Filling a Need

… for I was hungry, and you gave me food to eat. I was thirsty, and you gave me drink. I was a stranger, and you took me in. 36 I was naked, and you clothed me. I was sick, and you visited me. I was in prison, and you came to me.’

 “Then the righteous will answer him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry, and feed you; or thirsty, and give you a drink? When did we see you as a stranger, and take you in; or naked, and clothe you? When did we see you sick, or in prison, and come to you?’

 “The King will answer them, ‘Most certainly I tell you, because you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’ (Matthew 25: 35-40 WEB)

            As I rummaged through plastic containers looking for crochet hooks, I noticed a blonde lady staring at me. In the crowded thrift store, only the two of us were in the craft area. Was I in her way?

            With a boot on her foot, she hobbled next to me. Finally, she spoke. “I’m a teacher and getting things for my class.”

            “I was a teacher for almost thirty-seven years,” I said.

            We continued talking as we looked for buttons, needles and other items for her students. She told me that she taught four year olds at a very small Christian school but used to teach in public school.

            Her eyes wanted to tell me her story but her lips only said, “I never thought I would be doing it for so little. I’ve already spent more than I should.”

            My heart went out to the lady with a broken leg, making minimum wage, and struggling to get supplies for her pupils. I knew there was a difficult story behind her smile.

            She hugged me before she left. I didn’t find the crochet hook I needed but did pick up more buttons and other craft supplies.

            At the counter, my new friend looked through her overflowing cart. The clerk motioned for me to come to the counter. Only then did the teacher look up and notice me.

            “Were you ready to check out?” I asked.

            She nodded with only a slight smile.

            “I’m sorry. The clerk told me to come.”

            “We didn’t know you were ready to check out,” the clerk said.

            “That’s ok.”

            After I paid for my purchases, I turned to the teacher. “This is for you.” I handed her several black buttons and some money.

            Her face lit up with joy. She thanked me, hugged me again and looked at the clerk. “Did you see what she did?”

            The clerk nodded. I didn’t desire recognition but wanted to make life a little easier for a struggling teacher.

            Over and over she thanked me. Her enthusiasm because of my small gift gave me joy too.

            While we talked, another lady stepped at the cash register with a cart full of toys. “Every time I come in here, I look at a certain Bible. I hope the price goes down so I can get it.”

            We locked eyes as the clerk began ringing up her items. With my purchases in hand, I left.

            On the highway several minutes later, it hit me. I should have bought that Bible. For me, it would not have been a huge price but to her it was. The Bible could have blessed her. The missed opportunity bothered me the rest of the day.

            My visit to the thrift store made me think about listening and being compassionate. I was thankful I cheered up the teacher but sorry I missed helping the second lady. Over the years, how many opportunities have I missed?

            In the New Year, I plan to listen to God’s prodding and act instead of just thinking about it. I want to be more open in approaching people when I sense their needs.

Father, as I face a new year, guide me in being more loving, compassionate, and helpful. When I sense a need, whether large or small, help me fill it. Amen

They Listened, Obeyed, and Shared

            Weary hooves clopped on cobblestones. With each step, the pregnant teenager winced. Stoically, she endured the long, miserable journey and looked forward to a comfortable bed.

            Because of the decree of Caesar Augustus, which required a census of the entire Roman world, pilgrims roamed the overflowing streets of Bethlehem. Joseph led the donkey down narrow passageways in search of a room. Time after time he heard the same answer, “There is no room.”

            Mary’s pleading eyes begged for a place to rest. In desperation, Joseph accepted the offer to stay in a stable. As he helped her down from the donkey, he lamented the unsuitable conditions. But she gladly lay down on the bed of hay.  Odors of damp hay mingled with those of manure, but the young couple hardly noticed.

            Mary clutched her large stomach as pain gripped her. Far from home, the young woman had only an inexperienced young man as her midwife. But his strong, carpenter hands helped deliver the perfect baby.

            She cradled the promised child in swaddling cloths. Tenderly she placed him in the hay filled stone trough. The couple marveled at the fulfillment of the angels’ words. Jesus slept peacefully in the humble stable.

            Darkness settled over the rocky hills near the village and away from the commotion of the crowds. Shepherds watched their flocks beneath the twinkling sky.

            Through the blackness, an angel appeared. God’s glory surrounded them. The terrified men stared at the spectacle before them. The angel spoke, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you. You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”  Luke 2: 10-12 NIV

            Instantly, a blaze of light illuminated the sky. A multitude of angels sang praises. “Glory to God in the highest. Peace on earth. Good will to all men.”

            Darkness returned after the angels disappeared. The bewildered shepherds tried to make sense of what they had seen and heard. Even though the incident seemed impossible, they agreed to go into Bethlehem to search for the baby.

            Sandaled feet ran over rocks. Excited men looked in stable after stable. Then a tiny cry beckoned them. Joseph stood guard beside his family. Only after he recognized the silent reverence of the shepherds did he step aside for them to enter. At the sight of the baby, each visitor knelt in awe. Before them lay the Savior the angel promised.

            With a new confidence and boldness, the simple, uneducated men hurried to share the news of Jesus’ birth. Their words amazed the throngs in Bethlehem. They continued praising God for all they had seen and heard. 

            None of the events that night made sense to those waiting for a king to deliver them. God used uneducated, young, lonely, marginalized characters who listened, obeyed, and shared the good news.

            He continues to use those who the world does not recognize as important to inspire and share His story.

The Great Healer

He heals the broken in heart, and binds up their wounds. (Psalm 147:3 WEB)

 Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort; who comforts us in all our affliction, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, through the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.

(2 Corinthians 1:2-4 World English Bible)

            This morning I prayed about what I should share with the Griefshare group. Then instead of going on with my normal activities. I actually sat quietly and listened. God spoke to me with images and words formed in my mind. I grabbed my notebook and wrote.

            A gaping, bloody hole revealed a still beating but damaged heart. The Surgeon’s skillful, gentle hands stitched the ragged edges together. Though misshapened and less robust, the heart’s pulse beat stronger after the Healer’s touch.

            The same hands stitched the bloody skin. Black thread pulled tightly on the damaged flesh but it held.

            Day by day the heart and incision changed. At first, redness surrounded the tear. Then bruises came. Healing began but infection set in. Soothing salve fought it. Step by step the heart beat stronger and stronger. Tissues bonded.

            Over and over an unexpected bump, jolt, or hit caused injury to an already fragile cut. Pain returned to the incision and the heart. Healing started over. Thankfully, soreness and distortion, both inside and outside, lessened as the journey of healing continued.

            Death of a loved one rips out a part of the heart. Healing doesn’t come quickly or easily. But God’s love mends and stitches it back together. Unwelcome injuries occur, but over time the pain diminishes. The healed heart will never beat or look exactly the same. Joy will return and that heart will be able to comfort other grieving ones.

My Fog

“…Weeping may stay for the night but joy comes in the morning. You have turned my mourning into dancing for me.

You have removed my sackcloth, and clothed me with gladness, To the end that my heart may sing praise to you, and not be silent. Yahweh my God, I will give thanks to you forever! (Psalm 30: 5, 11-12 WEB)

            Fog wrapped the lake into a giant box. A sheet of gray blocked the sunrise and blue sky. Little by little, a solemn light overcame the darkness.

            White egrets fished along the shore. Birds sang delightful melodies. A flock of turkeys meandered across the lawn. Golden needles dropped from cypress trees. Blurry trees reflected on the lake. No major changes occurred overnight. But fog muted colors, sounds, and joy.

            Like the early morning fog, grief muted my life. Sadness replaced laughter. Remembering brought heartache. Tears took the place of smiles. It kept me from appreciating gifts in the present. Enjoying life seemed disloyal.

            Step by step, the fog lifted. Brightness and joy returned. Memories merged with new experiences. Though different from before, life was more normal.

            But like the dawn fog, grief occasionally returns and closes in. Thankfully, its duration and intensity have lessened. When it does capture me, I am learning to accept it and go on. No longer does it hold me captive for long periods of time. Each ambush reminds me of the pain but also the healing.

Father, you have been with me in the grief and in the gladness. Thank you for turning my mourning into joy. Amen

A Tearful Thanksgiving 2015

            When I was looking back through my notebooks, I found a writing from last Thanksgiving. I had forgotten some of my feelings from that holiday. I wonder what this year’s celebration will bring.  

A Tearful Thanksgiving 2015

Rebecca Carpenter

Rejoice always. Pray without ceasing. In everything give thanks, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus toward you. (1 Thessalonians 5: 16-18 WEB)

            Tears slid down my face. After two years without Mother and Alan and three without Dad, I thought the day would be easier. But grief gripped me in a stronghold.

            Slick advertisements littered my counter. Each one urged readers to cut short holiday festivities to shop on Thanksgiving instead of spending time with family and friends left at home. Didn’t they realize the important gifts were sitting at home?

            Shelves of family pictures in my office, computer images of family times scrolled across my screen and memories reminded me of those who would no longer sit at our table.

            After my family moved to Florida, we all gathered at my parents’ home for holidays. Mother enjoyed cooking and entertaining. We gathered around several tables to eat and visit.

            After Mother’s health declined, Alan and I hosted family Thanksgiving dinners. We prepared the turkey together. He carved while I prepared other dishes. Everyone brought delicious food to add to the meal. It was fun having everyone at our new home.

            Even though Thanksgiving is a time of thankfulness, we had several difficult Thanksgivings. When I was eleven, my dad received a call during dinner that his dad passed away unexpectedly.

            The year we moved to Florida, on Thanksgiving we knew my maternal grandmother was near death. She died the following day.

            On other occasions, loved ones missed the annual celebration. A husband in Viet Nam. A son in the US Navy. Work schedules.

             One year, as soon as my parents arrived at our home, the phone rang. Because of a terrible automobile accident, my nephew was near death in ICU. With little appetite, we ate a little before joining my brother and his family at the hospital.

            While I thought of my losses, I stared at the gray clouds beyond my patio. Tears continued to flow. Sadness overtook me. Then I noticed strips of blue in the lightening sky. Gradually, while clouds danced over the dark ones into a brilliant expanse of blue.

            Tears slowed. Thankfulness overcame some of my sadness. I tried to focus on blessings instead of losses.

            When I couldn’t face preparing a holiday dinner, my son’s family stepped in. Anne’s mom grieved the recent loss of her mother. Chris, Anne, and three daughters brought joy to the meal.

            For millions of people around the world, what I have left is much more than they could ever imagine. A loving family embraces me. Friends support me. An abundance of food. A comfortable home. Plentiful clothes. Travel opportunities. Good health. Peaceful country. Right to worship. Freedom. My list could go on and on.

            At first, giving thanks in everything seemed impossible but isn’t. I am thankful for all that I now have and have had. I am trying to concentrate on what remains.

Dear Lord, no matter the circumstances, help us be thankful for what we still have. I especially pray for anyone who has empty chairs at the table. Amen