Cups of Cold Water

IN HONOR OF YOUR BIRTHDAY

My husband and I have been privileged to meet so many lovely people. We have friends from age 3 to 103. I’ve learned, listened, and loved all of them for a variety of reasons. Some are single, some are married, some are divorced, some are widows and widowers, and all of them are precious souls in which God has allowed our paths in life to intertwine. I’ve been richer for the treasure they have brought to my life. Some are here on earth and some are alive and in heaven with Jesus.

One such friend, though now enjoying the pleasures and joy of being with the Lord, brought so much richness of laughter and the beautiful qualities of a Godly character into our lives. We had known this man for a number of years. Some years prior to our friendship, he had been married to his sweetheart for many years. Whenever he referred to her in conversation, it was always with gracious delight. He was now a widower and learning to walk through his days alone without her.

While having him in our home, he seemed to bring such a refreshing joy to us. It was discovered one day over morning tea that he had a birthday coming up. It would be the celebration of 80 wonderful years.

One quality about this man was his tender disposition and childlike joy. We would laugh about almost anything. He was the type of person with whom you could discuss “oatmeal” and be bursting at the seams with laughter about its consistency. Together we often saw the funny side of things.

In my discovery of his birthday an idea was planted in my heart to have a birthday dinner party in his honor. About eight other friends were all notified of the upcoming event. We had phoned our friend to invite him and his new “significant other” lady friend for dinner. That was the plan, at least that’s what he thought.

He was turning 80 and had no need of gifts. But the Lord brought to my mind that there was one gift that would be especially appropriate. That gift was ENCOURAGEMENT.

Now how do you wrap and present a gift like that? I’d been to many birthday parties and they all consisted of food, gifts and an occasional balloon. It took a few days for this surprise party to marinate in my thinking. How were we all to encourage him?

If you’re anything like me, if someone compliments me or makes an encouraging comment to me, within five seconds or less, I can’t remember one word they spoke. Oh I wish I could, but it seems that the airways glean all the goodness of their positive comment.

Then it came to me! If we each bought a card and wrote all the wonderful things we’d like to say to him, ways he had encouraged us and built positive qualities into our life along with things we appreciated and loved about him…..that seemed like a wonderful and creative way to show love to him.

I phoned each of his friends and shared this idea of a BIRTHDAY “encouragement” PARTY. They all readily agreed. The agreement was that our friend would come over for dinner, and at a pre-arranged time and about 45 minutes after we began having dinner, all of his friends would keep showing up at the front door.

They were to bring their “written gift” and later, after cake and ice cream, each of us were going to “read aloud” our card to him. In the background, I had a tape recorder on to record the occasion.

The evening was filled with surprises, laughter and tears….tears of joy and appreciation. It was an evening I doubt that any of us would forget. I know our guest of honor wouldn’t as we gifted him with a tape of the party, and the recording of each of his friends’ comments of appreciation for his life.

The following morning our “Birthday Celebrant” phoned to tell me that this 80th birthday party was the first birthday party he had ever had in “his honor;” and he remarked that it was the most meaningful evening of his life.

This event marked my heart forever with the realization that regardless of our age, we all need to know that we’re special…..special to someone. I don’t know about your experiences with encouragement. Maybe it hasn’t been on your radar screen. But it seems many times that funerals hold the key to unlocking our “verbal values” of others. I feel that it is so sad, because the one who needs to hear our heart’s appreciation and admiration is no longer able to listen.

I know many of us weren’t raised with verbal comments like, I love you, you’re special to me, and you’ve enriched my life in many ways….and on and on. Sometimes we may have been raised in a culture where any verbal expression of love was seldom if ever vocalized.

Each day is precious! Each day you meet with a friend or chat with them on the phone is a moment in time that can never be repeated.

Through some precious experiences over the last 20 years, I have learned the value and joy of telling others that I love them. I’m not mushy, or do I drip all over people, but often at the end of every conversation with those I love, I tell them so. Plainly, I love you!

Each day is a GIFT….that’s why it is called the PRESENT.

Oh may we consider “gifting others” with our verbal encouragement on a regular basis.

HONESTY AT THE BANK

While my husband and I were living in Florida, I applied for a job at a local bank. Sharing the name of the bank isn’t important, but what happened one morning needs to be exposed.

When I was employed by the bank manager as his secretary, I was given a full indoctrination of bank policies and procedures. This was important for my career there as I had never been employed by a bank before. I took their instructions serious. I was further encouraged that my assignment held with it the priority to both influence and encourage other employees to employ good public relation skills with the bank customers.

In addition to my secretarial responsibilities, I was in charge of opening new accounts; but more importantly, I was the designated liaison with their largest and most important customers.

I’ll continue to explain this situation. Our largest customer had top priority of the bank’s services on their behalf. This meant that the secretary/administrator for the president of this corporation could enter the bank before and after regular business hours. I was to handle all their deposits and any withdrawals they wished to make, along with any other banking needs this corporation required.

This large corporation’s representative would handle this business with myself. When she entered the bank, my heart would race a little as I was handling more money than I knew where to place the decimal point, if you know what I mean.

Months went by and she and I, along with the president of this corporation, would enjoy the personal interaction as their business transaction was taken care of with little stress…..that is, on their part. I was always keenly aware of the importance of accuracy when it came to dollars and cents.

The day came when you can imagine what happened next. I had made a mistake. It was a big one! It was a $10, 000 mistake. I remember it happened after banking hours. I also remember going to an outside drive-through teller’s counter to do the transaction.

As I returned inside, I was glancing over the paperwork and made the incredible discovery that I had made this HUGE error in the deposit. Talk about heart racing. A variety of scenarios in response to my error were etching the airwaves of my mind. I could have laid the blame on the teller, but that wasn’t the truth.

With knees knocking, I went into the bank manager’s office I thought, for the last time. He was not only the manger, he was my boss. I quietly shared what happened. I admitted the error and my eyes must have pleaded for mercy. After a teary admission, my boss gained his facial composure, and said not to worry. He was so kind and understanding, he himself phoned the president of the corporation and told them that I was honest about the error, and that it was a mistake that I had made.

At that moment, I anticipated that my future deposits and withdrawals on behalf of this customer would be terminated.

But that was not to be. I had a congenial rapport with my boss, but I didn’t think it would cover a $10,000 error.

I went home soon after this event. Needless-to-say, my dinner appetite left town. My night’s sleep didn’t go very well either as I knew that the following morning I would be meeting with the president of this corporation. I also feared that my mistake would be announced to all of the other employees. They were far more experienced in banking than I, and I was embarrassed.

Morning came and off I went to work. My heart was beating so fast that I thought my blouse would burst from the excessive pounding. I actually arrived long before the bank would open. I will never forget what happened next.

As I approached my desk, there was a nicely wrapped gift on my desk. I assumed that “termination slips” would not be adorned in elegant wrapping paper. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Who in the world would be placing a gift on “my” desk, especially after the discovery of banking slip-up the previous afternoon?

This beautifully wrapped gift was from the president of this corporation, our largest customer. Alongside the gift was a card, thanking me for my honesty. Inside was a large bottle of my favorite cologne. How did this man know? How could anyone but my husband and the Lord know of my favorite cologne?

Later that morning, when the president arrived, he just looked at me and smiled. I think I was small enough to crawl back into the box. I just thanked him for his kindness and understanding and the LARGE dose of mercy and forgiveness. He said he wanted me to know that he was so pleased that I was honest enough to admit the mistake and not blame it on another.

I can assure you that from that day on, I triple-checked every transaction. And no, it never happened again. What struck me was that often our admissions to wrong allow us the privilege of being forgiven and aid us in learning to walk in humility. It also gave me a live illustration of “mercy.”

FLYING FIRST CLASS

No, I am not a frequent flyer on the airlines, nor do I possess my husband’s frequent flyer card. I fly “cattle car” status as does he. At least that’s what it feels like when you’ve been on an aircraft for more than 4 hours sitting in economy class.

At this particular time I was boarding a plane returning home to California from Columbus, Ohio. If you’ve flown at all, you know that boarding a plane seems similar to herding cattle or sheep. The airline personnel endeavor to collect 350 to 400 people and move them through a designated area to board this aircraft in an orderly fashion. I won’t add further comment on this procedure except to say that not everyone wishes to follow their guidelines.

I try and travel light, for obvious reasons. In my experience, it seems everyone wants to load their bags into the overhead bin regardless of their size.

Upon arrival onto the aircraft, a well-groomed flight attendant directed me toward my assigned seat. In that there were a couple of hundred people behind me, I wasted no time in slipping into my seat and belting myself into position.

I just started to relax a little when another passenger approached my aisle and gave me “the look.” You know, “you’re in my seat look.” They presented their seat number and what do you know, it was the same number as mine. By this time the cabin crew noticed the kink in the flow of traffic in the aisle and approached us both. If I were a child, the first phrase I may have used was, “I was here first.” But I held my tongue….which at this point was a good thing to get hold of.

The other passenger was a bit more forceful in their tone of voice. The flight attendant looked at me in despair and asked me to follow her, which I did.

My new assigned seat was now closer to the front of the plane. Again, I sat down and secured my seat belt in position ready for our in-flight safety movie. I no more than drew a sigh of relief, when another fellow passenger approached me with the same “look.”

By this time, I had my new assigned seat number memorized; and so I shared my designated location number with them and, you guessed it, they had the identical number. This same crew member noticed the situation occurring again. By this time, she was as frustrated as I was.

Since I now had experience in the “seat-relocation process,” I waited for her next directive, thinking she would leave me seated and relocate the other individual since I had already been inconvenienced in a prior move.

Her reaction to this was different. She looked at me intently and said “follow me.” It seemed that we were travelling upstream on that aircraft dogging people heading in the opposite direction.

When we got to a space where the two of us could look each other in the eyes, she thanked me profusely for being so accommodating and understanding. I was a bit inwardly embarrassed because I didn’t feel so understanding. Shouldn’t we be glad people can’t read our minds. I know God knows our thoughts and He was working on the “patience character” in me that morning.

Then we arrived at my final seating assignment….FIRST CLASS! Not just first class, I was seated in the first row of the first class cabin.

I turned to ask her the “why question,” but before those words could proceed from my mouth, she told me that because I was so patient and never expressed myself in a verbal eruption, she wanted to reward me with a first class seat.

Oh my, was I a happy camper. Even as I was fastening my seat belt, I paused to wonder if I could be in another’s preassigned seat. At last, I thought, I was “home in the right seat.” Gratefulness was expressed all over my face.

I remember that the seat was on the aisle and the seat next to me was empty. There was so much space in this section that I could have laid down and had a stack of books next to me, there was so much room.

The inflight safety instructions were being announced at this time and I was listening to every word, especially due to the fact I was sitting in first class and I wondered if they had different arrangements for exiting an aircraft.

Then a pilot appeared in front of me and proceeded to sit in the vacant seat next to me! My goodness, this man was dressed in the airline uniform, hat and all; and I wondered why he was sitting in row #l, next to me. Wasn’t he supposed to be in the cockpit?

My goodness, had all the “seating confusion” earlier brought about this experience for my first class adventure. As a little time passed, I discovered in conversation why this man was sitting next to me. He was the pilot on the incoming flight and was now headed home. Obviously, he was allowed to sit in first class.

Engines were started and we were soon up up and away. This nice looking gentleman took off his hat and introduced himself to me. I soon exposed my ignorance of first class travel and I shared with him that I had never flown first class before. I must have sounded like a kid in a candy store.

This was a season when airline travel still offered meals on the domestic flights. I was first to receive the delivery of a very nice meal served on fine china and silverware that was not stainless steel. It was incredible service with linens all over the place. I felt like a first class queen. The only article missing was a red rose.

After dinner, this off-duty pilot asked me if I wanted another cup of tea. Are you kidding, of course. I didn’t say it like that. I refined my response with a “that would be lovely, thank you.”

About this time, I could hardly believe all that was occurring in the way of airline meal service. Not only was I the first served, I experienced a follow-up cup of tea by this off-duty pilot. I was smiling from ear to ear almost not believing all that was taking place, Ijust because I kept my emotions under control and my lips were sealed.

The flight would be about three and a half hours. After dinner I settled back for a relaxing flight. The pilot next to me made some general comments and I thought that would be about it for the verbal pleasantries. But I could tell by the direction of the conversation, that this pilot was not only tired, he was tired of what life seemed to be offering him. I was now assuming that he was a bit depressed. Believe me, if a pilot is depressed, you want him seated….. and not in the cock pit.

The conversation went in a direction toward spiritual matters. After listening to where he seemed to want to go in this communication, I introduced him to some comments about God. The next thing I realized we were approaching our airport destination. For those hours God opened up a dialogue about Him and how He cares for us. We spoke together all those hours and at the end of the flight, the countenance of this pilot was incredibly joyful.

He expressed to me how grateful he was that I was seated where I was located. I realized afresh that God had orchestrated several moves in order to get me to that first class seat so that He could encourage this pilot through my words.

I will never forget the experience. But there is more. Just before landing I shared with the pilot that I had always wanted to see what it was like to be in the cockpit. People are not allowed in that area, for good reasons. He listened and chuckled.

The flight landed safely and over the loud speaker I heard an announcement I’ve never heard before. They announced my name and asked me to remain seated after the landing. Oh my, what in the world had I done? The pilot left his seat next to me immediately upon the tires hitting the runway.

People were leaving the aircraft and I was alone in first class, wondering what in the world would become of this pause from exiting the aircraft.

Soon the off-duty pilot appeared and asked me to join him. He took me upstairs and escorted me to the cockpit of this Boeing 747. There were three airline pilots sitting in their seats as the pilot and I entered this area. He introduced me and my “childhood wishes” were about to commence. I was breathless at the sight of all those knobs and buttons. The first comment from my lips were that I had always prayed for the pilots before a flight, but after seeing the display on the instrument panels throughout the cockpit, I told them I would really be praying for pilots on future flights.

They were very friendly and accommodating in their brief demo of procedures in the cockpit. Just when I thought the experience was about to end, the actual pilot of the flight got up out of his seat and offered the seat to me. I don’t remember breathing as I took my place in the captain’s chair. They were wanting to take a photo but guess what: my battery in my camera was flat. Everyone laughed, but even though I don’t have the photo, the scene is forever etched in my mind.

When we belong to God’s family, He does indeed direct our steps (Psalm 37, verse 23). Many times His direction would seem like a detour, but He knows where He wants to place us and seat us for His good purposes.

Now, if you’re a frequent flyer in first class and you need to be accompanied by an encourager who loves the Lord, please don’t hesitate to make a reservation in my name. I’d be most delighted to sit next to you and share the goodness and care of the Lord.

I try and travel light, for obvious reasons. In my experience, it seems everyone wants to load their bags into the overhead bin regardless of their size.

The other passenger was a bit more forceful in their tone of voice. The flight attendant looked at me in despair and asked me to follow her, which I did.

Her reaction to this was different. She looked at me intently and said “follow me.” It seemed that we were travelling upstream on that aircraft dogging people heading in the opposite direction.

Then we arrived at my final seating assignment….FIRST CLASS! Not just first class, I was seated in the first row of the first class cabin.

After dinner, this off-duty pilot asked me if I wanted another cup of tea. Are you kidding, of course. I didn’t say it like that. I refined my response with a “that would be lovely, thank you.”

People were leaving the aircraft and I was alone in first class, wondering what in the world would become of this pause from exiting the aircraft.

AN ADOPTION STORY

Have you ever wondered….”Was my life planned?” Was I a surprise to my parents? Or, could I have been plan B instead of plan A? Such thoughts are usually not shared on your birthday while opening gifts.

My story begins as an unwanted baby who entered this world with the absence of parents. I was an unplanned creation in the womb of a single woman, but, I know that my appearance was right on schedule for my arrival into this world. Though given away at birth, but I prefer to use the term surrendered upon delivery. But this relinquishment was so I could have an opportunity to grow up within a loving and caring family.

My birth-mother had already raised a family, and her ‘one evening affair’ had blossomed into more than she could practically and financially accommodate. By the world’s standards, I was an unplanned pregnancy, a mistake no doubt to many, and certainly an unwelcomed surprise to the unmarried parents. In the world’s eyes, I was the penalty for a mistake. But this is only the beginning of my story.

For many parents their babies are surprise packages – to which you could say, “Amen, you got that right!” You may never really know how “planned” you were, or if you were planned at all. But let me tell you. You were not a mistake!

You are the only “version of you” God ever made. Upward Call, by Dr. David Jeremiah

My original parents made a bad emotional decision one night, one they both would live to regret. But it was part of God’s plan to use their “mistake,” and weave a tiny baby into the fabric of His wonderful purpose. God takes great delight in the birth and life of every child.

In my first two years, I travelled a lot…though not for pleasant holiday excursions. Rather, I was an infant gypsy – in and out of foster homes. No one wanted to adopt a baby with a medical condition like mine.

A particular social worker in Ohio who was aware of me and felt prompted to introduce me to a client seeking to adopt a baby. My mother remembers the words well, “I have just the child for you!” Though only two years old, I was instinctively aware and appreciative of any positive introductory comments made on my behalf.

The day arrived, and I was introduced to my “new Mom.” My life-long belongings contained in a little brown bag much like a sack lunch.

My new Mom knew nothing about my infectious draw toward people, or my fledgling social personality, but it was soon discovered on the way to my new home. She remembers how I waved with delight at all the truck drivers we passed in the car.

At a young age I was introduced to Sunday school and began learning “about” Jesus. My Mom remembers me looking up at about four years of age, and having a conversation in the backyard with my head tilted upward toward the sky and saying, “I know You’re up there, but I just can’t see You.”

Even at four, God was working in my heart to produce a yearning to know the One who created me and loved me…even when no one else had.

I was kept as a “secret” from my entire birth family … except for a half-brother who was nineteen years older than I. He actually gave me a name at my birth before they escorted me away from the delivery room.

Fast forward nineteen years to age 21. I went to the city’s “Family and Children’s Adoption Services” to inquire about my un-known birth-mother. I loved my adoptive parents, but it was a natural curiosity about my background, and the investigation as to any possible health issues that prompted my interest. I learned that due to Ohio state laws, that all of the information about my past had been sealed.

My adopted mother coached me beforehand as to the questions the agency may ask me in my attempt to locate information about the birth mother. For example: “Why was I adopted” in the first place.

Perhaps the mother couldn’t afford to keep me. Maybe she didn’t want any more children. Or, perhaps I was illegitimate. What I knew for sure that I wasn’t on “the radar screen of my birth parents’ hearts.”

This first appointment did answer: “Yes, I was not a planned child, and I was referred to as illegitimate.” With tears overflowing, I exited the agency and just stood on the sidewalk trying to digest the truth about the purpose of my arrival into this world. Illegitimate! Unplanned! Unwanted! In those fleeting moments I felt lost, unloved and disconnected by those words and their meaning.

These emotions faded in the truth of the commitment and love my adopted Mom had given me all these years. You see, she was my “real Mom” … who took me and my brown bag of belongings into her home. I grew in the womb of one woman, but was nurtured in the heart of another. My new Mom was the one “designed and selected by God” for this seemingly unwanted little girl.

Fast forward another twenty years, and laws that had prevented adopted children from seeing or accessing their records had now been changed.

My mother shared with me the news about the change of the laws and together with prayer we began the search for a name, a birth place, and a mother who had surrendered her daughter.

The investigating court documents yielded my birth name. We found six people with my given “last name” at birth, and a letter was sent to these six individuals. The purpose and content of the letter was to thank them for giving me up at birth, and for granting me an opportunity to experience the love of a family.

Within days, one of the recipients phoned me to acknowledge that he thought he could be my step-brother … the one 19 years older than me that many years earlier, on my birth, had actually given me my name. He was the only one who had held me before I was given away to the adoption agency.

He was the only one from my birth family who had attempted any investigation or search as to my whereabouts!

I had no idea that he had been trying to undo the court’s stipulation of secrecy for years. After all, both he and I shared the same birth-mother, and had had never stopped wondering where his little sister was, and how her life had unfolded?

Forty years had passed by, and now, through this letter and a telephone call, a new relationship would begin to emerge.

My step-brother made contact with our birth mother letting her know about this discovery. Talk about “surprises,” this one took the cake! After I was born, she had asked her son to keep this “little baby” a secret for the rest of his life, and he had honored her request. But now, after receiving my “thank you” letter, the secret would begin to unravel and be revealed.

Many women can bear children, but that doesn’t mean they’re destined to be mothers. I loved my adoptive Mom and was devoted to her. I wouldn’t allow anything to jeopardize this relationship … even if it pertained to information about my past.

It was almost Thanksgiving – how appropriate. I returned to Ohio to visit my parents, and we “just happened” to be watching a television program on adoption … and I just knew this was the moment to share with them what had happened.

As my parents listened to me share the new-found news, to everyone’s surprise and amazement, we discovered that the man – my half-brother – lived just two miles from my adoptive parents. An even greater surprise was that they knew him quite well, since he had serviced and repaired their lawn mowers for years. SURPRISES are all over this story.

Within days I contacted my birth mother to make arrangements to meet her.

I pause here for a moment. How would YOU feel if you were in HER shoes? She had given birth to me 40 years earlier, but chose (and wisely I feel) not to see me, or to hold me. Now, this once little one making herself known and the air is thicker than a brick.

If you were the adoptive mother, what would you be thinking? Amazingly, my Mom was pleased to come along with me. She actually wanted to meet the woman who gave away her infant baby girl, not in desperation but in love.

I surely didn’t want to face this delicate moment and reunion alone. I had no idea what to expect.

Somehow my adoptive mother knew, and could comprehend the kaleidoscope of emotions. Without any prompting at all, she offered to accompany me for a visit to meet my unknown family.

The revelation of a 40 year-long secret was just two miles away, and it would soon be exposed at the blatant revelation of my identity.

As we approached the home of my step-brother, my pulse quickened. My heart was racing as if in the Indy 500! How was this moment even possible after forty years? There has never been a truer instance of the verse: “Nothing is impossible with God?

For with God, nothing shall be impossible. Luke 1: verse 37

The first few moments of our meeting were subdued. We could have heard a pin drop when all of our eyes met, and it seemed that no one was breathing a breath, or saying a word. Is this what happens when reality and profound disbelief encounter each other? In fact, it was a divine appointment … arranged forty years prior, by an all-knowing, and all-caring and loving God.

We gradually and intermittently took turns intermittently exchanging comments and questions then staring at each other as we answered. It must have seemed quite humorous, because it was apparent that no one wanted to be caught in the act of “continued eye surveillance.”

These were tender moments that would be etched and forever recorded in my heart. I remembered that in the previous months I wasn’t sure I was ready to meet “this woman.”

Prior to meeting with my step-brother and birth mother, my husband addressed my fear of the forthcoming meeting by encouraging me with the explanation that I was the only one on this earth that could reassure this birth-mother of God’s forgiveness, and express my gratefulness to her that she had the heart to release me into God’s care.

Now, sitting in a home, which only a few weeks prior, had seemed like an infinite distance away, we needed to bring what seemed like hours of visiting to a close … for now.

As we were getting ready to leave, a memory was created – one that will be forever engraved on my heart. I saw both my “mothers” exchanging their parting words – in essence talking behind my back.

“Thank you for having this little baby so I could have a daughter,” my Mom said. All this was followed by a warm embrace of these two mothers’ hands. Watching this exchange flooded the heart and soul of this now grown up “secret baby,” an encounter which gifted my heart for a lifetime.

Here’s a funny …. I recall back to my grade school years. I recollect a classmate’s comment about my being “adopted.”

“You don’t look adopted” she said. To which I replied, “Well, you don’t look natural”. I was quick to notify this gal that I knew I was wanted … because I was chosen. After all, parents of natural-born children only get pot-luck!

To my thinking, and perhaps yours, my life wasn’t a “gift” to my birth parents. My arrival was neither planned nor expected. However, I was “on time” from God’s perspective. Yes, they made a mistake, but God didn’t. God created me … and you for a purpose.

While we may know some facts about Him, He knows each one of us intimately. Sadly not all who were designed by Him know Him in a “relational way.”

Even though I was now all grown up, there still remained a “child-like void” in my life. To an outsider, I likely appeared a happy person. In reality, I was very insecure, lonely and without a real purpose. There was a “presence” missing within me … a gaping hole that couldn’t be filled.

Though baptized as an infant, I attended confirmation classes and was accustomed to being in church. In my late teen years I pulled away from church, as religion and God didn’t seem relevant, and God seemed so impersonal and not at all interested in my existence.

A dear friend shared two great truths about life. First, she was the first who told me the truth about Santa Claus … we won’t go any further … just in case some of you here still put cookies out on December 24^th.

Second, that God sent His Son Jesus, wrapped in human flesh, to die on a cross … to take the punishment for my sin. Wow! Talk about a good-news / bad-news announcement.

I never liked the word sin…. still don’t. But it was true. There was no denying that I was a “sinner.” Deep down I knew there was a separation between me and a perfect and holy God. I would often try to appease myself by thinking ‘I’m not as bad as other people.’ But deep within I knew I wasn’t good enough to enter heaven. Who is? I told my friend that I believed in God … wasn’t that good enough? James 2 verse 19 took care of that answer:

“Even Satan and his demons believe, but I know their destination.” James 2:19

My friend told me that Jesus took my death penalty for my sins when He died on the Cross, and that I could be forgiven for anything and everything from my past….present and future – if I allowed Him to.

She helped me understand that my entire life was visible on God’s computer screen, and His computer had been recording everything I had ever said, thought or did.

By accepting the fact that Jesus took my place on the cross, and fully understanding that I could never erase my sin on my own – I’d be forgiven. It’s as though God hits the DELETE BUTTON and completely erases every record of my every wrong.

It took time for my mind and heart to absorb all this. Deep within I had fears and a troubled spirit that I couldn’t just brush away. It was my lingering fear of death and dying that frightened me. I never wanted to know the truth about what would happen to me when I died.

After all, our souls (the real us) were created to live forever … somewhere! How easily we want to ignore the “big elephant’ in the room … and want to sweep it under the rug. The fact is that one day every one of our hearts will cease to beat … and we will leave this earth. Millions of gravestones around the world bear testimony that people die everywhere … and at all ages.

That realization allowed me to discover that God was, in fact, very much interested and does wish to direct my steps. From that point forward my life took on new purpose and meaning. God brings people together and orchestrates circumstances in everyone’s life, and He desires a response from them … toward Him.

Not long after our conversation, I saw someone on TV talking about the same thing my friend shared with me and I knew God was trying to get my attention.

I hadn’t really looked up to talk with God since I was four, but I made the decision right then and knelt down to talk with Him and asked Jesus for His forgiveness. I asked God to come into my life, to make me new and help me to follow Him.

His offer of forgiveness is like the “great exchange” I call it … giving our sins over to Christ, accepting that He died for all of them (past, present & future) so that I could go free from judgment and be free to finally get to know God and have a relationship with Him.

This salvation, or being born again, was His gift to me … as it is to anyone who turns from their way of living to His way. For years I sat in church trying to ‘be good’ … thinking I was ‘in’ as far as heaven was concerned.

But once I realized the difference between doing … rather than simply accepting what had already been DONE … for me, a great peace took over. It makes sense that God, our Creator, knows what’s really best for us, because He loves us unconditionally.

He took me, just like my adopted Mother and Dad did, JUST AS I WAS. There was no cleaning myself up for Him. It will take a lifetime of ‘tidying up to look more like His Son’ while still here on earth. When I breathe my last, I’ll just move into His presence. For Christians dying just means we’ve moved to a new and better location.

Well, you’ve been privy to my first birth (a human, natural birth) … then my human adoption by my parents. And now, my second birth (where God gave me new life…a life that now could respond to Him).

Regardless of the circumstances surrounding your birth, God designed “you” in someone’s womb. He fashioned you individually and intricately … with your own personality, your own appearance and your unique body structure. YOU are a “masterpiece” of His design!

I may have been “unplanned” and “unwanted” by two people, but God had plans for me in spite of the circumstance of my birth. It was now possible for me to stop wondering about who I was, why I was born, and what was my purpose in life.

I was “not a mistake” as I thought, but delightfully fashioned by my Creator with purposes beyond my imagination. And He has designed each of you … with that same delight.

The disconsolate young woman standing, crying in front of an adoption agency after learning that she was “illegitimate” was now shedding tears of joy. Through my friend I was now learning and absorbing Biblical truths that brought changes to my everyday living. This was just the start of a journey planned even before my conception.

My Mother developed many medical issues in her latter life requiring full-time care from her adopted daughter. This gift of having my Mother in my home to care for brought me joy, fulfillment and the privilege of a lifetime. Here is where the fabric of “Divine providence,” orchestrated with all its beauty began weaving a new twist of events.

I felt honored that this would be my opportunity to extend love and care for the woman who gave so much to adopt me. She wasn’t a young woman when she chose to do that.

At the age of 97½, just three months before she died, the adopted little girl, now a woman, had the privilege of praying with her mother and assist her in receiving Christ as her personal Savior, accepting His forgiveness, and adoption into God’s family. The “gift of adoption” had now travelled through the full range of life’s journey.

It seemed as though the adoption experience that began with a “chosen mother” for two daughters (myself and an adorable adopted sister), now came full-circle. The first daughter now had the privilege of being chosen by God to assist in His adoption “of her mother” into His family.

My Mother was herself adopted into God’s family! She too was born in the heart of God before creation (Psalm 139) and was now brought into His family. God had ordained all these “adoptions” for many Divine purposes.

My story is of a gal who had thought her life was nothing but a tragic mistake, due to someone else’s recklessness. However, the real blunder was not understanding a wonderful truth: that each of us has been created by God’s purpose and design. Psalm 139

The greatest act of love was expressed at the Cross … offering everyone a ‘clean slate’ … with nothing left to condemn us, so that when each of us stands before Him one day (and everyone will!), we can point to Jesus stating that He alone took the punishment for our sins. Nothing will be held against us.

JESUS OFFERS HIMSELF FREELY……AS A “GIFT” TO YOU

Gifts are wonderful aren’t they? Whether at Christmas or on our birthdays or “just because” gifts from a friend who loves us. Gifts are meant to be received … they are not gifts if they are earned.

Why not take Him up on His “gift-offer” and enjoy the greatest decision you’ll ever make!

“In this man Jesus there is forgiveness for your sins. Everyone who believes in Him is freed from all guilt and declared right with God.” Acts, chapter 13, verses 38 & 39.

“I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me (Jesus).” John 14, verse 6

A 3 x 5 BIRTHDAY CARD

Hallmark cards are lovely, but sometimes they just aren’t available. This setting took place on my first day of work at this new company. I was being shown around the area in which I would be working. After the tour of the facility I was taken to where my desk would be. It takes time to settle into a new job, and this morning I was at the task of organizing my desk. My new boss was very cooperative and understanding, so I was left on my own for the morning to get the supplies I needed in place.

Not long after sitting there, a boisterous employee was making her way over to my area. I don’t know if she had a reason for coming by, or perhaps she was checking out the recently added employee.

She seemed to be regularly lingering around my office area. I think one of the other secretaries in our department was a friend of hers, so I was assuming that that may have been the reason for her occasional visits.

It didn’t take long to discover the latest news was the department’s celebration of this gal’s birthday. It was the sound of her voice oozing out of her vocal chords that today was her birthday. I didn’t pay any attention to her birthday announcement. After all, I was new and I didn’t know her. And as I observed her personality I wasn’t drawn enough to join in her celebration uninvited.

But I sensed a gentle nudge within prompting me that I should take notice of this gal. At first, I dismissed the “nudges.” However, the inner nudging increased to the point that I found myself searching my desk for anything that was there to resemble a birthday greeting.

Being new, I was not equipped with a selection of cards, as you might understand. But in an odd way, I felt like the Lord was moving me to just grab something cute and write Happy Birthday on it.

Well, the only artsy supplies I could retrieve from the desk was a white 3×5 card and a felt-tipped pen. I began rummaging through my purse and found one stick of chewing gum. That’s all the potential birthday gift I could muster.

Now I’m not the brightest button on the shirt when it comes to “crafts.” I wondered what in the world could a person do with these three items. So, I folded over the 3×5 card, lengthwise, and taped the stick of gum inside the folded card. I wrote HAPPY BIRTHDAY on the front side. On the back side, I believe I wrote “this is not a Hallmark card,” as if that announcement was necessary. Voila, a not-so-wonderful birthday card was ready for delivery.

It took me awhile to figure out where her desk was located. I was a very alert for the rest of the morning after the “card designing session was over,” waiting to figure out where the delivery would occur. I watched and waited for her next appearance. When she was headed back to her work area, I followed her from a distance to find out where the postal carrier should make this Hallmark delivery.

When it was my break time, I meandered over to her area, looking ever-so-innocent, ready for my birthday delivery. Ah ha, she’s away from her desk, so I placed the card on top of her desk and made my exit.

It didn’t take long for the card to be discovered. I could hear her coming my way. She was pausing here and there asking others if they put anything on her desk. Apparently my facial expression let the beans out of the bag. She burst out with “did you give me this card?” Well, I sheepishly nodded. I thought she was going to go into tears. She was overwhelmed that I took the time to do such a sweet thing. About this time, my jaws were parting, as I couldn’t believe that she was so touched by such an “insignificant little card.”

Throughout the remaining hours of that day, she would repeatedly stop by my desk and thank me. She was even showing others this “handmade card” telling them she received it from me, a brand new employee.

Well, what does all this tell us? That people love being remembered….even if it’s only a wee 3×5 card that tells them you’re thinking of them.

The Scripture verse from the Bible, 1 Peter 2:17 “Honor all men” is so significant. It means to take notice of another, and respect the fact they were designed by God.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU……whenever that may be!

ROSES IN THE BUSHES

There was a season in my life, which all people can experience, where I felt a deep sense of depression. We had just experienced another move to the northwest. Nothing was wrong really, but I was experiencing a type of grieving. When you move from one area of the country to another, it involves more than just packing boxes and transporting your possessions to a new locale. You are leaving the “known” for the “unknown.” You are leaving well-established friendships. It’s so like transplanting greenery in your garden. After a plant is exposed and deposited into new soil, it looks droopy and out of sorts for several months. Well, that was my condition!

This particular day was rainy and very overcast. The sky resembled a collage of grey cloudy gloom. Even having more lights on in our home didn’t help. So, I thought some fresh air might assist raising me to a higher emotional altitude.

I missed so many people, and the many loving responsibilities in ministry I had with others. Now, I was alone this day. My husband was off to work. I headed out the door with sweater and rain gear.

I didn’t even feel like talking, but the Lord knows our “thoughts” just as clear as our spoken words. On this walk I was reminiscing in my mind about the many changes and adjustments my husband and I were facing because of this move.

There was a cute little cul-de-sac that I would often venture to in my previous walks. The leaves it seemed were adorning themselves in a crayon of colors.

I had just turned the corner into this secluded area and I noticed a large pile of freshly cut grass. Something caught my attention. I went over and there on top of the freshly cut grass were two long stem red roses. These were “freshly cut” roses.

I couldn’t believe it. I glanced around thinking someone has just laid these roses on top of all the grass clippings for a moment and forgot to pick them back up. I waited around and no one appeared. This pile of grass clippings was not in a well-traveled location. It was odd.

Then, as God would have it, He brought to my mind all that I had been thinking about and the sadness I had in missing people, etc. My heart just leapt for joy as the thought was presented to me, deep within my heart, “these were roses from God.” He knew just how to touch my heart and my life on that walk to remind me that He cared, and that He knew all about this transition.

I slowly leaned over to pick up the two roses and I hurried home. One rose I kept in a vase. The other rose I pressed and placed it behind glass which was in a delicate gold frame. The date was November 24, 2005. This gift brought a “tender anticipation” of hope that good things were ahead, and to leave God to order the events of the coming year.

Four and a half months later I had the “joy of my life” when my Mother, who needed daily care, came to live out her remaining years with us in our home.

I’m grateful God gave me the presence of mind to “seal the rose under glass” as a vivid reminder of his tender and compassionate care through the stresses and transitions in our lives. Each time I look at this framed rose, my heart goes back to the time when God’s love came near….near enough to hold in my hand.

INTRODUCTION TO OUR NEIGHBORS

You might want to sit down and get real comfortable when reading this short story. And before you ask, “Yes, this is a true story.” My husband might not be keen on me admitting that, but I must.

My husband and I were only married a little over three years. We were still getting to know each other’s habits, likes and dislikes. My husband’s job took us to sunny Florida for a time. We made this move in the wrong month. I say that because August is the HOTTEST month of the year in that area of the United States.

Humidity levels ranged from 100 down to 95%. Everything done outside at that time of year was accomplished at a pace called slow. Even if you just stood still, your body continued to perspire. It’s been said that men perspire, and women glow. Well, in Florida, if that phrase were true, women would be glowing almost to a “melting” position.

We had survived the adjustment of the heat during the summer and it was now the end of October and one could wear slacks in the evening. I vividly remember my husband and I went for a stroll around the block early in the evening. We had just rounded the corner, with our house in sight and it became obvious to my husband that he wasn’t travelling alone. He immediately began leaping and yelling and shaking in his pants. What had happened was that a small lizard had climbed inside his pants leg for a ride around the block. The little critter didn’t take up much room and he must have been hot as well as he wanted “out.”

He wasted no time in removing his belt and began lowering his slacks to provide an immediate “evacuation plan” for his new little friend. All I could do was laugh; but with sympathy too, I might add. It was getting dark outside so the neighbors never observed the discovery.

We waited until late October to reappear on our neighborhood streets for evening walks. I kept thinking of ways we could meet our neighbors. In that it was a cooler month, it dawned on me that we could dress up for Halloween and meet them that way. We don’t celebrate that event, but it did allow us a “unique opportunity” to introduce ourselves to the neighborhood.

Here is where you’re not going to believe what happened next. We weren’t flushed with financial funds, so I gathered a few articles of our clothing, and made some adjustments in the clothing design department. Then I invited my husband to join me at our bathroom sink. He took a seat and I, shall I say, “re-constructed his appearance.” Later, I did the same for myself.

Yes…………….we went to visit all the neighbors as Raggedy Ann and Andy! The neighbors laughed at our coming and going. We had a hilarious time that evening going from door to door. So if you’re having a struggle in getting to know your neighbors, I might suggest that you dress up a little and make an appearance. Believe me, they’ll remember you forever!

HELP FOR A FRIEND – for such a time as this

Another move transpired when we moved from Arizona to British Columbia, Canada. We were coming out of an arid area of the United States to the lush northwest where there is an abundance of “liquid sunshine.” We hadn’t lived in this area of Canada for a number of years, but circumstances orchestrated a return to the lovely province of British Columbia.

We were attending a church and reconnecting with a number of people we met there some years before. This particular Sunday morning it was announced that a man, in our congregation, had suffered a critical heart attack.

This couple was well known in the church and had a good many friendships they had developed over the years. In our awareness of his condition, we, along with many others, were praying for this man and his dear wife.

Our friend had a quadruple by-pass heart surgery and made it through. He was now in the long process of recovery. We had heard that there were many people visiting him after he returned home from the hospital. My husband and I were cautious about visiting them as we knew that many of their friends were visiting him on a regular basis, and we wanted to be sensitive to his need of rest and recovery.

In people’s loving attempt to reach out, they can often forget that the person who is convalescing needs an abundant amount of rest; not to mention, the care-givers need to rest as well. This couple is socially vibrant and they love to have people around. That’s wonderful when you are physically up to it, but visitors coming without prearranged boundaries in place, can be overwhelming and add to the stress of the patient and the one giving the care.

Several weeks had passed, and his wife was writing beautiful emails documenting his progress so that the large circle of friends were kept up-to-date on his condition.

About six weeks had passed, and one Sunday his wife made a quiet appearance at church. This couple and ourselves would sit in the same general area each week. We were delighted to have a brief moment with her after the service. We shared with her that we were avoiding coming over for a visit as we wanted to be sensitive to their need of rest. Her smile broke into words: “Come on over now.” We were fumbling in how to respond, but her invitation was so compelling, we agreed. But we would only stay 30 minutes, no more.

We entered their family room where her husband was resting on the sofa delicately covered up with a nice blanket. We entered his presence indicating, we just wanted to say hello and let him know we cared about him.

He wasn’t up to a long visit, but in the thirty or so minutes of being together, we hoped our presence would lift his spirits. Both he and his wife love having people in their home, and so to restrict his visits was a very difficult endeavor.

As we listened to him share about his pain and where he was uncomfortable, my inner antennas went right into gear. I am not a physician or a nurse, but I do know have some experience in relieving tension through neck, back and arm massages. At this moment, I just listened to my friend share his concerns.

My first thoughts were that I only wish I knew this couple well enough to offer to come a couple times a week and give this man a gentle massage treatment. I was bursting at my inner seams to do this, but I felt restrained and just kept quiet.

About a week later, one morning I phoned to inquire what his dietary needs could include. I had in mind to make them a meal and bring it over. After she shared a few things, I told her that she should expect a dinner delivery at 5 o’clock that same evening. She laughed and said it wasn’t necessary, but I paid no attention to her comment and told her dinner was in the making.

In the short journey to their home, I had such joy in this meals-on-wheels expedition. I entered the family room to say hello to the patient. He seemed delighted to have visitors, but again he kept making a comment about his stiffness and unable to relax in a number of places in his upper body. I think I prayed with him and then left them to enjoy some roast chicken and trimmings.

A few days later I just phoned to see when I could just drop over and collect my plates from the dinner I brought days earlier. My intention was to just inquire about a good time for me to drop by their home; but I was soon to discover that “soon” was now and would be more than appropriate.

The tone of voice of this man’s wife was filled with stress, sadness, and a real sense of being overwhelmed. I was only too familiar with the sound of a person’s state in being “overwhelmed” state. Her tears were my invitation. I told her I’d be over in a few hours with another dinner and that she was not to refuse my offer.

“Lord, how can I help her? How can I help them both?” I knew deeply and instinctly that I was prompted to make that phone call. “Lord, show me what is needed.”

After this conversation, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that the Lord was opening doors of opportunity with this dear couple; however, at this point, had no idea of the type of opportunity that would emerge

After showing up with something for them to eat later in the day, I soon realized that this woman needed more than dinner that night. This health situation of her husband and the new responsibilities was weighing heavily on her own heart and physique. She was lovingly endeavoring to do too much. She needed something, and soon.

My arrival couldn’t have been more welcomed. It was a bright sunny day…..and she suggested we sit outside for a while. She began to share her heart. During the course of our conversation, I felt free to share with her some of the things I had learned from being a care-giver myself, just a few years earlier.

To honor her, our conversation will be kept private; but suffice it to say that she needed a listening heart, personal encouragement, and a rest as well. But this would need to be a self-imposed rest.

We talked lovingly about boundaries that she would need to set for their “recovery lifestyle” so that she and her husband could still enjoy others, but with loving limits.

After our talk I offered to give her a massage with olive oil. This simple little massage left her like a soft down pillow the lounge chair on their patio. Seeing that our conversation was dwindling, I went in to see her husband. He had made his own observation of the massage treatment on the back patio area and he wanted to join us in the experience.

He was still complaining (and rightfully so) about his stiffness and the terrible tightness in his shoulder. We positioned him comfortably in the chair with feet up and ready for a massage.

During the next 45 minutes he made few comments. But in listening to the moans and awwws from both he and his wife; they were both so relaxed just like two limp noodles in their lawn chairs.

How exciting this was to me to be allowed not only into their home, and hearts, but now, with their keen invitation, to do what I had wanted to do weeks ago.

I was about to burst with enthusiasm at this next idea, but I asked them both if this “soothing massage” would be something they’d enjoy twice a week for a while? Are you kidding? There was an immediate enthusiastic response from them both.

Prior to this man’s health challenge, I found myself floundering a bit after our move to this new area. I asked the Lord if He would open up some kind of opportunity where He could use me. The visit that day with this couple was my answer.

What a joy and privilege of getting to know this couple in a wonderful new and transparent way. We were never meant to walk through trials alone. And I couldn’t be more grateful to this couple for allowing me the privilege of serving and loving and joining them in this most meaningful way to them through this difficult journey. The Lord wove our hearts together unlike never before.

This couple is doing marvelously well now, and our friend’s heart is right on course…..God’s course for His life. I was so grateful and privileged to be a small part of God’s touch of encouragement and healing in their lives at such a crucial season.

God loves to use people in our lives that will love, care, listen and share with us. Walking through difficult seasons with others can be painful, for sure, but we’re to bear each other’s burdens, lighting the load if you will. And there’s no greater bond on this earth.

Let’s keep our eyes and ears open to the pain and challenges others face. Who knows that God might want to use us to join them in their journey.

COME AND SEE ME — ANYTIME

You know you never know how your day will unfold when you rise in the morning. God has an agenda for His children (those who have given their lives over to Him), and we have no idea of how we’re to participate in His plans. But He has an incredible way of “inviting us” to join Him in what He is up to. More often than not, He uses people to bring opportunities into our walk in life.

The phone rang this particular morning with a friendly voice at the other end. It didn’t take him long to identify the purpose for his call. The caller was involved with caring for his long-time Sunday school teacher. This man was handling the affairs of a woman who had mentored him as a young boy, through teaching him in Sunday school.

I felt it strange that he would phone me, because although my husband and he were work associates at one time and I was surprised that he wanted to talk with me as we really were not connected at all.

His need became clear as he went into the details about his friend and her current need. She was 95 years of age at the time and because of her specifics needs she had to be relocated to our town, and she was being moved away from the facility near this care-giver and his wife to our town some 40 miles away.

This couple loved this woman and had taken care of supervising her financial needs and would regularly visit her weekly. They were very caring and tender towards her. But now that she would be residing in a care facility several miles away, it wasn’t going to be convenient to just drop in for a visit. His concern is that she was now alone, and knew no one in this new location.

He wasn’t phoning to ask me to visit her. He simply wanted to know if we had any program at the church where we were on staff, where people would visit those who were resident in assisted living facilities. These ministries are often referred to as the “Stephen Ministries.”

I listened intently to what he shared with me about this woman and what her need would be for a weekly companion visit. We did have this ministry at the church, but I felt that I wanted to hear and know more about this “loved lady” in order to be able to share more carefully the details of her need with someone who was involved in this outreach.

After talking about the various areas describing her personality, her interests and background, I began to think aloud with him. Sometimes it’s very difficult to connect people together without a first-hand, in person encounter with them.

Our conversation was so pleasant and inviting, the idea came to me that I needed to meet this woman so I would have a better idea of who the Lord would have to connect with her.

This friend told me the address of the facility, her name and room number. Turns out, she lived only about 3 miles from our home. I shared with my friend that I thought it would be helpful for me to visit her and access how the connection would be with “someone else.”

Several days later I drove over to have my first visit. Sometimes I’m at a loss for words, but a smile and a hello is a great start. When I arrived at her room and walked in, she was lying in her bed. She seemed fully awake at the time.

I introduced myself, and said that we had a “common friend” who had called me to share that she was new in the area. The conversation with her was one-sided……….as I did all the talking. I didn’t know for sure if her lack of speaking was due to a stroke, or if it was the medication. She would only mumble in response to my words.

It’s so wonderful that the Lord knows just how to orchestrate events and present ideas to us that may seem out of the ordinary. For this first visit, the idea came to me to bring along our 7 pound Pomeranian. I thought that might ease the conversation as most people enjoy little dogs. Our little dog was very calm and well-behaved, and remained in my arms.

It took a moment or two for this lady, Marie, to notice that I had something furry in my arms. I asked her if she liked little dogs. All she could do was “mumble.” Before I knew it I was bending over and placing the dog next to her in her bed. Immediately this woman came alive!

As I think about it now, it was a risky venture, but worth the risk.

A few minutes later I lifted the dog away and just continued to try and make a one-way conversation with her. She began to smile and I knew I was on safe territory.

Not long after that I told her that I would stop in again next week. She continued to “mumble incoherently.” But somehow I understood that my presence was accepted.

All the time I was there I was thinking to myself, who do I know that would be just the “right person” to befriend this lady on a regular basis and become a part of her life.

After about 20 minutes I felt it was time for me to leave.

No, I never referred her to the ministry. She was to become “my new friend.” When I phoned the man who called me about this woman’s need, I told him that I felt the Lord had located someone to visit this lady. It was to be me.

Each week I would visit, and it seemed that I was beginning to learn how to have a complete conversation with her, even without her saying a word. I remember thinking that I’ll just talk with her as though she understood me.

It was now the beginning of summer, and each time I visited, she would either be in bed or would be sitting in her wheelchair watching television. One day I took her blanket off the bed, wrapped it around her legs and off we went…..”outside.” I would take her around the neighborhood in her wheelchair. She seemed to just “glow” during this outing.

One time I took our little dog with me on this neighborhood tour and placed her in Marie’s lap as she was sitting in her wheelchair, and off we went down the street. Then the “miracle” happened. I heard her beginning to speak. I could hardly believe my ears. No, she wasn’t speaking to me. She was speaking to our little dog as she gently held and petted the dog during the entire outing.

Each week her words became more understandable. Once she began to speak, she never stopped. She never went back to mumbling.

This relationship went on for about 3 years. Each week I would come with goodies to eat, or bring my little dog for special cuddles and walks in the neighborhood.

I remember one time when I went to visit “Miss Marie” she was in the social room. Everyone was sitting around playing a word game. I entered the room with our little 7 pound Pomeranian, Abby. Miss Marie perked up immediately and held out her hands to hold our little dog. What I didn’t expect was that ten other people in the circle wanted to hold this furry friend as well. The visit was longer this week, but it was worth every furry moment.

The Lord was about to move us to a northern state. I missed my little friend so very much. Within that year, I believe, she was moved back to an area where this couple would be close at hand for regular visits.

I would like to close with a poignant thought that I had one day as I entered the assisted living facility. My parents lived some 2200 miles away and I had always wondered if, when they needed help in their senior years, who would be there to help them. I lived so far away from them; and wondered why the Lord was allowing me to befriend Marie when I was so concerned about how my own parents would be cared for.

To my surprise, the Lord would be arranging that for me about 10 months later. Yes, I became privileged to care for my Dad and to later have my Mom in my home, full-time for almost three years.

This Miss Marie was a treasure to me. And one day, I’ll get to have a wonderful reunion with her in heaven.

She taught me in a very quiet way, that a smile, a hug and little visits can change the course of your day, your attitude and your heart.

Someone asked me one time, how can you enter a Care facility and make a difference. My response is always the same:

It’s not about you…..it’s about loving on others with a smile and a little pat on the arm; and allowing the Lord to take it from there.

Just walking into each person’s room at these facilities and waving with a smile can make all the difference in the world…..their world and yours!

COMPASSION – UP CLOSE & PERSONAL

For those of you who dread the after-effects of anesthesia, you will appreciate some of the details about this post-surgery scenario. Now I realize that some people can awake from anesthesia and are slowly cognizant of their bearings, but I am not one of them.

The story will be short and sweet (poor word used here, I know), but the kindness of one friend simply overwhelmed me with love until I collected myself during the moments when most people would have already left the recovery area.

I know, ahead of time, that after any surgery, I’m not going to feel well. My stomach seems to revolt at the invasion of sharp items on, and in my body. I won’t go into details about the eruption of events. Your own imagination can take over quite nicely.

For any of you that have had surgery, you know that you need to show up about two hours prior to “getting your repair work” done in the surgical room. During this time, you’re adorned with an “almost gown” that has been out of style for some time, then a nurse arrives to play pin-cushion in an attempt to get an IV started in your arm. All is well at this point.

If you’re alone, your eyes are scanning your personal horizon taking in all the details of your waiting room. Then Mr. Anesthesiologist enters your domain and announces his arrival and title. He usually asks if you have any questions. At this point, your memory has gone on vacation and forgot to take you with it. I appreciate anesthesiologists, but they sure are “powerful people” in their ability to night-night you at their chosen moment.

Prior to speaking to this “night night physician” I usually carry a piece of paper into the hospital with me. I’ll tell you what’s written down:

DON’T FORGET TO GIVE ME THE ANTI-NAUSEA MEDS

For the surgeries I’ve experienced, my husband has always been allowed to remain with me until they take me into the surgical area. Just before I’m about to be transferred via the hospital limousine, the gurney, I announced a critical request to my husband. It is the following:

When I’m brought back to the room, make sure you have the ice cream bucket ready for me.

The attending nurse encouraged me with an affirming nod that everything is ready. That means, you’re going to go “night night” shortly. Some anesthesiologists give you a math test. They invite you to start at the number ten and count backwards. Of course, you’ll fail their test, as you can only get to nine and “out you go.” At this point, I’d have it no other way.

Not long after the “put-you-out-doctor” leaves you presence, your surgeon makes a prompt appearance. He’s all dressed up for you in his best “all whites” or “all greens,” depending on the fashion color chosen by the hospital staff. “We’re all ready for you,” he or she announces. And you know what that means! There is a reception waiting for you in a bright little room. You probably won’t see the room, but you’ll be fully present in just a few minutes.

From this point on, you know nothing — and you’re quite happy about that.

Several hours have passed and the limousine trolley is transporting you from the intensive care area to your room. Now here is where you’re alert enough to know that the surgery is over, you’re alive and grateful; but your tummy is beginning to announce that’s things southward aren’t peaceful.

It’s now that I’m urgently requesting the “ice cream bucket.” My husband assures me that it’s right by my side. My predictions are coming into focus, and I’m not a happy camper. This particular time I knew my husband was present as well as a dear friend. I could see her in the background. Then, as predicted, my insides displayed their unhappiness about the event.

Here is where I needn’t be detailed. But there is one detail that I will forever remember. In my attempts to rendezvous with the ice cream bucket in an up-close and personal manner, the appearance of my lovely friend came into focus. She knew I wasn’t feeling well and as I was doing some “releasing….shall we say,” she was saying things like…..”It’s okay….try and get it all out, and I’m here.

She would gently pat my shoulder. During all of this time, she was only about 6 inches from my face. She wanted to assure me that I was “not alone.” Her presence meant the world to me. Even to this day, I can close my eyes and see her up close and personal giving constant assurance. By the way, she had a great grip on that ice cream bucket as well.

She continues to be a dear friend to me; one that I don’t have to be at my best for her to love me. The experience was as if God Himself came close and held me. And He did…..through the eyes and arms and tender words of my friend.