Nasty or Nice? by Carolyn

I learned a huge lesson the other day.  I volunteer at a nursing home.  I have been working there for nearly 8 years.  As you would expect, many of my patients have come and gone over the years, but several are still my "ladies."  One in particular is the subject of today's blog.

Kathleen and I have been friends for almost all of those eight years.  Recently, she became very ill.  Because of privacy concerns etc., I am not privy to what ails folks unless there are contagions involved, so I was only told that Kathleen had become very ill. 

When I went to visit I was shocked.  She had changed so much in a week.  She looked smaller, vulnerable and helpless.  Her demeanor seemed different too.  She was very quiet.  She wouldn't look at me.  Her brow was furrowed with deep lines.  I hardly knew what to say to this woman I hardly recognized.  She sat in her wheelchair unmoved and unmoving in a new room devoid of any of her personal things, or anything of a personal nature at all.  No pretty blankets, no pictures, no books, no personal effects.  There was a clean bed with plain white sheets, white pillows and a white blanket on it. 

I kneeled beside her so that I could look directly into her eyes, and took her hand in mine.  We had always had a very good relationship.  I knew all about her childhood and youth.  She grew up on a farm in Ohio with loving parents and grandparents.  She was the first in her family to attend college and she made the best of it.  For years she taught elementary school and her love for children was still so obvious.  She told me story after story about how hard she tried to help every one of them no matter what their race, background, abilities or attributes. She loved them.  She loved all of them.   She and her husband had no children of their own, but to her, each of these children was her "own." She had a "Teacher of Distinction and Excellence" plaque on her wall signed by the superintendent upon her retirement years ago.  She is very proud of that.

But now everything was different.  My heart went out to her.  I asked her how I could pray for her expecting her to say something about endurance, courage, patience, deliverance, all of which would have been perfectly understandable.  She looked me in the eye and whispered, "Pray that I won't lose my sense of humor.  Pray that I won't be nasty."

I was stunned.  For a moment, I was taken completely aback.  Then the tears welled up.  Here was a woman suddenly deprived of everything she knew, a little lady alone and in a lonely place in life.  92 years old, weak and vulnerable, but very, very wise.

"The quiet words of the wise are more to be heeded than the shouts of a ruler of fools."
                                                                                                                  Ecclesiastes 9:17 

Sidewalk Signs (by Judy)

I had a most amazing experience this morning, so filled with blogging possibilities that I hardly know where to begin. It was a huge reminder that God is everywhere! All I have to do is pay attention. It started when I decided to exercise by taking a power walk around my neighborhood, rather than heading to the gym. I headed out the door, and a few houses down, my eyes were drawn to the sidewalk. Written with white chalk were two letters – GO!

 I chuckled and continued, giving the exhortation little thought. But the next word really rattled me, because it is a word I wrestle with often – “Thankful.” How easy it is for me to give thanks when my life is a joyful one. I am happily married, with two happily married children, and six beautiful grandchildren. My house is a warm yellow, reflecting my attitude toward life right now, as I head into retirement and the possibilities that await. I have health to take the morning walk, and senses to hear the birds and smell the sweet flowers. But what about when things are different. Will I be able to “Give thanks in all circumstances,” as my Bible calls me to do?

 As I continued my walk, my world became more and more surreal. Words popped up from the sidewalk in various neon colors – pink and blue, green and yellow – “Smart,” followed by “Happy,” “Trustworthy,” “Inspiring,” “Nice,"  “Positive.” I was so entranced that I was afraid to take a turn, for fear I would lose my direction. But then I saw, “Keep it up.” Later, “Almost there,” and I was swept into the prison where Paul wrote, “I have fought the good flight, I have finished the race, I have remained faithful.” Would my unknown inspirer say the same about me? What an encourager was drawing me forward. Am I that kind of person to those who are flagging?

 The words continued – “Kind,” “Genuine,” and the cute “Huggy” and “Crazy.” Even those took me to my faith as I reflected about hugging my neighbor, especially the one hardest to hug, and wondering whether anyone would see in me the crazy love that Jesus shows to those who heed His words. Suddenly, the words stopped with the final command – “Meet at the door.” Where? What door? Meet whom? I do know one door, the one in the Book of Revelation: "Look! I stand at the door and knock. If you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in, and we will share a meal together as friends.” 

Now it is raining. I suspect the words are washed away. But I have preserved on my iPhone which I always carry as I walk. I have the reminder that each word offers, and above all, I have the reminder that God has promised those five words from the beginning of time – “I will be with you.” I am sure glad I didn’t go to the gym!n j

Food for Thought by Carolyn

I recently heard of a new book by New York Times op-ed columnist Ross Douthat entitled "Bad Religion." First, I am not endorsing any book, any political persuasion, or any newspaper, magazine or other influencers of public opinion. BUT, I do believe it is necessary and prudent for all of us to be aware what's out there, come to our own conclusions and tell others.

I have not read the book yet either, so I am not presenting a critique. But I am intrigued by the idea the author proposes that in our lifetimes traditional Christianity has been co-opted by any number of false premises. This, of course, has been true throughout the ages and the Bible warns over and over again against false teachers. There are those who want to add something to the Gospel of Christ. There are those who want to take away and there are those who want to distort it and twist it to fit their own views of the world.

Every generation of Bible believing Christians can point to people who cling to Biblical truth; people who preach it fluently, who write about it, sing about it, who live it out every day of their lives. We know genuine truth when we hear it. Or at least we make of point of comparing it to Biblical truth if there is any doubt.

Like those who are charged with identifying counterfeit dollar bills by carefully, exhaustively studying the real thing, Christians are exhorted to study the Bible in the same way so that we will know truth when we see it. This is not something to be done on the fly. It is not something you pick up only in the pew on Sunday morning. While both of these are beneficial, it takes time and effort to study the Bible so that we really become rooted and knowledgeable, absorbing its truths so that we are able to tell the difference between Biblical truth and lies.

I am going to purchase a copy of this new book. I want to see if it adhers to Biblical truth. If it doesn't, fine. It's just another attempt to mislead or misinform for financial gain, power or what have you. But if it does, what am I going to do about it?

Our pastor often tell us, "You are intelligent people. Examine the Scriptures and see for yourselves." If this new book is a warning, then I will sit up and pay attention. By doing that I can alert others. As Christians, I believe, we have an obligation to speak up for the truth and against the lies of others no matter how good those lies may make us feel.

Our National Place of Worship (by Judy)

Last week I traveled with my husband and friends to Washington D.C. We planned the trip awhile ago with little thought to the time of year; but thanks to this amazing late winter and early spring, we were there at the peak of the cherry blossoms. The display surrounding the Tidal Basin was a riot of pink and white froth, gnarled tree trunks supporting such a profusion of flowers that they swept the surface of the water as they bowed low with their beautiful burden. Schoolchildren and retired couples alike literally chortled with glee.

The blossoms were not the only delight of this trip. We sampled delicious wines in the Virginia countryside; spent too few hours in the Newseum, remembering the many events from our own lifetimes as well as those of earlier times; remembered national events in a different way as we visited the monuments and memorials marking wars and famous figures; wandered the streets and shops of Georgetown; ate dinner at one of the best farm-to-table restaurants in the country; and visited our National Cathedral.

That visit has lingered in my mind for many reasons. The first is the amazing commitment that our country made to this building dedicated to the worship of God, the equal of anything Europe has to offer. Eighty three years in the construction. Generations of masons, stone-cutters, stained glass window artists. I visited several times as a girl in the 50s, when I only remember scaffolding. As a young woman where I remember the organ playing. Taking my own children, hoping to impress them with the presence of God in such stirring grandeur. Watching on TV as presidents have been honored before being laid to rest in their native states.

Churches across our country come in many sizes and shapes, adorned and plain, many denominations and non-denominational, in cities and country fields, holding God’s people close. They are only buildings, but they offer solace and common ground. The unifying factor is that they are places of worship of our God, who is an awesome God. At the National Cathedral there are no pews built into the structure. That is because in God’s house we should not sit. The proper positions are standing in praise and kneeling in prayer. Only One sits in God’s presence. The One who said, “It is finished.” You can see Him sitting above the altar at the front of this beautiful edifice which I urge all Americans to visit!

Ramblings by Carolyn

Lately, my mind has been shuttling back and forth between retirement, commitment, and recreation.

After 44 years of marriage to a man who has gone off to work every weekday, what's coming when he doesn't? Oh, there were years when we both worked, years when we didn't, but there have never been years when we were home together each day. We love each other, but we have lives of our own too. Our weekends have always been very special because they are weekends. What happens when each day is a weekend? What does he want? What do I want? Do we want the same things? We talk about it, but come to no conclusions. We will be re"creating" our lives and our life together. We are very grateful and blessed to have this opportunity, but honestly, it's a tad unnerving!

We know what we don't want. We don't want to waste our retirement years not moving about because it is too hot. We don't want to be indolent. We don't want nothing to do. (Double negative, but meaningful) Neither plays golf or harbors any great plans to see the world. He is not taking an early retirement, but we still have plenty of energy, are healthy and reseasonably alert. One thing we do know is every couple is different and must settle this for themselves.

What's left? Commitment. Certainly, we are committed to each other. We want the best for one another as long as we have each other. We are committed to something outside ourselves. He worked all those years not only for his own sake, but for our family's sake and for his company's sake too. His desire to do something for someone else won't change.

As a Christian, my purpose falls under the Great Commission of Mark 16:15, "Go into all the world and preach the good news to all creation." I quickly add with words or without!

That's not a bad way to conclude this blog. Though we may not know what form our retirement will take, we do know we have a purpose not only enjoy our chidren and grandchildren and what's left of life, but to be of some benefit to others, to give back. Now, that makes sense!

Moody Women (by Judy)

Did I get your attention with that title? However, no reflections on menopause. This week I went on a pilgrimage – one I take every year to the Moody Bible Institute in Chicago. This venerable institution sits on a pricey piece of real estate on LaSalle in Chicago – the heart of the Gold Coast. However, it predates those wealthy landowners hoping for a glimpse of Lake Michigan who purchase surrounding properties. It was established by portly and passionate evangelist Dwight Moody in the 1880s. His heart for the city and the world established a presence which has sent waves of young people, generations of missionaries, pastors, preachers, teachers, musicians, authors, broadcasters and even pilots into the world, offering hope for revival in the name of Christ.

I never stop feeling a sense of reverence as I first step foot on the campus – the feeling that I am on holy ground. The students look like those on any campus in the United States, though perhaps a bit more clean-cut, and clear-eyed. However, they have chosen a unique educational focus, for ministry intent of some kind is a prerequisite of admission. For five days every February they welcome visitors – pilgrims – from around the world to join them as we sit together under the best Christian teaching available and worship together, singing a blend of the old music of the faith, and the latest in melodic biblical hymnody.

Every message – two in the morning and two in the afternoon on the Moody campus, and a rousing evening revival at the Moody Church – is delivered with clarity, to instruct and inspire. This year, among many lessons, I learned from Ravi Zacharias that surprisingly, Truth is not enough. There is a second need if we are to have impact – relevance. From Eric Moore, I was reminded that we focus so much on a busy life that we forget simply to be. He said we become human “doings,” instead of human beings. From David Papillion, a current student and powerful evangelist of the future, I learned about Jephthah in the Old Testament, who was confident in his own abilities to the point that he didn’t trust his faithful God, and in the end, suffered the terrible personal loss of his beloved daughter.

There were other wonderful moments, too many to tell – as well as the brief foreknowledge of what heaven is like in the singing together with other pilgrims and students, this year from the vantage point of the front row of the balcony. But I would be remiss if I didn’t also share the delightful human joys of sharing the trip with Carolyn, my boon companion, as we delighted in the comfort of the Hotel Indigo, which offers their rooms to Moody pilgrims for a paltry $89, when they generally run $250 and up; the special 3rd Coast, three buildings away, which is part diner, part neighborhood bar, and all welcoming, nurturing and delicious, whether breakfast, lunch, dinner or a bedtime cab after a shivery, snowy walk back from the Church along Chicago streets.

The blessing of attending Founder’s Week at the Moody Bible Institute never grows old – and neither does the challenge to take such a time into the year, not simply being fed, but feeding others – offering God’s love as students have been doing for generations on the Chicago streets and in far-flung corners of the world. What a privilege, what a call.

Fresh Grace by Carolyn

Tiptoeing into the dark room, I thought Helen would be asleep. To my surprise, when I reached her bedside she was staring at the wall. When I called her name quietly, she turned and looked at me. "Hi, Helen. How nice to see you again. Since you are awake, I'd like to visit for awhile." Helen has end stage Alzheimer's. I began singing in my softest voice, "Abide With Me."

Dorothy was awake in her wheel chair in the t.v. room. But her head was down as if she were staring at the floor. She wasn't alone. There were many others either asleep, or looking distantly around them. Some were watching t.v. The aid told me that I could take Dorothy to her room. I did. Speaking ever so softly to the top of her head, I said, "Hi, Dorothy. I've come to sing some of your favorite hymns. Perhaps you'd like to sing with me." Dorothy also has end stage Alzheimer's.

These dear, precious women appear to be trapped inside their bodies and perhaps they are, but maybe not. I don't know how Jesus reaches in and grabs their hearts, minds, and souls, but I must do what I can to encourage and comfort them. Singing to them comforts them like singing a lullaby to a baby comforts it. They listen. When the singing stops they grow fitful and restless until it starts again, or they fall asleep.

There are stories in the Bible about those who were trapped. One is the story of the Healing of the Boy With the Evil Spirit. Though the disciples tried they could not drive out the the spirit. This boy could not hear words of comfort when possessed. He could not express himself. Frustrated with His disciples, Jesus rebukes them and then turns to the boy's father. The Father is unsure Jesus can help. Jesus tells him everything is possible for him who believes. And then the famous outcry, "I do believe. I do believe. Help me with my unbelief!" Immediately, Jesus heals the boy. What happened? Faith happened. And Jesus said, "This kind come out only by prayer." The disciples did not understand. The evil spirit understood and left the boy.

The other is Acts 19:13-16 when some went around driving out evil spirits invoking the name of Jesus when they were actually pretenders who knew nothing about Jesus at all. The evil spirits did. One even said so. When called to come out by these counterfeiters the spirit said, "Jesus I know, and I know about Paul, but who are you?"

While personal to me in my situation this may be applicable to those of you who face similar situations. Disease is evil. But all evil is under God's control and can be used for His good purposes. I may presume on God's grace, or doubt His power, but fresh grace and power are just a prayer away. I do not have the power to comfort these women. All I can do is pray that Jesus will give me what we need each time I am with them. I never, ever have God's power in my control. I need Him anew every day. I must never, ever forget to pray before I try to help.