Graveside

Yesterday I sat, watched and listened…eloquent speeches, beautiful music and heartfelt tears… all a tribute to someone so accurately portrayed as a mom to all.  What a woman!  She was accomplished, polished, classy, down-to-earth, diligent, loving, tough and elegant.  But in all the ability and perfection that was seen is it possible it was accentuated because of what was not seen?

Let me explain.  Often when I was a boy and most always when mom lived with us, I would be up early and find mom praying or reading the Bible.  As I would bring her coffee we would chat, never enough of course, and I would find she wasn’t reading and praying for fun and pleasure but for comfort and guidance.  Mom was a worrier but often that wasn’t her fault.  Usually the worry was caused by her out-of-hand sons or hard to control husband.  A quick example: “Boys, if that motor for the mini bike comes today, do not put it together” she said knowing somehow clouds were forming over the horizon.  Mom drives away, the delivery truck drives in.   A few hours later mom comes back to find a mini bike tipped over and me on the ground with my head covered in blood.  Worry, and why not?

She couldn’t protect us, she couldn’t make decisions for us, and she couldn’t change the hearts or direct the paths of all who called her mom.  So she wept for wisdom, she prayed for protection and she read for guidance because she felt inadequate for the journey.  And because of her wonderful dependence on her loving Savior, we all experienced an incredible outpouring of greatness.  So you see, she was not only great because she was great, she was greater because she was blessed.

A book I had read once had an incredible description of death.  Unfortunately, I can’t remember the author or book to give proper recognition.  As I read this description I thought I understood what he said.  I may have, but it seems as if now I understand better not what he said but what he meant.  Something happened a few days before mom died to make the meaning clearer.   She had called out for her husband, her son and Nathan, her grandson.  This author presented the idea that as we pass from this life to the next there often is a sight and a struggle. The picture presented was crossing a river to Glory.  As one who knows Christ, we see those who are waiting for us…not only family and friends but Jesus, whose blood enabled our passage from death into life.  This sight gives us the desire, courage and endurance to cross that last struggle and swim into the presence of our Savior.  She’s there, she made it and the last struggle is over.  She’s in the arms of Jesus.

Christmas Child

CHRISTMAS CHILD

It has been many years now since my wife and I have taken in foster children.  The kids were great but, at times, the advocacy was difficult.  At one point we had a little boy who stayed with us much longer than anticipated.  Karen worked tirelessly to protect and find a wonderful home for this little boy.  The whole process took a few years enabling me to do something I maybe should have shielded myself from....we developed a special kind of a bond.

The image never goes away.  As I would sit and read in the early morning my eyes would catch bouncing, curly hair traipsing down the stairs.  Rubbing the sleep from his eyes he would plop down next to me, wrap himself up in my arms and keep me company.  Sometimes we didn't talk, but often we chatted about "stuff".  It wasn't long now and he was gone, we had all finally settled on a good home, I didn't realize right away but this little boy had cut out a piece of my heart and taken it with him.

How much more must Christmas have felt to God?  He wrapped up His Son, set Him in a cold manger and left Him in a warped, crazy world.  God knew this baby would be mocked, ridiculed, beaten and killed.  But He also knew there was no other way to defeat man's sinful hearts. 

Oh how glad I am that God was willing to suffer the pain of separation so I could find this babe of Christmas.

Merry Christmas!

Regret

Where has time gone? I grew up near a small town, some 30 miles west of Minneapolis.  Thirty-three acres of hobby farm allowed much room for my dog and me to scamper about.  At the back end of this property lay a meandering muddy river filled with prize Bullheads.  Trailing this river toward town, a mile or so, brings us to my good friend.  There's his home just off the river ready to take yet another spring barrage of water and debris.

We couldn't put up with it any longer we had to fix the "dilemmas" of nature and society.  The secret club began.  A bunch of fourth and fifth grade boys were about to right all wrong.  Oaths were stated and dues were collected, nature was our first battle.  Spring had sprung and our beautiful river was laden with all kinds of "stuff" carried from its long journey.  Washing machines, tires, doors, almost anything that water could push was trying to sneak by.

The wary sleuth's wasted no time.  Our pockets filled with due collections, we rallied the troops to the hardware store.  Ropes, cables, hooks and anything else used in river dredging was whisked from the shelves.  Unfortunately, the helpful hardware man had to put most of it back because we could only afford a short piece of cable and a hook.  No worry, much greater wrongs had been righted with much less.  We were off!

Toasters, chairs and car doors were among the debris collected from the river and deposited on the shore.  The idea was fabulous, the procedure was inefficient. Not only did my friends family have to put up with the unsightly garbage on the shore the rest of the year, the garbage would be washed down the river in the next spring flood.  We were eight or nine, what did we know? 

Now that the problems of the environment had been solved we moved on to the humanitarian challenges of the day.  My friend and I would ride our bikes around town looking for things to do and see.  An old man on an old porch would often catch our eye.  This poor man was not very friendly, responsive or sober. He would be our new project.

Back we went to the secrecy of our club room to plan our strategy.  This plan would be flawless.  There was no room for mistakes this time, we were dealing with a person.  The plan was set, we checked out our stash of money and headed for Mayer Grocery.  There was no way this would fail....Twinkies and root beer, no one could resist our friendship.  The conversation was awkward at best, the treats were criticized but our visits were not discouraged.  Soon this old man with no name faded from the porch and I have no recollection of his final chapter.  I'm afraid our follow-up capabilities had not yet matured. 

This partner in care, my good friend, had not yet given his heart to this God I now call mine, however, he was interested.  Around this time of figuring out our responsibility in society our church sponsored a movie, we called it a film of course, which depicted the love and concern of a God who created this conscience my friend and I were developing.  I invited my buddy to come take a look and off we went.  After the movie my friend was moved both by the message and the call to salvation.  He asked me to go up front with him.  I froze, feeling people may think I was a rebellious rascal who fell back on his earlier decision...I didn't go with him....he didn't go either. 

Failures were mounting quickly.  We changed schools and this new place offered a much higher class clientele of which I could not compete...my good friend and I drifted apart.  As time went on through high school and college I tried to resurrect the experience to him through letters and prayers but to no avail.  May I have banished my friend from heaven because I was "chicken" to go up front with him? 

Time is short, change happens quickly.  A soft heart may harden before another chance is available.  Don't put Christ aside for the giving or the taking, it's not worth the regret.