#21 Believing Thomas

     When one hears the name "Thomas", he easily associates it with the Biblical disciple named Thomas. Unfortunately for those named Thomas, people also associate a consistent adjective with the name--"doubting". Just as Judas and Benedict Arnold have become synonymous with "traitor" and are used as substitute nouns for that word, and "good" is forever linked with "Samaritan", so "doubting Thomas" has become a noun in itself. It is my hope that by reading this "song", you may see that disciple Thomas gave us much more than the notion of doubting and realize that we are the richer for having known this disciple and his relationship with Jesus.
     I have a son named "Thomas", but I gave him that name for several reasons, none of which is its association with "doubting."  First, we named him after our pastor at the time of Thomas' birth, Thomas Nesbitt. Tom counseled us and provided the spiritual leadership that has continued to sustain and guide me even at this point in my life, despite his position as my church home pastor for only three years. His influence helped to change my life for the better, and I am grateful for Tom's investment in our lives.
     Secondly, my Thomas was named after my grandfather, Thomas F. Glover, who was a respected County Attorney all the years I was growing up and who represented the stabilizing force on my dad's side of the family. When things fell apart, he was the glue that put them back together. Although many of his actions served to enable my father's drinking and addictive behaviors, my grandfather was motivated by love. He consistently stayed devoted to his family in spite of having sons that disappointed him, and he never abandoned his responsibilities of husband, father, and community leader. Thirty-five years after his passing, my grandfather is still remembered in his community as a respectable and honorable man.
     Finally, I named my son after the disciple Thomas, not because the disciple doubted, but because he was a loyal follower of Jesus, believed in the Lord Jesus, and went on to be a leader in spreading the gospel of Christ. 
     Thomas was not present when Christ appeared to the rest of the disciples after His resurrection in John 20:19-23. Jesus spoke peace to them, "showed them his hands and his side," commissioned them to spread the gospel, and breathed on them to "receive the Holy Spirit." Thomas missed out on that important visit and the gifts that were given there. But, Jesus loved Thomas enough to return at another time and to give Thomas an opportunity to believe in Him.
     Those who were present at Christ's appearing went to tell Thomas that they had "seen the Lord" (John 20:25), but Thomas replied, "Unless I see the wounds from the nails in his hands, and put my finger into the wounds from the nails, and put my hand into his side, I will never believe it!" Thomas was probably just as scared as the rest of the disciples had been after Jesus' arrest and crucifixion, and he too was most likely disappointed and confused. He relied on what he could see and feel to believe. Without seeing for himself, he decided he would not believe. His eight days of disappointment and loss of faith were probably agonizing for him. Jesus could have left Thomas in that unbelieving state, but He did not. He did not have to schedule a repeat visit with the disciples to convince them of His resurrection or to give them the Holy Spirit or to reiterate His plan of sending them out to preach. However, He did return, and He came back for Thomas.


     "Eight days later the disciples were again together in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you!" Then he said to Thomas, "Put your finger here, and examine my hands. Extend your hand and put it into my side. Do not continue in your unbelief, but believe." Thomas replied to him, " My Lord and my God!"" John 20:26-28


     Jesus cared enough about Thomas that He planned a special visit to him, appeared amidst the disciples even though the doors were locked, and went straight to Thomas and showed him the scars of the wounds that were given Him on the cross.  This was evidence that demanded a verdict. When Jesus asked Thomas to believe, he responded by calling Jesus both his Lord and his God:  "My Lord and my God!" More than believing that Christ was God, Thomas was saying to Jesus, "You are now also Lord of my life."


"What a divine revelation doubting Thomas had been given! He went instantly from disbelief in a resurrected Savior to certain knowledge that Jesus was not only alive but that He was also Lord and God. When confronted with the living truth, all doubts fled. The darkness of the tomb gave way to the Light of the World!"(1)    


     Thomas had already demonstrated his loyalty to Christ in John 11 when Jesus decided to return to Judea because He had heard that His friend Lazarus was sick. The disciples warned Jesus that He was in danger of being stoned if He returned to Judea, but Jesus decided to go anyway. Thomas replied, "Let us go too, so that we may die with him" (v. 16), indicating his loyalty to Jesus and his willingness to die with his friend rather than to be apart from him. Thomas was being a leader among the disciples and stepping up both to obey Jesus (Who had said, "Let us go to him") and to stand with Him in difficult circumstances. Jesus faced both grief, having told the disciples that his friend Lazarus had just died (v. 14), and possible death, having previously been threatened with death in Judea.
     In John 14:1-8 Jesus tells us that He is "going away to make ready a place for you." Thomas had already demonstrated that he was willing to face death to be with Jesus, and he didn't understand where Jesus was "going."  Thomas asked, "Lord, we don't know where you are going. How can we know the way?" Jesus responded in a way that not only answered Thomas' question but also speaks to us and to every other person who seeks to know God. "I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. If you have known me, you will know my Father too." (v 6-7) Jesus made it clear to Thomas and makes it clear for us today that He is the only way to reach God.
     So many of us are like Thomas --fiercely loyal to the things we can see and prove with our senses, or by the "scientific method." Yet, when faced with difficult circumstances, we sometimes doubt God and wonder if He is still there, still in control of the world, still worthy of our devotion. Thomas must have been grieving deeply over the death of Jesus and the betrayal of his friend and fellow disciple Judas after Christ's death on the cross. Whom could he trust after these losses? Why should he believe the word of his fellow disciples after they claimed to have seen Jesus? Tenderhearted, loyal Thomas was not about to be be hurt or betrayed again. So, Christ took the time to appear to Thomas personally. Because of what Christ did for Thomas, we can surmise that He takes a personal interest in each one of us as well. We have Thomas to thank for showing us loyalty to Christ and leadership among frightened friends, for asking questions of Jesus when he didn't understand, for believing in the resurrection of Christ, and for then following Him and making Him Lord of his life.
   Thomas went on to demonstrate his submission to Christ by obeying His commission to preach the gospel in other places.

"Jesus did not hold Thomas' doubts against him. Instead He addressed those doubts and proved Himself to be faithful to the man He had called as one of His chosen. Christ then empowered Thomas to accomplish the tasks He set before him. Thomas is believed to have become the only apostle who went outside the Roman Empire to preach and teach the gospel. He also crossed the largest area which included Persia and India. Tradition tells us that he was a Martyr and was killed by a group of sages near Mylapore about 72 AD when he was thrown into a pit and pierced by a spear." (2)
    


1. http://www.helium.com/items/1519758-doubting-thomas
2. http://www.helium.com/items/1519758-doubting-thomas?page=2

Songs in the Night: #20 A Broken Rose--A Birthday Song

Songs in the Night: #20 A Broken Rose--A Birthday Song

#20 A Broken Rose--A Birthday Song

     Today is my birthday, and as birthdays go, it's been memorable. My birthday season started out a couple of weeks ago with me coming down with bronchitis. I have missed work, a concert, and some meetings, and I've coughed my way through several patient interviews. But, I am finally (cough, cough) on the mend, having passed the evil bug on to both my husband and my daughter. 
     In the days leading up to my birthday, my husband helped me to find the ideal purse as my birthday gift. The camel-colored leather bag, with its tassels and pockets, arrived last week, to my delight, and I have already filled it. David did a great job of sleuthing to get it just right.
     Buying a purse has become, for me, quite a challenge. It has to be long enough to hold my cane when it's folded and still have space for the usual wallet and cosmetic bag. Plus, I carry two cell phones--one for personal use and one reserved just for patients--and my prescription pad and pens, a flashlight, my pocket calendar, identification badges, and the list goes on. The bag can get pretty heavy. Additionally, I need help finding a good color. Last year I found a lovely, chocolate bag at a reasonable price and proudly carried it for a couple of months before I went to see my son for a visit. When he opened the door for me as we were leaving to go out to dinner, he noticed my bag and exclaimed, aghast, "Mom, what are you doing carrying a purple handbag?!" I, too, was aghast. To me it looked brown! I wondered if people might think I am becoming more daring as I get older, or maybe a little odd. I was carrying purple with everything! 
     My mistake with the purse selection brought to mind the poem, "When I Am an Old Woman, I Shall Wear Purple"(see below). I like the poem, but if I am going to wear purple, I want it to be because I choose it, knowing that it is purple!
     My birthday week was a bit lonely with my daughter gone on her senior trip and no hope of my adult children coming home for a visit. I approached the weekend with anticipation, however, because I was going to see old friends on Friday. I attended a gleeful gathering of some of my former classmates--all girls from Lee High School in Midland. We had a marvelous time catching up with each other and talking about families, trials, and triumphs. As women of a certain age, we no longer care about the various cliques and  prejudices we had in high school; we just love each other and enjoy the camaraderie. 
     As the evening waned, and the stars came out, I found that I was stuck out on the covered patio, out in the middle of the large back yard in the dark, with no cane or flashlight to get me back to the house. I hadn't really talked much about my visual handicap, didn't want to call attention to it, and hadn't even brought my cane out yet in their presence. (I really don't like my problem to be the topic of conversation if I can help it.)  As I attempted to pick my way through the darkness back to the house, the girls ordered me back to the patio and surprised me with a party! They paraded from the house all in a line carrying gifts, tooting horns, wearing silly glasses and fake noses, and bearing cake! My cupcake sported a singing candle (thank goodness they lit only one!), and the presents and cards were both wonderful and hilarious. 
     It's been a long time since I had a birthday party, and this one was a blast-- full of belly laughs, giggles, guffaws, and even a few tears. They assisted me back to the house after our rowdy revelry. None of us cared about anyone's deficits. We just appreciated our benefits! Thanks, girlfriends. You gave me some new smile lines!
     I even went to bed last night smiling-- from the memory of the party and because of the arrival of my first birthday greeting, four seconds after midnight, from my niece. I awoke this morning contented--ready to get out of bed, eager to get dressed for church, and glad to be able to go to the house of the Lord after being sick for two weeks with bronchitis. None of my children were home for my birthday breakfast, but I had a dear husband to greet me when I came into the kitchen.       
     And greet me he did! David was making tea for me and had placed a bouquet of roses and a sweet card on the kitchen table. How beautiful! I was able to enjoy my tea and roses and set about arranging the flowers while David took his shower. Among the dozen fragrant, long-stemmed, multicolored roses was one red one with a broken stem halfway down the shaft. With only a moment of sadness for the broken rose, I trimmed it and put it in a bud vase by itself. Perfect. A single rose in a cut-glass vase, placed on my bathroom vanity to remind me of my husband's love. The rest I arranged in a large red vase for the kitchen table--roses for two places in the house, instead of one! 

birthday roses and cupcakes

     Once my husband was ready, he accompanied me to church. I read my card as we rode in the church bus from the parking lot to the Worship Center and, as a result,  messed up my mascara! He's a good card picker. I had to read it twice to soak up the precious words and sentiment. Life is good. But, it's better lived with one's soulmate.
     I learned in Bible study class today that the sermon is posted on the You Version Bible phone app each Sunday, and I previewed the sermon notes. I was excited that the pastor planned to speak on the topic, "What's In a Name?" His scripture references were cited as Isaiah 62:2-4 and Revelation 2:17. The second is one of my favorites:

   ¹⁷ "Whoever has ears, let them hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To the one who is victorious, I will give some of the hidden manna. I will also give that person a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to the one who receives it."
Revelation 2:17 New International Version (NIV)
     It excites me to know that God has a new name for each of His children, for us who love the Lord. He takes what is ruined and makes it new. He mends broken vessels and makes them whole again. He turns ugly into beautiful. He gives us a new name that more accurately describes who we are in Him instead of who we were. 
      One of my favorite songs about this principle is sung by Gwen Smith in the video, "Broken Into Beautiful":

     After class I donned my choir robe and joined the rest of the choir in the rehearsal room for worship. But, I was not to sing in worship this morning or hear the sermon. Just as we were leaving the choir room, my husband came in looking for me with a worried look on his face. He was having chest pain. Our church friends helped me get out of my choir robe and retrieve my things, offered to call an ambulance, looked for aspirin, sat with David while I went to get the car,  and even offered to go with us to the hospital.              
     Fortunately, David is okay, if an outbreak of shingles can be considered "okay," and we are now at home enjoying the rest of our afternoon and evening--grateful that we have each other and our family, grateful that he didn't have a cardiac arrest. He missed the Cowboy game, but he doesn't seem to mind. I missed the sermon and the singing, but that's okay too. David has a good perspective on this, I think. He says, matter of factly, "It's just the shingles again. If I have to choose between the shingles or a heart attack, I'll take the shingles!" 
     My senior daughter came home and presented me with a lovely necklace she bought for me while visiting Taos Pueblo. And, one of my adult children called  and sang "Happy Birthday." Not bad.
      Some might say that my birthday was a not-so-good day, but I don't see it that way. I choose to see it differently--in a different light.  Bronchitis and a broken rose and my husband having a potential heart attack didn't darken my day.  In fact, it turned out just "rosy".  

    
              Warning - When I Am an Old Woman I Shall Wear Purple



By Jenny Joseph

When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple

with a red hat that doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.

And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves

and satin candles, and say we've no money for butter.

I shall sit down on the pavement when I am tired

and gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells

and run my stick along the public railings

and make up for the sobriety of my youth.

I shall go out in my slippers in the rain

and pick the flowers in other people's gardens

and learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat

and eat three pounds of sausages at a go

or only bread and pickles for a week

and hoard pens and pencils and beer nuts and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry

and pay our rent and not swear in the street

and set a good example for the children.

We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?

So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised

When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

    
    
     

Song #19: Who Cares About Apple Pie? I'm the Apple of HIS Eye

     Today was a beautiful day--cool enough this morning to enjoy sipping my hot tea outdoors as I picked up the newspaper, filled up the bird feeders, and watered my plants.  My honey of a husband was jazzed because Texas Tech's football game was scheduled to air this afternoon. Then, my parents decided to come visiting--a perfect excuse to put on a pot roast and bake an apple crumb pie!! So goes the day on a lovely fall Saturday.
     The aroma of roasting beef, potatoes, onions, and carrots wafted through the kitchen and den, co-mingling with the spicy-homey smell of apples, cinnamon, and pecans. While Mom and I browsed through old family pictures, the guys turned on the game and started in cheering for the Red Raiders and commenting on the inadequacies of the competition.
     Around mid-afternoon it was time to take that pie out of the oven. The streusel topping was bubbling with buttery cinnamon goodness, and I could hardly wait for dinner and dessert! I set it on the counter to cool but then had to move it over to the stove top to make way for something else. Although I offered everyone a piece of pie while it was hot, we were all still full from the homemade tomato basil soup and grilled cheese sandwiches from lunch. We were having a great day!

How apple crumb pie should look

     By about 4 p.m. Mom and I were ready for a cup of tea. Sharing tea has become our habit in the afternoons when we are able to visit one another. I put the water on the stove to boil while both of us went over to the sink to wash up some dishes. Suddenly, a loud pop followed by exploding glass erupted from the stove-top! The Pyrex pie plate had exploded from sitting on the heating element.  I had mistakenly turned on the wrong burner! Apples, pecans, and sugary sticky filling ran all over the stove, and glass was scattered  over the range,  counter-top, and floor. 
     Mom quickly grabbed a cookie sheet and began scooping the hot pie filling and glass shards off the burner while David and I grabbed towels, broom, and dust pan to start cleaning up the mess. And, it was a mess! Part of the glass was stuck to the burner, and getting all the muck from beneath the range top was a challenge. Alas!! The pie was ruined! But, no one seemed upset.

My apple crumb glass pie!

     I don't think it was my lack of cooking skill that prevented my loved ones for losing their tempers or being angry with me over the lost pie. In fact, they were looking forward to a gastronomic pleasure. However, my family has come to expect such mishaps from time to time, and they are amazingly forgiving. Once, while we were preparing a holiday meal,  the oven caught on fire where something had dripped on the bottom and then ignited. The kitchen fire extinguisher came in quite handy, and I promptly put the fire out. We all gagged and coughed for awhile until the smoke cleared out, but we still enjoyed our holiday. More recently, a skillet of oil, meant for frying onion rings, ignited while I answered a call and started talking to a lawyer who was issuing a subpoena  requesting I testify against one of my patients. I was rattled by the call already when the oil burst into flame in a sudden whoosh!  I asked him to hold on while David, Kate, and I tried to put out the fire. On that occasion the fire extinguisher didn't work. (Remember? I had used it on the oven fire and had not yet replaced it.) Also, placing the lid on the skillet failed to suffocate the flames and simply drove them beneath the burner, and David's attempts at throwing kitchen towels on the fire didn't work either. By then I was saying, "We need to call 911!"  Kate finally snuffed out the flames by throwing a big bathroom towel over everything! she saved the day! Meanwhile, the lawyer for the state board was still holding and listening to all the commotion going on in our kitchen. Strangely, even after that, he still sent me the subpoena. Would you trust the testimony of a Psychiatrist who catches things on fire in her kitchen? Frequently?
    On this particular Saturday, my sweet husband patiently swept and whisked and emptied broken glass into the trash can until all was clean again. Mom scrubbed the burners and the pans that go beneath them, calm and capable. Kate, fortunately, escaped all the drama by being at play practice.  Smiling to myself, appreciative of my family, I put together a batch of gingerbread, popped it in the oven, and had it out steaming and ready by the time we sat down to dinner. 
     What a circle of love I felt last night during that dinner! No one complained of not having apple pie. Everyone appreciated and praised the roast beef and all the trimmings. They didn't even get upset about the smoke! Instead I felt enveloped by the unconditional love and acceptance of my family and had a lovely evening I will long remember.
    The absence of criticism and blaming got me to thinking--about my family, about love and forgiveness, and ultimately about God. My husband didn't care about the missing apple pie, I think, because I am the apple of his eye. He loves me and accepts my limitations and mistakes. He knows how much I love to cook, and he is not going to instruct me to stop cooking because I have a problem with my eyesight. Instead, he helps me whenever he can so that I can keep doing what I enjoy. He even helps clean up my messes without even one cross word. My mom has been through many a crisis in her life and has learned to manage them with poise and grace. She loves me also and has forgiven me for many failures over the years. I don't even have to ask her, because she already knows what I need. She shows compassion and understanding toward me as I keep stumbling along, trying to manage life under the grace and mercy God gives me. She is a great encourager, and I hope to be like her.
     Each of these important people in my life is manifesting something within him or her placed there by God Himself. "You have never talked to a mere mortal", as C.S. Lewes says, because every person was created by God to be immortal--to live on after this life and to be Jesus with skin on in this one. God's Spirit lives within them, and it pours out to me and to others.
     And then there's God. It is now Sunday, and I am reflecting on yesterday's events. Our pastor started teaching on Galatians this morning, and Galatians is all about grace--God's grace. I am awestruck with wonder that my family  looks over my mistakes and forgives me for the multiple times I have nearly torched our kitchen. I am astounded by their patience and their willingness to keep loving me and putting up with me. Yet, they, as I,  are human--imperfect people who have been "made complete" (Colossians 2:10) and are forgiven by a merciful God. God's capacity for understanding, for seeing the big picture, and for knowing me far exceeds the ability of my family to do so.
     Matthew's gospel says, "Or what man is there among you, when his son shall ask him for a loaf, will give him a stone? Or if he shall ask for a fish, he will not give him a snake, will he? If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more shall your Father who is in heaven give what is good to those who ask Him!" Matthew 7:9-11
     If my mother and my husband  give "good gifts" to me--gifts of forgiveness, mercy, acceptance, love, and helpfulness--how much more does my Father "give what is good" to me?! His love, mercy, faithfulness, grace, and love are far greater than what we can ever imagine. In fact, I am the apple of His eye! He loves me much more than even my husband does or can!

6 "I call on you, O God, for you will answer me;

give ear to me and hear my prayer. 

7 Show the wonder of your great love,

you who save by your right hand

those who take refuge in you from their foes.

8 Keep me as the apple of your eye;

hide me in the shadow of your wings

9 from the wicked who assail me,

from my mortal enemies who surround me." Psalm 17:6-9

     We are so limited in our thinking, in our human understanding, that we cannot begin to fathom the depth of our Father's love for us. Only by seeing a picture of such love in my family do I begin to get a glimpse of His. And, that is how the world at large begins to see God's love--by seeing the love of Christ played out in our lives. "If God is love, then God’s people make God’s love visible." (http://revkencarter.blogspot.com/ August 29, 2011). My family makes God's love visible. 

     As we study Galatians at our church over the next few months, I pray that we will not only learn more about showing God's kind of love, but actually do it more. There are many more of us out there who can't see the light, who start fires and try to put them out and control the damage under their own power, who pollute the air with the smoke of their fire-setting, and who not only upset the apple cart but blow up the whole pie!! ( How do you like them apples, metaphor police?) 

      I pray that "He would grant you, according to the riches of His glory, to be strengthened with power through His Spirit in the inner man; so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith; and that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled up to all the fullness of God. Now to Him who is able to do exceeding abundantly beyond all that we ask or think, according to the power that works within us, to Him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations forever and ever. Amen."  Ephesians 3:16-21

Songs in the Night: #17 Song for a Season of Change

Songs in the Night: #17 Song for a Season of Change

Song #18: My Mockingbird Marauder

My mockingbird marauder was missing, out today.
I noticed all was silent as I shooed the gnats away

And went to work with watering and pulling out of weeds

And noticed that the basil was going all to seed.

He does his garden picking well before I leave my bed,

Then he perches 'top the trellis and cocks his gray-white head.

He warbles forth his birdsong, and it lilts across my way--

So usual that its absence casts a pall upon my day.

The okra and the peppers tumbled down into my pot.

The sound of scissors snipping cut the silence. I was hot,

And beads of sweat were dripping as I listened for his song,

Then wondered quite abruptly where he was and what was wrong.

I noticed he had left me five bright cherries on the vine.

I wasn't used to finding them; he takes them all the time.

Gleefully I picked the little handful for my meal,

Then stopped and looked around me wond'ring why he didn't steal 

Tomatoes on this morning--why he left the small bright fruit.

Why was my garden empty? Why was the air so mute? 

I wondered where he'd gone, and I missed the little thief.

My picking time was joyless, and I sought the shade's relief.

I thought of those bright eyes and the tilting of his head,

The way he hops from twig to branch around my garden bed,

And decided that tomatoes didn't mean as much to me

As the sound of someone singing and the joy of company.

"I will sing to the LORD all my life; I will sing praise to my God as long as I live. May my meditation be pleasing to him, as I rejoice in the LORD."  Psalm 104:33-34

#17 Song for a Season of Change

     I am having a difficult time accepting the fact that my youngest child is entering her senior year and getting ready to leave home and go off to college next year. I am not ready, and there are so many things we haven't done yet-- so many things I haven't taught her. Yet, I still take her on college visits, discuss degree plans, and look at dorm rooms with her. I try to envision myself with an empty nest and don't like it. However, if I truly didn't want her to go to college, would I be doing all these things to help her get there? Wouldn't I be more likely to puff up like a toad, shut myself in my room, and take her car keys away?
     Yet, I am helping her to leave, to grow up, to be able to fly on her own--just as I have for all my children these last thirty-five years. How do I both dislike what is happening and facilitate her going? What a mixed up bag of emotions I have!

     I became a mother in 1976 and love being a mom. I also enjoy taking pictures of my kids. Now that I have limited vision (tunnel vision, you might call it), I take even more photos because that is how I can see a whole person at once--by miniaturizing him. Otherwise, when I look at someone, I will see just his face but not his arms, or just her skirt but not her blouse. In fact, I get lots of eye rolls from my kids when it's time to take pictures. 
     My first "first day of school" photo I took was when Josh was five years old and starting kindergarten at Westcreek Elementary School in Ft. Worth, Texas. I cried, of course, just as I have every year on the first day of school. I went through the same emotions with each successive child: first Josh, then Tommy, Jenny, and Kate.

     Wednesday morning was my last "first day of school" photo, and this time, as I watched my little girl/nearly woman walk across the grounds of her school, I was weeping again. I guess I had better keep the tissue box handy, because every last play, last prom, and last homecoming will probably evoke the same response.
   Thirty-five years is a long time to be actively mothering children at home. But many other women have done it longer and better. Some even rear their grandchildren. I have great admiration for those women who have reared several children to love the Lord, be good citizens, treasure their country, and honor their parents. Those women are to be highly praised and will have many stars in their crowns in Heaven. But I won't know for some time whether I have been successful at accomplishing what God has charged me to do. Perhaps I won't even know until I am in Heaven. But, I know I can trust the One Who gave me those children. 

"Yet I am not ashamed, because I know Whom I have believed, and am convinced that He is able to guard what I have entrusted to Him for that day." II Timothy 1:12


     I already have one child in Heaven, and, in many ways I have felt over the years that my negligence or self-absorption contributed to his early going-home. But, I have committed all of my children to God, and He is both responsible and trustworthy. His ways are Higher than my ways, and His thoughts higher than mine. Because I know the One in Whom I believe, I know that He can take care of those that I have committed to Him. When Kate goes off to college, I cannot know how she is doing day to day, and I hardly know what I will do with myself. But, God will know. And, I won't cease being a mother. I just won't be on active duty all the time.
     Even with my faith in God, I can't say that I am ready for the change. Instead, it's like I have hold of the end of a rope, and I am pulling against it with all my might. But, even with my full weight on the line, I am being dragged forward, inch by inch, day by day, holiday by holiday, until I get to that graduation day and finally the day we take our daughter to college, help her get unloaded and settled in her dorm room, and then drive off. That will be a teary day!
     Meanwhile, I am more fully aware of how much I don't like change! But change is dragging me kicking and screaming into next year. My daughter growing up and graduating is a good thing. For her to be able to go away to college and make good decisions and to stand for what she believes in is a good thing! And, yes, however begrudgingly I may admit it, this transition in my life is a good thing. My Lord knows what is good for me, and He has my best in mind. He has blessed me with the gift of children these 35 years--laughter in my house, late night giggles, midnight movies, tender sweet talks, goodnight prayers, cuddles on the sofa, clothes in the floor, puddles in the bathroom, shoes in the den, dishes in the sink, music blaring down the hall, piles of laundry on Fridays, and someone to eat my chocolate chip cookies. I am grateful for the time and these memories and for the new season to come.  
     Now that I have made it clear that change is a comin' in our home and have told you how I feel about it, I want to change gears and present to you a song written and sung by one of Kate's fellow seniors. There's not much I can say that isn't expressed in Paul Ruark's music video, "Keep Your Change". He sings about the things that matter. Here it is for your listening and watching enjoyment!