Set apart

Lately, and more than a few times in these last months,  I have felt disconnected and detached, even among friends.  I've always been a leader; which has proved frustrating to me at various times throughout my life, and I've had only a handful of "like-minded" friends cross my life path. 

A good friend once shared with me that growing older and hopefully wiser has it's up side, and in these past months God has put me smack in the middle of several situations in which my perspective is definitely contrary to popular opinion!  I've been troubled by an attitude prevalent among believers that justifies worldly values and  compromises spiritual ones.

We're bound to face temptation in this life, simply by virtue of being human, yet so many of us suffer from temptations we should never have to endure, simply because we've refused to let God lift us to a higher level.
Temptation easily confuses us for a while- we don't know whether something is right or wrong.  We can't escape temptation- it's essential to the well-rounded life of a person, yet it constantly shifts our point-of-view and makes us lose what God has put into us through His Spirit.

As believers we have the idea that we should shield ourselves from some of the things God brings around us.  May this never be, as it is God who engineers our circumstances!  Whatever the circumstances, we must face them while continually abiding with Him in His temptations --temptations to the life of the Son of God in us.  Jesus' honor is at stake in our bodily lives.  

Yet what I've witnessed in recent years is a mind set that diminishes the circumstances God brings to us by deeming them harmless and nontoxic, when in reality they are an attack on His life in us! Temptation should never to be taken lightly, or dismissed as nondestructive.

Being in the world and not of the world  is what sets us apart.  God doesn't save us from temptation, but  He sustains us in the midst of it and grows us leaps and bounds in the process. Raising the standard as believers  sets us apart, in a world that would rather have us conform to the norm.

To such as these...

I witnessed the compassionate love of Jesus in one of my four/five-year-old  music classes today. One boy in the class, Christian, has been absent for several weeks. His dad is the new hitting coach for a Major League Baseball team, and so the family accompanied him to spring training.  For a four-year-old, coming back after many weeks of absence is hard--classrooms and classmates seem like strangers. 

As everyone chimed in, singing and moving to the music, Christian's eyes swelled with tears.  "I miss my mom," he sobbed.  

The petite figure standing next to him cuddled her tiny arms around his.  "It's alright, Christian.  It's hard coming back when you've been gone.  I cried when we had to leave my grandma's house to go home from vacation.  I know you miss your mom, but we're glad you're here,'cause we missed you. Do you want to sit down awhile?" Nodding yes through his sniffles, she guided him to a near-by chair, continuing to embrace him, as all gathered 'round to console.

And in that time-stopping moment, God's words came to mind, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these."   

Leaving familiar surroundings for the unfamiliar is never easy for the big or the small.  There are times when we all need a little help from a friend.  And today, Jesus stepped in; personified in the diminutive form of a young girl.

I remember seeing a picture of Jesus smiling in one of our school offices.  Children were gathered around him, a few sitting on his lap. His face radiated joy as they clambered for his attention.  

I'm certain he was smiling like that today, watching "such as these" bring the kingdom of God to room 142.

Seventh Floor Angel

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

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

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."

Realizing moments

One of my favorite plays is Thorton Wilder's, Our Town. In college, I played the role of Emily Webb, who grows up in the small town of Grover's Corner, where she marries her childhood friend, and dies giving birth to her second child.
She is given the opportunity to go back to one day in her life, and she chooses the day of her 12th birthday. Others who have gone before her caution her not to return, saying, “You (will)not only live (the day); you (will)watch yourself living it.”
At first, Emily sees the routine of life going on as usual–the milk man delivering milk, Constable Warren telling how he rescued a man lying in snowdrifts, the paper boy delivering newspapers. Then she sees her mother and father, who are surprisingly youthful to her. They are preparing to give her gifts.
She speaks with her mother, who tells her to eat her breakfast slowly. Her mother gives her a dress which she had to “send all the way to Boston” to get. Her father and brother also have gifts, but Emily can’t go on any longer and breaks down, saying she didn’t realize how much the little things of life–things she did not notice before–really matter. Emily returns to the cemetery and says to the another person there:
.......“They don’t understand, do they?”
.......“No, dear. They don’t understand.”
"Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it--every, every
minute?"
Every life is a culmination of moments, ones that are"one of a kind." Do we realize the most significant moments in our life, or do we too often dismiss them as ordinary, believing there will be another that comes along to top it? We are all here on temporary assignment, and if we're truly living in the moment, we will recognize its worth--for it can never be duplicated!
Life is made up of every day moments that make up the hours of our days. If we aren't careful, we will miss what is right in front of us! Those simple, every day things we so often take for granted are the very essence of life itself.
God uses moments in our life. How do we know if one is more pivotal than another? I have now lived for half a century, and looking back, there have been moments I regretfully dismissed; never realizing they were one of "the" moments, and never again would I have hold of them.
So, this is my message to all who have many more years of livng ahead:
Live in the moment! Don't take for granted that you'll ever own it again. Realize the importance of those simple, ordinary events that make up the patterns of life--those everyday miracles that God gives us eyes to see; if only we will!

Steadfast

I am grateful for friends in time of need; ones that stick with you through the mush. Never questioning, always near by...willing to wade with you through the molasses.
When startled by life's twists and turns, they console with unrestrained compassion, and remain steadfast when others close their eyes so not to see.
How like Jesus they are--when no one is looking.
How blessed I am to call them "friend."

We do not so much need the help of our friends as the confidence of their help in need."
~ Epicurus