In second grade, my teacher was Mrs Sanford, and she cast me as the mother in our class play, The Night Before Christmas. My mom and I went shopping for the perfect night gown for my role, and I don't believe I've ever owned a more elegant one! It was creamy white with eyelet lace, and had alternate rows of pale pink satin ribbon woven throughout the bodice. Mock-pearl buttons dotted the front, stopping just above my waist, and I felt like Cinderella the moment I put it on! It was a dream gown for any eight year old girl, and I couldn't wait to show it off on opening night.
However, two weeks before my big debut, I was diagnosed with nephritis, and unbeknown to me, it was life threatening. The drive to St. Luke's Hospital that snow-white Colorado eve remains so vivid in my mind. My dad met us half-way after receiving mom's phone call, and carried me from the car into the entry way, setting me gently down in the prepared wheel chair. I'd lost a large amount of blood, and within moments I had a needle the size of my forearm inserted into a vein, with more fluids being pumped into my wee frame than I've ever had since.
Looking back, I don't remember any pain, and my courageous mom and dad hid theirs well. One or both remained by my side the entire stay, and they never once showed the slightest hint of distress in my presence, ever cheerful and optimistic.
I received the most amazing coloring roll from our next door neighbors, complete with a giant box of crayons, and classmates sent cards, letters, and pictures of the Christmas play which of course came and went with my best friend playing my role.
As siblings weren't allowed in any of the hospital rooms, my mom received the doctor's okay to visit with my sisters in a small waiting area on the third floor. The morning of their visit, my mom helped me don my new night gown, and weaved pink satin ribbon through my braids. I felt like a princess as she wheeled me to the seventh floor elevator and pushed the button for the third floor. Just as the doors began to close, a man suddenly emerged, and stood next to me wearing a smile that was dazzling! Every detail of his person has remained clear to me through these many years. He was quite tall, with sapphire eyes that glistened amid his luminous white hair and beard. His shirt was the whitest I‘d ever seen, and he wore velvet green knickers with gold embroidery surrounding each pocket. His shoes were brilliant crimson, and as I gazed upon his face, I was certain he was Saint Nicholas in person! I glanced over my shoulder at my mother, as she stood behind me waiting for the elevators doors to part. She nodded, giving me a quick wink and a smile. She sees him too, I thought. And then in an instant, he was kneeling next to me; whispering my name, and assuring me I was going to be "just fine." His face radiated warmth, and in that moment, I knew without a doubt I was well. And as the elevator doors slid open, I became aware of something round and hard deep in the palm of my hand. Unfolding my fingers, I spied a shiny new silver dollar! Somewhat confused, I stuffed it into my gown pocket as my sisters ran toward me with hugs and kisses.
In the days following my release from the hospital, I transferred the silver dollar into a single white sock and placed it in my jewelry box. I hadn't shared my encounter with anyone, as I yearned to hold on to the specialness of that moment. But as weeks passed, I grew anxious to talk with my mom about the man we'd seen in the elevator, who got in on the seventh floor and off on the third. I was shocked to discover that mother had absolutely no recollection of such a person! I reminded her that she nodded and winked when he got on, and that he knew my name. She was quite surprised when I presented her with the polished silver dollar, but did not doubt my story, and fixing her eyes squarely on my face softly affirmed, " I believe that God sent you a special angel, sweetheart. And I believe that He has made you well!" My eyes swelled with tears, as my mom drew me close, and in that ephemeral moment, I knew with complete certainty that my Saint Nick was most certainly that!
I was up quite late tonight as I couldn't sleep. We had a blizzard and white-out conditions here in Colorado, and I was waiting to hear from our youngest son, confirming that he was home safe and sound. As I sat gazing at the snow outside my bedroom window, praying for God to give His angels charge over our son-for His protection, my thoughts trailed back to that Colorado winter so many years ago when God sent me my seventh floor angel, and by His grace, to this day, my health has been extraordinarily "just fine!"
He shall give His angels charge over you, to guard you in all your ways. Psalm 91:11
Friday, March 26, 2010
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Take hold of this day...
This Wednesday one of the second grade teachers at the school where I teach met an untimely death after suffering a seizure. I received word of her passing Wednesday evening. I remember exchanging smiles in the lunch room just the day before, and although I did not know her well, I know she was beloved by her students, and the void she has left is irreplaceable. Here, and then gone. In a moment, taken from earth into heavenly territory, by his grace.
I love the words of Sheri Rose Shepherd from Love Letters from Your King:
"You need not worry when your life will end, My precious child. All you need to know is that your first breath began with Me, and your last breath will lead you to My presence. Don't ever let fear of death or eternity frighten you. Your todays and tomorrows are secure with Me-I have held them in My hand since the beginning of time. When you finish your brief time on earth and I call you into heaven, your 'forever life' in heaven will begin."
Valerie Hildebrandt was a Christ-like example daily to her second-graders, and their lives have been forever changed by her presence. What was learned under her tutelage will remain in hearts for a life time.
Our time here is brief; we've been given just enough to bring forth God's life-changing news of salvation-
we're here to collect people! We are called to bring others to him.
If we live each day as if it were our last, leaving eternal imprints on the lives of those we know and love, though they be brief, their impact will linger long after we have gone. Recognize that God has strategically placed each of us here for such a time as this. Seize each day! Make a difference in the lives of those God brings into yours...one day at a time for the rest of the days you've been given.
...that I may finish the race with joy and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me-
Matthew 20: 24
I love the words of Sheri Rose Shepherd from Love Letters from Your King:
"You need not worry when your life will end, My precious child. All you need to know is that your first breath began with Me, and your last breath will lead you to My presence. Don't ever let fear of death or eternity frighten you. Your todays and tomorrows are secure with Me-I have held them in My hand since the beginning of time. When you finish your brief time on earth and I call you into heaven, your 'forever life' in heaven will begin."
Valerie Hildebrandt was a Christ-like example daily to her second-graders, and their lives have been forever changed by her presence. What was learned under her tutelage will remain in hearts for a life time.
Our time here is brief; we've been given just enough to bring forth God's life-changing news of salvation-
we're here to collect people! We are called to bring others to him.
If we live each day as if it were our last, leaving eternal imprints on the lives of those we know and love, though they be brief, their impact will linger long after we have gone. Recognize that God has strategically placed each of us here for such a time as this. Seize each day! Make a difference in the lives of those God brings into yours...one day at a time for the rest of the days you've been given.
...that I may finish the race with joy and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me-
Matthew 20: 24
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Almost Heaven
As a child I was blessed to have both sets of grandparents living just a short distance from our family home. I remember many birthdays spent in their backyard, anxiously anticipating Grandma Carrie's home made angel food cake with her drizzled orange cream cheese frosting, and Grandma Mabel's sour cream chocolate with milk chocolate shavings! Whoa baby--just thinking about them makes me drool!
My Grandpa Jack would often take my sisters, brother, and I, on a birthday wheel barrow ride across their wide breadth of yard, dumping us out each time onto fresh-cut grass, as we begged "just one more time!" My grandma Mabel's flower garden was a work of art; a Monet painting exploding with colossal color. I used to pretend I was Alice in Wonderland and plop myself down on the ornate iron bench that rested along the small stone pathway to one side of the brillant blooms.
Grandma Mabel had an identical twin, and when Aunt Maudie came to visit, they would keep us howling, telling of the times they switched places in school and took tests for one another, as Grandma excelled in English, while Maudie was a whiz in math!
My Grandma Carrie and Grandpa Harlan had an extensive vegetable garden on their property, and I used to watch Grandma snap the tips off the green beans with amazing speed, tossing them into her big iron pot filled with water, while we ate them by the fistful! She was a captivating story-teller, and on summer nights, we'd sit next to her on the over-stuffed sofa, listening to her tell us of her childhood years spent on the farm in Nebraska, spilling out favorite Bible verses, leaving lasting imprints on our hearts
My mind is flooded with memories of my grandmas....both women of commanding character, strength, and unwavering faith.
But my most beloved memory is of Christmas Eves when mom would prepare a scrumptious feast, as we celebrated with my paternal grandparents and relatives on my dad's side of the family. After all had left, we would don our new pajamas, grab our pillows and blankets, and bound into the back of our family station wagon headed for Grandma Mabel and Grandpa Jack's house! Their home was an enchanting, magical place. Grandma's ability to make everything special was her gift to all of us. Dad would carry our slumbering bodies into their guest room, placing my older sister and I in the graceful four poster bed. Laying sheltered under Grandma's lush covers and white satin spread, I was instantly at home. We'd awaken early Christmas morning to the aroma of freshly baked cinnamon rolls, and tiptoe like mice down the extensive hallway to the living room - to peek at presents waiting under the tall spruce, with it's shining globes and glistening tinsel.
A childhood friend once asked me what I thought heaven would be like. I remember telling her: "It's like falling asleep on Christmas Eve, and when you wake up Christmas morning, you're in your Grandma's house surrounded by all the people you love the very most."
My Grandpa Jack would often take my sisters, brother, and I, on a birthday wheel barrow ride across their wide breadth of yard, dumping us out each time onto fresh-cut grass, as we begged "just one more time!" My grandma Mabel's flower garden was a work of art; a Monet painting exploding with colossal color. I used to pretend I was Alice in Wonderland and plop myself down on the ornate iron bench that rested along the small stone pathway to one side of the brillant blooms.
Grandma Mabel had an identical twin, and when Aunt Maudie came to visit, they would keep us howling, telling of the times they switched places in school and took tests for one another, as Grandma excelled in English, while Maudie was a whiz in math!
My Grandma Carrie and Grandpa Harlan had an extensive vegetable garden on their property, and I used to watch Grandma snap the tips off the green beans with amazing speed, tossing them into her big iron pot filled with water, while we ate them by the fistful! She was a captivating story-teller, and on summer nights, we'd sit next to her on the over-stuffed sofa, listening to her tell us of her childhood years spent on the farm in Nebraska, spilling out favorite Bible verses, leaving lasting imprints on our hearts
My mind is flooded with memories of my grandmas....both women of commanding character, strength, and unwavering faith.
But my most beloved memory is of Christmas Eves when mom would prepare a scrumptious feast, as we celebrated with my paternal grandparents and relatives on my dad's side of the family. After all had left, we would don our new pajamas, grab our pillows and blankets, and bound into the back of our family station wagon headed for Grandma Mabel and Grandpa Jack's house! Their home was an enchanting, magical place. Grandma's ability to make everything special was her gift to all of us. Dad would carry our slumbering bodies into their guest room, placing my older sister and I in the graceful four poster bed. Laying sheltered under Grandma's lush covers and white satin spread, I was instantly at home. We'd awaken early Christmas morning to the aroma of freshly baked cinnamon rolls, and tiptoe like mice down the extensive hallway to the living room - to peek at presents waiting under the tall spruce, with it's shining globes and glistening tinsel.
A childhood friend once asked me what I thought heaven would be like. I remember telling her: "It's like falling asleep on Christmas Eve, and when you wake up Christmas morning, you're in your Grandma's house surrounded by all the people you love the very most."
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