Uncovering the Past

I am in possession of hundreds of tapes of services at a church I attended for many years. A former pastor saw to it that all of the services during his tenure were recorded. When he left, the new pastor decided to discard the tapes. By that time, I had moved on to another church, but one of my friends rescued them from the trash. Her purpose was to salvage history and listen to some of the sermons again. However, as time passed, the tapes collected dust, and she mentioned to me that she would throw them out.

During the years those tapes were made, I frequently participated in the music ministry. Besides singing in the choir, I often sang solos or sang with others in duets, trios and quartets. Most of the music that I composed myself was sung during those years. I saw this as an opportunity to capture some of my own history, and so, I begged the tapes.

One of my greatest losses in life has been my voice. Age and a familial tremor have effected my ability to control my voice, so that I am no longer sure that what I hear in my head is what will come out of my mouth. I let the chance to get some of my original songs recorded pass me by. Here was a chance to retrieve them. True, the recordings are not professionally done and the balance between instrument and voice is not great on all of them, but something may be better than nothing.

Over the last year or more, I have been going through these tapes. I set the counter on the tape player to zero and stop it every 30-40 ticks on the assumption that if one of my songs is there, I will catch it. In addition to finding several of my solos which were original songs, I have found several other solos, duets with my husband, my daughter's voice reading scripture, and my son's voice in a skit.

This week I found the only trio I have ever done with my two brothers. One of my brothers is currently living with us, while he puts his life back together. I think that hearing the tape was very positive for him. The song we did was our father's favorite hymn. It was 1994 and both of our parents were still living at the time and present when we sang it.

We did one verse together with accompaniment, my two brothers did the second verse as a duet, and we sang the third verse a Capella. My brother enjoyed the fact that when the accompaniment came back in on that third chorus, we were dead on pitch. He also commented on the unique blending of sibling voices.

I am pondering the interesting timing. I have been going through these tapes for over a year, but I "happened" to find this one during the few weeks that my brother is living here and on a day when a boost to his self-esteem was much needed.

To some this would seem a coincidence. To me it is another affirmation that God is good and cares about each of us individually. He who sees the sparrow fall, sees you and me.

Greatest of Lights

The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death, a light has dawned. Isaiah 9:2

Formless, empty,

Darkness of death,

Pierced by your words,

"Let there be light."

Stumbling, helpless,

Shadowed by death,

Words filled with hope,

"A light has dawned."

Following, questioning,

"Is he the one?"

Definitive words,

"I am the light."

Urging, empowering,

To banish the darkness,

My word speaks through you,

"Let your light so shine."

Greatest of lights...

Dawn on me.

The Agony of Decisions

Every day of our lives we make decisions. Sometimes we know at the time that the consequences of a particular decision may be far-reaching. Other times we think we are just making some very simple choice, and later discover that the impact was monumental. I suppose one could go stark raving mad if too much time was spent in pondering this dilemma. Or, perhaps, paralysis and inability to make any decision on even the most minor of issues could set in.

Just lately I have found myself involved in, or in some way influencing, decisions relating to three different rather serious family situations.

My brother hit the bottom of the barrel in his life and has needed help turning it around. During the past four weeks, he and I have talked through multiple issues on which a choice needed to be made.

A granddaughter turned eighteen and signed herself out of a residential treatment facility and is now living with her mother for the first time in several years. Anxiety infused phone calls are routine. Sometimes I just listen, other times I caution or encourage. A phone call just after I dozed off last night required a cup of warm milk and a little TV to get me distracted enough to be able to go back to sleep.

My mother-in-law has a serious physical problem and surgery has been suggested, but she is nearly 91. Surgery seems like an insane option.... unless that "what if" happens.

I don't know with certainty that any of the advice I offer is correct. I don't know if some of the help I have extended is really "helpful."

I just keep praying for wisdom and believing God's promise that if anyone lacks wisdom, he can ask for it, and it will not be denied. I do not believe in a God who plays hide and seek with me, and who would delight in watching me make a wrong choice. I believe God is good, and that He loves each of us uniquely. I make choices in that context, prayerfully believing that even if I make a "wrong" turn, God's hands are not tied. He is still capable of accomplishing His purposes. However, I would sure rather be making choices that put me on His side.

Oh, yes...about the up-coming election. Do I vote for the candidate who best represents my views, but who probably can't win, or do I vote for the least objectionable of the remaining options?

The Miracle of Healing

Last week I cut my right index finger while cleaning out a can for recycling. (As an aside, do you ever wonder if recycling is worth it given the use of water and risk of injury?)

In any event, the cut was a nasty thing, because there were actually two slices and the chunk of flesh between them fell out. So, I had this rectangular hole which bled profusely through multiple bandaids until I spent a couple of hours holding my finger in the air as though I was practicing to sing the old Sunday School song "This Little Light of Mine."

For a couple of days, I had to first put on a non-stick gauze and then a thicker gauze over it, and then add a layer of tape tightly wrapped. Now I am down to a simple bandaid to protect it during the day, and I leave it open to the air at night.

I'm thinking how amazing this is, and how we take it for granted. By a complex biochemical mechanism, clotting occurs. A scab is constructed and cells divide and gradually fill in the gap. We don't have to give it any thought. I have gone about my daily routine with only some minor inconvenience while this process has automatically taken place.

If this healing was instantaneous, we would call is a miracle. But, isn't it a miracle even if it happens slowly and on a small scale...like a finger...as opposed to a large scale like a major wound or surgical incision?

I don't understand anyone who doesn't believe in an intelligent being having thought this all out. It makes me sick that atheists smirk at the lack of intelligence in those of us who have the audacity to believe in a "Creative Director." I think it is just plain stupid and totally illogical to think that this evolved without being directed by someone with extraordinary intelligence.

Years ago, I remember reading an article (I can't remember if it was in Smithsonian or Scientific American) which was written from an atheistic evolutionary perspective. The author, actually commented that "Mother Nature" had directed the evolution. HA! Everyone knows that Mother Nature is a myth. He apparently just couldn't resist the notion that it was planned. I'm surprised an editor didn't catch that.

I can't resist the notion that my finger didn't heal by an accidental mechanism. All of the components came into play at the correct time, because someone figured it out. That is, of course, only one of millions of "miracles" that happen everywhere in the universe, every day of time.

Kudos to the "Creative Director." Applause! Applause!

The Fun is in the Contrast

I awakened this morning to a cold and dismal day. I snuggled up against my husband and felt warm and at peace listening to the sound of the rain pelting the roof. Eventually I got up and showered. I always feel so grateful for a warm shower in the morning.

But, a great part of the enjoyment of these simple things is in the contrast. I compare the snuggle time in the morning with the rest of the day, or with the times my husband is away on a business trip and I awaken to an empty cold expanse on the other side of the bed. I need those times in order to realize the blessing of the cozy times.

If someone made me stay in a warm shower all day, it would amount to torture. It is only delightful, because it doesn't last forever.

I was at a health fair at a prison on top of a hill today. I had to drag my display and screening materials across the parking lot through puddles in a cold driving rain and load them in the car. I got home and fixed myself a warm cup of tea.

If I am grateful for the tea and the shower and the snuggle time, I guess I should also be grateful for the unpleasant times that put the delight in the pleasant ones.

Perhaps this is what is meant by "in everything give thanks."

Day of Reckoning

"What will you do on the day of reckoning, when disaster comes from afar? To whom will you run for help? Nothing will remain but to cringe among the captives or fall among the slain." Isaiah 10: 3,4

Cringe among the captives,

Fall among the slain,

You have not believed Me,

Or felt another's pain.

Unjust and oppressive,

Robbing and depriving,

On the day of reckoning,

Where will you be hiding?

Cringe among the captives,

Fall among the slain,

Riches abandoned,

Will bring no earthly gain.

No one to help you,

Upraised, you see My hand,

Huddled in the masses,

No courage left to stand.

Cringe among the captives,

Fall among the slain,

Your blatant sin against Me,

An ugly, spreading stain.

Cringe among the captives....

Fall among the slain.....

A Sliver of Intimacy

I trudge up the stairs at the end of the day and find my husband sitting on the bed thoroughly engrossed in a book...or so I think.

At the precise moment when I have removed my daytime clothes and haven't quite put on my pajamas, he looks up with an impish grin and twinkling eyes. "Nice outfit," he comments.

Feigning relief, I reply, "Oh, I'm so glad you still like it....it's getting kind of old you know."

"Wasn't that the whole idea?" he asks. "Growing old together?"

He is back to his book. I am thinking, "Yes, that was the idea. I am so thankful we haven't lost sight of it."