Heaven's anesthesia

Today marks 4 years since our son Crockett received full healing and went home to heaven. I am re posting this piece I wrote last year, as it still speaks my heart. I hope that if you have ever lost someone you love, it speaks to yours.

I felt it down low, almost in a place far below my soul. That slow brewing emotion that I keep hidden almost always, not because I am ashamed, or fearful of feeling the gnawing, but because life must go on, children eat and play, friends expect, strangers presume, and weeping just isn't living. Not always, only in quiet alone moments when vanilla scent brings up flashes of remembrance of his Pediasure diet, or the high squeal of a far away drill on wood conjures images of his uncontrollable giggles, or just a heaviness of soul longing weighs on my chest and I escape to an alone place...my car, the shower, the basement, anywhere to feel, and wish, and regret, and weep, because a mothers heart misses a sons sound and presence. But this time, this time at bible study, with no one even suspecting the battle I was fighting in that back row booth, I could not stab it dead, freeze it quiet, it was brewing, slowly coming to the surface. I could almost hear it's groan as it passed the diaphragm gate, and entered my throat. I warred with the burning, defying it to surface, begging it to wait until we were alone, and the flood gates opened, and my sitting was now walking, then running, to the safety of the restroom, and then the tears were pouring, and the sound was escaping and I wept, and won only the battle to not scream that guttural death moan my body hoped to let out. My control was defeated, the weeping won, and I too, as the release was cathartic and cleansing, and mascara trails marked the way to peace.


Weeping is heaven's anesthesia.

I know he speaks theology with Spurgeon now before audiences of angels, and dances with David and grandma Dee before the throne. He and John Calvin laugh together at the audacity of earthlings claiming to understand the intricacies of predestination and foreknowledge. The 12 year old earth suit he wore here no longer restrains his ability to think or move or see. He is perfect. He is not present in that filthy grave, with the sweet soft body that contained him once, and It is not for him that I weep. It is so much more than grief that fuels that soul groan, so much more than pain or sorrow, although those too are very present. It is the knowing that God's plan was best, that He is sufficient, that His ways are not my ways, and being so very grateful. It is in the making and receiving of tender memories that my savior so lovingly weaved in and around my boy's life, that grow me to Him, grafted to Him more purely, all because of the gift of one small broken male child with soft warm hands and deep brown eyes. It is because this is not my home, this beautiful place full of flowering dogwoods and azure blue skies, this is not it, and someday I will be with him, and.......with Him. And there, there will be no more pain, and no more tears.

No more tears? I ask Him in disbelief, but I NEED to weep. I like to cry, sometimes it helps Lord, No more tears? And in His most gentle of voices, calming and assuring He reminds me that no more tears, holds firm hands with no more pain. No more feeling inadequate, no more voices of you're not good enough, thin enough, smart enough, anything enough. No more striving for perfection with your home, your meals, your clothing, your children. No more fear, fear of the future, of loosing someone else, of being alone. No more being overwhelmed, no more guilt, no more hurt, no more regret, no more harsh words, no more abuse, no more hurt feelings, no more anger, no more unmet expectations, no more loss, no more sorrow.

No more tears, He will wipe them all away.

We won't NEED them any more.


He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.
Rev. 21:4

sandollars

There's a pretty little legend
That I would like to tell
Of the birth and death of Jesus
Found in this lowly shell

If you examine closely,
You'll see that you find here
Four nail holes and a fifth one
Made by a Roman's Spear.

On one side the Easter Lily,
Its center is the star
That appeared unto the shepherds
And led them from afar.

The Christmas poinsettia
Etched on the other side
Reminds us of His birthday
Our Happy Christmastide.
 
Now break the centre open
And here you will release
The five white doves awaiting
To spread Good Will and Peace.

This simple little symbol,
Christ left for you and me
To help us spread his Gospel
Through all eternity.

Happy Easter Sunday

Who's with me?

Happy April!

Can you believe that we are already one fourth of the way through 2012??!!

UNBELIEVABLE!!

Get ready April, I have BIG plans for you!

 

The Bible in 90 days

I will read, listen, sing,

whatever it takes, 

the entire bible in 90 days!

By July I will be ready to do it again.

Who wants to join me?

Come on, you will LOVE it, and the new APPS for your phone make it super easy, or you can download the podcast on to your i-pod, or you can do it the old fashion way, and READ.



 

100 miles

I will run, walk, ride, swim,

heck, I'll crawl if I have to,

100 miles in April.

Who wants to join me?

Come on, it will be fun.

Lets make April count people,
moving and listening,
shrinking and growing,
all together,

Who's with me?

2 miles down for me today, 98 to go,
I'm on the move!

COURAGE!

It hurts so good ( part 2)

If you would like to read part 1, go HERE

Crockett’s birth was a scheduled induction, two weeks early. Knowing that my first two children were quite large, my doctor was a bit concerned that this, my third boy, was measuring quite small. The placenta was showing signs of calcification, which he explained simply meant, it was just about all used up. I don’t know why these facts didn’t alarm us at the time, perhaps because we were still in the frame of mind that nothing bad really ever happened to us. It could have been, that at that stage of pregnancy, all I heard was that I was going to be relieved of my discomfort sooner than expected.

 

The birth was progressing, and I don’t remember being in a whole lot of pain when the anesthesiologist came to give me my epidural. I was still a complacent patient at that point in my journey, and I just did what they told me, when they told me to do it. I have since learned with Crockett’s help, that I can have a say in my own care, or lack there of.

My experience with the epidural up to this point, was two fold. With my first baby the epidural layer was penetrated, which meant my labor was followed with a very bad, week long, headache. It also was all but ineffective, and when forceps were used to extract my 9lb, 10 oz. son, I assure you I felt everything! All was forgiven when son number one was in my arms.

With my second baby, everything worked like clockwork. I was basically paralyzed from the waist down, and had no idea I was even ready to deliver, when they told me it was time to push. The old adage no pain no gain did not hold true, and I was soon handed my beautiful strapping son number two, lipstick still intact.

 

Because of my conflicting experiences, I had conflicted feelings when birth story number three commenced, but they didn’t ask, so the epidural march began. As I felt the needle go in my back I prayed “Lord please don’t let them penetrate the wall, and spare me from that headache”. A sudden searing pain shot through my entire body like a bolt of lightening, from the point of entry down through my right leg. I was blinded by what was happening, and as if I was experiencing it from some other viewpoint, and in slow motion, I heard myself scream uncontrollably, long, and unlike ever before. Something horrible had happened, it was what I would imagine it feels like to be electrocuted, and I thought I was a gonner. I don’t remember all that transpired after that. I do remember that at some point during giving birth I felt my chest tighten, and my lungs struggling to inflate properly. They first administered something in my IV for high blood pressure, and then something else to bring it down again, or perhaps it was the other way around. Things went from bad to worse when they lowered the back of the bed so that my feet were higher than my head. “To control my blood pressure” they explained. Behind an oxygen mask I remember looking at Michael and wondering if I needed to say good-bye, I was very afraid. As labor progressed that anesthetist went off duty, and another came on. I remember distinctly that the new “expert” was very frustrated by all the surgical tape his colleague had left on my back, and complained to the nurse standing by my side. In the end I was handed my third son, and as any post natal mother knows, when that fuzzy bundle of love is in your arms, nothing you went through to get them there, really matters!

Soon after giving birth however, I realized all was not okay with me. There was a patch of flesh on the outside of my right knee about six inches in diameter that was super sensitive. By sensitive, I don’t mean it was sore, or even achy, It literally felt like it was raw, and nerves were exposed. Visually there was nothing there out of the ordinary, the skin was not red or discolored in any way. Every one’s first response was to touch the patch, Michael, nurses, doctors, but I would panic as they came close. I could literally feel the presence of anything even remotely close to that area of my leg. I couldn’t let the bed sheets touch it, or my nightgown, and just the thought of a shower was horrifying. It was very odd, and very frightening.

 

The medical staff didn’t seem to believe me, as they tried to explain it away with something about the stirrups irritating it during delivery. That was of course an absurd notion. They even sent in a psychiatrist to try to talk me out of my discomfort, and several other physicians as well. The first anesthesiologist came to visit, and assured me that it couldn’t have been anything to do with the epidural. I was young, and naive, but I hadn’t just fallen off the turnip truck. It was clear to me that no one wanted to accept responsibility for my problem, and everyone wanted to avoid being sued. Not only would they offer no explanation for my pain, they really never acknowledged that it was real. By the third day my pain had subsided enough to shower and dress, but it was still ultra sensitive. Gradually, over time, the pain became more tolerable, and today, more than sixteen years later, I feel it only occasionally.

 

We went through a lot with that third precious baby boy, and he taught us all far more than I could ever begin to express in this space. Some, is still yet to be taught, and likewise learned. Twelve and half years after this birth story we had to say good-bye, and he was able to say “hello” for the very first time, in heaven. So now today, almost 4 years after that bittersweet farewell, I am reminded of his arrival every so often when my jeans hit my right leg just right, or my husband leans to pat my knee, or the cat playfully rubs against my calf asking to be let out, or I have had a more stressful day then usual. My sweet Savior has given me good pain once more, and I remember my Crockett man, and oh how it hurts so good.

I scarce can take it in

 

Oh Lord my God, when I in awesome wonder Consider all the worlds Thy hands have made,

I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder,

Thy power throughout the universe displayed.



 

When through the woods and forest glades I wander

And hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees,

When I look down from lofty mountain grandeur,

And hear the brook and feel the gentle breeze.

And when I think that God His son not sparing,
Sent Him to die, I scarce can take it in,
That on the cross, my burden gladly bearing,
He bled and died to take away my sin.

When Christ shall come with shout of acclamation
And take me home, what joy shall fill my heart!
Then i shall bow in humble adoration,
And there proclaim, my God how great Thou art.

Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee;
How great Thou art, how great Thou art!
Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee;
How great Thou art, how great Thou art!

Is anybody listening?

Do you ever feel like noone is listening?

Ever feel like in the midst of texting and blogging and facebook and e-mails, that your words are going un noticed and the words of your heart aren't being heard by anyone?

Psalm 139

 ¹ You have searched me, LORD,
and you know me.
² You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar.
³ You discern my going out and my lying down;
you are familiar with all my ways.
⁴ Before a word is on my tongue
you, LORD, know it completely.
⁵ You hem me in behind and before,
and you lay your hand upon me.
⁶ Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too lofty for me to attain.

Did you catch verse 4?

Before a word is on my tongue you, LORD, know it completely.

     Isn't that amazing??

Not only does He hear you, but He knows exactly what you're going to say, before you ever even utter a sound!

 

living simply in March

 and you shall be My witnesses both in Jerusalem,

and in all Judea and Samaria,

and even to the remotest part of the earth.

Acts 1:8

source

One of the things we looked for in a church when we moved here, was one with a focus on  missions. We are very happy that the fellowship we found does!

Because they focus on missions, they ask that their members give, and serve, and train, with mission mindedness.

source

They "do" missions locally with a food bank, and they feed the poor. That is our Jerusalem.

They "do" missions in nearby Jacksonville with Baptist children's home, and a ministry to refugees in partnership with World Relief. That is our Judea and Samaria.

They "do" missions in Africa in hopes of reaching people groups who have never heard the good news of Jesus. That is the remotest part of the earth.

no source found

In celebration of mission mindedness, our church has asked that during the month of March,

We live simply,

so that others may simply live.

Won't you join us?

His trees

I live in a beautiful place!

I am sure that God displays his majesty everywhere in some way.

But here, for me, it is often in the trees.

I LOVE palm trees, and this place has all kinds. The girls and I spied this one on a recent skip to the beach for some afternoon shell seeking. From the car those bright orange "leaves??" looked like feathers.

up close they were actually kind of poky and sharp.

God could have, if He had wanted to, just covered the earth with just one kind of tree, or even no trees at all, and we wouldn't have ever known the difference, but in His wonderful, glorious way, He chose to gift us with all kinds, in all shapes and sizes! What a creative God we can choose to serve!

How does He display His glory to you, where you live?

Kartwrights in Brazil

Last Monday Our son Kartwright left for a month long mission in Brazil with a group of Impact 360 students. Please pray for him and his fellow students as they spread the good news of Jesus. Friday we were able to skype with him, and he looks and sounds terrific. I am so excited about all the Lord is teaching him, and doing in and through him. This video just shows a small tidbit of what he is involved in. He is the big guy in the baseball cap playing Jonah.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=ZUVytGvd8xs

The perfect church

News flash to all those who have been told that there are no perfect churches. You can now rest assured that what you have been told is not true, and that there is indeedy at least one perfect church after all! I saw it with my own two eyeballs, and it is surely not a hoax, as they also have there own perfect website! Although I admit I am quite tempted, I will not be moving to Atlanta any time soon to join...lest they have to change their name!

Other than the aforementioned place of worship, my family and I have yet to find the perfect church. We have moved to three new cities in the last four years (seriously??? what were we thinking???), and searching for a new church home has been the most difficult part of our relocation every time.That, and a new hairdresser, more on that later!

At one point in our search Michael had become so frustrated by a particularly peculiar church service, that when we all piled into the family van afterward he announced that everyone was to find something positive to say about our experience, or they were to say nothing at all! 5 year old(at the time) ElizaJane piped in from the back seat, as I watched her much animated expression in my visor mirror. "Weeellllllll," she said with her usual perky smile, "It wasn't as long as the last one we tried, and their donuts were good!". Kudos for finding the good Liza, kudos all around!

Shopping for a church can be very complicated, and when you add to that mix several opinionated family members, you have a problem. We all have preconceived ideas in our heads about what church should look like, shaped by our childhoods, as well as our personal preferences. And, even though all those external stimuli should not in-fact really matter, let's be honest, they just do.

I know in my head, that when all is stripped away, and we stop comparing the length of the worship leaders hair, and whether any hymns are included along with modern day worship songs, all that really matters, is, "can I be used of God in this body of believers", and "will my unique gifts, and those of my families, be of benefit to the people who worship here."

Beyond that, which is truly the bottom line for Michael and I, it is hard not to consider all the other stuff that goes along with a new worship environment. We have visited over twenty churches combined in the midst of our three recent moves, and we have had a lot of interesting experiences. Some of those experiences have solidified the importance of some preferences in our minds, like do they stay true to the scriptures, and do they practise missions, both locally and globally. Other encounters have put questions in our minds as to the validity of our desires.


We have been in church services lately that have run the gamut from exciting concert like worship complete with flashing lights and jumping guitar players followed by sermons that have convicted as well as admonished, to sweet elderly blue hairs sweetly singing "I come to the garden alone", accompanying a sermon just as convicting although perhaps relayed in a slightly more sedate manner.

Who's to say if either is wrong, or more preferred by the Lord himself, as long as He is honored, and His name is being proclaimed? If I had my way, these two styles would unite, and somehow we would fall somewhere in the middle. That combo however is few and far between as providence would have it, and we are left with a choice to be made.

It is hard not to compare what we are experiencing with what we had found in our last "home town". Although it was not the perfect church,(as we know, there is only one of those) it was our church, and we had grown to love the people there in the short time we attended.

So, what is it you love about your church??

 

vacation mode

We are back in paradise, and drinking in the landscape of an island that begs to be admired.

The creatures here are innately calm and not easily spooked. They seem to instinctively know that they are protected here, and safe from the harshness of other worlds. They croon and caw, with no thought to being hushed. Yesterday the girls and I witnessed a raccoon walking down a crosswalk, and across a street. He stayed between the yellow lines as if he knew the rules, and hurried home to his tree. There was a sense by us that he was on familiar territory, and was minding his own business inside the bustle of noontime plantation traffic. Last Friday we spied a bunny in the back courtyard through the sliding glass. She was foraging for food just feet from where we gawked, with no care as to our intentions, she had only her job to contend with.

Fish gather under dark bridges and ferns, stealing the bread Liza throws to the turtles. Anhingas dry their wings in the hot sea air, paying no mind to loud strangers on the cart path. Squirrels jump from moss covered live oak branches, to palm fronds, as they chase and play, only stopping for short breaks to sniff and reject the cat food offerings of a pony tailed little girl.

The dolphins bounce close to the tourist laden beaches, the ghost crabs venture out of their sandy cocoons at sunset to fight and volley. The pelican sail in formation until distracted by circled schools of dinner. The herons share space with the golfers, the falcons with million dollar mansions, and the egrets with discarded golf balls.

We live a leisure life on this our paradise, and innately feel at peace and safe . together.

The man child is home from far away countries where children are alone on scary streets to make their own way, and orphans are given a cot to sleep on but not a hand to help them cross the street. They do not feel the sand in their suits from a well spent afternoon at the sea. Or have a momma to rinse their hair in a warm bath, and tuck them into crisp sheets, blessed with words of love and tender kisses.

The castles we build here are more solid then the assurances of their very futures, and yet it is hope that we strive so to give them, as we venture in person or in prayer to their places in our world.

Because not even the cosmetic beauty of an island paradise can cloak the lack of hope that every people group feels, be they wealthy or poor, in money, or spirit. We as christians have a hope to share, and the task of sharing it, even to those who do not even know they need it. 

what are you looking at?

We are trained to look to the future, never look back, set our sights on what is to come, live in the moment, move on to the future, and forget the past. I guess this is good advise when the past is holding you back, or preventing you from creating a future. I wonder though, if we just looked back differently, if we might see things a bit more clearly.

I once knew a man who lived so much in the past, that he found it hard to live in the present. The past hurt and humiliation of a particular sport coach's words and actions haunted him so, that 20 years later he was still dwelling on the pain that individual had inflicted way back in high school. The past was his present, because he replayed those old scripts in his head continually, and they affected not only his career, and public life, but his relationships and private life as well. Looking back was not only painful for him, but it was devastating for both his present, and his future. But I wonder, if he had looked back at something different, perhaps that would not have been the case.

I have a friend that is facing a possible move. The thought of a move is not pleasant to her, and she wishes to stay where she is. This same friend has confided in me that she is not happy where she is, nor are her children and husband. They have not built satisfying relationships in their present town, and they find people basically unfriendly there. Her husband finds his current job stressful, and he longs for a more relaxed way of life. Her children are very social, and long for more friends to connect with on a greater level. So, why I questioned is she not up for a change? It is the unknown, she replied, the having to relearn and readjust, and re acclimate herself to new surroundings as she had to do just two years earlier when she moved to her present location.

In both of these people's lives looking back is not the problem, it is at what they are looking.

If we look back on what the Lord has done in our past, how he has brought us through, protected us, made the path straight, guided us, or just poured out His mercy and grace on us, then how can we not face both our present and our future with anticipation and hope.

Life is stinking hard for so many. Hardships abound, and lest we think we are the only ones who struggle, we need only look as far as the next individual to discover we are not alone.

That man I knew, had so much to live for in his present, and he could have looked back at the loving family he came from, the cancer that the Lord healed when he was just a child, the gift of children he was blessed with, the many people who looked up to him and counted on him, the place of leadership for which the Lord had equipped him, and all the blessings that had brought him to a role of prestige and honor. He didn't look back at what God had given, and from what he had been delivered. He couldn't see what the Lord did in his life in spite of the cruel words of that coach so long ago, because he wasn't looking.

My friend looking towards a move, isn't looking back at where the Lord met her in the last move, or how He always supplied her needs. She can't see how He revealed Himself over and over to herself and her family, because she only sees the difficulty and inconvenience that she experienced. She doesn't look at what the Lord taught her in the uncomfortableness of a new place or what were the many blessings she and her family were to those around them. She can't see the benefit of the pain she already experienced, and that loss of sight, is stealing he ability to see the possibilities in what the Lord might do in and through her at the new location, not to mention that the chances that she will like her new surroundings better are very good!

This can be the case in so many circumstances. As we face the uncertainty of this earth existence, job change, a bad diagnosis, pain,  loss of income, disappointment, or just the everyday inconveniences that life throws our way. Looking back can be a wonderful thing, when we can see what the Lord has done for and through us in years past.

Looking back can give us not only hope for the future, but the courage to face the present.

bear much fruit??

After just two weeks away, our beautiful Georgia garden looked like this! At first glance, I thought all was lost, and I didn't even bother to look for fruit for a few days. Frankly, I am not much of an outdoorsy kind of gal, and all I could imagine was that snake that seems to be following us around! Because it was just the girls and I for a time, with the hubby back at our new "home", and snake slayer off in another country, I had to brave it alone.

 

To my amazement, the harvest was plentiful, but the laborers were few! Look at all the fruit these crazy plants bore amongst all that jungle of weeds.

It got me thinking of all the analogies that we Christians could glean from this sad looking garden.

And, at the risk of boring you to death, here are just a few. You may apply them as needed.

Sometimes, you have to look hard for the fruit, it is often hiding amongst the weeds.

Those who bear the most fruit, don't always appear as you might expect. Sometimes they aren't all cleaned up and pretty, but their fruit is just as sweet.

Somethings might appear to be fruit, but in reality it is just weeds that look really pretty, pretending to be fruit.

Good vines and bad vines often grow side by side, but almost always when they are that close, the bad vines can take over.

When the fruit stays too long on the vine, and is not harvested, it often rots.

We can all plant seeds, and if we want fruit, we must, but that is the easy part. The real work of nourishing the plants takes time, effort, and sacrifice.

We can do all the right things, but only God can make the miracle of the fruit.

We can do all the wrong things, but God may still make the miracle of the fruit.

The fruit that is harvested can go to feed many.

Can you think of more?

I am the vine, you are the branches;

whoever abides in Me and I in him,

 he bears much fruit,

 for apart from Me you can do nothing.

 John 15:5

He was only four

The following testimony was written, and is now being shared in Ukraine by my son Kartwright. It is quite long, but I thought you might be blessed by it.

 When one of the others on this trip asked if I would be willing to share my testimony,  I replied, "sure, Why not?" I really wasn’t sure why anyone would want to hear my story, much less enjoy it. I’ve never really had anything that big happen to me. Then, when I began to look back on everything that has happened in my life, I reconsidered. Either way, I was asked to do it, so here goes nothing.

   I was raised in a large Christian family. I have two brothers and two sisters, and a very loving mother and Father.  I accepted Christ at a very early age, and that’s that. It’s not much of a testimony, but hey, that’s what happens in a sheltered home, just a nice and normal life up until now right?! Ummmmmn no….. not exactly. Don’t get me wrong, Christianity is the right decision for everyone, but don’t let anyone ever sell you into the lie that it’s easy. I’m not saying that my life has been awful or anything, it’s been great, but there have been hard times too. James 1:2-4 kinda says it for me,

 “Count it all joy , my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.”

 I can say confidently that each time in my life where things have gotten hard, I have grown closer to Christ. And, after each one, I have come out stronger. It’s definitely a choice, you can fall away from God, but that goes to show how much faith you had really put into this whole Jesus thing in the first place.

   I think the first trial I ever experienced, was one that was with me for 12 years, and it’s almost laughable to call it a trial now. 15 years ago my little brother was born. We named him Crockett. He had a number of diseases that made him a highly handicapped person.  So  profoundly handicapped that he couldn’t walk, talk, or sit up by himself.  We had to bottle feed him every 4 hours, and change his diaper also. He would have an average of one to two seizures a day.  They would normally be full body seizures, and they were often so intense he would flex up into the fetal position, and stay there as the seizing lasted for sometimes several minutes. Afterward, he would be so exhausted that he might cry himself to sleep, or throw up, I’m not sure which was worse. I don’t want it to sound like he was always a downer, and made everything sad or depressing. He brought us a lot of joy and laughter too.

 God really does work all things together for good, even things that seem like nothing good could come of it. For example, God taught me through Crockett to learn to laugh at things that might not be funny to most, but we had to laugh at these things or we’d cry. For instance, going to Church was always pretty hard on our family. In a family of seven it normally is, but put Crockett in that scenario, and it made things really interesting. Crockett had this thing where literally every Sunday he would do great. Bathe him, change him, feed him, get him all prettied up for Church, and he would be set, and ready to go. But the moment you placed him in his car seat, he would feel the urge to throw up. We would have one of us carry him to the car and have someone else right behind him with a towel. Right when we would sit him down, we would immediately put the towel like a bib and try to catch all the throw up, and protect him and the car. It almost became like a game, and we could laugh at this strange phenomena. Some would call that sadistic, we called it living.

 On a more practical point, I also learned how to change a diaper quicker than any human should, I can feed someone a bottle pretty well, and changing someone clothes is easy for me.  I loved making Crockett laugh. Sometimes I could find a noise that would crack him up, and he would just laugh this totally innocent laugh that would make me feel so good. However, sometimes his laughing would turn into a seizure, which would lead to tears, which would lead to throw up.  I’m painting this true, but gruesome picture for you, to make a point. Throughout the entire ordeal of,  throw up,  seizures, the diapers, and feedings, me and my family loved him. My brother who taught me more than anyone I know without ever saying a word, from the world’s eyes, couldn’t do anything, literally, anything right, and He was loved.  He was completely helpless without someone to meet his every need, and to the best of our ability we tried to provide for them all. This should be reminding us of someone, someone very familiar to us. Hopefully you and I are looking into an imaginary mirror right now. To God we are totally and completely filthy, swimming in our own wretchedness. We are so sinful, that outside of God we can do absolutely nothing right. Without God we are completely helpless.

    I have this issue, where I really care about what people think about me, especially in the church. Sometimes, I tend to do things that are not necessarily for the right reasons, but in some people eyes are great things. Anyway, a while back I read a passage out of Ecclesiastes that really kind of opened my eyes to my false ways.

 Ecclesiastes 2:11, “Then when I had considered all that my hands had done and the toil I had expended in doing it, and behold, all was vanity and striving after wind and there was nothing to be gained in the sun.”

 Years ago, in another trial of our lives, my family and I were in a flood. Everything we owned was destroyed. Our house, our cars, our furniture, our clothes, my toys…. Everything GONE! And when we were there on the sight, where our home used to be, we could look at our property and see how everything had been destroyed. We saw how meaningless everything is. Most people, in the back of their minds, would be wondering  what is the point? This is like striving after the wind. My Parents however, knew what to do; they followed what the ending of Ecclesiastes tells us to do.  Chapter 12 verse 13 says

“Now here is the conclusion of the matter: Fear God and keep his commandments for this is the whole duty of man.”

We have to understand the only real thing we can put our hopes, faith, trust, and love in, and know that it won’t amount to complete meaninglessness, is God. Fear God. Know God. Trust God. That’s all that matters.

   When I played football last year, the coach asked me to give the guys a speech before the last game. It was a game that if we won, we could play one more game, and if we lost some of us would never play football again. So the coach wanted me to give the guys something that would get them ready for that night. I thought about it for a little bit, and decided on a story from the Bible out of one of the gospels. It's the one where the disciples are watching as the offering is being taken, and they see people come up and put great amounts in the offering bag, or whatever it was they put the money in back then. I can imagine the disciples watching Jesus and his reactions as these people put these large amounts of money in. And I don’t know, but maybe he shook his head or maybe he put on a straight face, but my guess is the disciples who had gotten to know Jesus pretty well by then, could tell he was not pleased. When a poor widow came up they had to be wondering what Jesus was gonna do. When this poorly dressed woman came up to the place to give, and dropped in just two small copper coins, they had to be watching Jesus, waiting for his wrath! But, when he (most likely) smiled, and nodded at the woman, and drew the disciples together, and then said these words, they had to be astonished:

“I tell you the truth, this poor woman has put more into the treasury than all the others. They gave out of their wealth; but she out of her poverty gave everything.-all she had to live on.” 

See, God judges the heart, He doesn't want anyone to go halfway for Him. Revelation 3:16 says,

“so, because you are lukewarm, neither hot nor cold- I am about to spit you out of my mouth.”

 I remember telling the guys when I read these verses to them, that I didn’t care about the outcome of the game as long as they gave their all. We ended up losing 66 to 0. I saw one of my friends after the game crying, and as tears filled my eyes, I gave him a hug, and I told him "Thank you". He kind of looked at me with question in his eyes, “for what?” he asked and I replied “just for giving your all”. That friend of mine couldn’t have made a huge difference in the game, but I did know that what he did give, it was his all. God cares about where your heart is at, and if you’re willing to give him your all. That’s all that matters. In everything you do you're supposed to do it for God, and do it to the best of your ability. So please don’t have regrets because you never really went out on a limb and trusted God. Think about how great it will be when we get to heaven and God points at us and says” this child of mine gave his all, and I am well pleased.”

   When I was four years old I accepted Jesus Christ as my own personal savior. I can remember it vividly. Sitting in the rear seat of my Dad’s car, I was looking at the back of my Father’s head trying to figure out how to ask him a question. My older brother was in the front. I think we were coming home from his baseball practice. I usually tagged along, so nothing was really unusual, except that I had something big on my mind. That previous Sunday our Church had communion, and as usual, my Mom passed the grape juice over me, not allowing me to get some. This of course, in my little four year old brain seemed very unfair, and I began to tell my Mom just that. I was answered with a loud “SHHHH”, and a promise to talk to me about it later. Well, it was later, and I was ready to talk about it, so I simply said, “Dad I want some of the juice at Church!” My Dad was pretty confused, but after some explaining, he got the drift of what I was saying. Dad told me how the juice was only for those who were always going to follow Jesus. Also, how Christ died for me, bore all my sins on the cross, and how if I accepted him to save me from the fiery scary place known as Hell, I could go to where God reigns, Heaven. It was a long time ago, but I think I remember being quiet for a minute, thinking over what my Daddy had just said. The juice was no longer the issue, now Jesus was on my mind, and I wanted him in my life. I told my Dad that. He nodded and said “Lets Pray.” Since then, I have tried to follow Jesus. I pray all the time that he will help me follow him, and that I won’t take the pilot seat from him, but let him lead me down the straight and narrow path. I pray that I might not be swayed by what the world offers in all of its riches and glory, and is only good for a time, and that I might see my years on earth as a dress rehearsal for what’s after this life, and to honor Jesus in all that I do. I know that now instead of looking like Crockett did in this world I am perfect in Gods Eyes, just like Crockett is in heaven today. I can’t wait to see him and hopefully one day I will see all of you there too!

He's leaving on a jet plane

The kids and I drove back to Georgia yesterday, to send this guy halfway around the world tomorrow. Yep, he's leaving on a jet plane that will take him to the uttermost, and drop him off.

This momma has done this before, and it ain't ever easy, but I know he is in the Lord's hands, and he is ready.

 

Even as I write this, I can hear him praising his Lord with song.

"with thanksgiving, I'll be a living, sanctuary, for you" he sings.

Nothing sweeter to this Momma's ears, then to hear her children praise God, folks this is what it's all about!

Please pray for my boy Kartwright while he is in the Ukraine ministering to a country hungry for truth.