Friday, December 19, 2014

Scarlet Reminders

As we take that thirty minute drive that begins on our bumpy county road and ends at the Lord's House, I investigate my dress boots.


I really need black shoe polish. Or do I?


That scuff mark, boot scar, brings back a painful memory, a fond memory, a hilarious memory. Yeah, a memory can comprise all those feelings. The bad can be good if we look through the right lens.

It all started the day I fell in McDonald's parking lot on the way to church ... Lottie Moon offering day, a year ago. We had just received a good ice storm, and more than wallets and pancakes were flipped that day. After landing on my stomach, 0 to 60, I arrived at church with a busted and bleeding chin, a cut knee, a bruised body, torn jeans, teary eyes.

"Did you inform the restaurant owners?" someone asked. 

"No, I love McDonald's." I smiled. "I don't blame them. It wasn't their fault." 

And every Sunday morning as we arrive there to eat pancakes before church, we all point to the place by the curb where I fell and proclaim, "And there ... there I fell." We smile. We laugh. The girls roll their eyes over our silliness. Relief overcomes. Gratefulness overcomes. 

My beloved, scarred jeans hang in the closet. They were my favorite pair.



I don't pull them out too much these days because I'm from that generation that doesn't purposely wear holes in their clothes ... and that's an issue hard to overcome.



It wasn't long after the fall that my appendix had to be removed (and three more minor organs due to the appendix infection). And regardless of what any doctor says, I'll always wonder if the two incidents were connected. If one caused the other. So when I see my boot and denim scars, not only do I remember the fall, but I remember the surgery scars, as well. They were so closely together.

And with those scars, I don't remember only the bad. I remember the healing. And why, when I was in that hospital, my big-as-a-grizzly-bear, soft-hearted-as-a-Teddy-bear uncle drove three hours to visit and bring me flowers. He still calls me "baby" and uses a voice with me like he's talking to a small child. Tender. Caring. He came all that way because he loved me.

*****

Another man came all that way because He loved me, too. Because He loved you. Not just any man. A God-man. Jesus. "For God so loved the world" began in Heaven and descended to a manger scene.

He hung "there" scarred in both hands and both feet. Damaged. Torn. His scars remain. No, they are not covered over. Jesus' scars are scarlet reminders forever covering our wrongs made right.

A mixture of feelings co-exist. Heart pain for His journey, but gratefulness for my journey. Why, there'd be no John 3:16 without Him.

Do you wonder how He feels about it? When He sees the scars, does He think of you and me? Would He take the fall for our fall again? Does He look, point to the spot, and say, "And there ... there I fell"? Does He look through His eternal lens and say, "It wasn't their fault. I don't blame them. Why, I love them"? And then smile.



Father, thank you for the manger scene. Thank you for the cross. Thank you for hope.

Happy Holy-Day!



Friday, December 12, 2014

Saved

How many times does God speak to our hearts, and we simply don't listen? We turn away. We ignore His nudging, the Spirit within's guidance.

How many times have bad things happened, our house ransacked, and we thought ... something told me not to do this or that ... I just had a feeling ... but I didn't listen.



Since we had our one sheep killed a few weeks ago, we've finally been allowing our two sheep out into the back area a little more now, only giving them access to it during the light of day.














We are still fearful. Seeing something you hold precious eaten away is a mental picture that never leaves. The tears still come. The pain still pierces. I should have ...

But even giving them access, our sheep, Sandy, and the newest necessity, Ginny, remain near the barn though because the baby sheep won't venture far from it. She's new here and still nervous. Though she is so loving and not fearful of human hands like our other sheep was as a baby. She actually lets me rub her chin, her tummy, and I can even pick her up without a squabble. She would let me kiss her forehead if I wanted, but of course, I wouldn't do that. Wink.

 

This morning, I went to let them out of the barn. The morning light was awake, but a little foggy covering lingered. I just felt like I shouldn't let them out. Fogginess ... eeriness. I just couldn't shake it. I made a decision to only let them go into the small pen off the barn that comes up near the house.


Couldn't quite put my finger on it. Just got a strange feeling. Came back inside.

As I sat down at the computer, my oldest daughter woke up and came to me very distraught. She said, "Mom, I had a bad dream. Don't let the sheep out today."

"I won't," I said. "Did you dream the sheep got killed?"

"I dreamed Ginny, the baby, got killed."

"I had a bad feeling this morning. I didn't let them out." My eyes widened like silver dollars, and I knew full well the Lord was speaking to me.

We hugged. Took a deep breath. Like we'd been saved within an inch of our lives.

This event was major. And I believe my eldest will always remember this. I told her, "You know ... maybe we were just paranoid. And maybe absolutely nothing would have come to harm them this morning. But because we heeded the warning, we'll never have to find out."

As of this moment, our sheep are safe and sound.



Oh, how thankful we are that Jesus came to this earth as the one and only God-man. Bitty baby. Born in a manger. Maybe a sheep even kissed and nibbled His precious, holy cheek.

He lived and died for us ... and left us with an incredible gift ... the Holy Spirit.

We haven't been abandoned. We've been saved. Within an inch of our lives. Yeah, you've been saved, Ol' Soul.

If we'll simply yield, listen, quiet ourselves, wait ... He'll guide.

We are privileged to hear that still small saving voice within.

Happy Holy-Day, Beloved Friends.



Tuesday, December 9, 2014

More of the Story ...

" 'God had a radically different plan that would change our lives,' Lucy Tyler* shared.

The Tylers had a comfortable life in the States. But in 2011, God began speaking to them about those who have never heard the truth. The burden couldn’t be ignored."

*****

For more of the storyLucy's storyplease join me at WMU's Missions Mosaic website.



Thursday, December 4, 2014

More of the Story ...

" 'Mom shed tears every time I returned to Colombia,' Kay Brown shared. 'But I loved my job there. I could share every day with someone about Jesus’ great love for them.' "

*****

If you'd like to hear more of the storyKay's storyplease join me over at WMU's Missions Mosaic website ...