Small things

I noticed something yesterday with fresh eyes. It was one of those revelations that is more of an "oh, yeah!" rather than an "ah-ha!" I need to be reminded once in awhile of things I already know to be true. Sometimes in the day to day flow of life, things, important things get lost in the shuffle of activity. Yesterday brought one of those moments, and like breathing deeply the rush of air filling your lungs, I awoke an understanding that had been just sitting there waiting for notice.

The "oh, yeah!" was recognizing the hand of God in the small things of my life. When my oldest three daughters got married, each wedding was an "ah-ha!" moment as I saw the Lord doing something amazing. When each one of my grandchildren were born there was that moment when awe and the spirituality of the moment was thick with His presence. I love the fact that the Lord doesn't dwell in those huge moments of life only though. I love that He has chosen to live in relationship with each of us, individually in the mundane, the everyday as well as the huge, spectacular moments.

I was packing my purse getting ready to leave for church yesterday morning. There nearby was a pile of business cards. Now I just had these things made up to take with me to a conference I am attending in August and don't usually carry them around everyday. When I saw them I felt a "nudge" to take some with me and so I grabbed a few and popped them into the pocket of the purse. I attended church with my parents in Harrington yesterday, having the opportunity to sing. After the service the guest pastor came over to comment on my song and asked if I would come to their church and sing. I handed him the card I had been "nudged" to bring.

I have been praying for more opportunities to sing. I don't call people and ask for opportunity or time in their service and I have no desire for a "singing ministry". I just miss singing, so I asked the Lord to open up a couple of doors. I wanted the chance to sing for others and in the process hoped to bring God glory and bless Him. Here in this small thing, this little desire of my heart and the small prayer request that would not have been a big disappointed if He said "No you've already had that day. It's over.", in that small thing, the "nudge", the card packed, the invitation, the giving of the card, I was reminded that He is involved in my small things, the little desires of my heart. He is constantly orchestrating my path to bring into the fulfillment of His plan. It's part of the relationship.

Now you might be thinking, "big deal, she carried a card! Isn't that what cards are for? How's that God's hand?" All I can say is those small moments of ordinary things bring His presence in my everyday life into focus and remind me that He is present, yes; but more He is looking for relationship with me, daily, on-going, involved in my days relationship. And by the way, He's looking for the daily, on-going, involved in your days relationship with you, too.

The Why's - Remembering Cora

Why do bee stings hurt?
Why does that noise hurt my ears?
Why is milk lumpy?
Why do you have sooooo many freckles?
Why can't I touch the blue up there (in the sky)?
Why, Mommy, why?

My children's questions made me laugh.
My children's questions drove me nuts sometimes.
My children's questions stirred wonder in me,
And caused me to recognize the why's inside of me.


So often I ask why.
Why Father?
Why them?
Why that child?
Why like this?
Why now?
Why? WHY? why?

And I see how small I really am.
How big you really are
And I know
There will be a day of understanding.
One day
When we see you face to face.

The why's won't matter.
They won't even exist.
The perfect clarity of your wisdom and timing will fill our understanding.

Until then Father
I am content to be your child
filled with unanswered why's
and learning to trust you more.


Four years ago today, dear friends of ours lost their five month old little girl to SIDS. It was devastating to them and to those of us who love them. Watching them suffer through the days of waiting while the baby clung to life, sitting and praying for healing for her, strength and faith for them, wisdom for the doctors, pulled at our own faith and gave us moments of overwhelming anger and questions. Why would God allow such a heartless situation to people who are so faithful and love him? And we had prayed in faith for Cora's restoration. So why didn't God raise her up? Why would he give life only to require it back in such short notice?

I remember standing in the back of the room at church during the worship time, holding Cora and feeling her little chest move with the effort of sound. Then realizing she was responding to the music and even to the feeling of the moment. And for a brief glimpse I saw her worship.

The movement of her tiny mouth, baby noises, baby nose, wrinkled with the effort.
a sense of sweetness floods my soul as I watch her in my arms.
How cute, my thoughts.
And Your whisper breaks into my thought,
Not cute, awesome, inspiring, worship.

In the middle of a time of worship, the people sing, stand, kneel, cry.
This little one joins in the moment, her heart tuned to Your Spirit and
The movement of her tiny mouth, baby noises, baby nose, wrinkled with the effort
Became the sweetest of praise among us.
Pure, innocent worship lifted from her tiny mouth to your Glory.
I stand in awe that even this littlest among us responds in worship.
And she responds with the movement of her tiny mouth , baby noises, baby nose, wrinkled with the effort, a true worshiper in Spirit and truth.

Yesterday our pastor spoke on a faith myth, "If you just believe, have enough faith, everything will be fine. If you just believe hard enough . . ." But life doesn't work that way always. The rain falls into the lives of unbelievers and believers alike. Death still has its moment that appears to be a victory. Dispair and grief are words that hold full meaning in these kinds of moments. So what good does this faith do for us then?

It is our hope, beloved. The hope of glory, the promise of eternity, the truth that it doesn't all end here and now. We have a tomorrow and there will be a day for those who know Christ when there will be no more tears; death's victory is swallowed up in the empty tomb of Christ and we can know in faith that we too will see that day. Cora is not lost to us. She is only away to a life we will know in full . . .someday. When the trumpet shouts and the Lord returns, or when each of us in our own appointed time step through that same door. In that day we will witness her worshiping at the foot of throne, casting her crown before him, and others we have missed and longed to see again will likewise be doing the same. The questions will disappear, for we will know in truth and completeness. Best of all, we will be with Him. Jesus and all that He is will fill our presence in a way that here and now we can only "taste and see", but then we will know.

So for now I can only imagine Cora as she worships at the throne, casting her crown before him and singing with joy. I look forward to the day when I too can cast my crown and sing before Him who is, who was, and who is to come.

He prayed

Of all the days it was today
He chose to say it aloud
Doesn't happen often
rarely spoken

But today was deep blue
My heart felt so heavy
It seemed I could never measure up
To all they seem to need from me

The weight of my lacking as a mom
Crushed my spirit
My weary heat-spent spirit
And I could not be anything
To anyone
In this exhausted state.

So I laid on the bed crying
As silently as I could
So not to upset them
Or so I thought.
And then it happened.

"We should pray for mom."

And then he did.
He laid his hand of faith
On my shoulder
And he prayed.

He prayed with wisdom
beyond his tender 10 years
It was good
It was real
It was amazing
And that would have been enough.
encouraging enough
Cradling my heart in love.

But then it came
He cuddled up on the bed next to me
And stated clearly
"I'm glad you're my parents. I wouldn't want anyone else."

Who could have seen that coming?
Who could have guessed at that?
He prayed
And then became the very answer that I needed.


I wrote this three years ago while we were on a family vacation. I was so worn out and tired and I couldn't seem to please anyone, even in the things I was doing right, which wasn't many things that day or the day before. Some of it was them, but some of it, maybe a lot of it, was me. I needed to rest at the feet of Jesus and be reminded of who it is that is my strength. I had found myself unreasonable and yelling and angry when it was way beyond the moment. Ever been there? The conviction was heavy, and the repentance came swiftly. But somehow the enemy saw the door of opportunity and slinked through to condemn and bite me with accusations and reminders of past failures. He reminded me of how often I had yelled recently. He reminded me that Dad was really fun, but Mom was the party pooper. He reminded me how angry I sounded the whole week whenever anyone spoke to me. He reminded me that these two youngest children of mine were extra treasures that the Lord had entrusted to my "safe" keeping and he reminded me of how much I was failing in this responsibility. And I listened. I absorbed the condemnation and the lies as well as the half truths. I accepted it like candy and didn't question the bearer of such words. They floated into my thoughts with a gentle rush that never alarmed my weary and tired mind.

Now I know better. I know how to raise up the shield of faith and put on the helmet of salvation. I know who I am in the Kingdom and I know to whom I belong. But I was weary and I needed the Body to remind me and to hold me before my Savior's gentle loving healing. I didn't want to "ruin" any more of their fun though and so, I slipped away from my family and laid on the bed to cry as quietly as possible, feeling like failure and VERY sorry for myself.

That's when my son came in and heard me. I tried to pretend I was just sleeping so I wouldn't upset him. But he had already seen and had already been given heavenly orders. "We should pray for mom." His prayer was so to the point and hit all the marks. I knew that the Lord was reminding me that we are children in His Kingdom and need to approach him as such. I knew that the Lord was able to use whomever he chooses to use and that day in late June in the mountains of PA, He chose Tim.

Now I would not have chosen Tim. Not just because he was a 10 year old, but also because up to that point we had seen very little interest spiritually from Tim. I would not have expected him to grasp there was a need, let alone a spiritual need in mom. But there it was. So many things revealed in one short moment.

Jesus reminded through my child, that I was the Father's and needed to come like a child. He showed me that He is working in the life of this son that I saw no indication of His hand, well not much in the child's words or actions. And then the final lesson, Tim never cuddled. Not even as a baby. He didn't encourage. It is not his gifting. But that day (and many since) he cuddled up right next to me and said the only words that would have washed me in the living water of truth and reminded me that I serve an awesome, mighty, loving God who is never late and never tired; who is long suffering and kind even when I have worn out his last nerve. (Does the Infinite Almighty have a last nerve? hmm.)

I had a day similar to that day just today. Only I wasn't completely lost and frazzled. I didn't need to pretend sleep and cry or feel sorry for me. And Tim didn't come to pray over me. However, when I came home and was thinking about what I would write today or pick to print from my writings, I couldn't find what I started to write the other day for this blog. But I found this poem. And again I am refreshed and reminded that I am His and it's "not by might and not by power, but by My Spirit says the Lord." (Zech. 4:6)

In His time

Growing up I was the kid that always had a journal hidden somewhere and a book of poems that I wrote and collected. I had pen pals from 4 different countries at one time and when we moved home from Michigan I wrote to my friends and a few others for the first several months and into the first year. That was a total of about 20 pen pals in Michigan alone. Think about the postage my parents paid for!

In high school I had the same English teacher for tenth and twelfth grades. Ms. Alvarez encouraged my writing and I would turn in “extra credit papers” just to get her to critique them. She used to teasingly tell me that she was going to have to start charging me a fee for editing. I turned in papers on anything and everything. She even made suggestions for topics a few times.

I loved to write. It was part of who I was. When it came time for college though, I applied to nursing school. I remember Ms. Alvarez asking me what I was doing after high school and telling her I was heading to the beach to nursing school. I will never forget the conversation standing in the door way of her classroom.
“Nursing school? You aren’t going somewhere for an English major?”
“No, I applied to this little school and got in. They only accept a few girls each year. It’s really an honor to be accepted.”
“Honor or not, you won’t be hearing congratulations from me on that. You were meant to write, girl, and you’re wasting it.”

I was sorry I had disappointed her. I learned a lot in her class and I wasn’t walking away from writing. In truth though, I did sort of. I continued to write all through nursing school and through the days of illness that brought me home from there. I wrote when I had to quit because I had missed too much time and when I decided not to return. I wrote when I got married and when I started my family. I wrote about my family and letters to my family. I kept journals and wrote poetry and kept the piles of books hidden in the back of my closet.

Years passed and I continued to write never really thinking about what to do with “it”. But from high school to present there was a continuing longing to be in school. Not necessarily for an English degree, but a deep sense that I wasn’t done. Coming to know the Lord and see him shape my writing in a more defined direction was interesting. I had no idea what God was doing, I just wanted to be obedient and serve him. So I wrote. I wrote women’s Bible studies and homeschool devotionals; I wrote letters to my children and recorded our journey through the adoption process. I wrote letters of encouragement to some my youth group kids and to my babysitters, to my family, and as ministry to those far from home. I used the opportunities I had to write. All the time my longing was to do something to further my education.

For a long season I didn’t think I would actually ever go back to school. I was busy with a house full of children and homeschooling. At the encouragement of friends and family I made an effort to have something published and it was not accepted by any publisher. (Of course, I had no idea what I was doing and just sent the manuscript out willy-nilly to any publisher I ran across an address for.)

By that time, the longing to return to school had become a push in my spirit and I started to talk to Rich about it. At first he didn’t say much to encourage or discourage. When the church we attend offered a Bible school with several college level courses we both agreed this was something I needed to do. Those courses were a strong layer building toward something I was truly unaware God was doing. Then in the fall of 2002 I decided to do some distance learning classes through the community college. I did three and loved it. Then the funds and the time dissolved and I was not able to continue. I was disappointed, but I had learned to trust these things to the Lord along the way. At that time I was thinking of a teaching degree. As the years passed by and the longing continued and even increased, a more defined direction began to emerge.
In late spring of 2008 our church’s bulletin contained a paper that advertised a satellite program that would be initiated in our classrooms in relationship with a seminary out of Plymouth Florida. I looked at the paper and I remember thinking, “Lord, I would so love to do that!” But I put the paper aside and moved on. The next week the paper was once again in the bulletin and something stirred in my heart almost in an ache in desire toward that. I thought there was no way we could afford this and I still had kids at home and now was also committed to watching some of the grandchildren for several hours a week. It just didn’t seem possible.

By the third or fourth week though I was really stirred in my spirit and I prayed about it. I simply felt the nudge of the spirit to talk to my husband. So after church, standing in our little galley kitchen eating lunch together, I approached the idea. He grinned wide like the Cheshire cat and said, “I’ve been wonderin’ what was takin’ you so long.” We didn’t make the decision for me to go that day but we did agree I should attend the meeting that the church was holding for more information and that we would both continue in prayer concerning it.

In the fall of 2008 I started the B1 program (Be Successful in Your Ministry 1) in Love of Christ Church as part of the satellite program for International Seminary. In the last two years I have learned so much and my thinking has been challenged with books I would not have picked up on my own. My writing has taken a more defined purpose, although walking three paths at once it almost seems. The Lord continues to bless us with the means, the time, and more.

Through the years of waiting for this day, I studied and leaned into whatever the Lord set before me in an effort to serve him in love. I never expected to receive anything back except a strong relationship with my Savior. Thursday I found a moment of grace that reminded how kind and abundant our God is.
I applied to the school for what they refer to as “life credits” this spring at the end of the second year. These are credits given for personal study and ministry participation. I turned the paper in and heard nothing for a few weeks. Finally I called the school and left a message on Friday afternoon. Monday morning the woman in the Distance Learning Dept. called me back and said that I did not have enough marked on my paper to receive credit toward anything. Ok, I was a little disappointed, but I really believed that if I had earned it somehow in life then it would be granted to me. So I set my head toward year three. She wasn’t done though. She told me that the supervisor had suggested that I fill the paper out again and add to it all that I had learned. He had said that from the summary I included that I had not taken enough credit. So she email me the form and I printed it off, sat at my table with catalog and reviewed what the classes were and whether I had already learned it along the way. When I completed the paper I thought to myself, “I made a mistake here. This is too much.” And so I allowed it to sit for 2 days before finally deciding to fax it in.

I sent it with Rich Thursday morning to fax to the school and in the first two or three hours after he left I picked up the phone to call and tell him not to at least four times. I never did though and he faxed it. A short while after he did my phone rang and the number was a Florida number. I answered hello and heard the woman’s voice I had spoken with on Monday saying “I have some very good news for you.” And she proceeded to tell me that I was skipping year three and heading into year four.

I filled out the enrollment and mailed it Thursday afternoon. I am now a senior in the International Seminary Bachelor of Biblical Studies program. I tell you that not to brag. But to remind you. Our God is gracious and his word promises to restore the years that the locusts have eaten. There were years when I felt I had missed God’s calling by going to nursing school and not to the university for an English major. I even felt that the longing was not to be fulfilled because I missed God’s plan. But you can’t miss God’s plan. Not if you are seeking his face and your desire is Him. He works the events and choices in your life to line up with the path he wants you on. He can do that. He is God after all. It is comforting to know that my choices when placed in His care bring me full circle into His will and His way in His time.

Psalm 37:4 says “Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desire of your heart.” When your highest desire becomes him and him alone, he will answer you in abundance. Now that does not mean that I was always in that state of mind either. He also knows we are dust and that we fall. That is why there is mercy (not getting what we deserve) and grace (getting what we don’t deserve). But setting my heart on him was something that still rings true. If he takes the schooling away without the chance to complete it, I know that while initially disappointed, I would in the long run know it is his plan and so be at peace in that. Delight yourself in the Lord; that has been the key for me. Setting him in that place of honor above all else in the heart. I believe that longing that pushed me was a push of the Spirit toward the path that He desired for me. As I turned my face toward him he continued to shape and call, to pull and open the doors as they needed to be opened. There is nothing that is wasted. It is all useful in his hands and in his timing. I felt like I missed it many times and that I had wasted time and money along the way. But He had it all under control. He knows our heart’s desire and trusting it to Him is never a mistake.

Pinocchio

I was invited to speak at a shelter last week. Blessed and excited I headed up to Cititeam ministries in Chester to share what God laid on my heart. I was so impressed with the quality and function of the place. They serve a large number of the poor and homeless in the city. Tough area, but tender crowd, at least several of the ones I spoke with. Eight-teen men in the program, getting clean, studying the Word, and working hard to stay clean in an environment and area that does not support or encourage them. But the ministry does. I was really humbled to look out at the faces of the men and women, more than 50 I would guess, to see many hungry hearts. I ran through my little talk and sat down. Then someone yelled up, "Hey lady, aren't you gonna bless our meal?" So I stood up and prayed. We stood for a few more mintues waiting to be called into the dining area and one of the woman stood up and asked to sing a song. She picked up the hymnal and started singing out Blessed Assurance. During their meal Rich and I had the opportuniity to walk around and ask them if they needed prayer and just talk with a few of them. I was very aware of the abundance of my life and I wondered if I would walk in the joy that I saw in several of these folks if I was homeless. I hope I don't have to find out, but I know that the joy and peace that is deeper than circumstance is real. I have experienced in other ways and I saw it in the faces of my brothers and sisters at Cititeam Tues. evening. This is the message I brought to them.

Anyone familiar with the child’s tale of Pinocchio, at least the Disney movie? It is an old Italian tale of a kind but lonely toy maker who creates a special puppet and imagines it’s his son. A good fairy comes and gives the puppet life but he remains a wooden boy. In the story Pinocchio longs to be real and tries and struggles to do the right thing. Time after time he tries but fails. Even when he tries to be good, somehow he still gets into trouble.

Can you see yourself in this story? I can. I spent years feeling like I was not real, like no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t be good enough; I couldn’t measure up. I thought I had to meet the rules head on and be perfect, and when I couldn’t, when I failed over and over, I began to see that I wasn’t good enough, I couldn’t be good enough. I was always going to be a failure. It felt like although there were “no strings on me” I was nothing more than a puppet.

Now like Pinocchio, I made my own choices even if I wasn’t “real”. I made naïve, sometimes misinformed and sometimes totally rebellious “I don’t care what you think” stupid choices. And like Pinocchio I found myself in a place that was supposed to be “Pleasure Island” only to find out that it was actually a place of torment and punishment.

I also thought of myself as a reflection. You know the things you sort of see in water or a window. It’s you, but not really. It’s there, but not really. It does everything you do, but not really. That’s how I saw myself. Just a reflection of someone or something more real. I didn’t know who I was or what value I had. Like Pinocchio the reflection of me wasn’t real either. In fact, with just a breeze or a smattering of rain the image changed, disappeared, or became distorted.

God sees past the reflections of our lives to the reality and he knows that while “we are dust”, we are His dust; created with purpose and to be His treasure. Remember old Geppetto? He loved the little wooden boy even with the ears and tales and after all the bad Pinocchio had done. In fact, he loved him so much he went to find him and rescue him. We have a heavenly Father who also came to find us in the form of His Son. He didn’t care that we had grown donkey ears and tails from being mean or nasty and he didn’t care that our noses were impossibly long from the lies we had told and lived. He didn’t even care that we are dust. He cared that we are His and that we needed rescuing.

In the book of Ephesians, chapter 2 verse 10 Paul writes, “For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” The word workmanship in the Greek is poiema. It is the word from which we get our English word poem. It carries the connotation of something precious or artistic, a piece of art. That is how God sees you, a priceless creation of His work that is worth dying for. This is one of my healing verses. When I doubt my value or hear the old song that I am just a reflection, just a Pinocchio, I quote this verse to myself. I was created with purpose (good works, prepared in advance) and I was created a precious piece of Hand-of-God made art, and best of all I was created in Christ Jesus, so there is eternal value in me. Since I was created in Him and I am a new creature in Christ, I don’t have to “measure up” and I have more freedom than I ever knew was possible before. So I can honestly sing, “There are no strings on me!”

There is another verse that made a difference for me also. In the book of Isaiah the prophet spent the first part of the book outlining everything that people of Judah had done wrong and pronouncing judgment. But in the end of the book he outlines Gods plan for restoration and gives some of the clearest words about the Messiah, the Christ. In chapter 49 verse 16 he writes, “Would a nursing mother forget her child? Yet, even if she forgets, I will never forget you. I have carved you into the palm of my hands and your walls are continually before me.” And then a little more than 700 years later Christ came and did that literally. When he received the nails he carved you into the palm of his hands. Marks he carries into eternity. Those who enter eternity knowing him will find they are healed, completed, whole in a way that isn’t possible here. But when we look at him we will see the marks of love that will be a continual reminder of the cost of his love for you.

He came, he rescued, he carries the reminder of the cost, but he never ever insists we receive any of it. That’s the point. We are not puppets, we are not reflections, we are poetic expressions of his love, we are his treasures, and he has done everything he can to make that relationship work. It’s up to you now. Do you know him? Have you accepted his love? Do you want to be real and know freedom like you’ve never known and love that is complete? This is a personal decision made as an individual and no one can do that for you. This is between you and Jesus. The Bible says when we confess our sin he is faithful to forgive it. So I challenge you today to ask him, test him and see if what he says isn’t true. You won’t be disappointed. In fact you just might find that you are “free”, “whole”, or even “real” for the first time in your life. And if you do be sure to tell others!

A lesson in gratefulness

Last week I was fighting an abscessed tooth. It was painful and while I tried putting off the dental visit, the pain finally won out. So I called, got a quick appointment, and headed in to visit my dentist. They took the x-ray and then proceeded to bang on my teeth to find out which one makes me jump off the chair. There has got to be a better way of figuring out which tooth is the culprit. Anyway, we decided it was my upper right second molar. We also decided it would need a root canal. And so one hour later with a drilled tooth, temporary filling, an appointment for next week, and a very large bill, I left the dentist office.

I was very frustrated over the bill. This tends to be the time of year for our family to buckle down on spending and watch the budget much closer. So getting an unexpected bill for a root canal without dental insurance was not part of our plan this summer. Hmm, I guess that’s what “unexpected” points out. I stood at the office counter and inwardly whined to myself about the bill and the money flowing out and why now. I stood there bemoaning that just when we got a break and a little extra had come in we have to spend it on this.

Yup, I little extra had come in. Interesting, huh? I didn’t catch it then though.

Off I went on the other errands with my son in the passenger seat. Still lamenting my bad fortune and how I had this extra bill, my son began complaining of the gnawing, excruciating pain growing and growling in his stomach. After all, he is 13 and had not eaten in two hours; I know you are thinking I am a wickedly horrid mother to not feed this poor growing boy more regularly. I have no excuses, but to save his dwindling existence I headed to Mc D’s for a quick bite off the dollar menu (much to my son’s disappointment, after all 2 big macs, 2 large fries, an apple pie, and a milk shake would be a nice appetizer).

As I turned the corner into the shopping center there stood a homeless person with a sign. This person caught my attention a little more than the others normally do. The reason is first she was a woman, in a dress with a bag sitting next to her; her tangled curls, gray and long hung down on her shoulders despite what looked like an attempt at some point to pin it up. She looked close to 60, but being on the street and in the rags she had on, I judged her to be probably closer to my own age, although I have no way of knowing for certain. Her sign read something like “I’m hungry, will work for food.”

At first I felt compassion for her, but as I drove past I felt extremely convicted. As I pulled up to the drive thru lane I felt tears in my eyes. Last week my husband brought home early the check we usually get in late June or early July. In addition to that check coming early, he had an extra check. The extra check just happened to be in the amount of money the dentist had charged me this morning. Instead of seeing that and praising God for His gracious and abundant provision in my life, I whined about having to spend the money on that instead of some other things I had in mind.

One of the fastest ways one of my kids can anger me is to show selfishness or be unappreciative. Here I sat with my own attitude issue and the reality of God’s mercy and goodness hitting me right in the face in the form of a homeless woman just hoping for daily bread.

We drove through and picked up our stuff and hers. We gave it to her and left. Later I wish I had took the time to ask her if she needed anything else and to tell her thank you for being there that day. Her presence in that place was a powerful reminder that my Heavenly Father truly takes care of me and set a deep conviction of repentance and gratitude in my heart.

So last week I gave thanks. I thanked my sweet Savior for His tender mercy toward me, His good provision that covers my every need long before I need, and for placing that 50 something, gray curly haired lady at that entrance of the shopping center for my good and His purpose. May His Name be blessed and lifted up.

Nothing could separate him

I hadn’t seen Tommy in years. We were childhood friends that had lost each other when his parents divorced and he moved away. Tommy was the pudgy kid that got teased and desperately wanted to fit in. He was fun to be around and he was a gentle soul. But he had a daddy that had a belt and knew how to use it. Tommy saw his dad as cool, and smooth. In his own way he tried to be like his father as he grew up and into his teen years Tom began to get into trouble.

Trouble became all he knew and he was lying, stealing, and doing drugs all the time. He found a bunch of rowdy friends to hang with and learned new tricks with them. I remember seeing him once when I was around 17. I was in a March of Dimes walk-a-thon. It was the only thing like it in those days. You signed up and got as many people as possible to sponsor you. They could sponsor a nickel a mile or a quarter a mile or even a whole dollar! The day of the walk you showed up with your sponsor sheet, paid the entry fee, and then got a map of the twenty mile route. Following the route meant safety as there were crowds who did it each year and people would set up water tables to hand out cups to the walkers as we went passed by their homes. It was a day of fun and making money for a good cause. Along the route that year, I saw Tom. He was with a bunch of guys and I thought they were walkers too. They did walk along with the groups but after a short time I realized they were high and laughing at the walkers.

I was sad for Tommy. Sad for the broken homes he had passed through as his dad divorced and re-married four times during his growing years. Sad for the abuse he had received. Sad for the path he had chosen so early in life. Sad knowing that it didn’t look like he was heading anyway worth going in the future.

If I had only known how true those assumptions would turn out to be I would have made an effort to become his friend again. I had no way of knowing that , so on the day on the walk a thon, I got away as fast as I could. It was obvious that the guys he was with were up to no good and looking for trouble. I didn’t intend to be an invitation for it, so I hurried my friends on.

As adulthood pushed its way into my life I married and settled into the life of being a mommy and a homemaker. I didn’t think often of Tommy. But I remember reading the news and seeing that he had been accused of murder and was going to trial. I don’t remember hearing it specifically, but somehow I had learned that he had been convicted and sentence for life. Years went by and no word or contact with my childhood friend . Then one day, in my late twenties, four children and grounded deeply in my faith finally, I saw a letter at my mother’s house.

“What’s this?”

“Oh, it’s a letter from Tommy.

Can you believe the nerve of that guy? That kind of crime and he’s looking for our friendship now? I don’t know what to do with that.” My mom was not an unkind person; neither was she usually very judgmental. But Tommy had killed a man while robbing his home just to shut the guy up. Skilled police work had caught up with Tom and in the end he received justice for his crime. She had never had a murderer reach out for her friendship before.

I took the letter and read it. I heard a sincere longing of someone who was sorry. Sorry for the bad choices, all of them, not just the one that landed him in prison. He wasn’t even seeking friendship or forgiveness. He was just saying he was repentant if there was anything he had done to hurt us along the way and that we had been one of the few good and stable families he had known in life. Tom went on to say that he remembered so many sad and terrible things from childhood, but all of his memories that included us were sweet remembrances.

I saw in Tommy’s letter something that seemed different, changed about him. So I wrote down the address and took it home. I began to correspond with him almost weekly and included my husband and children in writing him. Tommy had been introduced to Jesus by a Mennonite pastor that worked in the prison and Tom had received the Lord. Even through written words, there was a sweet spirit about him. We made an appointment to visit him.

I had never been to state penitentiary before and there was a heaviness of spirit in the parking lot of that place. The long, tall fences, decorated with barbed wire across the top were only a taste of the oppressive weight that hung like lead in the air. Signing in, being checked for contraband, seeing not one smiling face along the way, was enough to scare me to death. We were escorted into the visitation room and told to sit on the “this side” of the table with no contact with the inmate. We did exactly as we were told.

I sat there wondering who I would see when they brought Tom in. I had not seen him except for the once as a teen since I was around 12, maybe younger. The guards called several names, opened the door and in walked the inmates. Tommy walked over with this huge grin and I wanted to jump up and hug him. That was against the rules and you did not break the rules here. He sat down across the table and we all began to chat a little uncomfortably at first and then more and more like the old friends we had been.

Sitting there and looking at him I was completely struck at the difference between the badge on his uniform and his real face. The picture on the badge was a scary hardened criminal whom I would have feared if I had met him. Then I remembered seeing him as a teen and already that was what I saw in him and his friends that day. The guy in the badge picture was staring, unsmiling at the photographer, and the look said, “Back off, you do NOT want to mess with me.” The guy sitting across the table though was a teddy bear, not the Kodiak Grizzly in the pic. It was not just because he was happy. It was not because he had made a mean face in the picture. It was the spirit of joy I saw in him now and the spirit of hate, oppression, and self-loathing I saw in him in the photo.

I knew Jesus had made me a new creature. I knew that he had washed the sin of my old life and my bad choices away and given me a heart of flesh for a heart of stone. I knew the theology and even the reality of my experience. I had seen it in my husband and others as Jesus changed them. Tommy’s picture moved me to a fresh sense of the depth of difference. The total change of heart and spirit was so completely evident and he carried the badge to prove it. It was an amazing and beautiful sight to behold.

As I walked through the several gates, past the guards, through the barbed wired electric fencing, I felt more grateful for the freedom my Lord and Savior had bought for me. That gratefulness came from a deeper understanding having seen it on the face of an inmate who carried that freedom in his heart every day behind the gates and fencing. There were no bars, no wires, no guards that could separate him from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus. And the truth of that promise had just impressed itself indelibly on my heart of flesh. I would never forget that day when the truth of the amazing grace of God’s love taught me anew in the face of a lifer sitting across a visitation table in a state penitentiary.