Every baby is a gift from the Lord. We just don’t seem to realize how precious that gift is until difficulties remind us how fragile life really is. Our miracle baby turned 18 years old this month. The doctors still shake their heads in unbelief at the wonderful things God has done in her life.
When she was only 6 days old our youngest daughter had bacterial meningitis. We were told survival would probably mean severe retardation and hearing loss. She was spared both. It did mean months of hospitalization and special care fighting the infection in her brain. Complications included a stroke and brain abscess. Uncertainty followed her for years as she struggled with mild cerebral palsy and epilepsy.
I remember the fear that gripped me as I held her head in my lap helplessly watching her body violently jerk for several minutes when she was a toddler. Even that trial turned into a miracle when after 12 years God took the seizures away, even though doctors told us her form of epilepsy was for life.
This month our miracle baby turned 18 years old, and we praise God for the person she has become.
That doesn’t mean God would be any less good or any less just had the outcome been different. My friend whose son has downs syndrome with severe retardation would tell you, “God just gave us a different miracle.”
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Friday, September 19, 2008
"A Shelter in the Time of Storm"
The Lord’s our Rock, in Him we hide,
A shelter in the time of storm;
Secure whatever ill betide.
A shelter in the time of storm.
(Y.G Charlesworth)
Sunday afternoon, September 14th, 2008, tropical storm strength winds blew through Cincinnati. Hurricane Ike had finished devastation in Houston and Galveston, Texas. But, like a temper throwing toddler the hurricane refused to be quieted until he spent his last ounce of strength further north. The last bellows of Ike’s winds reached all the way into Canada.
Through out the Midwest over a million homes and businesses lost power, more than 700,000 in the greater Cincinnati area alone. This is the biggest blackout in Cincinnati’s history. Five days later the number of customers without power in and around Cincinnati is still over 100,000. Roofers and tree removal services will have steady work for weeks.
As I watched the great pine in our front yard sway against the force of the wind I wondered about all the birds that nest in its branches. The answer came as a fresh gust of wind lifted the lower branches that usually sweep the ground.
Near the bottom of the trunk a dove pressed its little body firmly against the ground tucking its head under one wing. I watched from the safety of our home through the kitchen window as God provided one little bird a shelter from the storm.
How often does life bring storms into our lives that threaten to undo us? Tears at the deathbed of a loved one, helplessly watching a newborn baby struggle for life in an intensive care unit, lost friendships, the financial crunch of early retirement. Life can be hard and uncertain. It can seem down right harsh.
Don’t lose hope.
The Lord is our rock, our shelter, our refuge and safe retreat through the storms.
A shelter in the time of storm;
Secure whatever ill betide.
A shelter in the time of storm.
(Y.G Charlesworth)
Sunday afternoon, September 14th, 2008, tropical storm strength winds blew through Cincinnati. Hurricane Ike had finished devastation in Houston and Galveston, Texas. But, like a temper throwing toddler the hurricane refused to be quieted until he spent his last ounce of strength further north. The last bellows of Ike’s winds reached all the way into Canada.
Through out the Midwest over a million homes and businesses lost power, more than 700,000 in the greater Cincinnati area alone. This is the biggest blackout in Cincinnati’s history. Five days later the number of customers without power in and around Cincinnati is still over 100,000. Roofers and tree removal services will have steady work for weeks.
As I watched the great pine in our front yard sway against the force of the wind I wondered about all the birds that nest in its branches. The answer came as a fresh gust of wind lifted the lower branches that usually sweep the ground.
Near the bottom of the trunk a dove pressed its little body firmly against the ground tucking its head under one wing. I watched from the safety of our home through the kitchen window as God provided one little bird a shelter from the storm.
How often does life bring storms into our lives that threaten to undo us? Tears at the deathbed of a loved one, helplessly watching a newborn baby struggle for life in an intensive care unit, lost friendships, the financial crunch of early retirement. Life can be hard and uncertain. It can seem down right harsh.
Don’t lose hope.
The Lord is our rock, our shelter, our refuge and safe retreat through the storms.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Threads that Bind
There’s a thread that binds generations of women in my family. It is the skill and appreciation for fine needle work. My mother learned from her mother and grandmother. I learned from my mother and grandmother. My daughters are learning from me.
I fondly remember the afternoon when Grandma McClintock took the time to trace a picture of a cardinal from one of my favorite coloring books onto a square of white muslin cloth using a piece of carbon paper she had saved from a money order. I was nine at the time and my fingers were clumsy with the needle and thread, but she patiently showed me how to embroider around the bird using an outline stitch.
When I was getting ready to leave for college Grandma McClintock gave me a cotton blouse finely stitched years before on a treadle machine by her mother for one of my aunts. It was made of pink linen fabric with delegate white lace trimming a small rounded collar. The front was decorated with narrow pleats on either side with a row of tiny buttons down the middle.
I remember the dresses Mama fashioned on her electric Singer for my sister and I to wear in a cousin’s wedding. She also made my Girls’ Glee Club dress in high school.
This past week, I worked feverishly to finish a quilt for my daughter’s eighteenth birthday. The quilt top was pieced by machine, but I did all the quilting by hand. It took over two years to finish.
Running through quilts, dresses, embroidery work . . . the thread draws women in my family together. Time, touch and thoughts of an individual are stitched into every item. Stitchers remember being patiently taught.
I fondly remember the afternoon when Grandma McClintock took the time to trace a picture of a cardinal from one of my favorite coloring books onto a square of white muslin cloth using a piece of carbon paper she had saved from a money order. I was nine at the time and my fingers were clumsy with the needle and thread, but she patiently showed me how to embroider around the bird using an outline stitch.
When I was getting ready to leave for college Grandma McClintock gave me a cotton blouse finely stitched years before on a treadle machine by her mother for one of my aunts. It was made of pink linen fabric with delegate white lace trimming a small rounded collar. The front was decorated with narrow pleats on either side with a row of tiny buttons down the middle.
I remember the dresses Mama fashioned on her electric Singer for my sister and I to wear in a cousin’s wedding. She also made my Girls’ Glee Club dress in high school.
This past week, I worked feverishly to finish a quilt for my daughter’s eighteenth birthday. The quilt top was pieced by machine, but I did all the quilting by hand. It took over two years to finish.
Running through quilts, dresses, embroidery work . . . the thread draws women in my family together. Time, touch and thoughts of an individual are stitched into every item. Stitchers remember being patiently taught.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Teach Us to Forgive
Anger, bitterness and the pursuit of revenge change the people they in slave. Pinned up anger can cause physical problems, disturb sleep, eat away at the soul. For many years, bitterness in my own life stunted my Christian growth.
Two things in the last few days have reminded me of the heavy weight these vices cast upon individuals who refuse to forgive.
For our homeschool American Literature class my daughter and I just finished reading The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne. At the start of the book Roger Chillingworth has been wronged. But, by the end of the book he is the villain of the story. Why? Roger Chillingworth chooses to make revenge his sole purpose in life eating away any goodness the reader may have once admired.
Sadly the second thing in the last few days that reminds me of the terrible weight an unforgiving spirit has over individuals comes from real life.
An older widow I call friend has been wronged, very seriously, more than once in her life. My heart goes out to her. I am sorry bad things have happened, but I am even more concerned for the person she has allowed herself to become.
Nathaniel Hawthorne named his character well, Chillingworth. There is a chill that surrounds my friend. She holds everyone at arms length who tries to help her. It is discouraging and sad to be around her. Share with her God’s desire to help her forgive and she turns a cold shoulder.
This woman is miserable. She chooses isolation over fellowship which makes her plight the more dismal. Occasionally there is a spark of joy in her life, but her dogged resolve to keep company with anger quickly puts it out.
Heavenly Father, teach us the freedom of forgiving. Help us follow Your example.
And be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God in Christ forgave you. (Ephesians 4:32 – NKJV)
Two things in the last few days have reminded me of the heavy weight these vices cast upon individuals who refuse to forgive.
For our homeschool American Literature class my daughter and I just finished reading The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne. At the start of the book Roger Chillingworth has been wronged. But, by the end of the book he is the villain of the story. Why? Roger Chillingworth chooses to make revenge his sole purpose in life eating away any goodness the reader may have once admired.
Sadly the second thing in the last few days that reminds me of the terrible weight an unforgiving spirit has over individuals comes from real life.
An older widow I call friend has been wronged, very seriously, more than once in her life. My heart goes out to her. I am sorry bad things have happened, but I am even more concerned for the person she has allowed herself to become.
Nathaniel Hawthorne named his character well, Chillingworth. There is a chill that surrounds my friend. She holds everyone at arms length who tries to help her. It is discouraging and sad to be around her. Share with her God’s desire to help her forgive and she turns a cold shoulder.
This woman is miserable. She chooses isolation over fellowship which makes her plight the more dismal. Occasionally there is a spark of joy in her life, but her dogged resolve to keep company with anger quickly puts it out.
Heavenly Father, teach us the freedom of forgiving. Help us follow Your example.
And be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God in Christ forgave you. (Ephesians 4:32 – NKJV)
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Labor Day Weekend
“My name is Camille. Do you understand my English?”
I replied, “You speak English very well.”
“What you say encourages me much.”
The petite young woman took my hand and smiled. She arrived in the United States only three weeks earlier from half way around the world to earn her masters degree at an esteemed American university.
When our church first asked for volunteers to keep international students for the Labor Day weekend I was nervous. Camille’s warm smile quickly melted away my misgivings.
We saw things around us differently through Camille’s eyes.
“People here walk often?”
Our dog had jumped up in the window for the umpteenth time to bark at passing neighbors taking their evening stroll.
“In my country it is not good to walk outside. You have to take a bath and change your clothes when you get home. The air is dirty.”
Camille loved Graeter’s ice cream but disliked Skyline Chili. She had fun learning how to play Tantrix and Yahtzee. Fireworks on the Ohio River were “spectacular”. She enjoyed the Labor Day picnic and hiking through the woods.
Labor Day weekend 2008 I learned to appreciate things around me I take for granted and made a new friend.
I replied, “You speak English very well.”
“What you say encourages me much.”
The petite young woman took my hand and smiled. She arrived in the United States only three weeks earlier from half way around the world to earn her masters degree at an esteemed American university.
When our church first asked for volunteers to keep international students for the Labor Day weekend I was nervous. Camille’s warm smile quickly melted away my misgivings.
We saw things around us differently through Camille’s eyes.
“People here walk often?”
Our dog had jumped up in the window for the umpteenth time to bark at passing neighbors taking their evening stroll.
“In my country it is not good to walk outside. You have to take a bath and change your clothes when you get home. The air is dirty.”
Camille loved Graeter’s ice cream but disliked Skyline Chili. She had fun learning how to play Tantrix and Yahtzee. Fireworks on the Ohio River were “spectacular”. She enjoyed the Labor Day picnic and hiking through the woods.
Labor Day weekend 2008 I learned to appreciate things around me I take for granted and made a new friend.
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