Who Will Love Me?

Who Will Love Me?

This week I sat with my friend Susan who had just said good-bye to a pet, a beautiful furry gray female cat named Piglet.

Piglet came to Susan sixteen years ago on the eve of giving birth to a litter of kittens. Susan allowed Piglet a private haven in her home to deliver and then nurture the kittens, and when Piglet decided, as most mothers do at some point, “Ok, you guys -I’ve done my job. Now it’s time for you to get a place of your own..” Susan gathered the kittens in a basket, took them to our work office and proceeded, in a day, to find loving homes for each. “Clyde,” the runt of the litter and the spitting image of Mama (well, almost), became mine. 

More than once my impish Clyde climbed way out on a limb on the huge oak tree in my front yard and needed to be rescued. Since I had no ladder, I’d climb up in a kitchen chair with an open can of tuna and try to coax him down. He would nearly give me his paw, then jerk it back. We were on about the third round of Clyde-in-the-tree one evening, and a storm was coming. I was up in the chair, coaxing and pleading. When lightning struck close, I said, “I am sorry, little guy, but you are on your own,” at which time he ran down the tree and made it into the house before I did! His naughty game was over! Clyde slept on the pillow above my head. At bedtime, he’d reach his paw down and I’d reach up until we were “holding hands” as we fell to sleep, for as long as he was mine. He stole my heart.

Piglet, who rarely was friendly with any two-legged beings, and who developed only one or two four legged affinities in her lifespan, adored Susan, who adored her back. And while Piglet had nothing of value to offer Susan but her trust and affection, that was enough to endear her to Susan for all time. 

Piglet Gray

January 20, 1999 - April 13, 2015

In the Kingdom of God, we are Piglets and Clydes. We have nothing of value to offer God but ourselves - our love and our trust - and yet, that is exactly what He desires.

So, if we are always trying harder to get Him to love us more, it won’t do any good. God can’t possibly love us more than He already does!

God, unlike some people, does not base His love for us on what we can do for Him! 

Conversely, do we love God because of Who He Is, or because of what we think He will do for us? Do we think if we please Him, He perhaps owes us a pretty good life or at least some assurance of freedom from disasters and calamities?

I watched an episode of “The West Wing” last night. Martin Sheen, who plays the U.S.President, is distressed because his elderly secretary, Mrs. Van Landingham, a long-time friend and patriot who had just purchased her first-ever brand new car, was killed in an auto accident that very same week. When the church has emptied after the funeral, President Barton asked security to seal the church, after which he proceeded to bash God with a tirade that is raw and arrogant and wicked. He accused God of being a murderous tyrant among other names too treacherous to record. I felt lightning might strike my house at any moment just for having hosted the blasphemous rant.

And yet, more than once, I have found my unbending will questioning God, “Why?”  In the end, I have always been able to trust His heart. I climb back into His lap. I call Him Abba Father. 

Even if I ask Him “why” one-hundred times, He always welcomes me back onto his lap. Because all any of us Piglets or Clydes have to do to find God’s favor is to find pleasure and comfort and wholeness in Who He Is. 

“Look up into the heavens. Who created all the stars?

He brings them out like an army, one after another,

calling each by its name.

Because of his great power and incomparable strength,

not a single one is missing.

O Jacob, how can you say the Lord does not see your troubles?

O Israel, how can you say God ignores your rights?

Have you never heard? Have you never understood?

The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of all the earth.

He never grows weak or weary.

No one can measure the depths of his understanding.

He gives power to the weak and strength to the powerless.

Even youths will become weak and tired,

and young men will fall in exhaustion.

But those who trust in the Lord will find new strength.

They will soar high on wings like eagles.

They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not faint.”

Isaiah 40: 26-31

Musings of a Single Mother

Build a Home

Build a home.

Lay the foundation deep;

make it strong.

Build a hearth,

and in its sparkle-warmth

place an easy chair;

A table set beside it

will hold a cup of coffee

and all your favorite books.

Paint your kitchen yellow;

hang ruffled curtains

in the windows.

Set potted begonias

on the sills;

Let the aromas of apple pie

and baked lasagna

permeate the air.

Put a piano in your living room;

        learn to play happy songs.

Teach your children 

to laugh in harmony.

Join the family plan

at Olan Mills;

Decorate your walls

with smiles.

Open your door to friends

and neighbors;

Share with them the music

you have memorized

or can play by ear.

Take in stray cats and other

unloved creatures that may

wander into your yard.

Build a home;

        share the key with

the one you trust most.

If, however, he should prove untrue,

tearing down what has been built

and leaving you alone,

Don’t be afraid;

        you know how to build.

Gather your children and

        teach them how

to lay brick on brick

smooth mortar on stone;

Whatever you do,

build a home.

Don’t Make Your Children Choose

Don’t make your children

choose allegiance;

as if love can’t forgive

a multitude of sin.

Don’t teach your children hate - 

It burns like fire

and turns direction

with the wind.

Let the children love him.

Place his picture in their room.

Put his number by the phone.

Help them bake him cookies

when he comes.

Repayment isn’t yours.

Repentance can’t be forced.

Years of bitterness

will only make him certain

he was right

in having left.

When the Goats Come

In the dusk of the evening

when the goats come,

be aware that

night is upon you.

Go inside; bolt the door.

You will hear their bleating,

pitiful, forlorn .- 

You will be tempted to 

let them in.

Do not be deceived.

Soon they will be 

butting their heads 

against the house.

They will disassemble 

the garbage you

have hidden 

behind the garage.

They will pull down

the laundry you

left hanging neatly

on the line.

Stay at home and

pray for morning

to come.

When the sun shines again

and exposes strips

of gnawed leather

that were once your shoes;

Be glad your feet 

were not in them.

Purple Clover Chains

I remember the day my Grandmother and I

lay on our backs on the warm earth

while God entertained us with cloud pictures.

We were weaving purple clover chains,

Grandmother sometimes humming

“What a Friend We Have in Jesus,”

Listening when I spoke, 

Giving significance to childhood dreams.

You would not have known my Grandmother had

endured years of struggle for the smile she wore,

But I can tell you that for seven years 

her husband beat her,

then left her with seven daughters.

Alone, she worked two jobs

to kept her home together.

And weak became strong.

In later years, disease claimed

her eyesight and both legs.

She lay in a nursing home,

Her mind more often weaving through the past

Than engaging in the present.

The last time I saw her, my life was broken.

In the safety of our moments, 

I knelt by her bedside and cried.

Interrupted by a touch, I looked up into eyes

Suddenly able to see bruises, visible or not.

“Grandmother,” I whispered, “How did you do it?”

How did you go on?”

“Listen closely, Child,” she said,

“The strength was not my own.”

Grandmother’s indomitable spirit soars.

I lie on a sometimes dampened pillow

listening for her humming;

Finding power in the Person of her song.

What Was Good About Friday?  

It was day much like yesterday. Clouds had gathered, and the winds were blowing. A storm was imminent.

Jesus had been welcomed into Jerusalem earlier in the week by a crowd of followers who celebrated him as King of the Jews. But the Powers-That-Were in the Jewish hierarchy believed such an assertion had the potential to bring down the wrath of the Roman government upon the Jewish nation, and they weren’t about to jeopardize their good standing in the Roman Empire. Or was it that Jesus challenged their own rule-making and rule-keeping regimens? 

Fear provoked anger in the hearts of men who studied God but did not know Him. 

By noon on Friday, Jesus was hanging on the cross, and the world became black as coal as God turned away in sorrow and grief.

Jesus poured out his life on the cross to pay the penalty for sin for each of us who believe in him for forgiveness. God, the Trinity, had planned on God the Son dying for us from the beginning of time, His life for our redemption. 

Yet, I wonder, God being God and knowing what He knows about me and the world, and the meanness in men and women then and to come, if He had any regrets during those dark moments that Jesus was tormented and tortured. 

God gives us the capacity to connect deeply to Himself and to others. Sin results in death and the the loss of our connectedness. 

Without the cross, both our disconnectedness to God because of sin and our disconnectedness to loved ones because of death would become permanent.  

                                                         *****************

It was on a cold day in February when my telephone rang and I answered it cheerfully, knowing by ringtone it was my daughter, Traci. Her voice was strained and barely audible. I couldn’t have heard what I thought I heard. Could she repeat what she just said? 

“Anni is dead. Can you come get Emmi?”

My only response before I hung up the phone was, “I’m coming.” 

My prayer through tears and gritted teeth and stifled screams during the 15 minute drive to Brian’s and Traci’s home was, “God, no! No, God! No! 

Anni Flora, whose name means “glorious flower,” was our precious miracle baby. She would have been four months old had she lived another day. Her conception was a miracle because Traci had suffered many years with endometriosis. Traci then spent several weeks of her pregnancy in the hospital with pre-eclampsia. Little Anni arrived by C-section five weeks early on October 19, 2012, weighing a little over 3 pounds. She was beautiful, and we fell in love with this tiny fragile blessing. Her mother and father sat with her in the NICU, day after day, touching her tiny body through holes in her incubator.until she was strong enough to be cuddled. 

I will never forget, while sitting with Traci in the hospital, being able to hold our baby for the very first time.

We were encouraged as Anni reached one benchmark after another. When she was barely under five pounds, Brian, Traci and Emmi got to take her home. It was just in time for Thanksgiving, and what a time of thanksgiving that was!

On Thursday evening February 16, I was privileged to babysit for my two granddaughters. We snuggled on the sofa, Anni on my arm, Emmi beside us. I played patty-cake with Anni. She was beginning to hold her head up well, and she smiled as I clapped her tiny hands together. 

Less than 48 hours later, our Anni would be in heaven. That Saturday, Traci had laid her in bed for a nap, and when she went back to check on her, Anni had died in her sleep. 

Her sister Emmi, who was five, asked, “How did Anni leave here? Did she and the angels fly right through the front door?”

It was too soon. We had not expected to be blessed with another baby, but when we were, letting go of her was excruciating. 

For the men and women who sat around the table with me in grief class, for all who have lain prostrate or curled in a fetal position and swallowed sorrow at the passing of your child or grandchild, husband, wife, mother, father, grandparent, or other person you loved more than life itself, there is good news.

God’s story does not end with the cross and darkness.

Christ is alive! His resurrection secured victory over death for us and for our believing loved ones.

The Gospel song writer Bill Gaither penned these words,

“Then came the morning, night turned into day;

The stone was rolled away, hope rose with the dawn;

Then came the morning, shadows vanished before the sun,

Death had lost and life had won, for morning had come.”

It is the same way with the resurrection of the dead. Our earthly bodies are planted in the ground when we die, but they will be raised to live forever. Our bodies are buried in brokenness, but they will be raised in glory. They are buried in weakness, but they will be raised in strength. They are buried as natural human bodies, but they will be raised as spiritual bodies. I Corinthians 42-44

But let me reveal to you a wonderful secret. We will not all die, but we will all be transformed! It will happen in a moment, in the blink of an eye, when the last trumpet is blown. For when the trumpet sounds, those who have died will be raised to live forever. And we who are living will also be transformed. For our dying bodies must be transformed into bodies that will never die; our mortal bodies must be transformed into immortal bodies. Then, when our dying bodies have been transformed into bodies that will never die, this Scripture will be fulfilled: “Death is swallowed up in victory. O Death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” For sin is the sting that results in death, and the law gives sin its power. But thank God! He gives us victory over sin and death through our Lord Jesus Christ. So my dear brothers and sisters, be strong and immovable. Always work enthusiastically for the Lord, for you know that nothing you do for the Lord is ever useless.  I Corinthians 15: 51-58

Hold on; Easter is coming. Life is here. The victory is ours.