THAT’S MY GIRL!

  When Cecil was diagnosed with an inoperable aortic hematoma and told that he would die, the sunshine went out of my life.  I couldn’t believe it.  I wouldn’t believe it.  Consequently, talking about it became almost impossible.

One morning, after arising, Cecil crawled back into bed with me, and said, “We need to talk.”

There was an immediate avalanche of tears.  He talked and I listened.

Finally, struggling to control my emotions, I said, “Cecil, if you die, I am not going to rant and rail against God.  I am just going to believe this is God’s time to take you home.”

I can still hear the warm approval in his voice as he drew me closer, and said with a deep sigh, “THAT’S MY GIRL!”

“THAT’S MY GIRL” was his seal of approval.

Every person on the planet shares certain core needs.  There are the physical needs such as food, water, and air, but there are also emotional needs.  Every man strives for a sense of physical and emotional security.  Feeling approved of makes us feel good about who we are meeting that common need.  Whether we admit it or not, the desire for validation is one of the strongest needs known to man.  When we are no longer met with approval, our sense of security is threatened.

I spent a good deal of my early life longing for people to like me trying to be what I thought they wanted me to be.  I found myself saying “Yes,” when I really wanted to say “No,” agreeing when I didn’t, telling people what they wanted to hear, cooing over things I hated, sucking up to strangers for a bit of approval, and trying to be impressive.

I robbed myself of ME, and the approval of others was, at the most, fleeting.

Of course, the approval of others is desirable, but not at the expense of losing who you really are—not at the expense of sacrificing your own dreams and desires.

Aristotle said, “Criticism is something you can easily avoid by saying nothing, doing nothing and being nothing.”

God created no clones.  When He made you, He did not intend that you morph into some Hollywood star, some supermodel, a well-known athlete or even an admired friend.  He made you a unique, special being, unlike any other of His creation.  Even Identical twins are not truly identical.  No two sets of figure prints are the same.  DNA is particular to each individual.

In my favorite Psalm 139:14-15, David said, “…I am fearfully and wonderfully made; marvelous are your works…When I was made in secret, and skillfully wrought in the lowest parts of the earth, Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed…”

The Psalmist is simply saying the structure and functions of a human body are beyond imagining.  The body is wonderful!  It is awesome and mysterious!  In the womb, it was skillfully made—the parts embroidered and woven together with threads of various colors.  So, also, is the soul awesome and wonderful in its intellect—in its imagination, affections, judgment, conscience, and will.

Every individual is a bundle of possibilities, but no one has precisely the same possibilities as anyone else.  Each man can be what nobody else can be.  Each man can do what nobody else can do.

Oscar Wilde is quoted as saying, “Be yourself, everyone else is already taken.”

Yes, I wanted approval, but I soon learned that I could not “say nothing, do nothing, or be nothing.  I needed to be me—the girl God made.  By the way, I like that girl!

When Cecil first began to show interest, I warned him not to get serious.  I told him that I am Selfish and stubborn, terribly opinionated, and I talk too much.  He declared that those were some of the things he had always admired about me.  Funny man!

I wanted very much to please my sweet husband.  I wanted and needed his approval, but we did not always agree on everything.  Rather than quarrel, we were open and honest about our differences, and I knew there were some things about which we would never see eye to eye.

When I think of Cecil now, I hear again his tender voice saying, “THAT’S MY GIRL,” and I know, in spite of everything, he approved of me.

However, I realize that ultimately, the approval I most need to be concerned about is that of Almighty God.  I am living and longing for the day when I stand before Him and hear Him say, “…Well done, good and faithful servant; you have been faithful over a few things, I will make you ruler over many things.  Enter into the joy of your lord.” Matthew 25:21.

That will be His seal of approval upon the life I have lived.

Remember, the sun will come out tomorrow!

GUTSY GAL

I wish you could have known my incredibly spunky little mother.  In 1947, when I was twelve years old, my Mom underwent a radical mastectomy where surgeons removed her right breast and the lymph nodes under her right arm.  That was in the days before lumpectomies and reconstructive surgery.  Mama was left with a long, red, jagged scar which extended from just below the shoulder almost to her belly button.

I knew my Mom had cancer.  We had prayed—everyone had prayed that the fearful knot in her breast would be just that, and life would go on as usual.  We prayed that surgery would not be necessary, but the day came when Mama was whisked off to the hospital, and my sister and I were left behind.

Late in the afternoon Daddy found us playing on the wash porch when he returned with the news that Mama’s breast had been removed, and she was all right, but in his sadness, he did little to reassure us.  We went to bed with heavy hearts that night longing for the day our beloved mother would come home and things would get back to normal.

What a glad day it was, when she returned.  The doctors had told her, because the lymph nodes had been removed, she might never again be able to use her right arm.

“Well,” she replied, “That’s ridiculous!  I still have two little girls at home who need me, and I need my right arm.”

I can still see the little spongy, blue ball mama held in her right fist, as she squeezed it over and over in an effort to strengthen the muscles in that arm.  The doctor’s verdict didn’t stop her for a moment.  In fact, her first chore when she returned was to do the ironing.  Between her trips back to the hospital for radiation—at that time, chemo therapy was only in the experimental stage—she carried on as though nothing enormous had happened.  She made sure that life for us was as it had always been.

If there was pain, she never spoke of it.  If she wept, she wept alone.  My mother was not a whiner.  Only in later years did she tell me how that surgery had made her feel so much less a woman.  She never used a prosthetic.  She just stuffed a clean soft cloth in the empty side of her bra and went on with life.

You might say that my Mama had a lot of “Intestinal Fortitude,” that she had “Guts.”  There are many ways to say that she was courageous and determined.  She faced life with a “fighting spirit,” always committed to making bad things better—to going on without giving up.

There was a sort of dichotomy in all of this.  For while my Mom was tough and tenacious under fire, she remained the sweet, kind, and godly woman we had always known.

How did she do it?  She was a little thing not extremely strong physically.  She was not what we would call “well educated,” not even “well read.”  She had not traveled the globe or rubbed shoulders with the great.   Yet she knew who she was.

She was the child of an old time shoe cobbler, but she was also a “Child of the King.”  At the age of fifteen, in a Methodist, “school house” revival, Mama gave her heart and life to Jesus.  After that, nothing was ever the same.  She was faithful to God for the next three-quarters of a century never turning back for a moment regardless of the circumstances.  There is a picture tucked away in my heart of my Mom sitting quietly with her Bible open on her lap.  She was my example.

I am like my Mother.  I am strong, and my strength comes from the very same source.

DNA might have a bit to do with it, but actually Mama drew her tenacity and toughness from her relationship with God, for she knew He is a God who does not fail even in the worst of times.

The promise in Isaiah 40:29-31 assures us, “He gives power to the weak, and to those who have no might He increases strength…those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up on wings as eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.”

Philippians 4:13 says, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”

Don’t be tempted to turn back when the going gets rough, but rather, call upon the Lord until your strength is renewed.  He will not fail.

My Mom never cast aside her confidence, and her cancer never returned.  She lived with a jagged scar for forty-two years—a reminder of God’s faithfulness.  In eternity, she will have a new body with no reminder of the sufferings of this life.

Be encouraged!  GOD IS THE OMNIPOTENT ONE!  He has enough strength for both of you.

The sun will come out tomorrow!

 

 

UNEXPECTED TREASURE

During my college days I was as poor as Job’s Turkey.  After High School graduation, I worked for a year for seventy-five cents an hour saving one thousand dollars.  Only then could I think about continuing my education.  With my money safely in the bank, I packed my trunk, boarded a Grey Hound bus, and took off for Waxahachie, Texas site of one of our Bible Colleges.  That was back in the day when college tuition was not extravagantly expensive.  Still, I knew I must work, for my savings would only go so far.

Working on campus meant that my income was automatically applied to my school bill.  I never saw a nickel of it.  I tell you, “I was poor!”

My Mom wrote faithfully each week.  After reading her letters, I stuffed them in my top bureau drawer.  Cleaning out that drawer one day, I found one of her letters that had never been opened.  You can imagine my glee, when upon opening the envelope, I found a crisp five dollar bill tucked between the pages.  I thought I had died and gone to Fort Knox.

You have to understand, in those days, for me, five dollars was a lot of money.  I could walk to the end of Sycamore Avenue to Carl’s Café and buy a full meal including chicken fried steak, salad, vegetables, sweet potato pie and iced tea for sixty cents.  I spent Mama’s five dollars sparingly making it last a long time.  Talk about unexpected treasure!

Irish mythology tells us there is a leprechaun with a pot of gold at the end of every rainbow.  Problem is you’ve got to catch that wily little creature before you possess the gold.

Men have been fascinated with the thought of treasure, chasing that proverbial “pot of gold” since time immemorial risking life and limb resorting to thievery and mayhem.

Fort Knox, the US Bullion Depository, which houses 5,000 metric tons of gold worth one hundred billion dollars, maybe the only treasury in history that has not been successfully burgled.  Of course, the twenty-ton door would be a little daunting.

Think of the Pirates, who plied the high seas during the 17th and 18th centuries wreaking havoc, sinking ships, taking lives, disrupting world trade, and making off with rich cargo.

From 1848 – 1852, 300,000 people, from the U.S. and around the world, rushed to California literally searching for the “Pot of Gold.”  There was instant wealth to be had in the twinkling of an eye.  A few did gain great riches, but many returned home having less than they started with.

Then there are those who take their risks in the stock market putting their faith in this or that commodity hoping the Dow Jones will not fail them.

These days salvage companies make a business of searching for sunken ships that were known to carry great riches.

A Spanish Galleon, The San Jose, was sunk, off the Columbian Caribbean coast, by the British Navy in 1708, with what may be the world’s largest sunken treasure—eleven million gold coins and jewels from Spanish controlled colonies.  This treasure is valued at four to seventeen billion dollars.

An American salvage company claims to have found the sunken wreck in the 1980s, and the Columbian government makes the same claim.  You can believe there is an all out war going on over who will gain the spoils.  Though they may profess interest for archeological purposes, treasure hunting is primarily motivated by potential profit.

On a much smaller scale, thousands of people make their way everyday to Casinos, in places like Las Vegas or Atlantic City, hoping to strike it rich, and even more head for the nearest convenience store to buy Scratch Offs and Lottery tickets.

Sadly, on the almost non-existent chance of an instant fortune, many, if not most of these, can ill afford the money, money needed for essentials.

To me the word “treasure” is relative.  It doesn’t always refer to monetary wealth.  Two of my most treasured possessions are my Mother’s needlepoint tapestry of an English Garden, and the little glass dog my Daddy gave me when I was seven.  Mama did the needlework, and the little dog probably didn’t cost more than fifteen cents.  Still, to me, these items are priceless.

Whether you are raising sunken ships, chasing leprechauns, or waiting with bated breath for the lottery drawing, any way you look at it, treasure hunting is a risky business rarely producing the longed for results.

There does exist, however, a “no risk, high dividend” investment possibility for your future, in which everyone is invited to participate.

Consider the “no fail” offer made in Matthew 6:19-21.  “Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal; but lay up for your selves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal.  For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

How, in this world, do I lay up treasures in heaven?

I give Christ my heart—committing all that I am and all that I have to Him understanding that every prayer I pray, every dollar I give to His work, every moment I spend in service to Him, every act of obedience, and every word I speak as a witness to His grace are treasures deposited to my account in heaven.

Don’t kill yourself trying to accumulate the riches of this world.  Stockpile treasure in heaven, where it is safe from moth and rust and burglars.  You may never be rich in worldly goods, but imagine the riches of heaven.

 

Remember, the sun will come out tomorrow!

 

 

 

 

THAT NEBULOUS SOMEWHERE

One of the most intriguing undergraduate courses I ever took in college was a course in Geography.  I chose it as one of my humanity courses because I thought it would be about faraway places, and it was.  It was about things that take place in the universe far above us.  It was about what goes on in the heavens.  I learned a lot about clouds.   It was fascinating.

When I moved into this house, I chose the front bedroom as my office.  It looks out on the street, and as I work, I have a clear view of the sky and the clouds drifting by.  Of course, in my part of the world, more often than not the sky is an uninterrupted canvas of blue without a single cloud in sight.

This morning, as I watched the lacey white clouds skittering along, I heard in my mind, the voice of Judy Garland singing the number one song of the twentieth century, “Somewhere over the Rainbow.”  As I sang along, I decided this song is either one of the saddest or the most hopeful songs ever written.  Remember it?

“Somewhere over the rainbow way up high,

There’s a land that I heard of once in a lullaby.

Somewhere over the rainbow skies are blue,

And the dreams that I dare to dream really will come true.

 

Someday I’ll wish upon a star.

And wake where the clouds are far behind me,

Where troubles melt like lemon drops,

Away above the chimney tops.

That’s where you’ll find me.

 

Somewhere over the rainbow

Blue birds fly.

Birds fly over the rainbow.

Why then, O why can’t I?”

 

Yip Harburg wrote this song in 1938, when the clouds of war were darkening the skies over Europe, and his fellow Jews were suffering suppression, oppression and violence at the hand of the Nazis.  We really don’t know whether or not the threat of war in Europe influenced this composition, but I can hear the pathos and longing in this composers voice as he hopes for better days—days free from storm clouds—blue sky days.

 

Just coming away from Resurrection Sunday, and the hope it brings to my heart, I am gripped by these sad, hopeful words, and I recognize there are billions of people in this world who have no real hope.  Still, they dream of a place of peace and rest and safety and joy.  They wish upon a star or some iconic object, or pray to a god, who neither sees, or hears, or answers.

“Somewhere,” somewhere there’s a place where skies are blue.  Somewhere there’s a place where my dreams will come true.  Somewhere there’s a place of unclouded skies and untroubled days.  Somewhere there’s a place of peace.  Somewhere!

Often clouds are a portent of an encroaching storm.  We no sooner dig ourselves out of the debris and clean up the mess until storm clouds gather again, and troubles?  They just seem to multiply—there’s never an end.

Where do we find shelter from the storm and solace from the troubles?  That “Somewhere” is such a nebulous expression.

The word nebulous means “in the form of a cloud.”  It means “hazy, indistinct, indefinite, unclear, ill-defined, unformed, and uncertain.”  Somewhere!

Where is that uncertain place?  Where can it be found?

Please hear me.  No matter how we hope for it, there is no such place, for shelter and peace are not found in a location, but in a person.

Jesus, our Lord and Savior, is our shelter from the storm, our refuge in time of trouble.

Mark 4:37 – 39 tells us, “And a great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that it was already filling…Then He arose (Jesus) and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace be still!”  And the wind ceased and there was a great calm.”

Surely, if Jesus can calm the elements, He can calm the storm in my life.  Doesn’t mean the storm clouds won’t come.  It does mean, however, that in the middle of the storm, we will hear His “Peace Be Still!”  The troubles will not melt like lemon drops, but He will keep you during the troublous times, and cause you to triumph.

If a storm is brewing on your horizon, or perhaps you are already in the big middle of it, I encourage you to crawl into the strong arms of Jesus and let Him be your refuge.

Maybe you have just happened onto this blog not knowing what to expect, but you recognize yourself as one of those who has been looking and longing for that indefinite, unclear, and uncertain “Somewhere.” You need a place of peace and rest.

            TRY JESUS!

John 3:16 says, “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life.”

Jesus died and resurrected for you.  He is your shelter in the time of storm.  He is your peace.

 

Remember, the sun will come out tomorrow!