New Every Morning

morning-glories-20160831-1Morning glories are one of the most beautiful and easiest climbing vines you can grow in your garden or in pots. They are annual plants with slender stems, heart-shaped leaves, and trumpet-shaped flowers in pink, purple-blue, magenta, or white. Their romantic tendrils curl and twist around a pole, string or trellis lending an old-fashioned charm to any sunny spot.

Morning glories prolifically flower from mid-summer through fall. Each blossom unravels into full bloom in the early morning and usually begins to fade and wilt after a few hours.

As many of you can surely tell from my numerous photos on facebook of this amazing plant, I adore my morning glories.

I love the shades of color, the abundant greenery, their daily climb to new heights.

I love the spiritual truths they remind me of each morning when I go out to my backyard bright and early to count the fresh newly-born blossoms. I was greeted today with over 50 new blooms! I continually marvel at how delicate and astonishingly gorgeous they are. I ponder the brevity of each bloom’s life – here today and gone tomorrow.

Two truths from the Bible come to mind as I contemplate my back-yard beauties.

The first one is this:  “The grass withers, the flower fades, But the word of our God stands forever.” (Isaiah 40:8)

This earthly life, like the morning glory bloom, is brief and comes to an end all too soon. In this fallen world all of us are subject to eventual decay and death. Like the flowers, we flourish for a time, then wither and fall. This outlook would be bleak indeed if not for the hope that there is something – greater and stronger than death – that stands forever: the word of our God.

God’s word brings hope for the future. This is the second eternal truth.

The Bible declares: “ The Lord’s loyal kindness never ceases; his compassions never end. They are fresh every morning; your faithfulness is abundant!” (Lamentations 3:22-23)

No matter what hand life deals, no matter what storms may come, the Lord’s kindness and goodness are always there. True to His word, He brings me to each new day, with a fresh and precious start. And even when death comes, He will raise me up. That will be a brighter and even more glorious day!

This good news is summed up in the very first Bible verse I learned as a child: “For this is the way God loved the world: He gave his one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life.” John 3:16.

So I continue to delight in my morning glories and in the picture they are of my Father’s faithful and everlasting love.

Morning glories … and the kindness and compassion of God … they are new every morning. What a blessing!

 

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A Walk to Remember

Yesterday I went for a walk with my 17 month old granddaughter, Madison Joy. It was a walk to remember.

Basically, Maddie set the course and I followed – keeping watch. She toddled around observing the big wide world  and experimenting with her place in it. Busy learning and tasting the delightful freedom of life out in the open, every once in awhile she’d check around to make sure I was still with her.

Down the lane she went. In her enthusiasm she got going too fast as children often do. She fell hands first into the gravel. Undaunted, she picked herself up and ran her hands over her pants only then seeking my help with an expectant glance.  I helped her brush her hands together to dust off the grit, then gave her a comforting hug.

That done, she circled around onto the grass and made off for her little ride-in toy car over on the lawn.  The seat was wet with last night’s  rain. Before I could stop her, Maddie sat down and got her bottom wet. Under loud protests from her I quickly lifted her squirming body from the car to dump the water and dry the seat. Then she got back in and had her fun.

Done with that, we ventured to the sand box for a few moments of exploration . She examined the slide, pushed the swing, and pulled on some daisies that were growing near the edge. Stepping over the wooden border, Maddie again took a tumble, this time with a somewhat softer landing. She didn’t need any help this time.

Up and off again, Maddie made her way around the house. After climbing the steps to the back deck, she noticed that her little chair had been blown over by the wind . With a sense for the proper way of things, she righted the chair and proceeded without hesitation to the other side of the deck. Semi-capable of walking down the steps on her own, she wisely realized her own limitation. She turned to me with an outstretched little arm imploring me to assist her. Hand in hand we navigated the steps to the level ground below.

Onward then to her daddy’s vegetable garden which she admired and chattered about with pointed finger and delighted face.

Navigating the bumpy hill around the septic system would have been a challenge to Maddie, so I gently redirected her around the hollows and rocks that would have been her downfall.

Rounding the side of the house into the hot sun again I suggested that it was time to go inside.  Maddie obediently headed for the front door.

The front steps being cement, wet with puddles, and hard on tender knees, I scooped Maddie up from behind and landed her just outside the front door. In we went, tired but happy after our outdoor adventure.

As we cuddled on the living room couch together, Maddie Joy leaned over in my face and planted her first voluntary toddler kiss for Grandma right on my mouth. My heart melted.  I love this sweet kid! I would do anything for her!

How like the Lord to give me such a wonderful gift: a parable of what He does for me every day on my walk through this life. He is my Father –my Daddy who never leaves me unattended. He’s always at hand to pick me up when I fall. He dusts off my bruised hands and encourages me to keep going. Vigilant, protective, He lets me learn by doing – succeeding, failing, not giving up. He is faithful to grasp my hand when I seek His help. Delighting in my delights, redirecting my steps when I need guidance, calling me to obey, My Father lifts me up in His embrace to bring me into His house. He draws me into rest and melts my heart with His tender, affectionate love. He is a good good Father whose own heart melts when I respond. He loves me! He would do anything for me!

Yesterday I was so blessed by my precious granddaughter.

Yesterday I was doubly blessed by my wonderful heavenly Father.

It was indeed a walk to remember.

 

 

 

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Betty lost her clothes

Betty lost her clothes the other day. Betty often loses her clothes. At the pool where we both attend Aquafit classes, it’s not unusual to see Betty wandering around checking the lockers in the change room because she’s forgotten where she left her things.

You see, Betty has problems with her short term memory. She has dementia.

People are pretty good about helping Betty out. We chat with her, reassure her, ask her questions and aid her in finding her lost possessions. Then all is well and Betty is off on the right track until the next time she forgets.

Betty got me thinking.

In some ways I am like her. I forget things too. As a Christian I sometimes suffer from spiritual dementia. I lose my way, I forget to put on my spiritual clothes. At times I can’t even find them.

What are these spiritual clothes?

There’s quite a wardrobe:

  • garments of salvation and a robe of righteousness (Isaiah 61)
  • a gentle and quiet spirit (1 Peter 3)
  • a compassionate heart, kindness, humility, meekness and patience (Colossians 3)
  • garments of praise (Isaiah 61)
  • the helmet of salvation, the breastplate of righteousness, the belt of truth, shoes of the gospel of peace (Ephesians 6)
  • Jesus Christ himself (Romans 13)

When I am swimming through the deep and troubled waters of life – when the wind and waves strip me naked or leave my clothes in tatters – I need help. I need to be reminded that it’s in God that I find all I need.  His Word is the anchor that keeps me from wandering too far. Prayer helps to re-establish my bearings and corrects my direction. It’s from the community of other believers that I receive comfort, reassurance and assistance.

That’s how I find my clothes again … just like Betty.

Yes, Betty lost her clothes.

Betty taught me a memorable lesson.

I’m so thankful for Betty.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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O Christmas Tree

I love my Christmas tree!

I love it because when I look at it I see many of the people I love.

I see my faithful husband, Peter, when I lift my eyes to the felt-on-cardboard yellow star so carefully stitched for the top of our very first Christmas tree as a married couple. Oh the stories it could tell of Christmases celebrated in our home over the years.

I see my mother-in-law when I look at the delicate blown-out and elaborately painted eggs hung by invisible thread.

I see my father-in-law when my eye catches a glimpse of the gold painted walnut shells dangling from red yarn.

I see our son’s surrogate grandmother reflected in the tiny knitted red and white Christmas stockings that adorned her gifts of handmade little-boy toques and mittens so many years ago.

I see a dear church family who welcomed Peter and me into their home on our very first Christmas away from our own loved ones. On my tree is the tiny white elephant that popped out of my Christmas cracker at their dinner table.

I see my giggling granddaughters in a creatively decorated foam shape with sprinkles and glitter and childish printing.

(In my mind’s eye I recall decorations made by my own children long ago.  These gems have been passed along for them to enjoy and remember on their own Christmas trees.)

There is so much more: crocheted snowflakes, little straw angels, spray painted pine cones, tiny red bows, miniature jingle bells – each with a tale to tell.

I see so much blessing, a multitude of lives and relationships, memories of days gone by – all adorning my Christmas tree. It’s a gift from God and truly, to me at least, a beauty to behold!

And underneath the decorations, supporting it all, stands an evergreen tree wrapped in lights.

The lighted tree is a picture of Jesus – the tree of Life and the Light of the world – a symbol of redemption and hope in a dark world.  There is no greater Christmas gift. My soul is humbled and grateful.

Many of us are familiar with the carol “O Christmas Tree”.  However, I think that the final verse is not well known or often sung.

O Christmas Tree! O Christmas Tree!
How richly God has decked thee!
O Christmas Tree! O Christmas Tree!
How richly God has decked thee!
Thou bidst us true and faithful be,
And trust in God unchangingly.
O Christmas Tree! O Christmas Tree!
How richly God has decked thee! (traditional German Carol – author unknown).

Yes, I love my Christmas tree because every day of this wondrous season it reminds me of precious family members and friends.  It reminds me of the One, Emmanuel, who came to be with us and die for us that we might have eternal life in Him.

O Christmas Tree! How richly God has decked thee!

Have a good look at your own Christmas tree this year. What do you see?

 

 

 

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When All the Touchstones are Gone

A month ago my Dad died.

Almost 2 weeks ago we moved my Mom, who deals with dementia,  into a seniors’ residence.

Now we are beginning the lengthy process of tidying up and cleaning out the family home of 64 years.

Most days I feel like I’m dealing with all these life changes pretty well. Other times, like last night… not so much.

Last evening the grief and profound sense of loss snuck up on me again. It caught me off guard. It silently crept up from behind. Out of nowhere, it welled up within me like the gush of a geyser and spilled out with sobs and tears. I just felt so sad.

I feel like in the last month I’ve lost not only my Dad, but my Mom as well, and my childhood home on top of that – some “touchstones” I thought would always be there … but now they’re gone.

At times the grief washes over me like a powerful ocean wave. There’s nothing I can do except ride it out. It leaves me drenched, and weak, and breathless in its wake.

When I come up for air, when I’m in the trough between assaults, I can rest for a little while, treading water.  My eyes scan the horizon trying to guess when the next wave will appear. But there are no clues. It’s unpredictable.

This is when I realize, again, that something awesome and rationally inexplicable has happened. I look and see that through the swirling tide, while I thought I was holding tight to Jesus, in fact, He had hold of me.

Lord, I thank you that You have not left me helpless or hopeless. Thank you that You are the Rock beneath me – solid and always trustworthy. You are my Anchor, my Guide, my Comfort, my Deliverer. You are my Redeemer, my Peace, my Hope.

The poet T.S.Eliot called Christ “the still point in a turning world”.  Thank you, Jesus, that You are with me to keep me safe and secure when turmoil and change rages without and within.

The disciple Peter got out of the boat voluntarily in the Bible story (Matthew 14:29).

This time, I was pushed out of my boat. But I am certain that, like Peter, if I keep my eyes on Jesus, I can walk through this storm to safety. When my heart fails me and I am overwhelmed, Jesus is my strength. “God is greater than our hearts, and He knows everything.” (1 John 3:20).

Years ago a good friend gave me a wall plaque that has encouraged me many times. I went to look at it in our guest room again this morning.

When you go through deep waters,
    I will be with you.
When you go through rivers of difficulty,
    you will not drown.
When you walk through the fire of oppression,
    you will not be burned up;
    the flames will not consume you. (Isaiah 43:2)

I know these words are truth in my life. I pray they are for you as well.

When all the touchstones in this life are gone, there is One that remains till the end.

 

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No More Goodbyes

I know that I know that I know that we are made for eternity. There’s a longing in every human heart for stability, for permanence, for things to be predictable and steady.  In the swirl and chaos of how fickle this life can be, all of us look for a rock on which to plant our feet – something solid, something dependable, something that will last. I see this in myself; I see it in others. It’s built into our very DNA as human beings. It’s how God made us.

A couple of months ago Peter and I were visiting our son, Simeon, his wife Heather, and their 3 beautiful little girls. They live far away in Kansas City, Missouri, so when we go to see them several times a year we often plan an extended stay of 10 to 14 days. On the last evening of our visit this past September, Peter and I were saying bedtime prayers with Sophie (6) and Alivia (4). As we were cuddling on the side of the bed, Alivia, put her warm little arms around my neck and said in her most endearing way, “I wuv you Gwamma and I wish you could stay heeoo fowever.” My heart melted – me too! I hate goodbyes!

Six days ago we had a funeral service and buried my Dad. My children held me as I wept. I just could not believe my Dad was gone. I didn’t want him gone! I wasn’t ready for the Dad-sized hole in my life. I miss him so much. I hate goodbyes!

The day before yesterday I drove my son to the airport so he could return home to his own precious family. When it came time to say goodbye, my heart tightened even as my arms wrapped my son in a fierce hug.  An “I love you”, and “Thanks for being here”, and then he was gone – through the doors and on his way.  I sobbed until I was half way home.  I didn’t want to say goodbye – I hate goodbyes!

In a few more days my siblings and I will be moving our  93 year old Mom to a retirement residence in the neighborhood. I’m sure she doesn’t want to leave her home of over 60 years. The house I grew up in holds memories galore for all of us. It will be a sad series of farewells as we dismantle the place a part of us hoped in vain would last forever. I hate goodbyes!

It’s at times like these that I remind myself that things haven’t always been this way. In our Maker’s mind things were never meant to be this way!

In the Garden of Eden there were no goodbyes until Adam and Eve disobeyed God. Then, because of their pride and rebellion, they became separated from the One who made them. The first goodbye was when they had to leave the beautiful and perfect Garden. Ever since then, the human story has included sorrow and pain and separation. Car accidents, medical mistakes, multiple sclerosis, crohns disease, congestive heart failure, and death are part of what we experience here and now. Every person and every family has its own heart-breaking list.

In the beginning, goodbyes did not exist. In the end, they will not exist either. Things won’t always be as they are now.

The Bible tells me that God is good. God is Love. He sent his Son, Jesus, to be the Savior and Redeemer of the world. Jesus is coming again to establish His Kingdom on earth. There will be a new heaven and a new earth. God himself will be with us.  He will wipe away every tear, and death will cease to exist. There won’t be mourning or crying or pain any more. Jesus will reign forever and ever.

For today, and for eternity, the promises of Jesus are absolutely trustworthy: “Never will I leave you”,  and “I will be with you always”.  What a blessed assurance: no more goodbyes! Imagine!

I love it!

 

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Good for Your Health

A most astonishing fact was recently drawn to my attention: birthdays are good for your health. Studies have shown that people who have the most birthdays live the longest!

As I approach yet another birthday, this truth is strangely comforting.

Last year at this time, I celebrated a landmark decade birthday – #60. I’m over that hill now, but I’m not over the hill, although some (who will go unnamed) would beg to differ!

My dad, at the distinguished age of 94, often proclaims that there’s nothing golden about the golden years. “Whatever you do, don’t get old!”, he advises me not infrequently.  My response: ” Dad, you know what the alternative is!”

As a child, I always found my birthday exciting. I remember counting down the days. I was filled with such eager anticipation that I thought I would burst like an over-inflated balloon! My mom and dad always made sure our special celebrations included cards and gifts, homemade layer cake wearing flaming candles, parties hopping with friends and family. And I’ve never grown weary of the heartfelt “Happy Birthday to You” refrain, sung in person if possible, but if not, then over the phone when I was older and the miles conspired to keep us apart.

Then somehow I got to an age when I began to feel vaguely sad, almost depressed, as my birthday rolled around again and again like an aggravating and persistent visitor. The years were flipping by with the regularity of the minutes clocked by my bedside radio.

Some people, in an effort to to jog my joy, have asked me, if it were possible, would I go back and relive a certain time in my life? Maybe, if you’re as old as me, you’ve been tickled with the same feather. My answer, perhaps disappointingly, is a decided no.

No, I don’t have any desire to go back, even though with each passing year I do look a little different in the mirror. My body parts complain a tad more with each turn of the calendar. My pace of life is decidedly slower than it used to be, but I like to think of myself as taking more time to “smell the roses”.  My mind isn’t quite as sharp as it once was. I do occasionally have … what do you call them … hmmm … oh yes …”senior moments”.

My spirit, however, is alive and young – perhaps more so than it’s ever been. There’s a flame of hope that burns.  I’m enjoying the life I have right now. I’m blessed.

The years behind are littered with mistakes, actions I’m ashamed of, words I wish I could take back, attitudes I should’ve corrected sooner. If it were even possible to turn back the clock, there are so many painful lessons I’d have to learn all over again – who wants to go there? And besides, my God has redeemed it all. He’s even covered all my future bumbles. When my heart makes a habit of turning to Him in humility and trust, He works all things together for the good of those who love Him.  Maybe not right away, but eventually.

My past also shines with memorable moments of joy and events that still make me laugh out loud. There are achievements to be proud of and acts of kindness forgotten by all except the One who sees in secret. There are cherished memories in my bank account that I don’t ever want to change or exchange.

So I’ve determined that I’ll focus on the present. In this life, today is really all I have anyway. It will never come again. It’s a treasure to be savored in the moment, unpredictable and undeserved, a gift. That’s why it’s called the present.

With every passing year, my reasons to give thanks pile up: family, friends, a hope and a future, opportunities to influence another’s life, the constant companionship of One who has been with me since my beginning. In retrospect, I see countless times when I’ve been carried, protected, provided for, and blessed by the Lord. Looking in the rear view mirror, as I continue to motor along, I stand in awe at the sight of how God has guided and His angels have accompanied me on my journey.

Birthdays now remind me of God’s love and faithfulness. As the years pass, I know God does not forget me.  Though outwardly my body inevitably ages and health will eventually fail, inwardly by God’s Holy Spirit I’m being renewed day by day.  (2 Corinthians 4:16). Each birthday brings me closer to being in the eternal presence of the Lord Jesus. What could be better than that?

So I’ve decided to live with a grateful heart and welcome each birthday as it comes.

I’m so glad that birthdays are good for my health!

 

 

 

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One Fantastic Long Weekend

Years ago I asked my friend’s mother, who was in her early 80’s at the time, what it was like to look back over her life. Did it seem long? Did the years pass quickly? After pondering for a moment she replied with a twinkle in her eye, “My life seems like it’s been one long weekend.”

I’ve thought about her comment often over the years. Time is a funny thing – sometimes it crawls at a turtle’s pace. Sometimes the moments fly by and we wonder where the time has gone.

Peter and I have just come through a major event that has launched us into a brand new season in our lives. Our daughter, Bethany, our youngest and the last of our 4 children to get married, tied the knot with a wonderful young man 10 days ago. This past week Peter and I have been recuperating from the activity and emotion of being surrounded by family and friends. It was a high time, a fun time, a busy time.

Now the celebration is over. The parade that began 34 years ago with the birth of our son, Joe, has passed. The pets are dead, the kids are gone, the house is empty and quiet. Everyone has grown up and gone their own way.

It seems only yesterday that our home was teeming: babies, kids, teenagers, young adults. Coming and going, meals galore, cleaning, laundry. Good times, scrappy times, heart aches and heart breaks. Joyous laughter, jokes and puns. Grief so deep it seemed the tears would never end. A grand parade it was: anticipation bubbling, busy bodies, excitement squealing, requests unending, sleepless nights and blurry days.  Friends passing through. Homeschool. Parties and prayers, singing and sighing. The calm between the storms. Bandaging scraped knees, soothing wounded souls. Emergency trips to the hospital to mend broken bones. Never changing changes.

Those were the days! Love was the theme that tied it all together, faith the fuel that kept us going, hope the beacon at the journey’s end.

Now Bethany is married, and away on her honeymoon. Simeon and his family have gone home to Kansas City. Joe is back at school and living life with his wife and little girl. Reuben and his wife are on holiday in Europe.  Our home feels like a deserted street after the parade has passed.  All the ticker tape has fallen, the crowds have dispersed, and here we are left standing by ourselves on the sidewalk.

The other morning I was sitting alone with just my cup of tea for company. My thoughts turned to what it means to feel empty. It’s like a piece of you is missing. It’s when you’ve given everything you’ve got, and then it’s over, and it’s just you. There’s a space … that once was full.

Like many experiences in life, feeling empty can lead one of two ways. It can make you bitter or better. It can be a curse or a blessing. It can lead to death or to life. It can cause you to turn inward or outward, to become selfish or selfless, to face reality or live in denial.

For me, the emptiness I’ve been dropped into has become a cause to reevaluate my life. It is a wake-up call to go back to God and His promises.  When I surrender each day to the persistent Lover of my soul, I can totally trust Him to fill me with whatsoever He chooses – and I know it will be good because He is good.

Yes, my home nest is now empty of the children I birthed and raised. But it’s something empty that’s waiting to be filled again — with children who visit, grandchildren, and friends; with those God brings who need a listening ear, some love and a prayer; with the joy and laughter of new relationships that will build more precious memories in my heart.

My empty nest is a gift that I can now see with expectant eyes and anticipation. Fullness and fruitfulness await as I focus on the One who never leaves me.

Seems like yesterday it all began. After 34 years of living with our kids,  Peter and I have come full circle. We’re back where we began – just the 2 of us – the same and yet so different: more age, hopefully more sage. Everything has changed, but nothing has changed. Peter still rolls the toilet paper under (and I change it). I still don’t neatly stack the spoons in the spoon tray (and he changes it).

Time is indeed a funny thing. One particular parade – a big one indeed – may have passed. But if I listen carefully I can hear another one coming. The fun isn’t over yet.

In the end it’s gonna be one fantastic long weekend!

 

 

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A Tale of Two Stories

This past week our grand-daughters, Sophie (almost 6) and Alivia (3), were spending sister time together at home. Here’s what happened, as reported by their mom:

Sophie: “hey Livie, let’s play Moses and pharaoh. I’ll be Moses. LET MY PEOPLE GO!”
Livie: “ok. NOT BY THE HAIR OF MY CHINNY CHIN CHIN!”

Do you ever get your stories mixed up?

Do you ever get your story mixed up?

I do.

Daily I need to go back to the original manuscript for life written by the Master Storyteller, the Author Himself. The Bible is still the best-selling book of all time. It’s a fantastic account of God’s plans and purposes for His creation and for His children. It has an incredible beginning and an even more incredible end.

It’s history. It’s His-Story. It’s my story. It can be yours as well whether you know it now, or not.

Learning and living the story well is a life-long adventure of reading, study, and prayer. You need a humble spirit and a teachable heart. You need to come to the end of yourself. You need to accept that you’ll never get out of this life alive without the help of Someone bigger than you.

Sometimes I lose my way temporarily. I get side-tracked, misinterpret parts, wish I could omit certain sections.

But the Author has told the story just so for a reason. Its truths are constant and sure. The details of how His-story is lived out are as unique as each individual. But the beginning and the end never change.

Alivia had it right even though she made up her own tale using two different stories. The Hebrew people, as well as the three little pigs, were in bondage to a cruel oppressor. They each went through several rounds of being denied liberty. But in different ways, they stood their ground until breakthrough came. The good news is that, in the end, the people – and the piggies – got freed.

The same is true for us – we’re all in bondage. We have an enemy who delights in oppressing us, and refuses to let us go. We desperately need a Saviour. Only through His work in our lives do we have a hope in heaven of finding true and lasting freedom.

So get the story straight.

I invite you to read the Bible – some have called it Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth.

God’s Word will keep you on the path of life – seldom easy, but always fulfilling. It will protect you from confusion. It will guard you from the mistake of creating a story with your own tragic ending.

Oh … and just in case you’re wondering — when Moses cried out “Let my people go!”, Pharaoh did declare a resounding “No!” –  at least the first few times.

(And he probably did have hair on his chinny chin chin!).

 

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A Story of Babies and Dogs and Love

This is a story of babies and dogs and love.  Let me explain.

At 9:21 pm two evenings ago our son and daughter-in-law gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. Because they’d been at the hospital since early morning, our daughter Bethany who lives with Peter and me, went to our son’s place, half an hour away, to walk their 2 big dogs and stay the night with them.

Because Bethany went on a mission of mercy and love, Peter and I got to dog-sit her fiance’s dog, Gizmo, who is currently living with us. Very confusing I know, but that’s been our life lately. One thing often leads to another – I believe it’s called the “ripple effect” – and before long you are doing something you hadn’t dreamed of. Most of you know what I’m talking about.

Anyway, Gizmo is very much a “people dog” – he craves attention, loves being talked to, and insists on being close to his people. He has made a habit of being Bethany’s nocturnal cuddler. He is as much like a baby as any dog can be! He’s lovable but very needy!

Because Bethany was elsewhere that night, it fell to Peter and me to meet Gizmo’s night-time need for nearness. Hoping that he wouldn’t notice that he wasn’t actually in our bed (silly me!), I settled Gizmo on the love seat at the foot of our bed. We all dozed off around 11 pm anticipating a good night’s sleep.

All was well until 1:57 am. Despite the fact that I was wearing my trusty ear plugs, I awoke to Gizmo’s whining and pacing.

“Gizmo, lie down,” I instructed him – but to no avail. I fervently hoped he didn’t need to go to the bathroom, even though I did. Hauling myself out of my comfy bed I made my trip and returned to my nest as quickly and quietly as I could. By this time Peter was awake and the dog was still unhappy.

“Maybe he’ll settle down,” Peter murmured hopefully. “Maybe he will,” I faithfully agreed.

But he didn’t.

“I think he wants to come on the bed with us”, I posited. “Let’s try it”, was my husband’s whispered response.

So up onto the bed jumped a delighted Gizmo. Wouldn’t you know it, he settled down between our feet and went right to sleep. What a dog – what a baby!

A few minutes later Peter too was back in dreamland. I, on the other hand, was now wide awake and thinking about this and that and everything in between.

I tossed and turned. My feet were toasty, but I wasn’t used to having a furry body in my bed. Trying to fall asleep was frustratingly futile. I watched the red numbers flip on my bedside clock. Sometime after 5 am I drifted off, but awakened at 5:30 am when Peter got up to get ready for work. I snatched a few more winks until Gizmo decided to bark a cheery good morning at 6:45 am. It was time for his first-of-the-day foray into the world outside to do his business!

I thought I was tired until I thought of my son and daughter-in-law. Joe and Carmen had spent hours laboring in love to bring a new life into the world. They must’ve been beyond exhausted.  And they will no doubt have broken sleep and sleepless nights in the weeks and months to come. I have nothing to complain about!

This whole night-time adventure with dogs and babies has caused me to think again about love, how we live it out, and what it looks like practically in our daily (or nightly) lives.

The Bible says that love is the greatest gift.

It also says that love bears all things. Love “doggedly” persists – it never gives up. It keeps you motivated to do hard things. It inspires you to step up to the plate, to go the extra mile. It keeps you laboring and pushing until the baby is born. It may even require you to sacrifice a night of sleeping in your own bed, or perhaps even sharing it with a puppy.

I think I’ve just had another practical life lesson in how to live as Jesus would.

And by the way, Peter and I met our new grand-daughter, Madison Joy, when she was only 22 hours old.  It was a blessing and a privilege to hold her, cuddle her, and stand in awe of her cuteness.

When she’s older I will tell Maddie stories. Among them will be the story of Babies and Dogs and Love – the story of the night she was born and how many people were already loving her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Posted in Changes, Choices, Family, Love, Testing/Trials | 1 Comment