My Father's Day Tribute

A father is supposed to be the first boy a girl loves. And mine was.

A father is supposed to protect and love with abandon. Mine did. And then he didn't.

I've spent many years focused on the "didn't" part. Choosing to forgive and focus on the "did" has changed my life.

I choose to remember my dad as kind and caring, because he was. I choose to remember that when he had to make a choice late in life, he chose me. He. Chose. Me.

I choose to remember how funny he was and didn't even know it.

I choose to remember how he taught me to ride a bicycle and drive a car, or actually a truck, since that's what he drove. He taught me how to love someone who is dying. He taught me the meaning of perseverance when faced with a choice of giving up. He taught me the importance of life-long friendships.

I choose to be thankful he took me to church every time the doors were open. Because of his, and my mother's faithfulness, I gave my heart to Jesus at the age of five.

I choose to remember our long talks on the back porch as he prepared to die.

I choose to remember his face as he breathed his last breath. If that's the face of looking at Jesus on the other side of eternity, then I want to follow him.

Thank you, my precious dad, for allowing me to find you again.

The Prodigal Returns...The Rest of the Story

A few weeks ago I told you a story about how my cat, Bucky Boy, came to be a member of my family. Well, what I didn't tell you was there was more to the story. Can we say drama?!!

It all began when my cat Bonnie disappeared...

After about three weeks of life with my new kittens, (and did I mention we also had a chocolate lab named Abbie?) I was at our surveying office one Thursday morning doing payroll. My husband gets a phone call and leaves abruptly, not even explaining where he's going. An hour or more passes and he sticks his head in the front door and asks me to come out on the porch. He says there's someone who wants to see me. When I walk out onto the porch, the first thing I see is a skinny, frightened, black cat, that is, no doubt, my Bonnie.

Tears of joy and happiness begin to flow unashamedly. She is covered in filth and the odor is almost more than I can bear, but it's my sweet Bonnie and at that moment, it doesn't matter. I hold her close to me while my tears soak into her fur. She is terrified though and as much I know she is happy to see me, the past three weeks have taken their toll. Her little body is shaking and as she tries pulling away from me, I want her to understand she's safe now.

Bonnie

My prodigal had returned dirty, scared and hungry. I didn't scold her for being gone. I lavished all the love I had to give on her. I whispered sweet words in her ears of how much she was missed. I gave her the best food I could buy filled with nutrients to put meat back on her bones. After I'd regained her trust, I washed away the filth of her wandering ways. She couldn't do it herself, there were places she couldn't reach. It took awhile for the sparkle to return in her eyes and she eventually learned to trust again.

Yes, she was just a cat but isn't that the picture the Bible paints of a loving God ... a God who runs to meet His wayward child. He doesn't care what we've done, how bad we smell from the stench of the world. He just wants to lavish His great love on us. He can cleanse us from the inside out ... reach those places of hurt and pain that we could never reach in our humanity.  He wants to feed us with the Bread of Life so we'll never be hungry for anything this world has to offer. He will clothe us with His righteousness for we are royalty when we belong to Him. He longs to embrace us and whisper His great love for us ... His unfailing love.

Do you have a prodigal in your family? Maybe they desperately want to come home but need to know they will be welcomed with open arms, no questions asked. Show them the love of Christ. They could be trapped in a situation beyond their control and can't make it home. God still answers prayers. Don't give up on your prodigal. As long as they're on this side of heaven, hope is alive.

Maybe you are the prodigal and need courage to go home. I've been a prodigal and can tell you there is nothing like being wrapped in the embrace of a loving God. He will welcome you home and never leave you. Your family will probably do the same.

My prodigal was happy to be home ... not so happy about the newest family members. And where had she been for three weeks? She'd been trapped under our neighbors house. The call my husband received was from the neighbor. You never know what a day will bring.

"So he got up and went to his father. But while he was still a long way off, 

his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him;

he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him."

Luke 15:20 NIV

Blessings from My Little Corner,
Cindy

Rainy Days and Mondays

I love Mondays and rainy days. Put them together and I'm a happy girl. Most people dread Mondays but not yours truly. I look forward to a new week of possibilities, of list making and doing all the tasks not completed the week before.

This past Monday began as it normally does, and then it fell apart; totally fell apart. It became a day I'd like to rewrite–one of those do-over days. One thing led to another and at the end of my day, I was a teary-eyed mess.

Have you ever had a day you wish you could rewrite the way you would like it to REALLY happen? My version would involve truth and no one's feelings would ever get hurt. My children would rise and call me blessed. The pantry would miraculously be filled and supper would be on the table at the end of a long day of writing my next best selling book. And my husband would send me off to the beach for a month long writing sabbatical in a secluded little cottage near the water. Chocolate and vanilla lattes would magically appear at just the right time.

But life isn't a fairy tale and we mess up. We hurt people and people hurt us. We live one moment, one breath at a time. We say we're sorry and lament over the wrong done to us and then we lay our head on our pillow, and anticipate a new day.

For God's mercy is new every morning. Just as the sun rose on Tuesday morning, I/we had an opportunity, if we took a breath, for a do-over; another day to start fresh, to put one foot in front of the other and go about the tasks we're called to do.

I was still licking my wounds on Wednesday morning, feeling sorry for myself, when I was drawn to read of Stephen and James' (the half brother of Jesus), deaths as martyrs; And it wasn't pretty, I might add. They were both stoned. I hung my head in shame. I've let two days escape me while I wallowed in self pity. Lesson learned.

What are you wrestling with today? Is it a person? An issue that won't resolve itself? Today is the day for a rewrite...a do-over. Don't waste precious time like me wallowing when you can be the author of your best story yet. Or better still, let Him write the ending. He's a much better Author and Finisher of our faith.

Remember...new mercies! That's my rewrite!

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end;

they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness.

Lamentations 3:22-23

Blessings from My Little Corner,
Cindy

Sweetest Name I Know

Jesus...it really is the sweetest name I know. Just the mention of His name brings me peace and comfort. But, around the world this may not be the case. The mention of His name can cause friction and upset many people. Speaking His name may land you in jail in many countries or even death as a martyr for the cause of Christ. He is cursed and His image is spat upon while those Who love Him are comforted and find great joy at the sound of His name...two opposing views for a man Who walked the face of this earth more than 2000 years ago and spoke of the greatest Love ever given.

As we've been leading up to the celebration of this holy Easter weekend my Pastor has asked us to consider the fact that we are not our own and I have been pondering that for weeks now. What does that mean for me personally? What does that look like? How do we communicate that to a world that is driven by selfish ambition?

We've all heard the Easter story since we were children but when you really study it with "new eyes" and contemplate it and realize what Jesus went through in the garden before He was crucified...it was so excruciating that He sweat drops of blood. He was all man and all God so He knew what was coming and knew His Father would have to forsake Him...what agony. It was so much more than the physical pain He would endure and He did it willingly. Can you imagine the humiliation and degradation of leaving Heaven's glory to come to Earth to take on all the sin and filth past, present, and future of every human ever to be born? Every rapist, murderer, child molester, liar, thief, adulterer, gossiper, back stabber, yes, now we're getting down to the every day man and woman like you and me. As He prayed in the garden,"Father, if it be Your will take this cup from me; yet not my will but Yours be done," that was His moment where it was all settled.

They didn't take His life, He gave it willingly. There is a HUGE difference. So...when I give my life to Christ it is no longer mine, I give it willingly, it is not my own. It was bought with an extremely high price...the blood of the ONLY lamb Who could atone for my sin or yours or anyone who ever takes a breath on planet Earth. We can whine and complain, and I've done my share, till the end of time about our rights but that won't change the facts of what Jesus did at Calvary and one day the Bible says in Philippians 2:10, That at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. NIV

When I look at it like that, I'm happy to give myself to Him. Anyone Who would give themselves for me like that, loves me with a love that is unconditional. After all, He created me in the first place. Doesn't it stand to reason that He would have a plan to redeem His creation...the very ones He placed in the original garden? Therefore, I am happy to give Him my entire life, for He is trustworthy and faithful. He has proven Himself over and over to me.

For me, it goes back to Jesus in the garden when He prayed "not My will but Yours"...I want this to be the cry of my heart. Not my will but Yours.

Have a blessed Easter,
Cindy

The Shoes

I'm sentimental, I'll admit. I cry at simple things...my children's baby pictures, song lyrics, weddings and especially hand written notes and cards.

I can really get into symbolism and most of the time it's a good thing. It helps me engrave certain things into my memory cells that I never want to forget. There is a room in my house that now has new meaning. It holds precious memories for me that I never want to forget.

My dad came to live with me in the fall of 2010 due to a terminal illness. Because he was able to take care of himself in the beginning, he took up residence in my guest room, which is on the second floor of my home. He was a widower for the second time, and a very independent one at that, but we blended well and life hummed along until his health began to decline just a couple of months after he arrived.

We decided, to his utter dismay, that he should move downstairs. I thought he was going to have a hissy fit, as we say in the south when we don't get our way. But, he finally agreed, and we converted the piano/living room into his bedroom. I decorated it in a manly fashion, for he was particular in that way. Life settled down and he was happy and content...yes, happy and content even though he battled a deadly disease. He was surrounded by love...a family who loved him, a church family who reached out to him, friends who kept in touch...he was happy.

As his health continued to decline, we talked of life, of mistakes made, and of the way he wished he'd done things differently. We shared memories of his one true love, my mom, and he told me things I never knew. He asked for forgiveness. I forgave.

That room is where he lived for many months until his glorious home going in August of 2011. It took awhile to clean everything out. When someone lives with you and your family they become an intimate part of your routine. We took care of his every need and when he was gone there was a void, except for his personal belongings.

Little by little I put the room back the way it was before he came...except for the shoes. He was so neat about the way he lined up his shoes, side by side. I decided to keep the shoes he wore every day. It just seemed fitting  they remain just where he left them; A reminder to me of his presence in that room.

For some is may seem silly, but for me, they are a reminder of my blessed year with my precious Daddy...the one who held me first and the one whose hand I was holding as he looked into the face of Jesus, his Savior.

Whenever I walk into that room I am instantly reminded of a faithful God Who gave me a year to love my earthly father, care for him as he died, give him a home and then receive the greatest gift in return...the gift of forgiveness.

I never want to forget that gift.




Blessings,

Cindy