Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Abiding

Abiding, that's my part.

That's our part.

Attaching ourselves to the vine, and having faith that the strong Vine will hold, through anything, the feeble branch.

Real things are not simple. And we need to cling to the vine. There are difficult and terrible things in life and faith is hard.

Reality is not simple, it's not neat and obvious. It's not what we expect or what we want and it's not easy.

It's hard and confusing and I pray for the family and a friend as I sit next to her in the hospital.

Listening. Believing. Hoping. Trusting His Word. And His love for her.

Saturday, April 17, 2010

Big Men Do Cry

I saw it myself.

Big men. Men who work with their hands, who hunt and fish, who fell trees and split wood. Men who have physical jobs, who are strong. Men who have strenuous lives.

These men do cry.

They cry for a joyful 14 year old lad who died tragically in a fire on Monday. They cry for themselves but mostly for his mom, his dad and his family he left behind.

And I saw pastors whose voices crack, who have to clear their throats to go on, who struggle to maintain composure because they are the ones with the message. They have been here before, too many times now. But they still ache. Different families but the same agony.

And I'm so glad that I know that "mortality is swallowed up in life",

We believe, but we still hurt.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Joshua

No, not again.

Unending tears. Embraces without words, embraces with tears.

A family torn apart with grief, anguish, questions, fears, and tears. Always tears. They can not be staid.

He was 14 and this was not his destiny. But this is their reality, now and until they meet again in a much better life.

But for now, we do the next thing. We go to their house, we hold them close, we tell them we love them and we confirm that God has not lost them and they have not lost Him or him.

"For He himself is our peace..."

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

By Life or By Death

I cried.

I received a message that another faithful giant of the faith won't be needing his body for much longer.

I was a freshman in college. While I was away that first year, my folks came to a saving knowledge of Christ. They found a small church in a nearby community where a wonderful man, his wife and three young boys were preaching the gospel. It is where I met my Savior, my husband, and lifelong friends.

Rob's family had been instrumental in the establishment of Hillside Church in the village of Armonk. They had been meeting in the basement of the pastor who had come to start the work. And one Sunday evening, as the few people who gathered each week worshiped, four young Norwegian men came to the house, asking if this was where they were worshiping the Lord. Boy, did every one's eyes light up.

They came, these Norwegians, by themselves but they represented families. Strong families, who were committed to the Lord, to church, to each other, to hard work, to honesty and integrity. They showed me what men can be and how they can serve the Lord without compromise. They were all builders and as their businesses grew, because of the quality of work and their dependability, they were all soon building multi million dollars houses in Westchester. But more importantly I saw them devote themselves to the church. They built Hillside Church. Saturdays were work days. They were the general contractors and the construction workers. Rob and his dad were the electricians, along with others who worked in the electrical industry. And their wives, all young mothers, taught Sunday School. There were individual grades, just like school, a vibrant high school Sunday School, and Rob's dad taught the adults, while my dad and the pastors wife taught the college and career group.

And now, along with my dad and Rob's dad, John will be leaving his battle scarred body for a better place. His daughter asked us to pray that John would die as well as he lived. And she hoped that his victory over death because of his trust in Christ would be a powerful testimony of what God can do when we give our lives to Him.

But I don't want to let him go. Those big strong Norwegian men, my heroes; not ashamed of the gospel of Christ. They imparted a strength to me. I remember our families standing together, worshiping, singing, praying, living, eating and playing, and working together. And they are all powerful memories of wonderful times together.

Death is an enemy, but a defeated one, and our tears will be wiped away someday. because, "what is mortal is about to be swallowed up not by death, but by life" 2 Corinthians 5:4

So I pray for him and for myself someday that:
"I eagerly expect and hope that I will in no way be ashamed, but will have sufficient courage so that now as always Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death". Philipians 1:20

Sunday, April 4, 2010

Easter Memories



I don't know why, but I seem to have more early memories about Easter then Christmas.

It started on Palm Sunday for our family. We went to a traditional church and there was always a choir in blue or red robes singing hosannas from a platform above the congregation. The anthems and sermons depicted Jesus' triumphant entry into Jerusalem and then as we left the church we were given palms to bring home with us to remind us during the week, that this week was special. It was the week leading up to something that was terrible and yet glorious. I remember putting those palm branches, (we always tried to get at least a couple as we left the church) on the wall above my tufted headboard or sometimes my sister and I would make bookmarks with them.

It was the one time of the year that my mom took my sister and I clothes shopping. I used to think that was the only time I got clothes but that couldn't have been true because I have seen myself in a winter coat. But at Easter time, she took us with her to the department store. We each got a new dress, white leather shoes, white socks, white gloves, a purse, and a hat. Yes, every year we would have a hat to wear to church on Easter. They were very cute but eventually the hats were forsaken.

My dad's parents were the organist and choir director in a Methodist church in Mount Vernon. They usually had a special service on Good Friday which we would often attend. Many times my dad would be coerced into "helping' the tenor section for that service. Sometimes he would sing next to a Jewish cantor who was "hired" to complement the choir or do a special solo. Funny! Sometimes they did a whole cantata for that service and the vocal depiction of the events leading up to Easter was always stirring.

We did dye eggs. Paas was operational back in the 40's too, and the same little wire holder hasn't change a bit, although there were only five basic colors. The eggs were boiled and then colored and put in baskets with green "grass". Easter morning we would get our baskets and race around the house looking in all the traditional places that my dad hid the eggs and he was always thinking up new spots to trick us.

We would have a breakfast of hot crossed buns and then off to church in our Easter finery. Easter was beautiful. Every year, Christ the Lord is Risen Today, was gloriously sung at the top of our lungs as the choir, which my dad was a part, marched down the center isle. "He Is Risen" was proclaimed from the pulpit, and we sat down to more inspiring music and the glorious gospel.

Then off to my maternal grandmothers house in Larchmont to a large contingent of family and roast lamb and trimmings and always a big bowl of licorice jelly beans. And sitting around the table we listened to the adults discuss everything from politics, to their jobs, to family happenings in Norway, to my grandmothers raspberry patch. After we were dismissed from the table my sister and I would wander up to the attic to look through old trunks and investigate all the interesting artifacts casually tossed up into the dark recesses of that space.

And finally my mom would call and we would head home. Easter had come and gone. It was spring and a new feeling of freshness and life and hope filled our lives. And somehow as we continued on in search of our Savior we found him. In a little church attended mostly by young Norwegian families, in the middle of a very liberal and wealthy community. He found my parents first and then each one of their daughters was lead softly and gently to their Savior.

And many Easters have come and gone, each with it's own special memories. This year we celebrated all together, our whole family (the best) plus grandma and uncle Don and two very special friends. And someday we will all be together, restored, renewed and worshiping in His very presence. And that will be glorious!

Thursday, April 1, 2010

April 1

Today would have been my parents 65th wedding anniversary. They made it to their 60th.

Yes, they got married on April 1, 1945. Right after my father got back from active duty, flying over 35 missions in Europe.

After a few days "honeymoon" at Barton's Motel, in New Jersey, they headed out to Hobbs, New Mexico where he was a flying instructor at the base. They lived in a motel room and she cooked spaghetti in an electric frying pan and a coffee maker. Those were the stories we grew up with but knowing my mom's determination and her clever use of utensils, I'm sure that one was true. She wasn't much of a cook then, she grew up in a home where they had a live in cook, but she learned rapidly and became a wonderful baker, cook and homemaker.

She was also very frugal. I remember how she used to stretch her grocery allowance and the interesting menu she would always serve. I think there were some cuts of meat that we never see in the grocery store now, and that is probably a good thing.

The one thing that I never asked her, and I don't know why, is how she managed, emotionally and spiritaully, while my dad was in England flying missions over Germany and Norway. Dangerous. All the pilots were in their early twenties. Many of the planes, pilots and crew did not make it back. But they always seemed "matter of fact" about those days and never said that either one was filled with anxiety during that time. I do know that on their wedding day, all my relatives donated their food ration cards to my grandparents for the reception, (I think for sugar so they could make a cake),my grandfather killed their chickens and they had a wonderful party at my grandparents home, with the aunts cooking and serving.

Liz and I were just speaking about them the other day and how it will be so nice to see them again someday. Someday when Jesus comes back for his own.