Forgiveness means Freedom

I've been on both sides.

I've been hurt but I have also been the culprit for someone else's pain.

There's no way in the world for me to count the number of times I have had to say "I'm sorry".  Usually (but not always) it's because my mouth got ahead of my brain and I said something spiteful, 

There have of course been things I have done that I was sorry for.  However, one thing my mother taught me is that I don't have to hang out all my dirty wash so if you think I'm about to give you some expose of my life...you might as well stop reading.

I have also been hurt, felt betrayed, heard words that were biting and truth be told made me want to retaliate.  

There have been circumstances where I ended up on the losing end of what should have been a winning situation  Once I lost a job because someone else wanted the position. Once I was told I had betrayed someone and that was  not only not true, it was mean and hurtful that anyone would have thought I was mean and hurtful.

Like the rest of you, I could go on and on.

However, I heard a statement recently that touched my heart.

I was watching a Hallmark movie.  I had missed the first hour, but apparently a young man had lost his parents in some sort of brutal way.  He was bitter and had chosen many wrong paths.  He was the sole heir to a fortune.  But the benefactor, his grandmother who loved him dearly, had recognized his worth and set up a plan to help him grow up before he could have the funds.

One of his mentors in the process spent time with him encouraging him to put the past behind him.  To "forgive" the persons who took his parents lives and to see if he could find freedom in the forgiving.

I had never thought of that before.  And yet it makes sense.  If we hang on to the hurt, it can do nothing be harm us...in our relationship with others and especially in our relationship with God

And why should we give the other person the satisfaction....Ooopsss -that doesn't sound like letting it go, does it?

Tell me why

I love words - you already know that - but did you also know there are some words I just don't like.

Take for instance a little three letter word that means - for what reason or purpose."

The word is WHY


After some insect bites recently I was dealing with swollen feet and blisters. It took three days and three different medical professionals before there was a diagnosis and a solution.

And I kept saying - why is this so difficult?.

I learned of an elderly woman who needed help with a pin number in a  bank and it took three different people before someone said "I'll do it for you".

And I wondered why did it take them so long to help?

In my continuing responsibility of the care of my mother sometimes the red tape to get to a solution takes forever....

I know I've sent exactly what they need - so it gets more and more difficult and I find myself asking "WHY?"

I was brought up to expect an answer -  our parents often told us that in song

"Tell me why the stars do shine; tell me why the ivy twines;
 Tell me why the ocean's blue and I will tell you just why I love you".

The answer being

"Because God made the starts to shine, Because God made the ivy twine
 Because God made the ocean blue because God made you that's why I love you"

That's all well and good...except sometimes - the whys are not that easy to accept...

The atrocities that we are being bombarded with; disappointment when a job falls through or the dreaded breakup of a relationship.  You can fill in your own blank.

And when I don't know why - do I just accept it?

In his account of "The Charge of the Light Brigade" Alfred Lord Tennyson seems to have a rather fatalistic view:

Theirs not to make reply,     Theirs not to reason why,     

Theirs but to do and die. 

Should we fall in line with that viewpoint?

Taking the positive track I would prefer to follow Gospel songster, Ira Stanphill's train of thought:  

 "We'll  talk it over in the bye and bye; We'll l talk it over, my Lord and I .I'll ask the reasons - He'll tell me why,When we talk it over in the bye".

I think that must be what John means when he says that God will wipe away our tears (Revelation 21:4a).

So I guess the true answer to the word WHY is the word WAIT.

I'm not believing I just typed the word WAIT.

If I'm not that crazy about why how do you think I feel about WAIT.

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

to make you appreciate the shadows

But I prayed...

The summer of 2009 is a significant time in my memory bank.  Sometime that Spring, our daddy had come to the realization that he was nearing the end of his journey on earth.  That sweet attitude was accompanied by a relaxed spirit and willingness to let us love on him and accept the love he had to give us.

We often shared a cup of coffee in the late afternoon and enjoyed chatting - about everything from sports to politics to our faith and what I was hearing from my children?

Here's a conversation I remember all too well.

Six year old Allie was in her third year of ITP (a rare auto immune disorder that affects her platelets- her blood’s ability to clot properly.)  My bright and bubbling second grandchild is the fourth of my parents great grands.   

"I've been praying for Allie," daddy began.  "And I just can't understand why the Lord hasn't healed her".

I thought his sentiments were very sweet.  However, I knew that he knew - as I do - that just because we pray about something doesn't mean it will happen.  That doesn't mean we don't pray about it anyway.

This week I am especially mindful of a time that I kept praying - even when I didn't feel like my prayers were being answered.

My third child, Raymond Lee Parker, III was born on August 10, 1977.  The delivery experience of his older sisters Becca and Renee had been quick.  I even conversed with the doctor as Renee made her entrance.  This one was different - about 14 hours different.  And it would required a Cesarean Section.  His heart rate had decreased; the cord was wrapped around his neck.  

I was heavily sedated.  I didn't have a clue what was happening.

I just remember his dad telling me we had a little boy, he was okay but they needed to "watch him closely" so they had taken him to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit in another part of the hospital.  The next hours and days were frightening to say the least.  I developed an infection.  I couldn't go into the NICU.  I knew I had a little boy, but I felt so disconnected.

I was trying to pray but it seemed as if my prayers were bouncing off the ceiling.

After what seemed like endless hours...it was as if an angel came - and I heard "it's okay to love him, if I take him, I'll give you the strength to bear it".

That was 39 years ago.  I'm still loving him.. and I might add, I am still praying for him and thanking God for the great blessing my third child has been to me.

So I know that God answers prayer.

And back to my dad's question -  Allie still deals with low platelets.

Is God not answering our prayer?

And why not?

Should we stop praying?

I don't think so.  Because what I believe to be significant in this process of "praying" is that we are taking life out of our hands - and trusting.  

Sometimes the answer is yes, when the answer is no, God gives us grace to accept it.

I didn't say that this is easy!

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

to make you appreciate the shadows

He wore khaki and she wore a long white dress

He was a native of Jacksonville, a Landon High School graduate and a soldier.  She was also a Landon High School graduate (in fact had graduated just a few months before), a girl born in South Carolina who had lived in Jacksonville since she was a child.  It was war time - just a little more than seven months into World War II.  He was stationed in Louisiana; made sergeant and wrote her a letter.

            "I am going to make enough money...we can get married", he said.

There was a flurry of activity and Glendale Community Church canceled the midweek prayer meeting.  She had made her graduation dress with the idea that it might be a good wedding gown.  She had the dress, he thought they would have enough money and they knew they were going to be happy.

That was 74 years ago TODAY - August 5, 1942.
Just a few weeks after their 67th anniversary, daddy went to Heaven.  It was a wonderful yet sad experience as we stood by the bedside as he took his last breath.
      My siblings, our children and grandchildren, our aunts and uncles and cousins - plus a myriad of friends - value my parents marriage greatly. I valued it so much that I chose to marry Ray Parker on mother and daddy's 25th wedding anniversary.  That marriage may not have survived - but the children who came from it continue to be a blessing to me.

Seven years ago as they marked their 67th anniversary we knew that daddy's time with us was short. We were all watching as mother and the Hospice staff cared for him. I was keeping a journal that I later put together and often share with those who are in similar experiences.  One of the postings. written on August 5, 2009  is "That word is LOVE".  It was based on this Sophocles quote:   "One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life. That word is LOVE."  
     There was a weight and pain.  And there was much love!
     Our parents' love has been the underlying strength in all of our lives for many years. We consider it to be a rich and lasting heritage and that we are truly blessed.
     And all of us appreciate the hot summer August 5th in 1942 when he wore khaki and she wore a long white dress,

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

to make you appreciate the shadows

'fraidy Cat

I probably have some of the same fears that most people do....snakes, wasps, things that go bump in the night. . .escalators.

What you are not afraid of an escalator?

I vaguely remember a fall down some stairs when I was a very young child.  It seems like there was a tricycle involved.  I cannot remember the details.

I just know that for as long as I can remember I have been very unsure of myself when coming down steps.

And you let those steps be electronically operated - real, sincere FEAR!

My family and friends have seen me walk a long way in search of stairs  - to avoid an escalator.

So - I recently was enjoying grandchild #5 (my little effervescent) at the Avenue's Mall.  We had parked on the second level, visited two of her selected stores and were looking for another when I saw it - on the lower level so we walked down the steps.

I told her I don't like escalators.

There were two more places she wanted to go - one back on the second level and the other - we were not sure.

So I suggested that we go into Penney's and take the elevator up.  I'll never forget her words as the door opened and she saw a caution sign on the floor - loose tile.

"Grandma I'm afraid of an elevator".

I assured her it was safe and she need not be afraid.

We were soon back in the mall and still looking for that one more place when I spotted it -- DOWN STAIRS

Okay, we would just walk to the stairs and walk back.

Except I had just told her not to be afraid.

You guessed it - that's what she said to me.

"Come on, Grandma, you don't need to be afraid.  It will be all right... I'll help you:'

Only once we got there, little Miss Effervescent was on the escalator - on her way down  and grandma "FROZE".

Fortunately a nice young man (and what seemed to be a huge crowd of onlookers) saw my angst.

He was very helpful and took my arm as we made our descent.

So now my granddaughter and I have a plan.

She's going to work on elevators - and me -- oh help - I'm going to master the escalator

"When I get really afraid I come to you (God) in trust" (Psalm  56:3 The Message)

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

to make you appreciate the shadows!

Say or Do

"Don't just say what you do....do what you say".

I've heard those words forever!
I'm not that good at following them.

However. . .

Recently I observed someone very close to me - observing quiet time.  I don't think she knew I was watching but I was (sorry if I seem like a stalker).

I actually thought she was a consistent, never miss, quiet time participant.

(Now for those who don't know - "quite time is the time when a person reads and meditates on Scripture and prays).

Later she told me how over the past few months, she has been getting up early and seems to have developed a pattern.

HUM.

So, following what I saw her do, I went to the bookstore to see if I could find a devotion book that I could use - to see if I could become more consistent.

Now a disclaimer.  I have known that I should do this since I was in high school and truth be told I usually read a few different devotionals each day.  And I've seen my mother have a quite time as long as I can remember.

And now a confession.  I was not a Beth Moore fan - for a long time.  I thought she seemed arrogant when I heard her speak the first time, tried a Beth Moore Bible Study a few years ago that didn't work for me - and really have only recently begun to appreciate her as I am in a small group Bible study where we all can interact - listening and sharing.

And so it was - that I saw the book, Whispers of Hope" (Beth Moore).  I have loved the same titled song for many years so I picked it up.  I picked it up - and saw that it's a 40 day study.  Apparently there's something about becoming consistent if you do something for 40 days (note how many diets are telling you - do it for 40 days and you'll be amazed).

Today is my 17th day and it's great.  One thing that works for me is that I am writing - like a journal - but it has a form, not just all the thoughts I have which are usually quite scattered.

So the purpose of my words - Do what I do....take some time each day...medicate and pray!

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

to make you appreciate the shadows!

Pushing 70

I think he started saying it when he was 70 years old.  That was 25 years ago.


Each year, the day after my daddy's birthday, he would tell us that he was pushing the next number.  He had been  "pushing" 88 for nine moths when he died on September 16, 2009.   He was happy to be his age, it's just something he did.


Earlier this week I celebrated my 69th birthday.


As that day was fast approaching I began to think about being 69.  One thing just kept coming back to my thoughts - my maternal grandmother died when she was 69.


She seemed much older then than I do now.


I'm also healthier.


But still - she was 69 and a half years old.


My mother was 48 when she lost her mother.  All of my siblings and I are way beyond that. We feel fortunate that we still have our sweet and feisty mother.  She prefers sweet.


As we shared my birthday lunch, I began to lament  the fact that I am now 69 - that if daddy were here he would tell me that I'm pushing 70.


Mother interrupted,


"And your mother is 93".


I started to rethink my attitude. My daddy's mother lived to be 90; my mother's daddy lived to be 97 and like she said "my mother is 93".


Hum.


And then there were the words of my youngest granddaughter, a  radiant 8 year old.

"Grandma you look really good for your age!"

Hum.


For a long time I was 60+.  That really has to now be 70-.


I thought about what has happened to me in my sixties -- I've had a slew of part time jobs where I've made wonderful friends,  Four grandchildren were added to our family (remember that three came in one fell swoop).  I became a published writer and figured out the best way to care for our mother through connections I had because of one of those part time jobs.


So what's next?


Read more, exercise more, learn more, play more, love more


Oh and of course - Write more - which of course - I hope you will read - And until the next time my words hit your screen,

May your life be filled with enough sunshine
to make you appreciate the shadows!