Starting about 12 years ago, whenever things are rough the Lord sends this verse to me in some fashion. The ways He does this differ, the message is the same. For some reason it is always unexpected. (You’d think by now I’d KNOW it was coming!)

Yesterday was an awful day. I had expected some big changes in a couple areas of my life, changes that would make life a lot easier. Well, they didn’t happen. Not only did they not happen, but it was made clear those particular changes are not going to happen.

Came home from that, didn’t feel well. Battled a stomach ache and headache all afternoon. Made dinner — and burned it! Dissolved into tears that led to a total meltdown.

The real problem wasn’t a lace of income or the changes that didn’t happen or a burned dinner or not feeling well. We are nearing our daughter Karen’s death anniversary, and I had been stuffing down the tears and pain. Or trying to. It took disappointment and a burned dinner to bring it all up and out.

This morning I checked my email. Each weekday I receive a devotional from a lovely lady named Cathy, only yesterday I didn’t open it. This morning I opened yesterday’s devotional, and guess what — it started out with Jeremiah 29:11! God had sent the message through a friend, I hadn’t opened it.

How often does the Lord come to us with words of comfort and wisdom, but we don’t listen? We don’t open the “heavenly email.” Perhaps it’s easier and more convenient to skim over that part of the day. Perhaps we’re lazy, or distracted. Whatever the reason, our not being open to Him means less peace. Only in Him will we find the comfort and peace that we need in the difficult times!

The wonderful thing is that He still comes, He still loves us, He still sends comfort and peace.

God is so infinitely, wonderfully good!

Two times eat at my heart when I think of them, bringing pain for the lost opportunity to possibly make someone’s life a bit brighter, if only for a moment. One was in a mall in another state. I was waiting outside a book store to meet my daughter. I saw a man enter the bookstore: I watched person after person turn away from his terribly deformed face. Nobody spoke to him as he walked through the busy shop. I wanted to go after him just to say hello, give him a smile, look into his face, and hopefully strike up a conversation. A little thing, but would it have made a difference to someone whose misfortune caused others to turn away? I hesitated too long — when I entered the shop, he was gone. Opportunity missed.

The other wasn’t a momentary opportunity: the door was open much longer, but I never went through it. When we were living in Ireland, a small “traveler” boy took up with me. His name was Johnny, and he was 10 years old when he first came to our door. We lived in the country, and my husband gave Johnny’s dad permission to park his caravan on our property. (In Ireland the “travelers” are descendants of the original tinkers. Many live in brightly painted caravans, as did Johnny and his dad.) When we were moving back to America, I promised Johnny I would write to him, sending letters to general delivery at the post office in that little town.

The reason I did not write was a good one — or was it?

By the time I put my own problems aside and wanted to write to Johnny, it was too late. They had been thrown off the land and had left the town. There was no way I could get a letter to Johnny. Would it have made a difference? I think it might have.

How often do we miss the blessing of blessing others? I now make it a point to speak to strangers, especially the ones who look unhappy or angry. I love watching frowns turn to smiles. It almost always happens, and I am blessed. Yet Johnny and the unfortunate little man in the mall haunt me still. I pray that someone else blesses them as I should have done.

May we always be alert for the opportunity to let God use us to bless someone — and may we always be willing to let it happen!

I mentioned the choir in my last post. Its name is United in Praise, and it is just that: people united to praise God. UIP is made up of people from churches all over the area — somewhere between 20-30 churches and numerous denominations. Each rehearsal was a blessing as we worked, laughed, shared and prayed together.

And then came the concerts. Oh, my!

This season we sang music from the Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir. The concerts have been nearly overpowering. The Lord’s presence is THERE. I nearly burst with praise and joy. Several of the songs made me cry even in rehearsals, they are so filled with love and awe for our Lord — at the concerts it grows and swells during those songs, and tears flow freely. (Fortunately, I’m not the only one!) There is a tenor who stands behind and to the side of me (I sing alto) — we make eye contact before each one of those special songs, because we know we will both be in tears from joy and praise that we just cannot hold back.

Only one more concert and the season ends. I want it to go on and on! It’s going to be a long summer. I have tasted something new and wonderful, and I don’t want it to stop. At the same time, I am so grateful for having been a part of United in Praise.

I am grateful, too, for my husband Bill who attended every concert and even handed out programs, chatting with people as they entered. He is so giving and loving! We have both grown through this experience.

God is so very, very good! My cup indeed runneth over.

Cried all the way back home (over an hour: I was a mess!) Then changed clothes and went to the United in Praise concert. I wasn’t sure I could make it through. After the warm-up I asked a couple of friends for prayers. Each concert starts with a sound check and warm-up, then we congregate in another room for announcements, visiting, and prayer. Near the end of the time, our leader started singing softy, and we all joined in. We sang two soft, sweet hymns about God’s presence being there, and as we sang peace flowed through me. The concert seemed to be more for us than for the audience. It was powerful, as always, and for me it was healing.

God is good. He is my strength, and through Him I can walk this road in peace and joy.

When I discovered my church offered confession I leaped for it — the only person in my church who did. A few days before Easter I confessed to my own pastor that I thought Good Friday had little meaning for me. He told me to spend the hours from noon to 3:00 meditating on the crucifixion of Jesus. What an experience that was! At first it was just too easy. Then it became too hard! To think that Jesus went through all that for me was unbearable.

A few years ago we went to see the movie The Passion of the Christ. There were times during that movie that I wanted to cry out, STOP! I’M NOT WORTH IT!

Yet in God’s eyes, I am indeed worth it, and so are you!

Isn’t that just like our amazing God? He made us, He loves us warts and all, and it just never stops. HE GAVE HIS SON FOR YOU AND FOR ME! That never stops astounding me. I am so unworthy, yet He just keeps on loving me.

John 3:16 may be all too familiar to most Christians and even to many non-Christians, but it sums it all up: For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life. (NIV)

Would I give my life for someone else? Yes, I might very well do that, especially for my family and friends. Would I give a child for someone else? Not on your life! Someone told me to picture my child on that cross. It is a picture that is unbearable. Unthinkable. No, no, no! Yet the Father loves us that much.

Wow, what a love!

Yesterday I wrote about my first Holy Thursday. Today I realized that although most liturgical churches celebrate the cleansing of the church on Thursday, Fr. Fulton’s shocking service was on Good Friday. I remember slipping into the church on Saturday night to see if it was “right” again, and witnessing the glorious transformation from bare to filled with Easter flowers. As we head into Easter weekend, let us think about that amazing love. You and I are part of “whoever.” That’s us! Meditating on the crucifixion may be hard to get through, but then we look forward to the joy of Easter — of the resurrection!

Chocolate rabbits, peeps, new clothes, and children hunting Easter eggs are all fun, but they are not THE Easter. This year, as every year, I look forward to joining other Christians in the joyous celebration of outrageous love!

There is another memory that lies deep and forever in my heart; as she asked about today, it rushed out of its hiding place and up into my brain. It is the memory of a Holy Thursday in St. Andrews Episcopal Church. I was a brand new Christian. The priest was Fr. Charley Fulton. His message: What if Jesus had never been born, had not been crucified and raised from the dead?

Charley Fulton cleansed the church, but not ritually and solemnly as it is done in many churches on this day. Rather, he treated it with seemingly total irreverence. It was hard not to cry out as one by one everything that had Christian meaning was removed. He tossed the Bible away — after all, what did a Bible mean if Jesus was not the resurrected Son of God? The cross? Without the resurrection, a meaningless symbol! I was horrified, in tears.

(The next year I knew what to expect. I took someone with me who did cry out.)

At the end he talked seriously about what it all means to us as Christians.

Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God. He celebrated the Passover meal with His disciples, showed us our task as servants by washing the feet of the disciples, then went out to pray with such intensity that he literally sweated blood as He faced what lay before Him.

And so begins the blessed Easter weekend. May everyone who reads this have both awareness and peace in their hearts on this special day.

But it is only a tiny part of the story.

Quinlan’s short life was not an easy one. It was a life marked by frequent seizures and other problems. Kristin’s life as a mother was also not an easy one. Other children could play and chatter and run. Quinlan could not. Kristin had to carry her, feed her, change her, hold her. Did she want her little girl healed? Of course she did! Countless prayers were prayed for healing. There was the laying on of hands. Yet in the world’s eyes, Quinlan was not healed.

But what about God’s eyes? I believe that His eyes were full of love and joy as He watched His beautiful creation touch so many lives. He used Quinlan to mold a woman whose heart is totally for Him, whose eyes are focused on Him. Heal her? What was there to heal? She was already perfect!

Now Quinlan is joyfully dancing in heaven, singing praise, basking in love and joy.

So what is to be learned from the story of Quinlan?

I know what it is like to lose a child. In June it will be 4 years since our Karen went to live with Jesus. I know the pain, the hole in the heart that nothing and nobody can fill. I share the joyful knowledge that Karen is in heaven, for she was a mighty woman of God.

Oh, the times have been hard! I have been so very angry at God for taking my child, for taking the mother of two of my grandchildren, for taking my friend.

Yet our Karen lived a full life. She grew up, married, had two beautiful children. Kristin, on the other hand, never heard her only child say the word “Mommy” or tell her, “I love you.”

My anger is gone. Vanished during a cold North Carolina morning as little Quinlan was laid to rest. Yes, I still miss Karen. I doubt that will change much. But I can rejoice in the memories, be thankful that she lived a full life, rejoice in ALL my children. (That has never changed — my children are my joy!) I rejoice that I have three children and three grandchildren still here on earth. I rejoice that I am married to a wonderful Christian man whom I love and who loves me back.

So what is the lesson of Quinlan? I believe it is to learn to look around and rejoice, to lean on the Lord and rejoice, to count my blessings and rejoice. And to think of Quinlan and Kristin — and rejoice!

It has been awhile since I blogged in Faith Walk. Overloaded and pressured with life, at one point I considered dropping it. Then Quinlan happened.

The name Quinlan, in Gaelic, means “graceful, strong, well made.” Born 9 1/2 years ago, Quinlan was by the world’s standards profoundly disabled — never able to talk, or run, or play. To some she would have been a tragedy. But this is the world’s view. It is not God’s view. To Him, Quinlan was and is perfection. God does not make mistakes.

God chose a special mother for Quinlan. Kristin was always spunky, physically beautiful, strong, and filled with mischief. As a teenager, Kristin could have been called headstrong strong willed, strong minded. Again, the world view. The key word here is STRONG. God knew what He was doing with Kristin. He was growing someone to be a strong mother for a special child, one who would demand strength beyond that of most, one in whom He placed a well of love so deep that few could fathom it. He even gave Kristin the name Quinlan when Kristin was a teenager.

At the age of 9 1/2, Quinlan went to be with Jesus. At her funeral, I lost count of the number of people who spoke of the incredible peace that surrounded Quinlan. This child who could not speak in words spoke volumns in God talk. She changed lives. People told me that being around her made them want to know more of God. Both pastors who spoke at her funeral said she had had this effect on them.

Oh, if I could be that sort of person!

There is a portrait of Kristin and Quinlan that captured me, blew me away. Kristin is smiling at the camera. Quinlan is not — her eyes are clear and focused, but they are not focused on the camera. They are looking at Someone she obviously sees clearly. She is seeing things we will not see this side of heaven.

When I think of Kristin and Quinlan, I think of a beautiful woman who surrendered her life to the Lord. A chunk of her life was devoted to her only child, a beautiful little girl who never spoke the word “Mommy” or said, “I love you.” Looking at Kristin, it seems much like a square cut from a sheet cake. It is that contained. But God did not grow Kristin into a mother for Quinlan to let it end there. As complete and as beautiful as it is, it is only part of a large picture.

I have no idea what the Lord has planned for Kristin. I do know that this is not an end, it is a beginning — not just for Quinlan as she is in the arms of Jesus, but also for Kristin. This is a time for Kristin to rest, to get ready for the next chapter in an amazing life.

Or is it?

I found a blog today about a teenager who gave a talk in a church, thanking God for her cancer. At first it sounds shocking. If you want to get downright brutal about it, cancer took two of my brothers, my uterus, our youngest daughter’s uterus and breasts, and our oldest daughter’s life. How can I thank God for any of that?

Well, I’ll tell you how.

All four of my children had walked away from the Lord. I came to the point where I finally put them all in God’s hands and released them to Him, asking HIm to do whatever it takes to bring them back to Him. With our youngest, Missy, it took a special needs child and cancer. With our oldest, Karen, it took Missy’s cancer and MOPS. Even now I have strangers walk up to me at church, ask me if I am Karen’s mother, and tell me how God used her to change their lives. Missy and Karen both became mighty women of God.

How can I not be thankful for that?

Cancer makes you look at your life. The moment you hear that word applied to you, your life does a flip-flop, your priorities change, your life takes on a new and different meaning. And if those changes include God, one can only give thanks.

I know that my life is different because of cancer. I take nothing for granted. My priorities are quite different than friends who have not been there. Having children with cancer changes one’s perspective even more than one’s own cancer. I will never be afraid of death. Or of cancer itself. Having had children with cancer made my own cancer an inconvenience to be gotten through, but nothing to compare with theirs.

I miss Karen terribly — but I am at last reaching the point where I can concentrate on the good times, thankful for the years we had her in our lives. I can thank Him for the lives and joys of all our children. Each one is a special and remarkable gift from Him! I treasure all the moments, good and not so good.

Yes, cancer is dreadful. But it cannot win unless you let it. God is in charge, and His miracles abound. Even in cancer. So even though cancer is not what I would choose, having been there in so many ways I can indeed give thanks! Perhaps not for cancer itself, but for God’s work even through cancer.

Thanks be to God for all things, for He is IN all things. If you let Him, He will give you joy in all things.

Even in cancer.

I have spent the morning waiting and praying. I had a sudden need to be where I can be found, but I told my husband Bill that I will remain here while he runs an errand. The cafeteria is quiet and almost deserted. Frantic prayer — and now peace beyond understanding. Was there a crisis, or was it only in my heart? Was the Spirit telling me to pray?

Suddenly people swirl about me. All around me, they are busy — chatting, eating, talking on cell phones, clearing trash left behind, sweeping, straightening. One woman is reading the newspaper and laughing. Another is noisily straightening chairs.

My heart is in an operating room with Missy, in an office with Maria, in the airport with Powell (is he there yet?) And in heaven with Karen.

I know that God is in charge — and what a blessed knowledge that is! Missy is in His hands. She is covered with His feathers, and under his wings she finds refuge. (Psalm 91) He is her fortress her God, her protector, her Father.

I long still to return to the waiting room, and I do wish Bill would hurry back so I can go there!

P.S. My prayer during those frantic, fearful moments in the cafeteria was, Lord, You took one child, please do not take another!

It is now 10-something at night. Missy’s surgery was very long — 8 hours, I believe. Both doctors said she did well and that there were “no surprises.” When I saw her at last, my heart lurched — I never realized how like Karen she is! They have the same eyes. I was seeing them both. I know that Karen is with Jesus, but I also believe she still knows us, that she cares and is looking down at Missy.

When I looked into those eyes tonight I believe God was telling me that Karen is all right, and that Missy is all right, too. And I can do nothing but praise Him!

Thanks be to God. Yes, He takes, but He also gives. And tonight His gift is joy in my family!

None of us really knows exactly what lies ahead. People can tell you what to expect, but like many other things you must be there to understand. I know that there will be pain — Missy’s pain, certainly, but also the pain of a mom watching her daughter’s ordeal.

Recently Karen’s little girl overheard and misunderstood us talking about Missy’s surgery; she told her daddy that Missy’s surgery will mean that she can never have cancer again. That is not what we said and of course is erroneous. The next question, the one unasked except maybe in a little girl’s heart, is the BIG one: would Mommy be alive if they had done that to her?

Oh Karen, how we miss you!

We are experiencing so many different feelings about Missy’s surgery. And it does bring up questions about Karen. Because right or wrong, we do have questions. There will always be questions!

Still and all, we know that God is good, and that He is holding Missy in the palm of His hand. He is in control.

And for that we give thanks.

The boys were not always keen on all this dancing stuff. They would congregate on the porch and read comics until they were prodded inside. Some of the girls found it painful as well when they learned what it means to be a wallflower. That’s when Mr. Pounds stepped in, asking each of those girls to dance with him, helping her to save face while she practiced her foot skills. I was not a total wallflower, but I was overweight the first two years and very shy, so I did my time standing against the wall, and I danced with Mr. Pounds.

As we entered the studio, Mrs. Pounds would check our hands to be sure we weren’t biting our nails. (Several years after my Pounds days I was at a dance and took my date to meet the lovely Ruth Pounds. I proudly introduced my date, whereupon Mrs. Pounds took my hand and checked my nails!)

A few years ago a drug store closed that had been an Orlando hangout for many years. The last day it was open was a party. People who had frequented it as teenagers spent the day serving tables, waiting on people, and reminiscing. Those of us who did not work went simply to say goodbye. Mrs. Pounds, now well along in years, worked as cashier. And she did a great job!

The last time I saw Ruth Pounds was about a year ago. Mrs. Pounds was now in her 90′s — still beautiful, still elegant. We talked about that day in the pharmacy. Mrs. Pounds said, “That was fun. I think I’ll take it up as a profession!”

Saturday we said goodbye to Mrs. Ruth Pounds. The funeral was a joyous celebration of a Christian life well lived. The church was filled with people who had learned so much more than social dancing from her. Some were bent with age, many were using canes. The thing that struck me as I looked around the room was, “but we all danced!”

Goodbye, Mrs. Pounds. We will miss you.

I am in a large building where my husband Bill has a meeting. I came with him because I wanted some time away from my usual milieu. The plan was to have breakfast and some writing time while Bill is in his meeting.

Oh, that popcorn smells good!

Life sometimes seems like this room — meant for sustenance and companionship, but empty. Lives that were once busy and useful. What happened? What sucked the life out of them? Why is their purpose not being fulfilled?

Only with the Lord God can we know real, lasting fulfillment. Psalm 91 tells us that “he who resides in the shelter of the Almighty rests in the shadow of the Lord God.” In that shelter, in the shadow of almighty God, there is fullness and purpose. Move out of that shelter, and life becomes lonely, empty as this forgotten room.

Just now a man sat down at the umbrella table and is spreading out papers, beginning to work. Was that the original purpose of that table? Maybe, or maybe not. Either way, its usefulness is being renewed. When we move back into God’s shelter, He renews us, sometimes giving us new direction and renewed purpose.

He is doing just that in the life of my family. And it is exciting! More about this later …

P.S. Someone just came in, popped more corn, and left — leaving behind a delicious scent. As Christians, we also leave a scent — if we are in His will it will be the scent of God, the scent that brings hunger for Him!

25 of the thousands of things for which I am thankful to God today:

1. First, of course, that God sent His Son to die for me —- for salvation.
2. For my family – they are my rock
3. For my extended family, both here and abroad
4. For my church family
5. For my friends
6. For sweet memories – of my husband, of our children (here and in heaven), of so many past events and moments
7. For future hopes and dreams
8. For today, with all it’s ups and downs
9. For laughter
10. For puppies that grow into dogs
11. For kittens, even though they grow into cats (Okay, and for the grown cats, too)
12. For the bird that always sings outside my window. I have listened to that bird for years, and it never fails to bring joy
13. For scrapbooking
14. For my business, Blessings in Baskets
15. For KAM Cancer Connection and the way God is putting that all together
16. That our daughter Maria is cooking Thanksgiving dinner at her house so that I don’t have to
17. That we have a roof over our heads, clothes to wear, water to drink and food to eat
18. For freedom
19. For butterflies
20. For teachers everywhere, and especially for the ones who taught me to read
21. For my doctors
22. For our Thanksgiving table cloth – our Karen instigated that a few years before she passed away. Each Thanksgiving everyone present signs the cloth and writes something for which they are thankful. Some are funny, some sweet. The grandchildren started with scribbles (their mommy signed their names.)
23. For the vendor who hugged me at the scrapbooking convention
24. For music
25. For the person who is reading this at this very moment!

HAVE A HAPPY AND BLESSED THANKSGIVING!

Others believe we should not grieve but rather should rejoice when a Christian loved one dies. I have already written about that (see “Four Things Not to Say to Someone Who is Grieving”). Yes, we can rejoice that the loved one is with Jesus. However, this does nothing to stop the grief and the pain. (After our daughter Karen went to live with Jesus, I told my husband that if one more person said to me that I should be happy, not sad, because Karen was in heaven, I would hit them.)

And there are the well-meaning people who tell you, “God will never give you more than you can handle.” WRONG AGAIN. That is a quotation out of context; the scripture is talking about temptation, not grief. The truth is that God will never give you more than HE can handle with you!

So now to the topics at hand – a recent blog asked the following questions:
* How do you grieve?
* How have you managed to avoid or come out of times of despair?
* What/who gives you hope?
* How do you reconnect with God?
* How do you empathize?

I grieve inside with a terrible pain. Sometimes I hit meltdown. The shower is my favorite meltdown place. I can bang on walls, cry out to God, and nobody can hear me. Nobody except the Lord. He hears, and He answers, flooding me with peace after the tears. I have always been a private person in many ways, and now it is shocking to me that I can cry at unexpected times. Something will touch me, something that isn’t even sad but that reminds me of Karen, and I start crying. Doesn’t matter where I am.

I have experienced times of despair. The only way out of it, to me, is to cry out to God. Again, He always responds.

Only God gives me hope. My hope is in Him. Period. But I must add that I have a husband and children who keep me going.
I am also blessed to be part of an amazing church family. I can be sitting in church, and the pain hits, and someone knows and comes over to me. Sometimes it’s a person I hardly know at all; sometimes it’s a friend. But God always sends someone to hold onto me. We call our church “a family of encouragement”, and that is exactly what it is.

How do I reconnect with God? I would love to say that I am always closely connected, but that simply isn’t true. There are times when I don’t feel at all connected. I know I am the one who has moved away, taking God for granted, letting the world intrude. My way of reconnecting is to immerse myself in Scripture and prayer. And to ask God (1) to forgive me, and (2) to ask Him to help me reconnect.

How do I empathize? How can I not empathize? I am on a first name basis with grief. I find that grieving people now come to me and cry out their pain. I understand grief, and I emphasize with my whole being. I usually hold them and let the tears come. Often I join them in tears. And I try to share just a little of what I am learning about grief.

I am not wise. But I do know that God is always ready to comfort, to give peace. I know that He understands full well what grief is about. He watched His Son die a cruel death. I believe He loves us so very much and that He grieves with us. I also believe that someday we will finally understand what His plan was all about.

And we will grieve no more!

If you are a Christian, do you remember what it was like when you first believed? That excitement, that head over heels love you had for Jesus? I was an adult with I met the Lord, so it is easy to remember what it was like. Jesus was all I could think about. I carried a Bible everywhere I went and would sit in public places studying it. I just couldn’t put it down. This is God’s letter to me. I wanted to tell everyone about my new Love! I wanted to shout it from the rooftops, and I did. I even wrote poetry. He became part of everything I did. I had four children, and I wanted them to know Him. I wanted my family to know Him. (They already did, but I was sure their knowledge was inferior to mine!) I told my friends about Him. I told strangers about Him. I was fearless!

That was many years ago, and sometime life has come between me and my Love. I love my husband deeply, but at times we take each other for granted. I love him, I haven’t forgotten him, I just don’t always pay enough attention to him.

I haven’t forgotten the Lord, but at times I have pushed Him aside, taken Him for granted. Yet unlike an earthly lover, He has never taken me for granted. When our daughter Missy had cancer, He was there. When our daughter Karen went to be with Him, He was with us. He is still here, helping me over the rough spots, sharing the joy. He is here even in the smallest moments, turning them into full-blown joy if I will let Him.

Do you need to return to your First Love? To renew the excitement and joy of that first experience with the Lord? There are some practical things you can do.

1. Begin each morning with Him. Begin your morning with prayer, even before you get out of bed.
2. Set aside time to be with the Lord without distractions. This isn’t always easy. First thing in the morning is ideal if you can work it out. Unable to be alone most days, I have returned to my former morning routine of getting up very early to spend time with Him. The important thing is to find time each day for Him. Think of it as your date with your Love.
3. Pray, pray, pray!
4. Study His love letter to you, the Bible. Pray for wisdom, understanding, and a heart open to His voice.
5. Share Him with others! The better you get to know Him, the more excited you will be, and you will NEED to share.

God is filled with surprises, and I cannot tell you what wonderful things He will do in your life. I do know that my love is constantly being renewed. My joy is deep. Fresh winds of love blow through my soul.

And I can promise you that your life will grow deeper and more exciting as you grow in Him!

Blessings….

Another friend fell to cancer yesterday. And oh, dear God, I am so angry! I am angry at that evil that hits so many people in my life. That evil called cancer.

But this is not about cancer, it is about a man named Ward. I didn’t know him long, certainly not long enough. I met him when our ministry team visited his house. We went to hopefully bless Ward and his sweet wife Sandy. Instead, we were blessed, and I felt I had found new friends.

Ward was about joy and smiles and hugs, and loving the Lord. I have blogged about him earlier. He is the one who, while being mugged, told the mugger about Jesus. He is famous for his hugs, and even when they grew weak they were special.

Ward’s wife Sandy is one of the most precious women I have ever met. Her love for Ward, and his love for her, shines from every pore. She is a Proverbs 31 woman, a treasure. Together Ward and Sandy made the ideal couple, and they still do.

I would ask anyone who reads this to pray for Sandy. She is surrounded by love, but the love of her life has gone to be with Jesus. I hope he and our Karen are worshipping the Lord together.

We will miss you, Ward. The good news is that we will see you again!

Another goodbye. This time it was goodbye to our family in Ireland. It is always difficult, but this time it was as hard as when we first left. Bill and I have both had a dreadful feeling that this is the last trip there for us. A few family members may visit the States; most will not.

We left with hearts filled with love and gratitude. How blessed we are to have such a fmaily! It was difficult at the airport. I asked that we be dropped off outside, thinking it wouldn’t be so hard that way.

Wrong!

Tears and more tears. Hugging, weeping. Turning back to see my sister-in-law plant her hand against the window in a sign of farewell. We rushed through all the things that one must do at airports nowadays. We rushed even faster through Duty Free, trying to remember everyone for whom we needed a gift and almost completing the list.

As the plane lifted off there were more tears. Watching the brilliant green patchwork grow smaller and smaller, reliving in moments years of happiness in that green land amid family and friends. While we were there, seeing a house for sale, laughing about winning the lottery and buying it for a summer home, still with that dread in the pit of our stomachs that this time the goodbye would be real.

Some goodbyes are for a season. Some are forever. Karen’s was for a time, and so far as I know all Bill’s family members are Christians, and we will see them again. Maybe this side of heaven. Maybe not. Knowing that we will spend eternity together should be consoling. But watching the green land disappear below us, the consolation was not there.

Goodbye is still goodbye. And sometimes it hurts.

In the Bible, Jesus makes a comparison between sheep and goats that used to confuse me. Goats are highly intelligent animals. Sheep are stupid. Why wouldn’t He prefer the goats to the sheep? I did!

When we lived in Ireland we had goats; our neighbor had sheep. We started with two baby goats named Margaret and Brendan after our dearest friends. (Perhaps some wouldn’t consider themselves such dear friends if they had goats named after them, but our friends got a good laugh out of it.) We acquired the kids as bottle-fed infants that would sit in Bill’s lap watching TV and would fall asleep with ther little heads on his shoulder. As they grew larger that of course changed; no longer were they allowed in the house. They were so smart! They learned how to communicate all sorts of things to us, including displeasure. (Margaret was a dreadful tattletale, bleating her displeasure when the children upset her.)

Then there were our neighbor’s sheep. They were lovely from a distance, and the lambs were sweet creatures. But oh, what stupid animals! Sheep require endless care, unlike the wiser goats that can fend for themselves. Why, if a sheep falls on is back it cannot get up without help and will eventually strangle and die.

When I compared sheep and goats I would think of scriptures and wonder why indeed God preferred sheep to goats. And why did He refer to us throughout scripture as sheep? Are we that mindless? Do we require that much care? The answers of course, are yes we are, and yes we do!

Goats are independent and can manage life on their own. Sheep, on the other hand, need the shepherd in order to survive. They depend on him the way God wants us to depend on Him.

From the window here I can see a flock of sheep. They belong to my sister-in-law’s brother. She told me that when the herder dog was killed, the sheep were nearly impossible to send through the gate. They simply refused until she stood in the gate and called to them. She was familiar to them; they knew her voice. When they saw her standing in the gate and heard her voice, they entered.

So it should be with us. We belong to the Good Shepherd. We are His — we belong to Him, we need His care, we know Him and He knows us. He stands in the gate and calls to us to come home to Him. How comforting it is to know that He is caring for us!