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Makiah’s 12th Heaven Day

  Yet Hope returns when I remember this one thing- the Lord’s unfailing love and mercy still continue, fresh as the morning as sure as the sunrise. Lamentations 3:21-23 (GNT) There aren’t very many things in our  ever changing world that seem to hold fast and remain the same day after day. Two things that have remained untouched by time my entire life are the sunrise and my grandmother’s house. My Mimi    lived in the same house in a tiny town in central Alabama since 1940ish. When she moved there she was in her early 20’s with one tiny tot or maybe two. It was a two bedroom house that they added onto over the years. But in my lifetime I could always count on the old swingset in the backyard to be there. The tree she planted as a young adult had grown into a massive oak that seemed unchanging and committed to outliving us all.    The pale blue walls and carpet of her living room were always inviting in a calming sort of way. Two years ago my grandmother finally went to be with Jesus af
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Sweet 16

Dearest Makiah, It’s hard to know what to write you on your 16th birthday. I’ve been writing these birthday letters for 12 years now. Sunday was Mother’s Day, and I sat in church singing with my arm around my mom.    Her mom went to be with you just a short while ago at the age of 99.    And I felt here we are- two generations, arms entwined, bookended by a mom and a daughter both in heaven… and I imagined a glimpse of us all in a row not separated by time or space… Now I’m sitting, thinking, beside a pond only a few feet from a mother duck who is trailed by her little ducklings. They watch her every move and do exactly what she does. Not wandering more than a few inches from her as they swim.    Close beside her.    Safe.   “He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.” Psalm 91:4 It surges up in my mind.   And the hot tears rush down my cheeks.   You know, I have a love-hate relationship with this cha
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When 2 Turn 11 on "Twosday" 2/22/22

  A friend shared tonight about Hannah in the bible.  Hannah was a woman in the Old Testament who had a sister wife.  Yep! Did you know that was in the bible?  And there were problems.  Real sister wife problems!  The story tells us that the “other wife” had children, but Hannah did not.  It says her husband gave food to the other wife and their kids, but he gave Hannah a “double portion because he loved her, and the Lord had closed her womb (1 Sam. 1:5).”  Soooo of course there was jealousy and mocking and unequal love… and well, all the stuff you would imagine.   But what grabbed me is that the scripture says several times that the Lord himself closed Hannah’s womb.  My friend posed the question- how many times has the Lord closed a door for us on purpose, but we couldn’t understand it?  Think of all the agony Hannah suffered- the bible says “year after year” as this went on.  She could see the pain in front of her, but not the whole plan.  The big picture.  She didn’t know there was
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The Day Before

  The day before.   Today is October 7th.   The day before.   Eleven years ago it was the day before my life would be flipped on it’s head.   But I didn’t know it.   It felt like any other day to me.   I didn’t know it was a day to cling to.   To hold onto every word and cherish every moment.   This morning when I dusted off my computer and opened the app where I was working on putting my blogs into a book several months ago, the screen opened to chapter three and  this blog excerpt was looking me in the face.  I didn’t notice the date until I read to the end.  October 7th. I woke up asking the Lord what to blog about.  I have been struggling to write after I finished my surgery leave last spring and regular life kicked back into high gear.  But God is faithful.  He always speaks to us out of His Word.  He is always waiting for us.  Even when we have been busy, He has not.  He is calling our hearts and whispering for us to come close.  To lay down the urgent and sit in His presence
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Tethered

“Mom, does God change?”   “Nope, the Bible says He is the same yesterday, today, and forever.  He does not change.” “Oh, ok.  I saw that somewhere, and I wondered if it was true.” They still ask me what is true.  The weight and the joy of that sit on me heavy.  They read it but did not believe.  Until the words came from my lips.  The confirmation of what is true.   Little hearts looking to mine to decipher truth.  Truth.  Their searching gaze and seeking minds are tethered to mine.   My heart.  Often bent towards the wrong things.  At times wishy washy and out of focus.  My heart that has been broken and remade- that should know the power of God as much as anyone.  But still I forget.  The daily grind leaving a film of dust that blocks my view.   But the tethering.  The tying of my heart to Jesus.  The invisible line that connects my very soul to the Word of God- the Truth. I turn it over in my thoughts all week- this word.  Tether.  To connect someone with a line as for safety says M
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Something is Missing

“ Mommy, something is missing.” The words she utters as I am trying to slide out the bedroom door. “What’s missing, baby?”  I say, slightly annoyed at the delay in my escape. “Is it a stuffed animal or you need another kiss?” “I don’t know.  I just feel like something is missing.” It’s dark outside, and I am ready to move past bedtime… but the words are unusual.  She is only 6.  Several nights in a week or two we repeat this scenario.  I finally think to tell her, maybe her heart wants God’s presence.  I pray with her and tell her to talk to Him when I leave- to tell Jesus she loves Him and ask Him to fill up what’s missing. Another week or two goes by, and I forget.  It’s so easy in the midst of the busy and the “urgent” to forget the significant.  Sometimes we barely even notice it.  Social media calls and the tv blares, and often the real is overlooked.  Buried up under all that soul noise. Or blanketed by the to do list. “Mommy, something is missing.” Those words agai
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Mimi is Home

  Her raven black hair pinned neatly out of her face, she gave the children a stern look before following it with a quick smile.   Her almond shaped green eyes flashed as she continued the grammar lesson she had diligently prepared for her   students.   There would be no acting out in Mrs. Turner’s room.   Or bad grammar for that matter.   She had worked hard to get her education degree, and took both the job of teaching and the job of loving these little people to heart.   It had been no small challenge for her to go back to college while raising four children, supporting her traveling husband, and juggling a household.   Mrs. Turner’s dedication spilled over into her everyday interactions in the classroom. And the Sunday school room.  With a smile on her face and a bible full of notes in her lap, this same lady whose expressions could make those children sit up straight also greeted a group of women weekly with warmth that kept them coming back.  Every week.  For decades.  Lucy, as
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