in emails and texts... it just goes one and on: this utterly undeserved love poured out upon us by Your people, Father.  Such love.  Your love in action.  People living out Your command to love as You loved--and evidencing to the world that they are Your disciples.
      There is simply nothing like it.  We will never forget it.  How desperately we want to thank and thank and thank and pass it on so that others might know and feel and experience the love of our Almighty God through His people.
       It reminds me of a little story I heard years ago and have never forgotten.  A young child had just gone to bed and cried out in the darkness for her mother.  "Mama, I scared of the dark.  I'm all alone."  Her mother rushed in and reminded her, "Sweetheart, you are never alone.  Jesus is right there with you.  Right here in this room."   The frightened little one responded, "I know mama, but I need someone with a skin face."
     We have seen Jesus with a skin face.  And He is beautiful and sustaining and strengthening.  His skin face has loved us through this marathon and keeps us running.  And He will do the same for you.
      There is nothing like His love.  Might we all abide in His love today, thank Him for His love today, and then share His love with others today.  So that the world may know His greatness.  To  God--who came and put on a skin face to demonstrate His LOVE--be all the glory.

Stone upon stone

     Yesterday Janie and I were talking about this marathon.  She doesn't quite share our perspective on how miraculously far God has brought her--because she was unconscious and relaxing in the arms of Jesus while the rest of us were wide awake and continually battling fear with faith.  As I told her repeatedly over the course of those two long weeks, "When you wake up, you're going to be rested but the rest of us are going to be EXHAUSTED!!"  Whew, I wanted to ask those nurses if they could give me a whiff of some of those sedatives they were giving her!
     But it was worth every sleepless night... for the Lord sat up with each of us every moment in even the darkest watches of the night: comforting, encouraging, strengthening, guiding.  That ICU seemed like a holy sanctuary where God came down to touch and heal our desperate hearts.  I cannot explain it, but I've never felt His presence so near and so dear.  And it has fortified my faith, for I truly know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that we need never fear our God is not able or sufficient to meet our most desperate need or to fill our deepest pit.  He is greater and deeper still, and He only grows more beautiful and wonderful when you go through the fires of life.
     I digress... something new and different.  Back to our conversation:
     As we talked, Janie, while incredibly grateful for how God has delivered her, shared her periodic discouragement and impatience with the pace of recovery and being in hospital  and all she is missing in school.  Like I said, she doesn't have the full perspective of the deep pit from which God has saved her, so it's harder to be patient in the waiting.
     "What about all the school I'm missing?" she worried.  "What about college?  Will I be able to get in to college with all this?  What about my applications?"
     Thank You Lord that we had already faced this issue of waiting and worrying and so we had the ready answer: it's not about next week or next month or next year.  It's about asking God for the daily manna for today.  We ask Him for today's strength.  Today's wisdom.  Today's provision.  Today's hope and faith.
     We just take today and then we trust God for tomorrow.  That's how you run a marathon--one mile at a time, one step at a time, one moment at a time.  You can't run the 26th mile until you've first run mile 1 and then mile 2 and then mile 3... all the way to the finish line.  It can be long and hard and sometimes even tedious, but if you just take it one mile, one step at a time, you will finish the race.
     After Janie and I talked, I went outside for a walk while she had a physical therapy appointment.  "Lord," I prayed, "help her.  Help us.  Teach us how to encourage her."
     And right after that, I ran past a couple of men building a wall.  Actually, they were rebuilding a portion of the wall--a beautiful, old wall comprised of large, variously shaped rocks.  The wall beside the section being rebuilt looked solid and established and strong--almost like it had always been there.
     But the portion they were rebuilding had just a few stones in it.  The men were measuring the other rocks and slowly and meticulously placing stone after stone in the place marked for the repaired portion of the wall.  One stone would be carefully placed and then after a lot of measuring and preparing, the workers would place the next stone.  Boy, it was slow, demanding work... in the hot sun with little applause from the world.
    And that was God's picture for me for Janie's recovery... and really for any of us who are waiting and struggling with some issue--it's stone upon stone upon stone.  The daily manna.  The "long obedience in the same direction."  The refusal to quit when the going gets tough.  The stone... and then after waiting and working there came another stone.... and more waiting and working and another stone.
     While He is building us, we may not be able to visualize the beautiful wall into which He is building us.  We grow discouraged and impatient and frustrated.  It hurts when we, like those stones, suffer the pounding and sanding and seemingly rough handling of the workers, of God's work within us.
     But one day, after all the pain and waiting and wondering, we discover that He has built us into something beautiful and strong and eternal.  Like that lovely, old wall, we will one day be finished by the Maker... it will take time and perseverance and some pain, but He will finish what He started in us.  "And I am sure of this, that He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion on the day of Christ Jesus." (Phil.1:6)
     And He will.  He will with Janie, and He will with each of us.  One stone at a time.
     After all, He who rolls away the stones from the tomb can then build them into something beautiful that He might be glorified.  Thank You for rolling away the stones... and thank You for building those stones into a magnificent sanctuary in Janie's life, Lord.  You are still building in her life... help her--and us-- to be patient and trusting and praising--in the long process.
     Only our mighty God could take the ugly stones of her imprisonment and build them into a palace. But You do it everyday in the lives of Your children.  Do it again, Lord, in the lives of those still waiting for Your deliverance.  To God, our Builder and Creator and Sustainer, be all the glory.


   

Always with us

     "The eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms."  (Deut.33:27)
     Mary Cameron, a dear friend of our daughter, Mary Norris,  made Janie a beautiful little sign with this wonderful verse for her hospital room.  I just reread these words in my devotion this morning (while Janie happily slept!  Another gift we often forget to praise You for, Lord: sleep!).  Sure, I knew the words, and I love the sweet sign and the wonderful girl who made it for Janie, but it suddenly clicked for me in a new way this morning.  I am a mighty slow learner.
     Think about what that really means--we are constantly, continually surrounded and enveloped by the omnipotent, gracious, loving presence of the Creator and Sustainer of the universe.  No matter where we or a loved one might be, no matter what we are going through, no matter our feelings--even if we feel alone, we are not.  He is always undergirding us, sustaining us, with us, around us, and for us.  Thank You Lord!  With You, we are never without resources and strength and wisdom for whatever we are facing.
     And because He is present with us everywhere and all the time, in the words of Robert Morgan, we should "reflect His presence in our demeanor."  I have always loved the example of Brother Lawrence. But I just read the background of his story in a book by Robert Morgan. Brother Lawrence's actual name at birth was  Nicholas Herman, born in Lorraine, France in 1605.  As a teenager, he fought for the French army in the Thirty Years' War, was severely wounded, and walked with a limp the rest of his life.  Herman became a Christian when he was 18 years old, and when he was in his 50's decided to join a Carmelite monastery.
     As a monk, however, Brother Lawrence was assigned kitchen duty (personally, I would find this mighty challenging as well, since Martha Stewart, I'm definitely not).  He found this work demeaning and even insulting, so that for a number of years he dutifully, but quite grudgingly, performed his daily monotonous kitchen duties.
     But one day everything changed for Herman, for he began to realize what it meant that God was with him all the time.   "He began frequently reminding himself of how constantly God's presence hovered over him.  Even the most menial tasks, Nicholas realized, if undertaken for God's glory are holy, and wherever the Christian stands--even in a hot, thankless kitchen--is holy ground, for the Lord is there too." (Robert Morgan)
     Brother Lawrence's countenance altered, and others began asking him what had brought about this remarkable and lasting change.  Many sought him out to discover the secret of his joy, and the abbott eventually recorded his conversations with Brother Lawrence--it is those conversations that are the basis of  the wonderful little book:  The Practice of the Presence of God.
      I read it a number of years ago, as a much younger mom, and it truly transformed the way I looked at all the myriad routine, mundane tasks in my day from changing diapers to folding laundry to trying to cook meals.  Every moment of every day could be an opportunity to recall that God is right there with us and that we can glorify Him in any and everything we do--whether peeling a potato or driving a carpool or assisting with homework ... or reading to an unconscious child or helping your child to the bathroom in the middle of the night in a dark rehab room.   A home, a hospital room, or a work cubicle can all be sanctuaries and opportunities to love and glorify God with whatever He has given you to do. All can be places where we walk with Him and praise Him for being ever and always with us and for us... and those we love.
     Sometimes we just need the reminder.  "The Lord is near.  Do not be anxious for anything." (Phil.4:5-6)  "Fear not, for I am with you." (Is.41:10)   "I will never leave you or forsake you." (Heb.13:5)  Nothing, no one, no sickness, no accident, no addiction, no fear, no failure, no power... nothing nothing nothing can separate us from the love and presence and power of our Lord.  (Rom.8:35-39)
     "If God be for us, who can be against us?!"
     So today, might we rejoice in our God who will never fail us, never forget us, never leave us... and never stop loving us, helping us, redeeming us, and restoring us.
      He is the God who moves away the immovable stones.  To God, and God alone, be the glory.

   
   

Boundary Lines

     What a beautiful morning!  I head back to Chapel Hill in a little bit, but I can't help but rejoice in being home for the evening with the boys and wake up to take Moses for his morning walk--which is now, due to his advanced age and arthritis,  a 10 minute crawl.  When you're moving that slowly, however, you can see and appreciate a lot more around you. Like the high cry of the hawk or the symphony of the crickets serenading us on our meandering way or the bright sliver of moon and planet shining out in the darkened sky.  Just takes your breathe away--all this all around us.  How could we take so much for granted?  How could we not notice and praise the Creator?   Slowing down to see and hear--a good life lesson for this impatient, always rushing, always hurrying, yet always late,  mama.

     Well, once again, this blog has been interrupted by a busy day.  It is now late at night, and  I am in the hospital room with Janie.  While I love being with her, I'm dreaming of crickets and cool early morning breezes and slivers of moon.  Sigh.  Help me to be content, Lord, right where I am, because right at the moment I want to be home.  But I know Janie wants to be home even more, so we will remember that this small room in rehab is still an oasis of hope.
     God has given us so much hope even in the darkest days, and we need to remember the pit we were in so that we can rejoice in the spacious place where He has put us.  "Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup; You have made my lot secure.  The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance.  I will praise the Lord who counsels me; even at night my heart instructs me." (Ps.16:5-7)
     It's so easy to grow discontent with our boundary lines.  To look across the way at others and feel those rumblings of dissatisfaction and ingratitude.  Forgive us Father--You who have given us so much.  Help us to praise You, Lord, in whatever place You have sovereignly marked our boundary lines.  Help us not look to others and their boundaries.  Might we trust Your limitations upon us as well as rejoice in Your bountiful inheritance.   Help us trust You and Your plans for us each day, each night, each moment. You make our lot secure, and in You, we have peace... for You are our Peace and joy.
     And so Janie and I will lay down our heads and sleep... at least we'll try until someone comes in about 3 a.m. to check something or other!  But Lord, we rest in the knowledge that You are in control and You are here with us... and we can go to bed since You will be the One staying up and watching over us.  To God, our forever Hope and Inheritance,  be all the glory.

A long, long blog!

     Thank You Lord for another good day and night with Janie!  She is still sleeping this morning, and I smile to myself that I'm rejoicing in what simple things now bring me such joy and satisfaction.  A whole night with no crises, no rising fevers or struggling lungs, no falling out of the bed (that was terrifying--happened the other night--but again, God's amazing faithfulness and protection of Janie), no sound of ventilators or strident beeping when her heart rate suddenly shot up or the medicine was empty... nope, just quiet rest for the most part.
     And what a fun day for Janie yesterday--visiting with a group of her high school girlfriends and wonderful Young Life leader and then a late night visit with Tessa and her dad.  Boy, there's just nothing like the gift of fellowship. Again, we all tend to forget that in our busy lives--we need to all slow down a moment to truly visit and share and laugh and encourage those God has placed in our lives.  Help me to remember this, Lord, when our lives begin to reboot.

     a little later...
     Janie just got up, and we had a quick but great time reading Daily Light and Jesus Calling.  God, You just keep amazing us and feeding us and encouraging us--thank You Father!  Always just the right Word for what we need today.    
     Daily manna for our daily needs.  Just this morning we read: "Let us not grow weary while doing good, for in the due season we shall reap if we do not give up." (Gal.6:9)  The Lord knew she needed this good word on this particular morning.  Janie was feeling discouraged at how far she has to go while wanting so desperately to get back home and back to school, back to "my life."  What a gift this morsel of His manna to remind her not to quit, not to grow weary while running this race He has marked out just for her (and for us--we need the reminder just as badly as she does, perhaps more), and trust Him for the harvest at the finish line.
     Janie cries tears of gratitude when I read her just a few of the verses dear friends have been praying for her.  A verse her sister, Mary Norris, and I have been praying for her since this marathon began: "For truly I say to Janie, if you have faith like a grain of mustard seed, Janie will say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move, and nothing will be impossible for Janie." (Mt.17:20)  Lord, You have been moving so many mountains, and we give You all the glory.  But right now, we ask You would strengthen Janie and encourage her heart for the battle ahead.  She is discouraged right now and wants to get home so badly--would you remind her of that mustard seed of faith within her and the HUGE, Almighty, omnipotent Lord in which that seed of faith rests?

     a lot later...
     Well, now home with the boys, late at night, eyes are heavy and the day seems to have fled.  This is one marathon of a blog... like the energizer bunny it just keeps going and going and going.   My energy, on the other hand, does not.
     But before hitting the sack, the Lord brings to mind all the children we saw on Janie's wing of the hospital.  After she left Intensive Care the other day, she was placed in the Children's Hospital.  During the night, I would sometimes hear a loud announcement for a team of doctor's to go to such and such a room or for a trauma team to go to a certain location.  And it all came back to me... that first phone call, that desperate fear, that helplessness, that watching your child hooked to breathing tubes and feeding tubes and monitors, and feeling powerless to do anything, save pray and pray and pray.
     Father, I whispered,  be with all these struggling folks.  Be with these children, be with their families--comfort and calm them, reassure them that You are with them in the ICU and the waiting rooms and the oncology wards.  Forgive me for so quickly focusing only on my child that I miss the suffering world all around me.  Forgive my selfishness, and give me a heart that hurts and loves and reaches out like Yours.
     There is nothing like pain to make your heart pliable and compassionate, and this is a lesson I want to never forget. I don't want to be the same person I was before Janie's accident; O how I pray that all of us know and love the the Savior more dearly as He has walked with us through this fiery trial.   C.S. Lewis famously wrote: "God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks to us in our conscience, but shouts in our pains;  it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world."  Lord, help us to hear, help the world to hear and see.  Wake them up, Lord!  Wake us up, just as You did with Janie!
     "Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come.  You wait and watch and work; you don't give up."  Anne Lamott
     Thank You, Lord, for giving us hope in the dark.  Would You do it again in the lives of those who need to see Your Light right now?  And help us all to keep working, keep showing up, keep refusing to give  up even when the way ahead seems long and uncertain.  For we trust that "in due season we will reap if we do not give up."
     To God, our Hope, be all the glory.

A hot breakfast!

     Home for the night last night, and, whew,  just have to say thank You, Lord!   So trite but so true: there is no place like home.  We tend to forget this in the daily grind--but remove this safe and loving harbor from your life for a while, and you'll remember to be thankful.
     Each time I return home for the night, however, I'm always clearly reminded of my complete inadequacy apart from Christ.  Seriously, we would have ground to an absolute halt--or maybe actually suffered a catastrophic train wreck--had it not been for the legions of friends who have cooked, cleaned, done laundry, decluttered (now there's a project for you in this house), helped with homework, carpooled, encouraged with flowers and food and books...
     O for pete's sake, I could be writing all day recalling the innumerable ways folks have loved and helped us.  How can we ever sufficiently thank them?  We can't.  Maybe we just need to live a life of continual, daily thanksgiving to those around us and to the Giver of all good gifts.  How many times do we hear it and say it and read it--but in the messiness and busyness of life, we tend to forget to be thankful!  Eph 5:20 " Giving thanks ALWAYS and for EVERYTHING to God, the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ." I don't see any loopholes or exceptions in there.  Thanksgiving is the path to joy and peace, no question about it.
     But this morning, getting just two of our children off to school felt like, well, DEFCON 1.  Rushing through devotions with my older son, trying to get Moses out for his morning constitutional, and then brushing our younger son's hair while he ate a yogurt and finished his math homework we had forgotten about--and all done while he sat in nothing but his shorts since I was frantically looking for a clean shirt and socks.  Sigh.  I wonder if God gets tickled?  I'm betting so--I think He loves to remind me that it's all Him--all by His grace.  I would be the poster child for the worst mother in the history of time if it weren't for my Father helping and teaching and equipping and enabling me.
     Forgive me for sometimes forgetting, Lord, and for rushing off into my day without having breakfast with You first.  I just reread John 21.  Here are the disciples: they've been fishing and fishing, working and toiling and throwing out nets and pulling them back in... all night long.  And nothing--they've caught not one single fish.  As I heard not long ago---"just a whole lot of nothing."
     Doesn't that describe so many of us?  Seeking solace and satisfaction in things and places that never ever ultimately bring us joy and peace.  Busyness, wealth, status, achievement, addictions, whatever... after a long night of a whole lot of nothing, we grow emptier and weaker and more discouraged.
     And here's what Jesus says to us: "Hey, why don't you come and have breakfast with Me this morning?"
    After the disciples came onto the shore following their long night of fishing (and catching nothing until they obeyed His suggestion to throw the net out on the right side of the boat), "they saw a charcoal fire in place, with fish laid out on it, and bread... Jesus said to them, 'Come and have breakfast.'" (John 21:9,12)  Man, how good must that hot breakfast have tasted to those weary, cold disciples?  What a gift to sit with the risen Savior and eat a steaming hot, fresh breakfast and laugh and talk and enjoy His presence!
     He has that for each of us today.  The hot fish and fresh bread of His Word, ready to strengthen us for the day ahead and remind us of His incredible love for us. He fills our souls with a hot breakfast of Himself so we handle anything we might face.   O might we refuse to rush out into the world and all we have to do and face in our busy lives without stopping to enjoy the feast our Savior has prepared for us from His Word.
     So today, it's still DEFCON 1: I have a lot to do before I head back to the hospital in Chapel Hill--and I'm certain I won't get even a tenth of it done.  But that's okay, because I've just had a hot breakfast with the Master, and I'm fortified and ready!  I can't do this... but He can.  And He fills me with the supernatural sustenance of His joy and peace and power and hope for this day.  And tomorrow... well, breakfast will be ready and waiting, if we will each just stop and eat and enjoy!
    To God, our daily Bread of Life who waits to feed us each a hot breakfast of His Word, be all the glory.

Our Rock

     "Everyone then who hears these words of Mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house upon the rock.  And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock.  And everyone who hears these words of Mine and does not do them will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand.  And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it." (Matt.7:24-27)

     A little over two weeks ago,  I answered the phone and listened to the words of a sweet friend telling me that our daughters had been in a very serious car wreck.  Little did we know at that moment how truly serious, how deadly serious, it was.  "And the rain fell, and the floods came..."  At that moment, all our priorities and concerns shifted and refocused forever.
     No longer important: my child's grade on a big test; the state of my child's room; the number of accolades my child accumulated; my child's performance on the golf course or cross country course.  Important: my child knowing and loving the God of the universe; my child knowing that we love her/him unconditionally--no if's, and's, or but's, even if they mess up in big or little ways; my child's character being rooted in Christ and Christ's love; my child's eternal salvation.
    No longer important: bank accounts; weedy yards; extra pounds; fashionable clothes; other people's approval or high opinions; exciting trips to distant locales; being "right" or winning an argument; free time all to myself; a lovely, clutter-free home; keeping up with the latest gadgets and technology; keeping up, period.  Important: loving extravagantly the Savior who died for me; loving the people He has placed in my life; caring for others;  praying for others; giving myself away in loving service to the God who gave His all for me... and to His beloved children;  living each day--each gift of today--joyfully in His amazing grace... and trusting Him for all our tomorrows.
    Just this morning, I was talking with our blond-headed Lazarus.  Janie suddenly grows tearful, "I'm gonna miss all of cross-country season."  When I remind her that it's at least possible she may get out there to see a meet by the end of the season, she sadly says, "Yeah, maybe, but I'll never run in another meet for Broughton."
     And she is right.  With all her injuries to brain and lung and ankle, she won't be doing any running anytime soon... maybe ever.  But that is up to her sovereign Savior who loves her infinitely more that we do.  And whose love means that sometimes He allows the rains to fall and the floods to come, just to show us and a watching world that any house built upon His Rock will never fall and never fail.  To remind us that His love and grace and joy and peace are more than enough, are always a giant trade-up in this short, ephemeral life.  To school us in the profound and wonderful difference between life and the abundant life.  And to teach us that we are not home yet, for the best is yet to come.
     She is running an entirely different kind of race now.  A race that matters for eternity and that, by the grace of God, is leading others to witness the eternal beauty of a house standing strong in the gales and floods of life.
      We are running that race, too, and our lives will, thankfully, gloriously, never be the same.  We have learned the true meaning of faith in the unseen,  hope in the midst of despair, and trust in the eternal rather than the temporary.  We run, building our houses of hope upon Him who never fails, even in the fiercest of storms.
       All that other stuff--that "no longer important stuff"--it's not that it doesn't matter at all.  Some of it does.  And God cares about all that too, for He cares about the big and the small, the monumental and the mundane in His children's lives.  But in life's hurricanes, all that stuff becomes like dandelion fluff blown away by the wind and the rain.  Our accolades and accomplishments and accumulations and acceptances will never ever sustain or strengthen us or give us lasting joy and peace in the midst of the floods.
     Only the Rock can do that.  Only our Rock and our Fortress can give the abundant Life in the midst of sun and storm.  "The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, my God, my Rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold." (Ps.18:2)
     He is the Rock who will never fail.  He is our Hope.  And just in case we need a little reminding, here's a living, breathing picture of His never-failing faithfulness.  Of His Hope:

     Thumbs up toward heaven, toward Hope, toward the Rock.
     To God, our Rock of strength and joy and hope in every storm, be all the glory.

Thankful for today

     Just sitting here with Janie and feeling grateful.  So grateful to our extravagant God.  It is a little after 2:00 in the afternoon, and I've been reading Janie emails from her friends and teachers.  I well remember about two weeks ago, when she was still unconscious, I sat by her bed and tried to read her emails and could never get through even a single sentence without breaking down and weeping.  "Janie," I would sob to my sleeping daughter, "I'm not doing a very good job, am I?  I'm thinking this is probably not very encouraging to you with mama crying like this."  And I would just have to put the emails away for another day.  A day in the unknown, far distant future.  A day when I might actually read them to her and she might actually understand them.

     And then that day suddenly arrived today.  Only this time, I read them without tears, and sweet Janie is the one who was crying.  We even joked about this remarkable turnaround--she was being like her emotional mom and shedding tears. I couldn't cry--I have cried so many tears and right now, I just feel so undeservedly grateful that the tears refuse to come.  God moves in mysterious ways.  

       My heart breaks for all that Janie is missing right now--all the joys of her senior year and her friends and the IB program at her school that she really loves and her teachers.  That is the source of her tears.  She even cried when we talked about homework and how she wishes she could be doing homework right now.  Father, You are the God of all comfort--would You speak gently and lovingly to her right now and give her Your peace and joy even in the midst of this hard, lonely place?  I know that You will, Lord, and that You are using this all for good and for Your glory, but Father please help her know and feel this.  Sometimes knowing something intellectually pushes up against our feelings, and  those feelings tend to overwhelm our faltering hearts. 

      We have so far to go, and Janie knows that.  We talked about all the things that she will never ever take for granted again.  Friends, Moses our dog, sports practices, car, food and eating a meal with others,  routine--O to have a glorious routine for her with school and home and sports.  How much do we take for granted every single day, Lord?  Forgive us.  Thank You for the gift of seeing and feeling and being busy and and hearing and watching and driving.  The gifts of running errands and rushing to school and sleeping in your own bed, and folding laundry, and sighing at the mess in your children's room, and watching high school sporting events, and dropping off forgotten lunches or books at school, and listening to your children complain about homework or the lack of food in the kitchen (even when you just went to the store!).  These are just a few things that will never pass unnoticed and unappreciated in our house again.  Simply the joys and challenges and messes and blessings of daily life with the ones you love.  How could we have ever grumbled about any of them?

     Don't miss the extraordinary blessings God showers upon you simply because of their dailyness and ordinariness.  All of life now seems remarkable and worthy of celebrating.  Forgive us, Father, for so often being heedless of Your goodness and grace to us.  Did the sun rise again today?--thank Your Faithful Father.  Were you able to hug your children as they rushed out the door?--praise the Giver of all good gifts.  Could you say "I love you" to someone near and dear to your heart--rejoice with the One who is Love. 

     And so Janie and I sit in this quiet room, but a gentle fire of hope and trust burns within my heart--hope and trust in the One who has brought Janie so extraordinarily far.  As I reminded her just a bit ago--don't look back except to rejoice in how far God has brought you. And don't look ahead at a long road with fear and impatience (of course I'm counseling my own heart too!).   We can't worry about all she is missing nor how we will face next week's challenges.  We simply trust and thank God for and in this moment, this fine moment, that He has given us.  This moment to love and learn and trust an unknown future to a known God.  For we know that He will not abandon us now.  Or next week.  Or next month.  

     He will not abandon you either... not ever.  

     Janie has said so many times "I want to go home."  We believe and know God will enable that to happen in His good time.  (We're praying sooner rather than later--but our "Father knows best!"  Help us to wait patiently and trustingly, Lord.)  And it will be so wonderful!  But in the meantime, we rejoice that no matter what any of us are going through, we are, none of us, truly home yet.  This fine life, this amazing world, simply is a poor, pale foreshadowing of our true Home.  And that will be one glorious homecoming truly worth the wait!  

     So we rejoice as we continue to run this marathon, thankful for this day--and this day's strength--from our sovereign, never-failing Father.  To God be the glory.