Jesus Is Never Too Late

 It's a typical start to the morning in my classroom, and we are settling down for "Jesus time."  We make our beginning in the name of the Father who made us, the Son who died for us, and the Holy Spirit who lives in us. We sing our opening songs, "My best friend is Jesus" and "Jesus Loves the Little Ones." My kiddos can do this all by heart. They can do it with their eyes closed, upside down, and while picking their noses...and sometimes they do! 

We begin our bible story, and I'm expecting the usual: 

-wiggly bodies

-stopping the story to ask someone to keep their pants out of their mouth

-children raising hands (or not!) to tell me arbitrary things like, "my dog threw up last night" or "I just tooted two times."

You know...the usual! 

I begin reading the story of Jairus, and how he came to plea for Jesus' help to heal his very sick daughter. I take props out of our story box: a thermometer, a bandaid, and medicine. We talk about how none of these things had worked for the little girl. Jairus went to Jesus because he knew Jesus could heal her, and he had FAITH. (I write this in capital letters because THIS is the main point I was trying to make with this lesson. But God has very different plans than me!!)

I continue the story, and we learn that when Jesus arrived at Jairus' house, people ran out and told them they were too late.  His daughter had already died. But Jesus told them to have FAITH, and he went into the house and brought the little girl back to life. 

I'm now ready to explain all about the word FAITH, when a little boy raises his hand and tells me, 

"Jesus is never too late."

And in a flash, the whole thing changes. I am vividly reminded that Jesus is present, alive, and abounding in our classroom and in the hearts of these littles! Wow! I am taken aback and stunned by the truth and clarity in the statement from this 5 year old child. 

So many things hit me all at once: 

Jesus is working in the smallest of hearts and minds.

He can speak His message through anyone!

His truth is simple, and simplicity is sometimes the best medicine.

I may have plans, but God has better plans.

The truth in this child's statement has echoed in my heart all week. When I'm anxious about a situation, when I am concerned about the state of our world, when I worry about my own children...Jesus and his perfect timing are in control. He will work all things for good, he has each one of us in the palm of his hand, and he is never too late! I thank God for the gift of our classroom, and how he is giving us exactly what we need, exactly when we need it. God will never cease to amaze me with His timing!

Now each day when we close in prayer at the end of our Jesus time, we thank Jesus for always being on time, and NEVER being too late. 

Amen!

On the Graduation of my 8th Grade Son (and God's Guiding Hand Through It All)

I have called Immanuel my home for all of my adult life. I came here as a 23 year old, brand-spankin' new teacher: hopeful, excited, starry eyed, and slightly terrified. Little did I know what God had in store for me at this newfound home. The next five years were a gift that was given to me, an experience to teach at the most wonderful Lutheran school I have ever called home. When my husband and I were expecting our first child, I knew that he or she would someday call Immanuel their home also.

As I wrapped up my final days of teaching second grade, Charlie was born. Thoughts of him being a student at Immanuel seemed like something far off in the distance. Every parent who stares adoringly at their newborn baby finds it hard to imagine that he will someday be a schoolboy. Amazingly, it seemed, those days quickly arrived. He was soon ready to be a "great big preschooler" at Immanuel. He seemingly raced his way through preschool, kindergarten, and the primary grades. Before I knew it, he was old enough to join the basketball team and take up the saxophone in the school band. In the next breath, he was in middle school enjoying outdoor education at Walcamp. Even by the time he was 11 years old, those eighth graders still seemed so big to me! Surely my little boy would never be that big!

And in the blink of an eye, it all happened. A few weeks ago, he was preparing for confirmation, writing his statement of faith, and I've been forced to visualize his 8th grade graduation. How did this happen? When did this happen? As the weather warms up, and I see buds on the trees and my tulips sprouting up through the grass, I feel the clock racing and I can't stop it. May is going to end before I know it, and his time at Immanuel Lutheran School will be over. 

I am overwhelmed with this bittersweet situation. I'm so thankful, happy, and overjoyed that he has had this experience at Immanuel. It has made him such a wonderful, brilliant, and strong Christian young man. I can't wait to see the man he will become, and I'm so excited for his future, but every fiber in my being does not want his Immanuel days to end!

Our God never ceases to amaze me, and once again I saw His guidance in my life and Charlie's as well. About a month ago, we were talking about his upcoming confirmation, and I asked him what verse he chose to be his confirmation verse. He told me he chose Matthew 28:20, "and surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age." Surprised, I asked him if he knew that was my confirmation verse as well. He had unknowingly chosen the same verse that was given to me at my confirmation so many years ago. I immediately saw a "God moment," as we call them at Immanuel. I don't think it's a coincidence, I don't believe in luck. I believe in God's guiding hand, and I believe that He knows my heart just like he knows my son's. That verse means a lot to us, because it's a promise that we will never have to begin new adventures alone. We will never have to face new situations without God by our side. There is nothing that will keep Him from us, nothing that can separate us from Him. 

Thank you God, for the past 12 years at Immanuel, for blessing Charlie as a student here at our school, for the promise of never leaving his side for the rest of his life, and for the blessings I am confident you have planned for his future!

Reformation: The Word of the Lord Endures Forever

The Word of the Lord Endures Forever...Verbum Domini Manet in Aeternum.  Based on 1 Peter 1:24, this was the motto of the Lutheran Reformation. And let me tell you...the early Lutheran church was SERIOUS about this. So serious, in fact, that in 1522 Frederick the Wise had is sewn into the sleeve of his court's clothing (lest they forget!). Through his successors, it was stamped on coins, sewn on flags, and carved into church architecture. Why was (and is) this such a big deal?

In the early years following the Reformation, it took a great amount of courage to confess Lutheran beliefs. Why? Because early Roman Catholic rulers hoped to rid Europe of Protestants. To boldly disagree with the Roman Catholic Church, and to preach and adhere to beliefs that differed with the church was perilous. How perilous? Many early Lutherans died for their beliefs. The Thirty Year's War was fought between Catholics and Protestants, killing nearly 20 percent of Germany's population...through battle, disease and famine.

What is it about the Lutheran Church that would make men and women take such a courageous stance? What would make them willing to die for their beliefs?

Look to the Motto of the Reformation: The Word of the Lord Endures Forever. The Lutheran Church believes that the bible is the LIVING WORD OF GOD. It is infallible, it is never changing, it will endure forever. We will not change it, we will not let history re-write it, we will not believe parts and not the whole.

Martin Luther believed in grace alone, faith alone, and scripture alone.  He believed it was "by grace you are saved through faith, and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God." Ephesians 2:8  He loudly proclaimed these truths, in hopes to bring back to scripture a church that had traveled far from God's word. The early Lutheran Church followed in his example, and it was so important to them that they were not only willing to die an earthly death for this belief...they were convicted to stand in front of the throne of God with these beliefs:

This declaration … is our faith, doctrine, and confession.

By God’s grace, with intrepid hearts, we are willing to appear before the judgment seat of Christ with this confession.

—Formula of Concord, Solid Declaration, XII 40

This is a BIG DEAL!!  It was no small matter back in the day, and is it any different today? Is this why Lutherans so greatly enjoy the celebration of Reformation? You bet it is. We don't face persecution and death when we worship in our Lutheran pews on Sunday morning, or when we say Luther's Evening Prayer before bed. We rest peacefully in the church that our forefathers fought and died to protect. 

With the celebration of Reformation, we faithfully confess our Lutheran beliefs. We stand with our forefathers and say, "We (too) are willing to appear before the judgement seat of Christ with this confession." 

I am blessed and humbled to be a Lutheran. Amen, Lord Jesus, quickly come!

Gloria in Excelsis Deo

My "hang-ups" get the better of me.  Small things, important things, but small things: forgotten violin practice, squabbles over green scissors, anger over missing shoes. One after another, these frustrations eat away at my peace. The mom needs to calm all squabbles. The mom needs to find the missing shoes.  The mom needs to remind the virtuoso to practice. The mom needs to be a better mom. 

My wordless prayer sent up to heaven was simply a need for the Spirit to fill me. The hang ups are not filling me in such a great way.  I would rather have the Holy Spirit filling me. He would rather fill me. 

My God delivers.  Every time.  I pray, and He answers. In His time, in His way. He knows how to speak to my unique soul. My ears and heart were open to seeing Him in my morning drive.

John Rutter's Gloria streamed into my car as I mundanely pulled through the bank ATM line. "Gloria in Excelsis Deo! Amen!" My heart was immediately filled with the knowledge that my hangups do not really matter.  Nothing else matters.  I could feel the heavenly angels singing "Glory to God in the Highest! Amen!" He is what matters. Someday I will be there, singing in chorus.  My human heart would burst with the glory; my human heart aches when I think of this homecoming. My heavenly heart will be complete and perfect. The glory of God, visible by my own eyes! My own voice singing praises to Him in His presence! These italics cannot convey how my heart leaps at the thought!

This human life and these hang ups will pass away, but our God will never pass away! To be the best mom is to pass along this hunger.  This yearning. This longing to be in our God's presence. It is a longing that will be fulfilled. Our God has promised, and He keeps His promises. What blessed assurance my children have, through their Redeemer, that they will sing with Him in glory. 

Gratias agimus tibi. Thank you for Your great Glory. 

Once Upon a Pyrex...

Once upon a time, there was a girl who fell in love with a dish.  A Pyrex dish, to be specific.  This love affair was a long time coming, since she had owned said dish since 1997. It was a beautiful yellow mixing bowl, that once belonged to her grandmother. She used it sporadically for popcorn. It had a few sisters: a similar but smaller green mixing bowl, and an identical orange bowl.

It sat in her cupboard. And there it stayed for 18 years.

Until one day, and she can't remember exactly why (but thinks Pinterest may be to blame), she got it out. She looked at it carefully.  She laid its little green sister inside, nestled close. Her mind began to roam to to her grandmother's hands as they mixed cake batter inside her bowl, as they snacked on potato chips filling her bowl.  She began to realize that it was missing its two littlest sisters: small red and blue bowls that were made to perfectly nestle inside the green bowl.

The Pyrex Primary set. Le sigh.

And this was the beginning. The beginning of her love affair with Pyrex. It became a treasure hunt to find the missing bowls to complete her grandmother's lonely set. Through flea markets and antique shops she hunted, looking for the perfect bowl to make its way into her little primary family.

And find them she did!! As she displayed them on her counter and fondly took pictures of them, she began to realize that there were so many more beautiful dishes to be found!! The hunt was on!!

As she collected more pieces, she would place them on her counter, not wanting to put them away. They were too fabulous to place in a cabinet! Too rich in history to hide behind a closed door! As her collection grew, she knew what was needed.

A display cabinet.

But not just any display cabinet, it needed to be a vintage piece of furniture. A display cabinet worthy of her prized dishware. So the hunt continued! She found a lovely, retro cabinet that she considered worthy to support the integrity of her vintage dishes. She arranged and arranged. It was glorious. She was happy.

Then she discovered Fire King.

Oh the beauty of Jade-ite!! The delicate lovely hues of Azurite! The intricate brush strokes of the Peach Blossom! The golden sheen of Peach Luster! These pieces began to find their way into her arms and into her home, and the lovely cabinet was becoming quite crowded. So it was decided: another cabinet was needed. Would she be able to find another vintage-dish-worthy cabinet? She would!!  A beautiful curved-glass-fronted cabinet was discovered at the flea market, and it would lovingly frame her treasures.

So there they stood, proudly displaying her vintage dishware collection. Her kitchen slowly began to transform into a vintage kitchen. She began to discover new antique and vintage shops, and flea markets where unique dishware and retro items could be found. A retro toaster sits on the counter, feeling so happy to be useful again. A Westclox clock sits on the window ledge, ticking away in contentedness. Milk glass salt and pepper shakers sit on the stove, anxiously awaiting meal time.

Milk Glass, did you say? Lovely white, opaque, and opalescent as the sun streams through its facets? Yes, milk glass, her newest love!  Never to compete with the her first loves of Pyrex and Fire King, but a love all of its own. And could it be, could it just be so! That she would have a perfect blue display bookshelf that belonged to her grandmother?? Yes it could!  Oh how the gleaming, white glass  stands out as if to say, "I am beautiful! I have stood the test of time! I belong on this shelf!"

And do you want to know a secret? This love can be shared!  It just so happens that this love is contagious! Her antiquing girlfriends have caught the vintage-dishware bug, and pieces are finding their way into their homes! Glory BE!!

Long ago, a yellow Pyrex mixing bowl belonged to my grandmother. Her memory, and the knowledge of countless other hands that have mixed, kneaded, stirred and baked, lives on in my kitchen.

The Voice

The Voice...a popular TV show, where hopeful new singers compete in front a panel of "coaches" (who are famous musicians) to win a record deal and potentially become famous. The series showcases new talent, and these coaches give advice and they help the new young singers shape and craft their voices. 

Let me shift gears a bit here...

I was struck with a thought during preschool circle time a few days ago.  Our wise teacher has begun saying, "Sign him up for the Jesus Team!!" It has really resonated with our students, and they say it all the time.  It is music to our ears, because they are so excited about being on His team!  I started thinking about how these children are THE VOICE of Christ. How, when we are "on his team," we are all the voice of Christ. 

I thought about that phrase, "The Voice of Christ."  I let it run around in my head for a few days, and jotted down a few thoughts. What actions do I portray that reflect Christ? What actions surely do not reflect Him? I began to look around our classroom, our school and our home for actions that are "the voice of Christ." Here are some things I saw:

...my youngest hugging his sister and saying "I love you"

...our track coaches encouraging and praising our young runners

...our preschool teacher lovingly leading our students in song

...the pastor of our church baptizing one of the newest "disciples of Christ"

...our choir director leading the choir during church

...5th grade students thanking the museum docents on our field trip

...4th grade students making birthday cards for our hot lunch worker

...my husband, despite being tired, playing games with our children

...my family pulling together to pray for my nephew who was having surgery

I realized that I was seeing examples everywhere.  To be the voice of Christ, you don't have to "preach" all the time.  To be His voice is to show his love, compassion, kindness, generosity and forgiveness.  There is a key element to these examples that was present as well: these people were knowingly doing their best to honor Him through their actions. These adults and children love their Savior, and they surely know this bible verse by heart:

"whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, 

you did for me." Matthew 25:40

All of this made me really stop and examine my own actions and thoughts. Do I show the voice of Christ? I want to be His voice! I want to honor him by helping others! I want my love for my brothers and sisters in Christ to show the way to the Savior! Because that is what this life is all about...honoring my Savior and loving others to Christ. 

Now back to that TV show...Its fun.  Its entertaining. Its lovely to watch the amazing talents God gives to His children. But it is also a good reminder of what kind of Voice I want to have. One that puts me on the music charts and gets me a record deal? Nice, I would have to admit, but ultimately not the true voice I want to have. 

May our voices be the Voice of Christ: caring, forgiving, helping, and loving others to Christ. 

Why I Became a Lutheran School Teacher

Once upon a time, long, long ago, there lived a little girl. She was a happy, carefree and well-loved child. As she grew, her parents told her of her Savior and how much He loved her. She was happy because she had the joy of the Holy Spirit growing inside her.  She was carefree because she was enveloped in the blanket of His care. She was well-loved, by her family and her Creator.

As she grew, she attended Trinity Lutheran School.  She was happy because she had the daily joy of sharing the knowledge of her Savior and seeing teachers who lived their lives for Christ.  She was carefree because she spent her days under that blanket of her Savior's care.  She was well-loved by her teachers.

When she was in high school, a life changing comment was made to her.  A teacher mentioned to her that she would make a good teacher one day. That single comment started the wheels of thought to begin turning. She thought about it for a long while. When the time came to choose a career after high school, there was one clear choice in her mind: teaching.

Early Childhood Teaching, specifically.  And there was one clear choice as to where to receive the best education: Concordia University. You see, she wanted to become a Lutheran School Teacher.

After four years of work and preparation, God made His plan known to her.  She would be placed at Immanuel Lutheran School, teaching second grade.  This was exciting!! And scary and overwhelming, but she jumped right in...knowing that she was under that amazing blanket of God's grace and care.  She could do all things through Him.

Now, jump 18 years to the present time. This is me, writing the story of how I became a Lutheran School Teacher. So much has happened since that first day of teaching second grade at Immanuel. My wedding, buying our first house, and three children. Endings and new beginnings, but they have all happened under the same blanket of grace that has covered my family and I from the beginning.

Now I am blessed again to teach little children, along with their parents as we Sing and Play and learn about God's love for us. I am blessed to help in the classroom one of the most amazing teachers I have ever met, who literally is effervescent with the love of Christ.

Why do I love being a Lutheran School teacher? Why is it amazing to teach a classroom full of disciples-in-training? Because the gift of a Christian education that was given to me by my parents and my teachers is too amazing to keep inside.

Yes, it is amazing and humbling to open the eyes of a child to new things...to letters and numbers, to helping the light bulb flicker and then shine, to see the spark of learning fan into a flame. But it is a greater joy to see the love of their Savior grow and grow, to mature every day, to become a faith that is sure and strong. I see this happening with my own children, and I see it happening with the children I get to teach. In my eyes, there is nothing more amazing than this.

Reading, writing and arithmetic? Are they important? Of course! But these things are nothing without the the care of Christ to nurture them. I became a Lutheran School teacher so that my students could learn all of these things under that blanket of care and grace of their Savior. There is no better place to be!

Messiah: Blessing So Many, in So Many Ways

Yesterday I was part of a wonderful experience. I had the privilege to sing with the Fox Valley Orchestra's Sing Along Messiah. My mother, sister and niece came as well.  For the first time in some 20+ years we were able to sit together to sing these pieces by George Friedrich Handel.

At the beginning of the performance/sing-along, our director gave an introduction. She commented about how each person in the audience has some kind of relationship with Handel's Messiah. Each person has a story to tell about how they came to know and love this most-famous work by this great composer. Each person can remember the first time they sang it, and they have beautiful memories that they brought with them to our performance. As we began to sing, I imagined that the air in the auditorium was thick with all of these memories. 

I loved every moment of it.  The soloists were inspiring. The mass choir was amazing. Singing the choruses, hearing my sister next to me...my niece beside her...my mother blending in beautifully...it was truly a blessing and a Christmas gift. 

As we were driving home, my mother mentioned again how one of the pieces sung by the soloists was my grandmothers favorite. She had always loved He Shall Feed His Flock. I had always known this, and it is my favorite as well. But then my mother told me a little more to that story than I had realized. 

When my mother was in high school, her father passed away.  That first autumn without him was, of course, a difficult one for her family. In December, just two months after her husband had died, my grandmother was invited by a friend from church to attend a performance of the Messiah. She took my mother along...this was to become my mother's first experience in her relationship with Handel's Messiah. 

My mother said that my grandmother cried through the entire performance. I can only imagine the different types of grief that my mother and grandmother felt during those moments.  

But as we drove home yesterday, my mother commented why He Shall Feed His Flock had become my grandmother's favorite piece:

He shall feed his flock, like a shepherd

and He shall gather in his bosom

and gently lead those that are with young. 

Come unto Him, all ye that labor

and he will give you rest.

Take his yoke upon you and learn of Him

for He is meek and lowly of heart 

and ye shall find rest unto your souls. 

What those words must have meant to her that day! How they must have laid upon her soul and her heart! Here was this young mother: suddenly thrust into taking care of her family alone, missing her husband, feeling overwhelmed with grief and life. And here was her Savior telling her that He will gather her and her children close, He will give them rest, He will take the yoke with her. He will lead her, she was not alone. 

I am so very glad our director brought our memories to mind as we began to sing yesterday.  Now I have so much more to bring to each Messiah that I sing...for years to come.  

At the end of the performance yesterday, we concluded with the Hallelujah chorus. When it was over,  my mother had tears in her eyes.  She couldn't sing the last line. Tears of joy that we were together.  Tears of joy for all the memories of the past.  Tears of joy for the blessings that God has given us through Handel's Messiah.

Amen!! All is well, all is well. 

A Morning Prayer

Dear God,

Help me today. Just help me. I need help in everything I do. Sometimes I can't form the specific words. I just know I need you. 

Help my children. Bless their days, their schoolwork, their friendships. Bless their self-esteem. Guide them. Help them feel your loving presence. 

Bless my husband. Help him with his work, his commute and his responsibilities. Guide his every decision. Wrap him in your loving presence. 

Help my day be a walk with you. Help my every moment be an ongoing conversation with you. Embrace me in your loving presence. 

Amen. 

What Makes a Woman Beautiful?

What makes a woman beautiful?

I am ashamed to even write my answers to that question, but I would begin with beautiful hair. Beautiful, long, thick wavy hair has always, always, been out of my grasp. I'm quite happy with my hair, mind you, but beautiful hair? According to my skewed sense of reality, it must be long, thick and wavy. (And I might add...no gray.)

My next answer would be beautiful skin. A clear, flawless complexion...without wrinkles.  That wrinkle bit has just lately been added to my must-have beauty checklist.

Next on the "only-attainable-in-my-dreams" list is a small, perfect little nose. I will leave it at that.

Now the big finale...a beautiful woman must hover around a size 8.  I'll give a little leeway up or down, but this is a sticking point on my stellar list.

One afternoon my daughter and I were sitting at the computer, scrolling through my Facebook feed.  Since there are constantly ads along the side of my newsfeed, by daughter made a comment about a beautiful woman in one of the ads.  I don't remember what she said, but probably something along the lines of, "Oh she's so beautiful!"

That spun us into a little conversation about beautiful women, and beautiful women that we know. As we were on my sister's Facebook page,  of course, my sweet young lady mentioned my sister, mamma milk.  I agreed with her, because her aunt is beautiful inside and out! My daughter has always adored her aunt, and all of this just made me smile with pleasure.

As we kept scrolling through my newsfeed, by daughter kept commenting on my Facebook friends. "Oh she's so pretty!" "Oh she's really beautiful!" I began to realize that she was making these comments whenever she saw a woman that she knew. The picture she saw didn't really matter, because she was mentally picturing them in real life. And even if they did or did not have long wavy hair, did or did not fit into size 8 jeans, she thought they were beautiful.

My daughter was seeing these women as beautiful because of who they are. I don't really think she even saw their outer packaging, so to speak. She saw that they are kind, loving, caring, selfless and have a heart for Christ.  These women of God would do anything for me, my family, or anyone else for that matter. They are beautiful mothers raising children to be disciples for Christ. They are beautiful for everything they've had to overcome and for the strength they have to keep on this earthly journey. They are beautiful because they reach out to my daughter in love and compassion. They are beautiful to her because she wants to be like them one day. They are beautiful to her because they have set an example of beauty that is so much more lovely than wavy hair, clear skin and size 8 jeans.

And I know that's how she sees me too.

I've been pondering this little scenario with my lovely girl for about a week now, wondering exactly how to put it onto words.  I never, never, want her image of beauty to change. I know that as she enters the tween and teen years, this will become more and more difficult to maintain.

To all my Facebook friends out there...you are all beautiful!  I realized that I completely agreed with my daughter's comments about you all.  I would never hold my friends to my ridiculous beauty standards.  I absolutely do not care if you have long wavy hair. It wouldn't make me love you any more than I already do.  And if you're a size 4 or 14, it truly doesn't matter to me! Your size doesn't affect our friendship in any way.

Thank you God, for the gift of this young lady who reminded me of how You really see us.  You really see our love for You and others.  You really see how we care and serve our friends.  You really see how we show the love of our Savior to our families, church and communities.  You really see our beauty...and its the only beauty I can every hope to possess!

For All the Saints, and My Daughter!

Sunday morning I sat in church, with my tissues safe inside my purse. It was All Saints Day, which really is a joyous occasion, but I knew I might be needing those tissues.

I had been telling my daughter how my sister and I love the hymn, For All the Saints. I told her how I get choked up when we sing it, thinking of our grandparents and other loved ones who now "in glory shine."   How it makes me cry, but really it is so very joyous! So I knew the tears would be threatening to surface as they do every year at this service. 

My, how my Heavenly Father loves to show me His greatness!  On that Sunday morning...in the front row...sitting next to my daughter...He chose to show me once again His infinitely wondrous joy, and how it is so much bigger and grander and amazing than I allow myself to realize.

That special morning was my daughter's first communion. We had been taking classes together with our pastor for a month (parents and children together), and she had been learning about the Lord's Supper.  She had been discovering what it meant for her, God's precious daughter, to come together with our congregation to share in this sacrament. She had been looking forward to this moment for two years, looking forward to being a part of this family of believers. It was special to her as an individual and also as a part of a bigger picture, Christ's church here on earth. 

During the Words of Institution, as the pastor was blessing the bread and wine, I saw my daughter open her hymnal to the front page, where there are special prayers to be said during different moments of the service.  I knew she was reading the prayer to be said before communion, and my heart gave a little squeeze of joy. 

Then she looked up at me and whispered, "I'm so happy." 

My heart shuddered with joy, and a little tear escaped.

As we were taking communion, the congregation began singing, For All the Saints. I heard our pastor speak her name as she took the wine. Christ's blood was shed for her, for me, and for every one of us. 

When we returned to our seats, I found I couldn't make my voice form a single word of the hymn. I reached for my tissues and hoped no one saw the tears on my face. I read the words in my head as the congregation sang, and each word meant something new. 

Oh blest communion, fellowship divine,

we feebly struggle, they in glory shine;

Yet all are one in thee, for all are thine.

Alleluia, Alleluia!

My daughter was a part of the communion of saints...all of them! My grandmother, my grandfathers, and all of those that have gone home to Heaven. They may not be here with us, but they are in everlasting communion in Heaven, rejoicing as we rejoice here on earth. She is a part of something so big, so grand and so amazing. I was filled with such joy, it was seeping out through my eyes. 

And I once again was so thankful of how God can show me His greatness, how I am 40 years old and I'm never going to stop being amazed and overwhelmed and overjoyed by Him.  How I am so thankful for this gift of my daughter (and my son two years before her, and my husband and I some 30 years ago, and my sister, and my brother in law, and my niece and nephew, and my parents and in-laws, and my cousins and aunts and uncles, and my grandparents...) who became a part of this big, grand, amazing, blest communion. His mercies will never cease. 

Amen, come Lord Jesus!

We Are the Church

Sunday morning. Wake up children.

"Brush your teeth!"
"He won't let me in the bathroom!"
"Find your socks!"
"None of my socks fit!"
"Where's my plaid shirt?"
"Its in the laundry."
"Help me with my hair!"
"Let's get in the car!"
"I'm hungry!"
"You can have a donut at church."
"I can't find my choir folder!"
("Hmmm, I think dad and I lost it...")
"Hurry to the choir room!"

Church begins. Calm. Quiet.

Prayers. Hymn. Old Testament reading.  Children rise to sing.

Tears. I'm fighting them off.

"I am the church."
"You are the church."
"We are the church together."
"All who follow Jesus, all around the world!"
"Yes, we're the church together!"

Heart swelling.  My children are a part of church.  This church.  God's church.  Elect and glorious. Not too small.  Not too young.  Important.  Valued.  Needed.  Loved.  Nurtured.  Nurturing. Disciples in training.  Disciples who teach me daily.

Sunday morning.
Praise God from whom all blessings flow!

Clinging to His Robe?

Progression of events:

Dizziness.
Discomfort.
Worry.
Obsession.
Panic.
WebMD.
Google searches.
Self-diagnosis.
Tumor.
Near death.
Anxiety.
Doctor visit.
Actual diagnosis:
Vertigo.

The above timeline refers to actual events that took place last February and March. Look closely at the progression again. Did you find the time I prayed about what was happening? How about the moment I turned everything over to God?

Now travel back in time further to last January.  Replace "Dizziness" with "stomach pain" and "vertigo" with "GERD." Same progression of events. Same startlingly lacking prayer and trust in God.

Of course, I did pray about these things. Late at night, when most of my pointless and damaging google searching was going on, my prayers turned a bit accusatory: "God, I know you're all powerful.  I've always had faith that you can do anything. So why aren't you making these things stop, hmmm?"

I wouldn't really say that is the most faithful kind of prayer.  But you see how I pointed out to God, that I was, in fact, quite faithful.  I let Him know (just in case He had forgotten) that I was His good and faithful servant. I believed in His power and miraculous blessings. So why wasn't He giving me what I wanted?

A few weeks ago our gospel reading was from Mark 5:21-43. Here, we read the story of Jairus and how Jesus brought his daughter back to life.  I've known this story my whole life, but the part of the story that resonated with me on this particular Sunday morning was about the woman who pushed her way through the crowd just so she could touch Jesus' robe.

Just one touch. That was enough for her.  She had the unabashedly profound faith in her heart where that would be enough. It was enough. Jesus said to her, "Daughter, your faith has made you well: go in peace, and be healed of your disease."

Looking back over my timeline, I don't see any moments where I had that kind of faith. I see myself trying to prove my faith, but I never just turned my moments over to my Savior. His very name says that he will save me and take care of me. But that wasn't quite enough for me, no, He needed to live up to my demands. Pronto.

This is an unfortunate pattern with me. It will always be an inner battle: letting my fear get in the way of my trust.  I have a sneaking suspicion that I'm not the only one who suffers from this "lack of trust" disease.

I have faith. I've believed in Christ forever, but that doesn't mean I always trust in Him. What I need to be is more like that woman, clinging to Jesus' robe. I need to cling to the promise that He will keep me safe and in His hands at all times.  I know he allowed unsavory things to happen to me, but He has delivered me thorough all of them. He allowed these things to happen for a reason, and I need to trust that I will someday understand why He chose these paths.

He will deliver me whatever may come my way. His way is the best path, and I need to trust that He's a little better at planning than I am, considering He can see past, present and future. His plan is surely better than anything I could map out for myself. He knows which way to direct me, where to guide me and how to bring me safely home.

Jesus, Savior, pilot me

over life's tempestuous sea;

unknown waves before me roll,

hiding rock and treach'rous shoal;

chart and compass come from thee:

Jesus, Savior, pilot me.

As a mother stills her child,

thou canst hush the ocean wild;

boist'rous waves obey thy will,

when thou say'st to them, "Be still!"

wondrous sov'reign of the sea,

Jesus, Savior, pilot me. 

When at last I near the shore,

and the fearful breakers roar,

'twixt me and the peaceful rest

then, while leaning on Thy breast

may I hear Thee say to me,

"Fear not, I will pilot Thee."

(by Edward Hopper, 1871...
and still beautiful today...)

The Most Spectacular Score

...and by score, I mean musical score.  G. Schirmer's Edition of The Messiah by G. F. Handel.  It is reprinted, of course, but the original copyright is 1912. Which is actually somewhat new, considering Handel debuted his masterpiece on April 13, 1742.

I love my score.  I mean, really love my score. Here is a snapshot of me and my score:

My score and I get up close and personal during the Christmas season. As you can see, I most thoroughly enjoy placing colorful tabs on all the major choruses. I scribble notes and anecdotes from clever and brilliant directors as they guide me through its measures. During
Advent, Christmas and Easter this bad boy feels the love.

But lately I've had it hanging around my computer table. I was singing the Air for soprano, How Beautiful are the Feet. It is so absolutely lovely, that I must include a link for your listening ears! I was carefully focusing on my technique as I sang along to the accompaniment. I was  diligently focusing on pitch, dynamics, tone, vowels, resonance, eeek! Like patting my head and rubbing my stomach at the same time, I have a difficult time bringing forth all these elements together to make a beautiful sound. If I concentrate on one, I forget another.  Its a work in progress which I may never complete, but I am in love with the process.

So here my score sits by my beloved Mac (he and I are on a first-name basis). The children are sleeping upstairs, the house is quiet, and I sit down to write. I glance over at my Messiah. Suddenly I know what to write about: the beautiful feet.

How beautiful are the feet of them 

that preach the gospel of peace, 

and bring glad tidings of good things!

This Air for Soprano is taken from Isaiah 52:7, "How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those that bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion, "Your God reigns!"

I smile as I recall some of God's servants in my life who have embodied these words: these beautiful, humble people who have so greatly loved their Heavenly Father. I remember how my parents brought me to church to learn of my savior, how they taught me to pray, how they were the first ones to truly preach the gospel of peace to my listening ears. I remember my teachers at Trinity Lutheran School, and how they guided me on my first journeys through the bible. I remember my grandmother, who unabashedly preached the glad tidings, and who showed me the joy of loving Christ. I remember high school teachers, college professors, pastors and choir directors. I recall neighbors, friends, celebrities and strangers. How beautiful are the feet of them that preach the gospel of peace! 

I will never be able to see inside the brilliant mind of George Friedrich Handel. I will never know his intentions behind composing some of the most profoundly meaningful music for Christians.  But as I sing his words and music, I realize that he has preached the gospel of peace. He has brought glad tidings and proclaimed salvation. He has reminded me to be thankful for those who live their lives in order to bring others to Christ. He has reminded me that I, too, want to have beautiful feet! Beautiful feet that preach the gospel of Peace!

The Only Story I Will Ever Need...

The shades of day are tinted, like a cloud of salty sea.
The droplets not have shifted: Just a memory of Thee.

The splintered pain stands lonely on the mountain of the dead,
to cast is shadow solely over broken heart and head.

The day of blackness drowning, for misery to claim.
The longest hours are slipping through the night to twist the pain.

The cold of stone seems horrid, yet it draws to seek the end.
An answer cruelly questioned lies in wait for Heaven's mend.

Bleak morning deceives the eyes, which long to see the Son,
a gentle voice then breathes it, the words of hope begun:

"Alleluia!" Can you hear it? Soft echoes part the clouds,
The night now sunk beneath us, blessed heavenly light abounds!

Those words of joy now pounding, "To the SON be endless glory!"
The darkness now is conquered in the sweetest saving story!

Now that splintered pain is love: our saving Lord has mended all!
Alleluia, Lord, to you be praise, your beautiful name we call:

"Immanuel,
Our risen Lord,
Is with us one and all!"

The Luck 'O the Blessed?

Green clovers,
Green beer,
Green t-shirts,
Green river,
Green Kiss-Me-I'm-Irish sticker,
Green bow-tie,
Green, green, green.

All this green has got me thinking about another green: green with envy.  It doesn't take St. Patty's day to bring out the green in me.  Living here in the Land of Plenty, I find myself struck with the green disease way too frequently.

"My friends' houses are so much bigger than mine."
"Her wardrobe is amazing…and surely so expensive."
"They can afford so many extra curricular's for their kids."
"Wow, they are going on another vacation?"

…and all of these statements followed by feelings of, "I wish our family could have what their's has…"

I don't think I'm going out on a limb to say I'm probably not the only one who thinks like this from time to time.  I tend to compare my most meager possessions to others' largest ones.  I know that is not fair, and it isn't pleasing to God.

So this St. Patrick's Day, I am going to focus on less green and more thankfulness.   Maybe I can make this holiday good for something that really matters: a look at all my blessings.  I know I don't have my wonderful gifts from God because of mere LUCK. I have everything because of His love for me.  He knows what I need, when I need it.

So maybe we don't have a huge house...but I have three amazing children to cuddle in our little home.
So maybe I don't have those designer shoes...but I have children who are clothed in God's love.
So maybe we don't enroll in 10 different programs for our kids...but we have a church family that loves us unconditionally.
So maybe we can't go on that expensive vacation...but we have everlasting life waiting for us someday in Heaven.

On Being Young…A Letter to My Children

Dear amazing, special, and unique children of mine,

Jesus once told a parable about a vineyard owner who hired workers to work in his field.  Some were hired at sunrise, others at nine, then noon, then three and some even as late in the day as five o'clock.  In the evening, when the work day was over, the vineyard owner came to give everyone their pay: one denarius.  Yes, one denarius for every worker, even those that only worked for a few hours! Even one denarius for the workers who had worked fourteen or more hours!!  Is that fair?

You know, I am almost 40 years old. I have spent most of my 39+ years loving God and serving Him. You, my children, are only 8, 10 and 11 years old!!  God can't possibly love you as much as He loves me, right?  I mean, He MUST hand out more blessings to me because I have loved Him and praised Him and served Him for so long!  Your measly little years are nothing compared to mine!

NO WAY! God just doesn't work like that!

He is like the vineyard owner in the parable.  Each of those workers were equally valuable and special to the owner, so he paid them all the same.

Just because you have only been His child for eleven years doesn't mean He loves you less! In fact:

His love for you is overflowing,

His forgiveness is never-ending,

His grace is ALL YOU NEED,

His blessings are abundant,

His patience is endless,

and He will always guide you home to Him.

Celebrate what you are this very day...young! Every stage of your life was designed by God, and His designs are prefect!  With each year, you will find the new treasures He has planned for you.  But for today, you are exactly where God wants you to be, my amazing kiddos.  What a perfect love He has for you!

Love, 

Mom 

Less is More...

"He must become greater, I must become less." John 3:30

Trust + Humility = Distress + Frustration. Well, for me at least! Trust and humility (or lack thereof) seem to go hand in hand when it comes to this girl. Let me explain.

Lately, I've felt the dark hands of anxiety trying to find its grip on me. My anxiety triggers are almost always health "issues." This past fall and winter have been brutal: Lice epidemic (or so it felt to me) in our school, a crazy outbreak of the flu and some other vicious stomach bug, my husband's cellulitis infection that freaked the living daylights out of me, ongoing tummy trouble with my sweet daughter (resulting in a three month doctor-mandated gluten free trial), and possible attention issues with my pulls-at-my-heartstrings little seven year old son.

Let's add on top of that: My oldest son started middle school this fall (so many new changes socially and academically), I started a new job (joyful, but first time back to work in 11 years!!), my daughter entered a new ballet training program, My husband's company scheduled a conference in Orlando the entire first week of December (WHO does that??!!), and I somewhat foolishly volunteered to be a part of yet another choir (that made 3 this Christmas season).

I'm guessing that many of my friends could type two very similar paragraphs. But from time to time, I let the above-mentioned "stress list" get the better of me. And here is where I go dangerously wrong:

I lose trust.

In fact, I stop even trying to trust in my Savior.  Instead of letting God be in control, I let my "stress list" control me. I let it zoom in and out of my thoughts. I let it influence my words as I speak to my children. I let it interfere with my sleep. Like a snowball, I let my small situations become too great-and then I start to unravel. 

Luckily for me, God doesn't stop trying to hit me over the head to get my attention.  Right now I am doing two bible studies at church. The first is discussing the "words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart" (Psalm 19:14)…hmmm, have I been allowing my "stress-list" to have a "hostile take over" in my heart lately? 

The second study is guiding me through the book of John during the 30 days before lent. In John 3:30, John the Baptist referred to Jesus when he said, "He must become greater, I must become less." John had been proclaiming the coming of a Savior. John was just a herald of Christ, his purpose was to make known the arrival of the Savior. John knew his purpose was to "become less" and Jesus was to "become greater." The question to ponder about his verse was this: "In my life, how does Jesus "need to increase" and I "need to decrease?"

And here, this blog post has come full circle: Trust + Humility. I need to humble myself before my Savior. I am so human, God is perfect. I am limited and stuck in the moment, God is infinite! I need to "decrease" this debilitating selfishness where I keep my "stress list" clutched to my heart, thinking I can work my way through it alone. I need to "increase" my trust in the promise from my Savior that he will take care of me: "Cast all your anxiety on Him, for he cares for you. 1 Peter 5:7"  He will watch over me, provide for me, and give me strength when I feel I have none of my own. 

For me, trust doesn't come without humility. Admitting I cannot live this life through my own strength is humbling. Trying to take control away from God is a monumentous bad habit to break. So I'm going to keep plugging away, asking my gracious Savior for help every day. 

I'm going to predict a different outcome: Trust + Humility = Peace + Comfort. 

Why I, God's Prodigal Daughter, Need Christmas

The early spring birds were singing the day she was born. Her parents looked at her with overflowing love as they contemplated the blessing that had been given to them. Into her soft newborn hair, her mother whispered a prayer of thanks to her Heavenly Father. They kissed her temples and marveled at this new love.

The spring birds turned to summer flowers and long warm days.  Her parents brought her into their church to give her God's gift of baptism. Her new church family smiled as they watched her receive the sign of the Holy Spirit upon her forehead and upon her heart. 

The little baby grew and grew.  All the while her parents told her they loved her, and that Jesus loved her.  But she wasn't perfect.  As she grew, so did her free will.  Many of her choices pleased her parents, but there were others that did not.  Like the time she disobeyed and crossed the street to ride her bike, although she knew that was outside of her "boundaries." Or the time she gave her sister a little shove down a dirt hill. Or the time she lied to her grandparents. She was sorry for all of these choices, and her parents knew of her regret. She received her consequences and was forgiven. 

She went to school and learned more and more each day of her Savior. She came to know of Him and His stories as if they were second nature to her.  She felt at home in his house, sang in children's choir, and said prayers with her parents each night before bed. She loved her Heavenly Father.  But still, she made those bad choices.  Amidst all the good, there was still the bad.  Those times when she gossiped about a school mate, lied to her parents, glanced at a friend's test, or disobeyed a teacher. She knew the choices were bad, and asked God for forgiveness.  Sometimes.

The clock kept ticking, and she grew and grew.  She became a young lady, confirmed in Christ. The pastor gave her a special verse on that day, Matthew 28:20, "I am with you always, even unto the end of the age." It stuck with her, and she often remembered it when she was feeling pushed and pulled by a world that didn't show His love. When things were hard and her choice became even harder.  As a bigger girl, she had bigger choices…and bigger opportunities for mistakes.  Just like when she was a child, she made many good choices.  She felt God's love and guiding hand as she steered her way through high school.  She still made her bad choices, but she knew her Savior, and was confident in his forgiveness.  

She passed through birthdays, driver's tests, college entrance exams, and finally graduation.  She knew she someday wanted to be a teacher, so made plans to go to a Lutheran University. She skipped off to school with an absentminded wave to her parents (those same parents who prayed into her soft infant hair and kissed her warm temples) and launched at full speed into her first year of college. And began to make bad choices. 

Bad choices about studying. Bad choices about friends. In her heart, she knew that every decision she made would bring her closer or further away from her Father. But it wasn't too convenient to dwell on those facts, so she shut them behind a door and went on her way. 

Her parents came to visit, and she visited home.  They went to church, but now she felt guilt instead of the overwhelming love and peace she had felt as a child. So she shut that behind the door too, and went on her way.

Her parents and sister prayed for her.  Her grandparents prayed for her.  The Holy Spirit prayed for her.  Her Heavenly Father, the one who promised to be with her wherever she went, kept His promise.  He was there with her always, through every bad choice.  He did not leave her, could not leave His beautiful daughter that He loved so infinitely much. 

Slowly, it seemed to her, she grew and grew.  Through the prayers of her family, help of teachers God sent her, friends He put in her path, and finally a young man God placed next to her, she slowly began to see Her Savior again. She opened the door and let Him back in.  

Then one day after graduation she was called to serve as a teacher in a Lutheran School, just like the one where she grew up.  She was amazed and thankful to God for this gift.  She knew how He had stayed next to her in her rough times and was humbled to know He loved her still. She loved that first year of teaching, and felt instantly at home in His house.  She sang in the choir, prayed at devotions with her fellow teachers, and stole quiet moments in the chapel. 

But still, she didn't make perfect choices.  How could she? She was sinful. Time and again, He forgave her.

Another year ticked by and she married that young man God had sent her.  All the while their parents prayed for them, their grandparents prayed for them, the Holy Spirit prayed for them. They pleased God with their choices, but also grieved him.  They worshiped Him, loved Him and asked His forgiveness.  He freely gave it to them. 

They grew and grew together.  Then one day God blessed them with a baby. They marveled at his perfectness, they looked into his blue eyes and were overwhelmed with love. 

She held her baby boy and whispered a prayer of thanks to God into his soft hair, she kissed his warm temples and prayed. In her entire lifetime, there had not been a day that she had not needed her Savior. She knew, as she quietly looked at her tiny miracle, that it would be the same for her little boy. He would always need his Savior. He would make good choices and bad. He would struggle, but his Savior would never leave him. She would never stop praying for him.  His father would always pray for him. His grandparents would always pray for him.  The Holy Spirit would always pray for him.  

Now she looks and listens as her children play.  She watches them grow and learn at the same school she taught. She sees their love for their Savior.  Her heart overflows. She glances at her Christmas tree as she types, and feels a rush of emotion as she thanks God for the birth of His son.  Every day of her life she has needed her Savior.  Every day of her children's lives have they needed their Savior.  Every time they make a bad decision or a foolish choice, every sin they commit.  They need the forgiveness of their Savior. 

Here, within the red, the green, the ribbons and bows is the true reason she loves Christmas. The birth of her Savior…and His ultimate sacrifice for her salvation.  

She kisses her daughter's ten year old temples, and thanks God for the birth of her Savior.  He was born for her, for her husband, for her three beautiful children. Because we all need Him, every single day.

Merry Christmas! May the wonder of Christ's birth, and the amazing gift He gave you fill you all with peace!

My Grandmother and How She Was Just About God!

In December, I often think of my grandmother.  Truthfully, I think about her all the time. She left a legacy of love with her children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews, in-laws, son in laws, grandson-in laws, and so many more. She was born on December 14, 1927.

Today, this is how she came to mind...

Amidst the busy month of December, I have been trying to carve out a time to focus on God's word.  Like a true prodigal daughter, I wander away from Him every day.  This girl knows that God promises to speak to me through His word!  God's word is His lifeline to me, but do I turn to it often enough? Definitely not.  I try to tackle my day or my week all alone…and then I wonder why I'm stressed.

This morning I got out my bible (and probably looked completely foolish if neighbor might have peeked through the window), randomly opened it and laid my forehead down somewhere in Judges.  Perhaps I felt that if my head was that close to God's word, maybe I could make my heart follow along! I prayed that I would be able to "bring down my walls" that I put up…the ones that keep me preoccupied and distracted while I pray and read and study. I prayed that I would hear, feel and see God speaking to me through His word.

I was reading in Luke about Jesus staying behind in the temple while his family traveled on ahead, and how he worried his mother. When she questioned him, he replied,

"Why were you searching for me?" He asked them.  "Didn't you know that I had to be in my Father's house?" Luke 2:49

The author of my devotion* had this to say about this verse:

"In my opinion, Christ's response was quite interesting.  I've searched every Greek translation I can find, and none of my resources have an original word that directly translates to "house" or "business" in verse 49.  From what I can gather, a more precise translation of Christ's response might be: "Didn't you know that I had to be about my Father?"

"That question implies the desire of my heart more than any other I can imagine.  I just want to be about God.  Not about ministry.  Not about my own agenda. Not about writing books and Bible studies. Not about me at all.  When all is said and done I would give my life for people to be able to say, "She was just about God." That would be the ultimate legacy."

Immediately as I read the last paragraph, I thought of my grandmother.  Just about anyone who knew her would say that she was "just about God!" Her fellow Realtors in her office knew she was just about God.  The sales clerk at her favorite store knew she was just about God. Her neighbors and the mailman knew she was just about God. The nurses in the hospital during her surgeries knew she was just about God.  The QVC operator probably knew she was just about God. 

What a legacy!!!  Her strong faith and commitment to our Savior was uncontainable and irrepressible!  She knew (even though I know she struggled just like we all do) that her life was not about her own agenda. She knew God would use her to bring Him to others, and she literally craved the opportunities.  She wasn't afraid of looking foolish or being embarrassed by showing her faith. She just loved him so very much. Oh man, she was Just About God!

Happy Birthday to my dear, amazing, grandmother! For your past 14 birthdays you have been resting in Christ, finally wrapped in the warmth of the Savior you worshipped and served for so long! My heart is so happy for you!

Dear Lord, may I be Just About You! May no other distractions get in the way of being about your agenda, not my own. This season is all about your birth, and your life given for our salvation. That should be my agenda: making sure everyone knows this news! NOT rushing to get the cookies baked in time for the Christmas party, NOT hurriedly putting up the twinkle lights on the front porch, NOT fretting over gift selections. Thank you for opening my heart and eyes to hear and see this message today. I love you Lord, and may everyone I know see your love through me! Amen

* Jesus Day By Day, Beth Moore