Uplifted in a Broken Down World

Like every blessed Grandmother, a grandchild is cherished treasure. My grandson, seven-year-old Zachariah, proudly boasts two baby brothers. Just about the only drawback is both babies are not fans of sitting idle while strapped into their car seats. Thus, my daughter when picking up Zachariah, times it so she is one of the last cars fetching a student. This avoids stereo opera from announcing her arrival. Like any first grader, Zachariah is not keen on always being last. He naturally was delighted to hear his GaGa drew Tuesday/Thursday school pick-up duty this semester.

I needed instructions, and Zachariah announced he’d educate me! His version of my assignment was to always make sure I was waiting in the car line between the “A” and “H” letter signs — ensuring he’d finally be called for release in the first batch of scholars climbing into cars. Confident even this ‘ol GaGa could handle her job, I assured him I could handle the task at hand. However, what I came to learn was to wait between “A” and “H”, a car has to arrive a good hour before school calls it a day.

My immediate solution was to use the wait for catching up on paperwork, messages and to-do lists. Then came last week and the arrival of God’s gorgeous gift of Spring. Arriving at school in time to stop at letter “C”, I reached for the day’s car work, only to scold myself for being satisfied to sit behind tinted windows when God’s landscape and singing creatures were sharing a dazzling display of stunning creation. The invitation to partake of peace, renewed life and inspiration was knocking on my window. You better believe, I swung open the car door and hopped out of stale air to breathe in God’s gifts and breathe out praises to His glory.

I walked the field in the center of the car loop, praying for Zachariah and his fellow students’ wisdom and protection. My stroll completed, I plopped down on one of the benches lining the sidewalk along the car line and began talking to God. I mean a day as beautiful as I was beholding merited a litany of praise and thanksgiving offered to our Creator. The birds chirped along, as if to add their gratitude and joy.

Suddenly, my exuberance changed to somber realization. I sat totally alone. Not one other driver sitting, by now, in about 100 cars left their steel cage to take hold of the Hand of God’s peace, beauty and freedom from stress, schedules and life’s winter woes. How very sad this is.

Why are we captive to cages, when freedom to soar awaits us? Why do we choose to gaze through dark lens and filter out our SONshine? Why do we skim our smartphones over conversing with God? As Zachariah and I drove home, we pondered these questions. Maybe, we were unable to sum up the answers, but wisdom grew from wondering.

“But ask the beasts, and they will teach you; the birds of heavens, and they will tell you; or the bushes of the earth, and they will teach you; and the fish of the sea will declare to you. Who among all these does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this? In His hand is the life of every living thing and the breath of all mankind.” Job 12: 7-10 (ESV)

When I was a child (3/4’s of a century ago!!) obedience came from the inside out — heart over headstrong, soul over weak morality. I hailed my Mother and Father as the smartest people alive. Does anyone else remember telling friends (and foes) your mommy and daddy knew all the answers to every question? Back then, there were no computers or AI. They weren’t even longed for or needed. God’s laws told us all we needed to know and follow; and parents showed us how to measure up, keep the rules, succeed in life on earth and reach the reward of Heaven. Was this social naivety or spiritual security? I believe the latter.

In the olden days, there didn’t seem to be an abundance of too much on our plates. Our focus was more on drinking from the Cup — Christ’s Cup. We didn’t need to over fill our plates to feel successful in life. Christ’s death and Resurrection nourished our wisdom and led to inner peace and, also, a piece of outer accomplishment. Worldly enough was just that — enough. The rest was to be shared — not hoarded nor lauded over others.

Obedience was expected, not rejected. Letting down others, especially family, was a bitter sting. There was a distinction between wants and needs. We were nurtured through being taught the difference.

Dreams were ours to reach. They were not gifts to be freely handed out. Do you, like me, remember working long and hard to merit a goal? If so, I bet you haven’t forgotten the feeling of finally reaching and crossing a finish line.

Best of all, I remember Sunday was just for God. Wasn’t a store in the city that opened its doors on the Lord’s Day. What’s more, Church doors never closed. Instead of current day worrying about tomorrow, I ask God to somehow bring back the olden days (and ways) when taking time to be fully God’s on Sunday led to God being fully ours on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday.

I don’t pray that somehow there would be more hours in a day. Rather, I pray ours would find a way back to the days when Christ’s Cup, not plates, was overflowing.

“Better one handful with tranquility than two handfuls with toil and chasing after the wind.” Ecclesiastes 4:6 (NIV)

The morn dawned very early. Well rested, I was a tad trepid of the day, but at full peace God was straightening my path. Proverbs 3:5-6 carried my soul — my heart too!

Early morn while navigating the interstate, my car console delivered a text from my son, Beamer. My daughter-in love’s grandpa was making his final turn into Heaven. As Kate flew to say good-bye, I was needed to fly to care for my NY grandbabies. God having immersed me in Proverbs 3: 5-6, I sort of anticipated I must be going to need to cling to that Scripture. Why else would God be constantly placing it before me? The morning proved my intuition correct.

Suddenly my day rained chaos. In my heart, trust in God reigned supreme. My need was to see God’s powerful hand, not Satan’s devouring teeth. God answers all needs. Thus, a kaleidoscope of God’s blessings landscape this post.

Waiting to board my flight, I gazed upon an elderly lady perched upon an airport wheelchair throne. Her middle-aged daughter stood loving guard by her side. Both were fighting tears. My soul, deeply touched, understood their love reflected how God created family love to be. As the mother was pushed away, I approached her daughter, thanking her for personifying Godly love, too often missing in our world. Tears now washing her cheeks, she expressed how her mother instilled this love in her. She turned and walked away. Not more than two minutes later, she returned and tapped my shoulder. She asked me, when I was boarding and passed her mother’s seat, if I would please tell her mother she loved her and she would be ok cause her husband was going with her and would take care of her. Instinctively, I knew to the world her husband was deceased but to this mother, he was the guardian angel accompanying her. The news would broadcast death. The message reported to me was God’s gift of eternal life.

The sisters, two-year-olds “B-Boo” and “Nor-ra-ra” delivered many priceless and comical moments. While mommy was away, they decided crying for her at bedtime was deemed the way to end each night. It was pathetic to hear. This grammy had no magic trick to dry their little eyes. All that could be done was to accept that eventually they would tire themselves out and fall asleep into dreamland. My last night in charge, as I was finishing praying over them, “Nor-ra-ra” exhaustedly called from her crib to “B-boo” in her crib, “I go night-night. You cry!”. After stifling spontaneous laughter, I felt God proclaiming, “Those sisters understand what I say to you. You go to sleep. I’m taking the nightly watch.”.

Five-year-old J.B., more than once, melted my heart and soul. He was my leader, as in so many “ins and outs” of their schedules, I was lost. He took care of both the sisters’ needs and his grammy’s too. Post Friday night’s pizza party, he looked at me and said, “Grammy, I wish you were always a part of our family.”. His little heart wanted his grammy always physically close. Many, many times each day he’d find me and say, “Grammy, will you come and sit by me?”. Christ is all of our greatest leader. His words do not differ from J.B.’s. His heart (yes, Christ is not without heart) like J.B.’s, longs for our closeness. May we all choose to stop worldly hustle and make time to sit at Christ’s feet. This will not make more twists and turns in our day, but rather, straighten our path.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make straight your paths.” Proverbs 3: 5-6. (ESV)

Easter attire is abounding. Easter baskets are brimming. Easter Services are overflowing. The Easter tomb, in stark contrast, is EMPTY. “Empty” significance is quoted as “Resurrection” or “escape from death”. Could there be an additional and overlooked implication? As I observe our current dark, bleak world, I hope so. I long for the empty tomb to be symbolic of more than absence.

My heart aches for the throngs of Christians (and non-Christians) whose lives feel empty and alone. When a physical life (or spiritual life) feels empty, eyes see nothing but mortality, loneliness and despair. What if the vacant, unoccupied Easter tomb reminded us that Resurrection, salvation and joy are the result of Christ walking out of, and carrying us away from, worldly outer emptiness and into spiritual inner fulfillment? The prison of empty would then turn into overflowing escape.

Quite possibly, the best antidote for feeling incaved in an empty tomb is to know, believe and trust that following a Christ led life is the sole, and soul, way of leaving all emptiness behind. This is the promise of Easter. May it be ours today and every tomorrow.

This has been a blessing of a week. While their mommy was away helping Veterinarians learn better how to care for God’s furry critters, this Grammy (aka, GaGa) filled in at home with the grandbabies. Though 100% love and effort were shared, an age-old adage proved true — ie., Mommy is irreplaceable!! I did, however, score better in the “napkin and Kleenex” category — ie., any port in a storm!! Actually, for me, the “napkin and Kleenex” were clear reminders of my (and your) Heavenly Father’s presence and love for all of His children on earth.

Strategically, I had to devise a plan of how I could get enough ounces of freezer, breast milk down the baby to keep him hydrated. This tactical maneuver centered in graham crackers and milk go hand in hand — more hopefully hand to mouth!! Since my 10-month-old grandson refuses any liquid in a bottle or cup, I knew a simple direct bottle approach would be futile. However, graham crackers are his favorite food. My thesis (maybe flawed but definitely successful) was eating graham crackers in large amount would make Baby Elijah thirsty; and being thirsty would make him drink mommy’s milk from his bottle.

Before I pat myself on the back for this genius strategy, let me confess an unlimited amount of graham crackers for an infant, most definitely, produces baby mitts, face and hair caked in sticky, gooey, graham cracker mess. What’s more, when baby decides he’s had enough wearing his food, GaGa becomes his napkin. He wants no part of a washcloth or wet wipe. Transferring his mess to his GaGa Napkin is his way (and his only choice) to get clean. After all, rubbing on love best wipes the stains away!!

During my week, I sensed God sharing a parallel between graham crackers and mankind’s sins. We, God’s children, so often make a “graham cracker” sticky mess in our lives; and, yes, God best wipes our sins away. May we not hesitate to choose God, not a worldly source, to wash us free of the mess engulfing us.

When difficult moments arrived and tears filled my grandbaby’s eyes, he needed his GaGa’s arms to pick him up and vanish his fears away. GaGa became his Kleenex. He wiped his tears away by snuggling on my shoulder. Once more, I realized God stands ready to do the same for me and you. In every storm He is our port, waiting to hold us and all our fears, wipe our tears away and shelter us within His loving arms. All we need to do is cry out to Him.

Mommy is back home. I’m relieved of my fill-in role. I thank God for guiding me through this week’s tour of duty. With even deeper gratitude and praise, I thank God for never going off duty from being the greatest of napkins and Kleenex for me and each and every one of His children on earth.

Watching a new season awaken this week reminds me how the storms of Winter are wiped away through God’s creation of Spring. Over and over, God sent Proverbs 3:5-7 to me. Last Tuesday, THREE of my daily devotions centered in this Scripture. That was an impossible co-incidence but an unquestionable God incidence. “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight.”

After my trifold revelation, deep inner peace settled in my heart and soul. All that might have been moments of fear and frustration, instead, were wrapped in trust. My hands, heart and soul were not carrying the weight of the world. There was no need; for God is carrying me, and nothing is beyond His strength. The promise of His words never disappears.

“He will make your path straight”. It does not say my path will automatically be straight, even before it comes my way. It does proclaim no matter how twisting, uphill or downhill my path is, my God will straighten out the snarls. No greater Hope this day can I share with you.

As the seeds of Spring begin to sprout in our world, may Proverbs 3:5-7 be rooted in our souls. Herein will flower the Faith and Hope needed to withstand the thunder of storms, while also surrounding us in the beauty of God’s protection, guidance and Love. May this Scripture truth hug you day and night, rain and shine.

From a peephole view, my soul was SONbathed. Rosemary had 23 of her “babies” sprawled across the family room carpet. Though only a preschooler in years, she was holding Chapel for her “babies”. Both dolls and stuffed animals tallied her class.

Clutching her Bible in one hand, her other, with grandiose gesturing, was riveting wisdom to her audience — including me. Like a seasoned minister, Rosemary was vividly preaching the Gospel. With booming energy, she was enlightening her congregation that “God has no playground, but what God does have is FAITHFUL!”

Hearing her words, my eyes popped; my lips smiled; my voice muffled a chuckle, and my soul shed a tear. This little lassie understood and was shouting out what many older worshipers, at best, silently perceive to not be a front-page story. However, to Rosemary, it was a hot off the press, breaking news report.

“God has no playground, but what God does have is FAITHFUL”! Out of the mouths of babes — no full-time evangelist could have articulated one of our Heavenly Father’s core blessings any better.

To Rosemary a playground is space for: anything goes, being upside down, care-less-ly sliding from top to bottom, and spinning in dizziness till balance is lost. As this young child sees it, these aren’t what belong to God. Nope, on the contrary, God Has FAITHFUL. To her, this translates: no matter who you are, what you do, where you are or how perfect or imperfect you are, God is with you. He doesn’t run off to play. He stays.

Witnessing Rosemary pour testimony into her 23 “babies” was a breathtaking gift. I only wish the multitude of grown-up people, who need to be confirmed in her Godly words, could have attended her Chapel service.

“…Let the little children come to Me, and do not hinder them, for the Kingdom of God belongs to such as these.” Mark 10:14 (NIV)

It was the sweetest of days — even though it technically was a rain out. Seven-year-old Zachariah and five-year-old Rosemary decided since their playdates were a washout, the next best thing was to accompany Mom to the gym. This grammy was deeply blest to be a vital link for the excursion. While Mommy worked out, for them to be allowed on the track, they needed their GaGa to accompany them. Of course, I was honored, privileged and delighted to walk by their side. In honesty, at one point, my long legs needed to switch gears into overdrive to keep up with their short, running legs!

The gift of the day was not mine to them but theirs to me. They might have needed their GaGa to walk/run, but their GaGa needed them to feel she was soaring with angels. Lap after lap, I listened to their juvenile voices speak love and wisdom beyond their years. Big brother watched over his shoulder to make sure little sister was not outdistanced and left behind. Little sister followed closely, trusting the path big brother was blazing. This grammy brought up the rear while thanking God for sibling love in a world where hate often overrides caring for, and about, others.

As the track circled round where their Mommy was exercising, their little hands waved the sign language symbol of love. They also blew kisses. They were proud, not shy or embarrassed, to let the world see the love in their hearts. Again, my eyes shifted heavenward and expressed deep gratitude for two little hearts filled with great big love.

Is it any wonder Christ declared, “…Truly, I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven.”. Matthew 18:3 (NIV)

As a child, I, firsthand, experienced the excitement of “The Box” being introduced into family homes — including mine! “The Box” was the name my Nani assigned the newfound invention most called a television. In those early days, static and screens going blank were a part of your broadcast experience. Breakdowns were a common occurrence, as technical advancement was primal. I’ll add that the most respected and busy occupation was TV repairman.

When “The Box” wasn’t operating well, most households regularly called the TV repairman, who routinely started his service by taking the back off the television and followed by removing the tubes and testing their working status. After replacing any malfunctions, the back of the television was reassembled and, once more, “The Box” was in working order. My Nani, however, was not under the label of “most households”.

When Nani’s “Box” became a mess of static and blank screen, he didn’t call a repairman. He got up from his comfy chair, walked over to “The Box” and gave it a good, strong kick. Occasionally, it took a couple of kicks; but eventually “The Box” produced somewhat of a picture and a faintly decipherable sound. Proudly, Nani would return to his chair. He was the only one in the room who thought the problem was solved. We all knew that within minutes he’d be kicking “The Box” again.

Why, you must be wondering, am I sharing this story. My reply stems from the wisdom that in order to fix something, you have to first dismantle or take it apart. Otherwise, it is just a temporary band-aid. The TV repairman fixed the television. Nani’s ritual was a temporary band-aid. For the moment, it jiggled back somewhat of a picture; but it fixed nothing long term. The same holds true for our sinful nature. In order to fix our faults or remove sin from “The Box” of our lives, we need to do the task of taking our being’s outer cover off and repairing our inner selves. We need to fix what is wrong on the inside to clearly be the picture of who (and whose) God created us to reflect. If we choose a band-aid over a fix, we only hide our flaws, and nothing is repaired.

Without question, it should be understood that it takes inner work and re-wiring our ways to correct our imperfections. We are not left on our own to figure out the instructions needed for this. The “how to” manual for inner work and re-wiring is God’s Word. This book of repair instructions should always be, at most, only fingertips away.

One final note — the recollection of Nani kicking “The Box” brings laughter to my heart. The memory of Nani’s kicks never fixing “The Box” delivers wisdom to my soul.

“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.” Isaiah 41:10 (NIV)

Even though God, in His Word, promises to carry us through our trials, nowhere in the Bible does He even hint that the ride will be without pit stops and delays. While we want a fast, nonstop carry, truth is it is from pit stops and delays that our faith grows deepest and most often leads others to God. None the less, our human nature, even after struggling to remember God carries us through our storms, instantaneously expects sunshine the moment we realize we are in God’s powerful hands. We completely dim out the truth that the SON shines brightest when penetrating our life’s storms.

Christ’s journey to Calvary was long, show and uphill. It was, also, the course leading to our salvation. Why then do we expect the roadway of God’s Hands carrying us should be a shock absorbing, cushioned ride, instead of a rumble seat adventure. Be we in a landlocked traffic jam, on our steepest slope or deepest valley, God is with us every millisecond and millimeter. We are never alone. God’s Hands carry us. Nothing more, nor nothing less, do we ever need. “…I will not forget you. Behold, I have engraved you on the palms of My hands…” Isaiah 49:15 (ESV)