AN ALABASTER BOX

I had a conversation the other day with my good Catholic friend.  Now I can’t remember why we were even on the subject but he told me that the one “story” from the Bible that gave him the most encouragement was the raising of Lazarus from the dead.  I thought a little about that on that day but not much, truly.  Monday of this week, I was hearing some Southern gospel and a song came on titled “Four Days Late”.  This song told the story of Lazarus (imagine) so I began to listen.  In the song, it talks about how that Jesus didn’t come right away but waited till Lazarus had been dead for four days.  All hope seemed to be gone.  But as it happened, Jesus came and raised his friend Lazarus from the dead.  The song’s point was that “isn’t it great when He’s four days late, He’s still on time”. 

What I want to talk about today happened six days before Passover back in the days of Jesus. This story is told similarly in the gospels of Matthew 26:6-13, Mark 14:3-9,  and John 12:1-8 just in case you want to read them.  They are attributed to be from the same event.   I brought up Lazarus because on this particular day, Jesus was in a house in Bethany and Lazarus was there also.  This was after Lazarus had been resurrected.  They were in this house for a meal, a supper, a most important meal--probably a meal of fellowship and friendship and possibly there was much joy that Lazarus, too, was there.  From the readings, it leads us to believe that several people were in attendance.

The Gospel of Matthew 26:7 says “there came unto him a woman having an alabaster box of very precious ointment, and poured it on his head, as he sat at meat.”   The story in John elaborates that "Then took Mary a pound of ointment of spikenard, very costly, and anointed the feet of Jesus, and wiped his feet with her hair; and the house was filled with the odour of the ointment."  (Spikenard is  an aromatic perennial herb of the Himalaya Mountains, having rose-purple flowers.)  Of course, the disciples there, being just like we are most times, were complaining that using this real expensive ointment was a huge waste.    Shucks, it could have been sold for a lot of money and given to the poor.   How dare she use it in a wasteful way?  

Jesus answered them in Matthew 26:10-13 like this, “…why trouble ye the woman?  For she hath wrought a good work upon me.  For ye have the poor always with you; but me ye have not always.  For in that she hath poured this ointment on my body, she did it for my burial.  Verily I say unto you, Wheresoever this gospel shall be preached in the whole world, there shall also this, that this woman hath done, be told for a memorial of her.”

A memorial.  Of her.  She did a good thing with an alabaster box of ointment.  An act to her Lord  from her heart.   An alabaster box….. a box of a fine-texture usually white and translucent gypsum often carved into vases and ornaments holding an ointment that itself is very costly. 

I can never hear of any box or gifted item such as this without remembering an experience in my own life that I must share here.  Several years ago, I directed the Children’s Choir and we had fun singing together. If I remember correctly, the particular Wednesday was Valentine’s week.  One of the little guys, probably in kindergarten then—maybe middle schoolish by now—came into practice and sweetly handed me a gift.   Now this is the little guy with the reputation of much mischief.  (I could always see through that mischief to his sweet heart.)   His gift was a little paper mache heart shaped box that he had done in school that day….red and white with foam stick ons.  I declared it’s beauty and thanked him profusely for it.  His mother told me later that he brought it home, got it out, and she had begun to thank him when he said, “It’s not for you, it’s for Ms. Bwenda.”  The poor mother.  I felt bad for her just for a minute, then my joy at my own good fortune took over my emotions.   She, of course, was laughing about it and we  get joy from the story now years later but I’ll tell you that my heart was REALLY warm and fuzzy.  That little box sits on a shelf in my studio room still today and every time I look at it, I am reminded of a child’s love.  For me.  And I feel good all over again.

When I think of Mary’s alabaster box, I think of the love that she had for her Lord.  To her, the cost didn't matter.  She was giving the best to Him she could give.  I wonder if I give Him as much from my own alabaster box as I should.  Do I give the best I can to Him? Or do I worry more about what my best will cost me?    I know the Lord knows my heart, my faults, and loves me anyway.   I know the importance of love, praise, worship, and glory to HIS name as well as the strength and spirit-filled joy it gives me in my life to exercise that love, praise, worship, and glory to HIS name.  I am so blessed, as Mary was, to call Him MY Savior and Lord.

At last fall’s Bible Study I attended, a song was sang that I had never heard before titled “Alabaster Box”.  It touched me and every lady hearing it that night.   I thought I would share the lyrics with you as I close today's post.  It goes like this:

“The room grew still

As she made her way to Jesus

She stumbles through the tears that made her blind

She felt such pain

Some spoke in anger

Heard folks whisper

There's no place here for her kind

Still on she came

Through the shame that flushed her face

Until at last, she knelt before his feet

And though she spoke no words

Everything she said was heard

As she poured her love for the Master

From her box of alabaster

And I've come to pour

My praise on Him

Like oil from Mary's alabaster box

Don't be angry if I wash his feet with my tears

And I dry them with my hair

You weren't there the night He found me

You did not feel what I felt

When he wrapped his love all around me and

You don't know the cost of the oil

In my alabaster box

I can't forget the way life used to be

I was a prisoner to the sin that had me bound

And I spent my days

Poured my life without measure

Into a little treasure box

I'd thought I'd found

Until the day when Jesus came to me

And healed my soul

With the wonder of His touch

So now I'm giving back to Him

All the praise He's worthy of

I've been forgiven

And that's why

I love Him so much”

What will you give Him from your alabaster box?

MY FAVORITE TIME OF THE YEAR

Year and years ago (yes, literally years and years ago) my favorite time of the year was Christmas.  The Christmas tree decorating, the paper chains, icicles on the tree, and the presents...ah, the list is endless of the fun that was to be had.  I've found, though, as I have gotten older that my "favorites" have changed.  Now understand, I like to get presents as much as others do.   I love tree decorating, cookie making, church Christmas plays, and Joy to the World the Lord is come.

However, let's say as I have "matured", I have recognized that my favorite time of the year has changed.  Instead of happening in the winter, it happens in the spring.  Easter.  I love Easter.  It's my favorite time of the year now.  Not because of the Easter eggs.  Now I've enjoyed many egg hunts in my years.  I've enjoyed the egg coloring.  I've enjoyed many deviled eggs, potato salad, and egg salad sandwiches the days after Easter.  I've enjoyed Easter frocks and Easter bonnets and all the other fun stuff that many consider when they consider Easter.

Now in my life for the past several years, the faith part of Easter has become the most important and my favorite.  I realize anew what Jesus went through for me, why it went through it for me, and what it means to me NOW.

I'm probably one of very few Christians that has not seen the movie, The Passion of the Christ.  I have it unopened in my cabinet.  I know that to the many who have seen it, it was worth the watch.   I just could never get my heart set to watch it.  It's not that I don't realize what Jesus did for me.  I think it's that I've read the scriptures and try to KNOW what they say and as I have read time and time again, I think in my own mind and heart I have it pictured there.  I don't want someone else's thoughts and pictures in my mind and spiritual heart.  I want my own....the ones God puts there.  That's what's important to me.  So I may watch it sometime and I may not but that would be the reason why I have not.

So with that in mind, I invite you my blog readers to join me starting tomorrow and all of next week as I remember what HE did and why I can celebrate Easter with a happy heart and joy that runs my cup over.  My hope is to have a post each day as I "remember".

Stay tuned.

A LESSON OF KINDNESS

“Kind” is defined as being of a friendly, generous, or warm-hearted nature.

"Kindness" is defined as the act of being kind.

There are many times in my life that I am taught by example.  You know the saying that “a picture is worth a thousand words” so actually I find that by watching and learning, I have experienced more lessons watching than any other way.  Such was the case this past Sunday afternoon at the church egg hunt.

I found the day to be beautiful, especially for hunting eggs and taking photos.  The lesson came after most all the eggs had been found.  I was standing around the center of the large field that was empty of the eggs that had been all around a few minutes earlier.  I was snapping photos with my large lens and having a good time when I noticed three siblings coming into the area.  These were blonde haired children, two sisters and a brother.  I asked if I could take a picture of them and, of course, as most children in our church do when they see me with my camera, they posed.  Nicely.  

After the photo had been taken, I just stood and watched and listened.  The Brother said to The Little Sister, “Wanna go find some eggs?”  She looked up at him, smiling and nodding.  Okay, so my pessimistic adult mind is thinking, “All these hundreds of eggs have been found.  Good luck.”

The Big Sister, The Brother, and The Little Sister started walking.  The Little Sister walked along with her siblings most willingly, a look of anticipation on her face.  I watched as they made their way towards the hill at the playground with The Brother leading the way.  

The Brother headed off to the right.

 The Big Sister climbed the hill.  The Little Sister started up the hill.  

As The Little Sister was near the top of the hill, I noticed The Brother coming back with an egg.  Imagine.  He is some egg hunter, isn’t he?    The Brother called The Little Sister’s name and she turned around.  The Brother was laying the egg he found on the ground and said, “Look, here’s an egg for you to find!”  The Little Sister, of course, happily went and “found” the egg. 

It was one of those times when my heart and my face both smiled widely.  How could one not smile?  Awww……KINDNESS.  The Brother and The Little Sister then joined hands and headed off to "find more eggs".

As I usually do when seeing such a lesson, I analyze my own life and wonder why I’m not like that.  I resolve then to try harder to be that kind of person with that kind of kindness.  Not expecting anything in return.   Not looking for recognition.  Just simply being kind because that’s what you do. 

I’m thinking that this kind of kindness is a positive nature to The Brother.  Now for sure he has his days of misbehaving, complaining, and other such actions that require discipline.  I have yet to see a perfect child.  Or a perfect adult.  Or a perfect one "in the middle".  Deep down, though, I have a big hope that The Brother's adult life will be a life of kindness also.  Can you imagine nurturing such a positive nature and the benefits he can share from it as an adult?  Can you imagine what WE can share if we exercise this quality as adults?  I know I want to work on it harder but I was truly blessed just from watching this interaction on Sunday.  

 

From one of my favorite Bible chapters for living, Colossians 3:

“Put on therefore, as the elect of God, holy and beloved, bowels of mercies, kindness, humbleness of mind, meekness, longsuffering….”

And lest you doubt it, be assured that God speaks loudly through the lives of children.   

Listen.

SPLINTERS

If you are one of my regular ten blog readers, you know that I am a firm believer in “no good deed goes unpunished”.  And if you are reading my blog for the first time, I have a post about that very thing in my list of posts. 

Yesterday was such a beautiful Sunday and loving to take photos of children the way I do, I decided to go to the church Easter egg hunt.  There were tons of children, lots of beautiful weather, many eggs, wonderful food, and great fellowship.  Our egg hunt is in a grassy spot pretty much right at and near the cemetery and playground.  How’s that for a location?  As the egg hunt was winding down and folks were preparing to head back to the basement for the food, I began my walk back to the church and was noticing the cemetery as I walked.  There was a tombstone that had two flower pots in front of it and both pots had blown over.  Being the good citizen that I sometimes am, I decided to go and set them upright.  One was in a basket, one was not.  The first one out of the basket uprighted pretty easily.  The basket one was more of a challenge.  I twisted and pushed and finally got it to work; however, in my efforts a splinter from that old, weathered basket got into my finger….actually two splinters a bit apart on the inside near the top of my little finger on my right hand.   All this descriptive information is important. 

My cousin, a retired fireman, was walking by as I sat on the steps of the old church trying to pick them out….with no luck, I might add.  I asked him if he had a pocket knife and of course, being a retired fireman and a redneck, he did.  He kindly opened it for me and handed it to me.  I looked at it and it looked a huge xacto knife…I carefully picked a little then he and I decided I would safer to just leave the splinters alone.  I decided suffering was best for a while until I got home to my safety and straight pins.  From my prior experience, safety or straight pins are the perfect tools for splinter finding and removal.  

When I got home, I got under the light to see good (older folks need a lot of light), saw both splinters and dug a little, confident the pins would do the trick.  Bad news.  They didn’t.   What did I do, you ask?  I remembered my grandmother’s home remedy that worked for me when I got a REALLY LARGE fencepost splinter UNDER my fingernail.  Not just under, but under all the way down to the cuticle with nothing near the top of the nail.  It was a huge, long black splinter.  Nasty looking.  Even a medical doctor wouldn’t touch it.  Really.  So my memaw told me to put a “piece of fat meat on it” and that meat will draw that splinter out.  Now THAT splinter REALLY hurt.   Being redneck that I was and in the pain I was in, I didn’t hesitate to get a piece of bacon fat, put it on my fingernail, and bandage it up good.   Let me tell you, that’s not an easy thing to do, fat is slippery. It took at least two days for that to work but eventually it got my fingernail in such a shape that I could stick my trusty pin under that nail without pain.  Too much information, you say?  You get a splinter down in your fingernail all the way to the cuticle and none showing at the top and see you what you think.  It’s pain.  Really.  Bet you’ll be remembering this and headed to your refrigerator for that bacon.

Even though that was years ago, it was still fresh in my mind so I came home and put some salt pork fat on my finger.  I took it off about bedtime and was able to use a pin to get that large splinter out.  I’m telling you, it hurt.  Badly.  My little finger is comparatively small to the rest of my larger body.  Throbbing pain.  Bad news is that the smaller splinter was and still is very embedded.  I put fresh meat on—doesn’t that sound gross—for overnight and this morning was still not able to get out that splinter.  So what do I do?  I go to the internet because you know what that commercial says…if it’s on the internet you know it’s true.  Duh.  The internet said many things but the one more reasonable to me was to soak it in vinegar for 20-30 minutes.  So yes, I soaked that finger in vinegar this morning.  When I took it out, it was all pruned up just like I’d been soaking in a tub.  It just smelled like I was canning pickles.  I got my pin again and was able to ease some of that pruning away but I STILL could not get that splinter out. 

I went to internet suggestion that I like #2.  It said make a paste of baking soda and put it on the spot and bandage.  I did that before my cardio class.    The internet also suggested that you could buy something that begins with an “I” at the drugstore.  I stopped there on the way home and asked and there is that something.  The druggist rattled off the long name immediately but they didn’t have any and would have to order.  I told her if it was not out with any of my other manipulations I would call for her to order in a day or so.  

I’ve just taken the baking soda bandage off and washed off the baking soda.  Ouch!  That little spot REALLY does hurt badly.  And you know from my other blog posts that I have a big tolerance for pain.  It hurts.  I looked closely and was able to see that the tiny black splinter was nearer the top of the skin than before.  I got my magnifying glass and pin and was able to remove the splinter.  It was soooo tiny and black…..but what a punch that tiny thing did to my little finger.  I was so very happy the splinter came out.  Now I’ll use the Neosporin and heal up the mess I’ve made of my finger and keep infection from coming.   I was so excited to have that thing gone.  I was letting it continually be on my mind because of the pain it was causing me.

As I suffered through this pain the last 24 hours, I was reminded this morning that  I,  along with all of you probably, allow “things’ to become embedded in our lives.   Or maybe they sneak up on us before we know it.  Foreign things that have no business in our lives.  Little things that cause a big pain.  Everybody at one time or another allows things to become embedded in their lives—emotionally, spiritually—you name it, it’s there.   I’ve been there and you have , too. 

In these cases, the remedy doesn’t come with baking soda and a pin.  It comes from a talk with the Lord and a genuine healing with His forgiveness, His comfort, His mercy, His grace, and His love.    Why don’t I go to Him first when I have these things embedded in my life?   Because I’m stubborn and think I’ll just do it on my own all the time knowing that He is always ready to lead me to the right remedy for whatever my problem is.  He pulls out those splinters of sin, fear, broken pieces, pride, and so much more. That’s just what He does.  Why?   Just because He loves us so.

“The Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and plenteous in mercy.  He will not always chide: neither will he keep his anger for ever.  He hath not dealt with us after our sins; nor rewarded us according to our iniquities.  For as the heaven is high above the earth, so great is his mercy toward them that fear him.  As far as the east is from the west, so far hath he removed our transgressions from us.” Psalm 103:8-12

Amen.

SOUNDS

“Sound” is defined as vibrations transmitted through an elastic solid or a liquid or gas, with frequencies in the approximate range of 20 to 20,000 hertz, capable of being detected by human organs of hearing; transmitted vibrations of any frequency; the sensation stimulated in the organs of hearing by such vibrations in the air or other medium. 

That is quite a scientific definition I would say.  After reading and attempting to comprehend that definition, I am assured there was a good reason that Science was my absolute worst subject in school when it came to grades and understanding the subject matter.  In my comprehension, sound is what I hear with my ears.  Simple.

Since last Sunday’s church service, I have been making a conscious effort to pay attention to sounds in my daily life.  The Pastor had gotten up to do his message and told where he would be reading his scripture from for the message.  Since I was the organist that particular day, I was sitting in the front by the organ.  (I think sounds are louder there.)  As I began to turn the pages of my own Bible, I immediately stopped and listened to the sound of the many, many Bible pages turning in the congregation.   I always just want to close my eyes and listen and often I will find a tear escaping from my tear ducts.   I want everyone else to just be still and quiet and listen, too.  It's THAT good of a sound.   Let me tell you….that sound is one of my very favorites.  It represents to me the beauty of God’s Word and gives me comfort in my heart that many of those worshipping with me know that comfort also.  Last Sunday my heart just got warm and fuzzy and so full of joy.

I’ve heard the sound of my front porch wind chimes as they hit together when it gets a bit windy….can’t see that wind but can hear the effects of it.

I’ve heard the sound of the chirping of the birds as they fly around my yard with no cares.  I've even heard the birds singing loudly over the sound of heavy traffic in a heavy traffic area just yesterday in a metro area.  Now that's some kind of happy birds.

I’ve heard again the sound of the wrens as they fly in my wren house on the porch.   They DO have a distinctive sound.

I’ve heard  the sound of my 30 year old vaporizer run in the living room.  The Husband has had a sinus infection and a bit of strep this week.  Last night I listened to the sound of the gurgling and pumping of that vaporizer and realized from that sound that it’s pretty old and might not last too much longer.

I’ve heard the sound of a siren signaling an emergency situation.

I’ve remembered the sound of a little girl’s voice calling “Mama” in the middle of the night.  I ‘ve thought of how I, if not at first call, would waken and know something was amiss.  The sound of that one word just had some kind of fear when called in the middle of the night.

I love to hear the sound of children singing “Jesus Loves Me this I know”. 

Right now, I can hear the sound of a hammer and tools letting me know that The Husband is safe as he works outside.  Yes, you read correctly.  The Husband is working on his garage again.  Carefully so the not-completely-healed-yet-ribs stay together.

So next week, you pay attention to the sounds.  Close your eyes and just listen to what is going on around you.  Think of emotions that certain sounds bring....emotions of joy, happiness, comfort, sadness....you get the picture.  And, if you listen closely, you just might hear the sound of God’s voice in the most unlikely of areas.  His voice is there to hear EVERYWHERE.

Listen.

“Blessed is the people that know the joyful sound; they shall walk, O Lord, in the light of thy countenance.  In thy name shall they rejoice all the day: and in thy righteousness shall they be exalted.  For thou art the glory of their strength….”

Psalm 89: 15-17

A FLAG

Today after morning church service and an order of French fries at McDonald’s, The Husband and I attended a funeral service for the dad of a friend of ours.  An American flag was spread over the coffin, signifying that the friend’s dad had served in the armed forces.   The friend’s dad was 87 years old when he passed away.  He and his wife had lived in a local nursing home together.  The widow was at the service, sitting in a wheelchair being consoled and cared for by our friend, her youngest son.  It was a poignant sight. 

The Husband and I were sitting somewhat near the front, much nearer than we had planned, but when we arrived my parents were sitting there and of course motioned us to sit with them.  The Husband, being still not healed from his roof fall, had thought of sitting in the back in case the pain worsened and he would need to go outside.  But, alas, we sat near the front instead.  Sitting there gave me a clear view of the sweet widowed woman.   Throughout the service as I watched the widow and her son and his loving care of her, I found myself getting a bit teary-eyed.

At the end of the service before going to the cemetery outside for the committal, the funeral directors began to fold the flag.  (It was way too cold for the widow to be outside so they chose to do it inside.)  I watched as they carefully folded the flag exactly right—with respect the flag, the deceased, and the widow deserved.   After the flag was folded, the funeral director kindly stood in front of that sweet woman in the wheelchair, held the flag out to her, and said, “Our country today has many problems, but it is still the greatest country in the world.  Many years ago your husband joined the Army, served, and fought for the freedoms we enjoy today.  We present to you this flag today in honor and thanks for that service.”    The woman’s little frail arms reached out to take it and she held it with love.

Now, I’m going to tell you the truth.  Being a preacher’s kid, I would imagine I have been to more funerals in my lifetime than a lot of you.  No brag, just fact.  And I have seen many, many things before, during, and after funerals that made me teary-eyed, some things that put me in shock, and some things that I think, "Really?"  But today, I kid you not, as I sat there with a clear view of this scene today, it GOT me. I mean it REALLY got me.   I bawled like baby.  Right there on that pew.  Something about it just tore my heart you know?  And I couldn’t help it.  I boo-hooed.

The Girl went to college at North Georgia College and State University, the Military College of Georgia, and while she was not involved in the corps, she had many friends who were.  She has many sorority sisters and friends who married the military guys and now live the military life with their families.  These girls take care of their kids while the men are fighting in Afghanistan and other places, not unlike any other military wife.   Shucks, some of the guys take care of the kids while their wives fight for our country.  In the past most have returned safe and sound but some have not.  Some have returned very wounded and changed for life….stories of courage and honor that would break your heart.  And all this happened WHILE they were fighting for ME and YOU. 

Things in this country will never be perfect,--none of us or our lives will ever be perfect until we get to heaven.  I think of the “God” principles this country was founded on all those many years ago.  I think of all those who have lost their lives fighting to protect our freedoms that we so enjoy.  Most days I fear the direction our country is going, but I am assured that my Lord and Savior who holds all our futures in his grip has it all under control.  Faith and trust is mine to do.  My prayer is that our country does get back to trusting the Lord, praying to Him, and building a spiritual relationship with HIM. 

I will close with the scripture which most comes to mind:

“If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land.”  II Chronicles 7:14

I pray for THAT kind of healing.

Amen.

APPRECIATION

My online dictionary defines “appreciation” as a recognition of the quality, value, significance, or magnitude of people and things; a judgment or opinion, especially a favorable one; an expression of gratitude; a rise in value or price, especially over time. 

Many of you know that this time last year our family was in the throes of wedding planning for The Girl and her fiancée.  Decisions and more decisions go along with planning a wedding.  One of the important ones is the wedding cake.  A day was planned to go “tasting”.  Now let me tell you—wedding cake tasting is a lot of fun. 

 You can eat cake on and on without ANY guilt....

One of the stops on our tasting route was with with a cake baker who lived north of here—out in the rural areas of a neighboring northern county.  She had no big storefront as others did, but worked out of her kitchen set up in a little house in her yard.  

And her skills as she showed us options….I mean really showed us options by doing decorating right there while we sat and watched.  

It doesn’t take a big building in the city to have a successful business.  She’s proof of that and our appreciation for her cake is as well.  Let me tell you….I was impressed.  That cake melted in my mouth.  Delicious.

If you need her business information for your own needs, let me know and I'll supply.

We decided to “trade” with her and made a contract.  She was to make a tiered wedding cake, a small sugar free two tiered wedding cake, and a groom’s cake that looked like the Auburn University stadium.  The stadium cake was designed from an emailed photo.  Uh huh.  One has to be exceptionally talented to make a cake from a photograph, especially with such detail.  She did not disappoint.  Beautiful and delicious.  They looked like this:

The next week I was to return her silver pedestals and I did that early on in the week.  I had to stop on the way a couple of times and wake myself up as the lack of sleep during the wedding planning months had begun to catch up with me and I was feeling a "crash" of my body.  When I arrived she wasn’t home, so I left them where she had instructed.  As I was about to leave, she pulled up in her driveway.

Did I mention that The Cake Baker had been diagnosed with cancer a couple of months before the wedding?  I thought not.  She had begun her chemo and was going wig shopping later on that day.  We stood in her driveway, talked, cried, hugged, and bonded.  The Cake Baker has become The Cake Baker Friend to me.  A friendship was formed that day and I have been blessed beyond measure to know her.  She is an encouraging person who treasures every minute of life, loves the Lord, and recognizes blessings.  She has truly been such an inspiration to me.  Our friendship has grown and I am filled with an attitude of gratitude.

The Cake Baker Friend had a regularly scheduled cancer scan a couple of weeks ago and she reported to me this morning that all had remained clear!  I believe in prayer.  I believe in praying for God’s will.  The Lord’s Prayer in Matthew says to do that.  There are times, though, when my idea of a good answer is not necessarily God’s will.  I try always to give thanks for the good and the bad as the scriptures say “in EVERYTHING give thanks” but that is admittedly hard sometimes.  Whenever the answer comes to pass and is the one I wanted, my cup overflows.  So today, my cup overflows. 

The Cake Baker Friend has a saying at the end of her emails that I’d like to share because I think it is something we all can learn from…it goes like this:

“Thank you Lord for the rough things in life, for they opened my eyes to the good things I wasn’t paying attention to before”. 

And I say, “Amen.”

GRACE

Ah……grace.  I could write and write for days and still not cover grace.  Grace is rightly described by most of us as amazing for sure.  The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines “grace” as “unmerited divine assistance given humans for their regeneration or sanctification; a virtue coming from God; a special favor.”  I say that grace is God giving us something good when we deserve just the opposite.  There is nothing to be done to earn grace.  It is a gift for sure.

I once heard a preacher explain grace with this acronym:

God’s

Riches

At

Christ’s

Expense

I read a story the other day in a book by Charles Swindoll about Job.  Now that Job was a strong guy, wasn’t he?  He certainly endured more than any one I have ever heard.  I can’t imagine what Job went through and his example should give us encouragement in our lives when the going gets rough.  The story was about a professor who told his class that the final exam would cover all they had studied.  The young man relaying the story told how he studied and studied until he could study no more, still knowing he did not know it all.  On the day of the test, the students filed in to find the test papers lying face down on each desk.   When time came to begin, the professor told them to turn over their papers.  Each student turned over his paper to find the answers all written in correctly and an “A” written at the top of the test paper.  Incredulous, they all looked at the professor.  The professor then told them the creator of the test had taken it for them and they had just experienced “grace”.  

I read this book when I walk on my treadmill.  I am striving to lose twenty more pounds for my health’s sake.  It’s a challenge and I thought if I had a book to read it would help the time to pass quicker.  Plus I figured if I chose a religious book, it might aid in my effort.  I need all the help I can get. On the morning of the day I read that story, I was to meet a friend of mine from elementary school for lunch.  We reconnected in the past few weeks and planned a lunch together.  It was a wonderful time, just catching up.  After we had ordered our Chick-Fil-A meal, we began to talk about what we remembered about elementary school.  Now let me insert here that my memory is really nothing to brag about these days.  I told The Friend something that another friend had told me just last week.  The Other Friend was to have a meal with her best friend from elementary school who would pass through her city on occasion.  The Other Friend told me that she enjoyed the time with her friend so much because her friend remembered so many good stories from their elementary school days.  The Other Friend was like me—had a faulty memory about some things—but said that she enjoyed the stories so much as they were new to her.   Funny, huh? 

Anyways, back to my story.  As we were sitting there after ordering, we were remembering our 8^th grade year when the girls were in one class and the boys in another.  The girls had the principal’s wife as a teacher.  Everyone called her Miss Alice.  She seemed fairly up in years even then as she was also my mother’s teacher, if I remember correctly.  We have already established, though, that I don’t always remember correctly.  So The Friend was saying that she struggled with fractions and percentages so much that she was expecting to make her very first “C” in Math that year.  Well, I was finding that hard to believe as I knew she was always REALLY smart…I did remember that for sure.  She was telling me that the day came when we got report cards.  She peeked at hers and saw an “A” in Math.  She was in disbelief and was certain Miss Alice had made a mistake.  The Friend says she went up to the desk and said, “Excuse me, Miss Alice.  I think you made a mistake on my report card.”  Miss Alice questioned her as to why she thought such.   (I don’t think Miss Alice ever made mistakes…after all, she WAS the principal’s wife.) The Friend told her that she was pretty sure she had a “C” in math.  The Friend said Miss Alice just smiled and said, “For the past couple of weeks, you have worked hard and really improved in your math.  I thought you deserved an “A”.” 

So here we are sitting at Chick-Fil-A and I hear that story.  Immediately I said to The Friend, “That’s a wonderful example of grace!”  Well I said it excitedly as I had just read the story earlier that day about grace and now here was the Lord sending me another example!  I told The Friend the story.  It was one of those God-moments for sure.  I just love it when that happens.  I am certain God was trying to remind me of His wonderful grace.   It just gives me chills when the Lord is that open and easy to understand.  Or maybe He’s always that open and easy to understand.  Maybe I’m the one who is closed and difficult.  Maybe?  I would think that is the case.

I will close with the lyrics to “Amazing Grace/My Chains are Gone”.  Unending Love. Amazing Grace.

Amazing grace how sweet the sound

That saved a wretch like me

I once was lost, but now I'm found

Was blind, but now I see

'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear

And grace my fears relieved

How precious did that grace appear

The hour I first believed

My chains are gone, I've been set free

My God, my Savior has ransomed me

And like a flood His mercy rains

Unending love, amazing grace

  

The Lord has promised good to me

His word my hope secures

He will my shield and portion be

As long as life endures

My chains are gone, I've been set free

My God, my Savior has ransomed me

And like a flood His mercy rains

Unending love, amazing grace

The earth shall soon dissolve like snow

The sun forbear to shine

But God who called me here below

Will be forever mine, will be forever mine

You are forever mine.

And I say, “Amen.”

A SPECIAL BIRTHDAY

Well, it's ll:59 a.m. as I write....officially 32 years ago on this date at this time, my beautiful little girl appeared in this big world. Little did I know how much that would change the lives of The Husband and me.  Geez....I still get a bit teary just thinking about it.

I'll not give you any long, long explanation of all the ways The Girl has blessed our lives to this point.  There would not be enough room to write it all.  I will just say that our home has been blessed beyond measure with her presence.  God's big plan included no siblings for her so I think He made her extra, extra special....not your typical only child.    I'm sure I'm not the only one who would think this as she has touched so many lives in her 32 years.

So to The Girl, I say happy happy birthday and to the Lord above I say many, many thanks for blessing us so much.  We are so very undeserving of such joy.

Amen.