This is my mom, Rose.

She is one amazing woman.  A Pastor’s Wife, a Mother and these days one of my Best Friends.

My whole life growing up, she was an operating room nurse.  A servant of the highest order, she gave her life to help people who needed medical intervention at critical moments.

She purposefully organized our home life, preparing dinners ahead for us, making sure laundry was being done, the house always immaculate – all while keeping her schedule at the hospital.  As a mother and wife now, I’m not sure how she did it all.

There were times when her endeavors helped keep our family afloat financially.  And even in the best of senses, her occupation as a nurse allowed for my dad to minister in some churches that were not able to pay him what he was worth, even if that was their desire.

Working as an operating room nurse in her specialty, cardiac surgery, can be grueling and requires nerves of steel.  When I was in high school, I remember her drive to the hospital beginning around 5:30 in the morning, before the light of day.  And she would arrive home at night some times long after dark, having been on her feet the whole day long, with barely time to squeeze in a quick lunch break during the day.

In the prime of her career, I can think of times where she may have been on call – working hard through a Saturday night into the wee hours of Sunday morning.  And still she arrived to church with my Dad, looking beautiful and unscathed.   How she did it graciously without complaining, other than suggesting she might squeeze in a Sunday afternoon nap, I will never know.

And, yes, I also remember her staying up late into the night, sewing my prom dress one year, in spite of the fact she needed to be up before dawn the next morning.

I’m not sure if I know a more selfless, gracious, hard working woman than my mom.

Well, Rose retired last Friday from her 41 year career as an operating room nurse.  Many of her coworkers shared lovely thoughts and spoke glowing compliments of her dedication, accomplishments and skill.

But, it is my turn, now.

Mom, literally your work saved lives daily, but I know you were a nurse with loving kindness and commitment to your calling ; it has been a tangible witness to everyone who knows you of our Savior’s grace.  Your life has been an incredible example of all that a Proverbs 31 Woman is.

I could not be more proud of you and I love you.

from Proverbs 31:

She watches over the ways of her household,
And does not eat the bread of idleness.
²⁸ Her children rise up and call her blessed;
Her husband also, and he praises her:
²⁹ “Many daughters have done well,
But you excel them all.”
³⁰ Charm is deceitful and beauty is passing,
But a woman who fears the Lord, she shall be praised.
³¹ Give her of the fruit of her hands,
And let her own works praise her in the gates.

I’ve been trying to put this into words for more than a week…

Last Sunday I had the privilege of worshiping from the piano, under the leadership of our good friend, Wade Williams.  Michael and I were in Atlanta for the week, and we finished up our time there at Perimeter Church’s Sunday service in the chapel.

For many reasons that I don’t have time to explain here, it was a beautiful and meaningful time of worship. Wade and Michael playing their guitars together, it was exquisite music from their instruments the likes of which most of us musicians only dream of playing. I just chimed in on the keys here and there.

I hope I don’t forget those moments any time soon….

But, sitting at that piano, next to that stain-glassed window with the cross at the center, I was reminded of one of the first times I ever heard Wade lead worship at Northshore Fellowship in the Woodland Ave. sanctuary.  His mellow voice sang a song that I had never heard before.  It is a worship service that is etched in my memory.

This is the song:

Come, Ye sinners, Poor and needy.
Weak and wounded, Sick and sore.
Jesus ready, Stands to save you.
Full of pity, Love and power.

I will arise and go to Jesus, 
He will embrace me in His arms.
In the arms of my dear Saviour, 
O, There are ten thousand charms.

Come, Ye thirsty, Come and welcome.
God’s free bounty glorify.
True belief and true repentance.
Every grace that brings you nigh.

Come, Ye weary, Heavy-laden.
Lost and ruined by the fall.
If you tarry ’til you’re better.
You will never come at all.

It was a pivotal moment for me as a believer. Standing next to my husband, singing out full-voice mid the congregation I realized in a completely fresh way this one thing:  Jesus is prepared to receive me, no matter the shape I’m in or what I’ve done. Whatever the burden, I can go to Him.   His irresistible grace draws me close.  And that same grace  provides relief when I believe and repent.   What a freeing moment it was in my life!

The picture from last Sunday of the piano next to the cross is a beautiful illustration of my heart’s desire.  It is my prayer that I hover near the cross, and that my life and my music points people to Jesus.   For there is one truth I’m learning more and more each day :  “In the arms of my dear Savior, oh, there are ten thousand charms.”

Does anyone else think this is a strange way to heal someone?

from John 9:

1 Now as Jesus passed by, He saw a man who was blind from birth. ² And His disciples asked Him, saying, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”

³ Jesus answered, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned, but that the works of God should be revealed in him. ⁴ I must work the works of Him who sent Me while it is day; the night is coming when no one can work. ⁵ As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.”

⁶ When He had said these things, He spat on the ground and made clay with the saliva; and He anointed the eyes of the blind man with the clay. ⁷ And He said to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (which is translated, Sent). So he went and washed, and came back seeing.

I’ve been reading these words from John chapter 9 yesterday and today and I keep thinking how unusual this miracle is.  Jesus spit into the dirt, made mud, and spread it on the blind man’s eyes.  But, when he went and washed his eyes in the pool of Siloam, he found that he had been healed.  For the first time in his life he could see.

The Pharisees were sure the man or his parents had sinned, and that was why he had been blind from birth. But, Jesus said he was blind in order that this miracle could be performed and bring God glory.

The strategy, in this man’s case, was that his handicap and its complete reversal would glorify Him.  Sometimes His plan seems strange to me…

*     *     *     *     *     *     *

Last week we went to Vanderbilt to meet a new physician, Dr. Zic.   A lot of information was gathered, and I began a new treatment.  Since then I’ve been taking the time to process what I learned.  Here are the two main highlights:

1. While t-cell lymphoma is chronic (which we sort of knew already), Dr. Zic feels confident that he has the tools necessary to keep the disease at bay.
2. Because it is so unusual for someone in my demographic to have this diagnosis I can and should ignore the statistics – the good ones and the bad ones- because they do not apply. He suggested I just live my life and deal with the disease as it comes.

What do these things mean to me?

In one sense I have a new level of confidence with a physician who knows how to treat this rare diagnosis.  But on a deeper level there is this:  Jesus, The Healer, who uses strange cures and remedies, has intentions that I don’t totally understand. And, I’m realizing more clearly that there is more to heal than just my physical condition – there’s my heart to deal with as well…

So, I’ve been gathering myself to arrive at a new place of surrender; a place where I truly believe and trust that my entire story belongs to God, and that He wants to use my part in His story to bring Himself glory.    Okay, I’ve known these thoughts in my head for quite a while,  but helping my heart believe that in my “here and now” is more complicated.

When or how He chooses to bring healing, no matter how unusual it is, it is up to Him. My health and my future are His.  Honestly,  I am truly finding it a bit difficult to be at peace with His will, but every day He’s bringing me closer.   I’m praying that my surrendered heart and eventually my healed body will bring Him glory.

(my sweet baby girl, now four years old!  and I ask myself the obligatory question, “Where has the time gone?”  After looking over some of her birthday photos, I was reminded of my first blog post ever, more than 3 1/2 years ago. I thought I’d share it with you today… )

Well its 5:26 in the morning, I’ve just finished feeding Mackenzie. It was sweet this morning – she sort of whispered and cooed to me and stopped to smile at me a lot. As I put her back in her bed I had a haunting thought – How in the world am I going to remember this moment five years from now. I closed my eyes tightly and tried to seal the time away in my long term memory – I’m not sure it worked.

I thought about my other sweet babies and wondered – how am I going to remember the special moments – when Isaac puts his little arms around my neck and says “I wuv you mommy” – or like last night Emily had a victory, scoring her first soccer goal of the season. She turned to me and gave me the big double thumbs up- it was so cute and I was the proudest mommy ever at a soccer game!!

I can’t help but have a bit of remorse – why didn’t I work out a plan? Why didn’t I know I’d want to remember more? I should have taken into account my forgetfulness a bit sooner…

My great grandmother was probably my favorite grandparent – We called her GG. She was amazing. She was very sharp – she always had her wits about her til she passed away at the age of 90. She did the crossword in the newspaper every day and I remember thinking how smart she must be. GG passed along a love for many important things like lightening storms and sunsets (we’d watch them from her front porch on a hot summer night in Ottumwa). There were snowballs, the hostess kind, that were a highly favored snack at GG’s house. And there were many other wonderful things. But there was poetry with GG.

Yes, my GG started reading poetry and memorizing it with my sister and me when we were very young. There was a special poem we would read by Longfellow called “The Children’s Hour.” (the book is on my shelf in the living room now…)

I actually thought of the poem this morning, while I snuggled Mackenzie a bit longer than usual. The last verse rolled through my mind, as I was sitting with my sweet baby doll and it dawned on me. All along I had thought this poem was a sweet reminder of how much she loved my sister and I. But now I realize this was a pledge of remembering, promising to hold each memory close to her heart. And maybe not each exact memory but the intangible feeling of it perhaps, the way it feels in the deepest part of your heart. I find myself making the pledge to my own children this morning with the last stanza of the poem:

“I have you fast in my fortress,
and I will not let you depart.
But put you down in the dungeon,
In the round tower of my heart.
And there I will keep you forever,
Yes, forever and a day,
Til the walls shall crumble in ruin,
and moulder in dust away.”

Thank you GG for helping me get my plan together.

md

(very first blog entry written November 17, 2009)

(Christmas 2009)

My Great Grandmother (known by my extended family on my Dad’s side as GG) was a fabulous story teller.  She regaled us constantly with humorous anecdotes and hilarious memories. There was no end to her story telling and poem reciting.  and we all loved her for it.

We had a few favorites we’d make her tell us over and over again.  One unfortunate story was about my Uncle Larry falling out of the car as a child.  I’m not sure why she even told us about it, maybe to scare us out of ever opening the door of a moving car?  But, she had a way of making anything and everything incredibly dramatic and terribly interesting.

There was one brief child hood memory she shared with us, that I remembered this morning.  My husband is out of town you see, and so I’m attempting to create less work by using paper plates, which means fewer dishes to deal with.  At any rate, as I was throwing paper plates away after breakfast, her story came to mind.

As a child growing up, the folks living next door to GG had a strange habit.  They did not wash their dishes.  Instead, they merely licked their plates clean, and each only used their own dish, never giving them a thorough washing.  She told me they were wealthy and had plenty of access to water, but still they chose this over true cleanliness.   I vividly remember GG saying with great emphasis, “Those dishes always looked clean, but you sure didn’t ever want to eat dinner at their house…”

Okay.  gag.  Go ahead, I did.

But, after the initial disgust of that memory wore off, I have to tell you what I thought.  This is what I realized.  In my own heart, I am no different.  None whatsoever.  I go around, wiping stuff up in my life, hoping to give the appearance of clean to those around me, rather than actually taking the time to go before my Heavenly Father and confessing sin, letting Him wash me thoroughly.

Often I am more worried about my appearance before man, rather than what my reality is, which is sinful.

and that is disgusting.

But the good news is this :  There was a sacrifice made, and the blood of Jesus Christ cleanses me from all unrighteousness.  And because He is my righteousness, I can have a heart that is whiter than snow, completely, thoroughly clean.

Thank you Heavenly Father for this gift of forgiveness and righteousness through your Son, Jesus.  My I remember that it is not the appearance that is important, but that I actually live in the freedom that comes with accepting these gifts you freely give!  amen.

⁸ If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. ⁹ If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness. (1John 1:8-9)

There’s a faded childhood memory that I’m trying to revive this morning.  I’m 7, maybe 8 years old, sitting on the pew next to my Mammaw at the Ottumwa Baptist Temple.  She’s just passed out pieces of chewing gum to my sister and I, you know the kind that was square and pink and had juice in the center…

It is a hot summer Sunday evening, but the sanctuary is cool.   I don’t remember much else about the service, but my Pappaw is in the loft and the choir is singing just before the sermon.   My Aunt Brinda is playing the organ, I think and it seems as though my Uncle Larry is directing the choir…  maybe…

The old Mosie Lister song they are singing in four part harmony is the only thing that is clear as a bell in my memory.  I can hear the voices and instruments, like the service just happened yesterday.  I didn’t understand the song back then, not like I do now.

In the dark of the midnight have I oft hid my face
While the storm howls above me and there is no hiding place
Mid the crash of the thunder precious Lord hear my cry
Keep me safe til the storm passes by.

Till the storm passes over till the thunder sounds no more
Till the clouds roll forever from the sky
Hold me fast let me stand in the hollow of thy hand.
Keep me safe till the storm passes by.

Many times satan tells me there is no need to try
for there is no end of sorrow theres no hope by and by
But I know Thou art with me and tomorrow I’ll rise
Where the storms never darken the skies

When the long night has ended and the storms come no more
Let me stand in Thy pressence on that bright peaceful shore.
In that land where the tempest never comes Lord may I
Dwell with Thee till the storm passes by.

Ah.  The storm.  There have been several lately.  I won’t list them all – some are my own personal storms.  But, others close to me are going through difficult, even horrific struggles.  If it weren’t for the knowledge and truth behind this song, there would be no comfort.  no hope.  no peace.

I love these words from Psalm 57:

1 Be gracious to me, O God, be gracious to me,  for my soul takes refuge in You;
And in the shadow of Your wings I will take refuge  until destruction passes by.
² I will cry to God Most High, to God who accomplishes all things for me.
³ He will send from heaven and save me;

Because I know my Heavenly Father, I have no doubt that what He has promised is absolutely sure.  He will keep me in the hollow of His hand until the storm has passed.   And I look forward to the day which He has promised, with great hope and anticipation, when the final storm has passed and we are with Him forever.