Gift of Love

Birthdays.

One a year.

When one is over, we look forward to the next one.

We don’t even entertain the idea that we won’t have another birthday because they always come, one after another.

My heart was full after receiving a visit from a special lady in my life. She had her son drive her to my office to bring me a gift, one she'd taken great care to pick out for me. 

As I leaned into the car window to give her a hug of thanks, I had to hold back the tears that wanted to puddle in my eyes like the mist began to puddle on the window sill of her son’s car.  

Below the stocking cap on her head, her eyes were dancing as she talked about the lunch plans she and her son had made. After another quick hug through the car window I held my gift to my chest and walked back into my office as they drove off towards the restaurant. 

I pulled the tissue out of the top of the festive bag until the buried gift was exposed. Cards . . . two boxes. One box contained Thinking of You cards and one box contained Praying for You cards. 

Why cards? Because for months I have been sending cards to her to encourage her as she again endures chemo and radiation treatments for the cancer that's returned to cause havoc to her body.

The tears welled up in my eyes again and this time, in the privacy of my office, I could let them fall down my cheeks as my heart asked "What does she think about birthdays?"

Birthdays.

One a year.

When one is over, we look forward to the next one.

We don’t even entertain the idea that we won’t have another birthday because they always come, one after another . . .

But wait, it seems some would have every reason to entertain the idea of whether or not another birthday would follow next year.

As I think back on the special moments I've had celebrating my recent birthday, my thoughts go back to my friend. Her sweet gesture speaks volumes to me as I focus not on the days ahead of me, but on today and what I can do for someone else. She uses each day, not to dwell on the time she may or may not have left, the birthdays she may or may not celebrate in the future, but what she can do that day to love and encourage someone else.

I John 4:12 says "No one has ever seen God; if we love one another, God abides in us and His love is perfected in us (ESV)." 


I haven't see God but I have seen His love--it was His perfect love, being shown in an imperfect broken body of this dear one. A love that was as beautiful as she.

Birthdays.

One a year.

When one is over, we look forward to the next one . . . well maybe not. 

From now on I want to look at each day, one day after the other, and ask God to give me ways to show His love to another person. . . someone who needs to see HIM. 

"A new commandment I give to you, that you love 

one another: just as I have loved you, 

you also are to love one another" 

(John 13:34 ESV).

photos courtesy of morguefile.com

Remembering Maggie

Lady Margaret Fortune -- Maggie  -- 

July 8, 2001 - January 29, 2013 

You came into our lives as a bouncing ball of fur
And captured each of our hearts.
For many years you gave us joy and laughter,
But most of all you gave us love.

You loved us through good times and bad,

Through happy and sad.

And that love was unconditional,

A love that knew no bounds.

You were there for Ally, as she went through her pre-teen years
And as she grew into a young woman.
You watched her dress for proms and outings with friends
And then sat and watched as she packed for college.

A greeter for everyone who came to visit.
You always thought they came to see you.
With the wagging of your tail and twirls of delight,
You made everyone feel welcome -- morning, noon, or night.

Your coat held the tears of a family finding their way

Through the ups and downs of life.

And as you got older and didn't want to play,

You could snuggle with each of us in your on special way.

During the day you rested up while the house was quite,
Only to spend the rest of the day in our presence.
In our laps, sharing a spot in the recliner, a corner of the couch,
Or at our feet  -- if we were at home, you were right with us.








You loved each one of us and had unique things you did with each.
From snuggling with Daddy to rocking with Ally or sitting in the chair with me looking over my computer . . .

You made each of us feel special  . . .

In red bows for Christmas, orange for football season,
Pastels for Spring, or purple, yellow, or green . . .
We thought you were the cutest thing
We had ever seen.

Ally had your bow colors planned for the year,

We didn't know your time was near,

That we would have to say goodbye to our furry bundle of love,

But only with the help from our Father above.

It was so hard to say goodbye
No time to plan or prepare.
But know you will always affectionally be . . .
The Baby of our family.

A Simple Touch

“I will never leave you nor forsake you” (Heb. 13:5 NKJV).

I was trying my best to be brave as the nurse lined up the five syringes that would be used for the biopsy on the surgical tray. I’d been dreading this day for a week, and now the wait was over.

“It won’t be a walk in the park, but it won’t be the worse thing you’ve ever had to endure either.” These words, spoken to me by the doctor at my previous appointment, were front and center in my mind as I tried to sike myself up for the procedure. After preparing the area on my neck and giving me a shot of  lidocaine I asked “So, will this be like a dentist visit when I’m told to tell them if I feel any pain . . . and if so, I can have more numbing medicine?”

“No, one shot is all you get.”

“Well, let’s give it a long time to work.” That was about all I could say after the doctor’s response.

The minutes ticked by while the doctor and the nurse made sure they had everything that would be needed while I laid staring at the ceiling with my head falling off the back of a pillow, neck exposed.  And then it was time for the first needle to be used. The doctor faced me with the syringe in his hand and his instructions poured down upon me. “You can breathe, just don’t swallow when I tell you not too.”

“Now, don’t swallow.”

Before I could feel the pressure from the needle I felt the nurse place her hand on my folded hands that I was instructed to leave laying on top of my stomach. She patted my hands, rubbed them with her thumb, and when she felt me press into my body from discomfort, she held me tighter. Once he finished, she took her hand off of mine.  ”You can swallow now.”

One down, four more to go I thought.

“Ok, are you ready? Don’t swallow.”

Once again before I could feel any pressure from the needle being placed into my thyroid gland by the doctor I could feel the nurse place her hand on my folded hands. It was amazing to me how much it helped both times. It made me think about her touch rather than what the doctor was doing to me and I didn’t feel so alone.

“You can swallow now.”

Two down, three more to go.

“Are you ready?”. . . Hope she holds my hands again.

“Don’t swallow.”

She did and once again, she gave me something to think about besides what the doctor was doing to me. When I would flinch, she would hold tight. When I would press down, she would give me a gentle pat. Yes, what a comfort—I wasn’t alone.

“Done with that one. You can swallow.”

Three down, two more to go and I couldn’t hold my gratitude back any longer. Before the next needle could be placed in me, I had to tell this nurse what a difference it made for her to hold my hands. She seemed surprised. Maybe she’d been doing this so long that she’d forgotten why, or maybe she did it without even realizing it made such a difference to the patient. Well, she knows now. I made sure of it.

On the way home I kept thinking about how much more unpleasant my experience would have been without the nurse. Just a touch, a compassionate touch from someone who cares. I knew God was with me in that sterile room—I could feel His presence. But He used the touch of a human to bring me comfort. It was then I got a clearer picture of why Jesus came to this earth. He came as God, but in a human body so He could touch people and be touched.

When I take seriously the responsibility of being a Christian—little Christ—I see now more than ever the importance of letting others see Christ through me. Now it’s not just in the seeing, but in the feeling. Yes, the nurse was Jesus to me. Her touch reminded me that I was not alone. For the Bible is true when He says “I will never leave you nor forsake you” (Heb. 13:5). Not only is He with us in Spirit, He provides others to be His hands and His feet.

How many times have I missed the opportunity to be His hands and feet, His” little Christ?” After this experience, my desire is to not only speak the truth of God’s love, but to show it in tangible ways. It’s the little things . . . as simple as a touch.

photos courtesy of www.Pixaby.com

No Onions Please

As he walked through the door, he knew all the locals were checking him out. While cruising timber for a new client in a remote part of the state, my brother was hungry and decided to stop at a roadside diner for lunch.

Once inside he saw men lined up sitting on stools at the counter eating hot dogs and only hot dogs, for that was all they served. 

Beyond the counter and through an open window the cook called out from the kitchen, “How ya want ya hot dog?”

“Mustard, no onions. Make that two please.”

Standing behind the men seated at the counter my brother tried to keep his eyes forward while all other eyes were on him. He knew these men probably meet everyday, whether they wanted a hot dog or not, to fill an uneventful day with uneventful talk. He was an outsider and knew he would end up the topic of conversation as soon as he left.

To be less of a distraction he decided not to move and kept his place behind the men at the counter as they went back to eating and talking. While he stood he watched through the open window as the cook assembled the hot dogs—bun, chili, mustard, and onions.

He didn’t want onions. Before the cook could begin adding onions to his second hot dog he felt he needed to remind him of his order.

“Sir, no onions please.”

Without acknowledging the correction, the cook kept on making the hot dogs—bun, chili, mustard, and onions. The men at the counter raised their heads and watched as my brother tried to get the attention of the cook. The next time he spoke it was a little louder and with more authority.

 “Sir . . . I said no onions please.”

Still, there was no acknowledgement from the busy cook on the other side of the window. He kept on preparing the hot dogs lined up in his large hand—bun, chili, mustard, and onions.

With his back straight and feet planted, my brother did the only thing he knew to do at that point to get the cooks attention. He yelled,

 “I said NO ONIONS!”

The diner went quite, the men’s mouths flew open, and for a moment all that could be heard was the clicking of the ceiling fan. Then a booming voice forced it’s way through the window from the kitchen as the cook yelled back,

 “IT’S  NOT  YOUR  HOT DOG!”

Oh, I can’t even imagine the look that was probably on my brother’s face as the cook leaned his head out the window and yelled back. No, he didn’t tuck tail and run, but it was all he could do to stay in that small diner waiting for his lunch. With brown paper bag in hand that held his two hotdogs—bun, chili, mustard, and no onions—he paid and attempted to walk back out the door with some dignity.

As I'm reminded of this story, I wonder how many times we stand behind the counter, yelling over the heads of others telling God how to do something when He knows perfectly well what He is doing and how it needs to be done.

The next time we find ourselves trying to correct God, we need to take into consideration that He may not be working in our lives at the moment but in the life of another. In other words, we may need to remember, 

“It’s not our hot dog!” 

photos courtesy of morgueFile.com

Rest At Noon?

"Tell me  . . .  where you feed your flock, 
where you make it rest at noon"  

(Song of Solomon 1:7 NKJV).

We are busy people, so busy that we have a difficult time resting. Why the thought of resting at noon, as this scripture alludes to, is unheard of to most of us. 

We can't just lie down and take a nap in the park after lunch 



or . . .

lie down on the floor of our office, for a power nap . . .

Oh, wait . . . I guess some people can take a nap at the park after lunch.

Maybe so, but most of us have to spend our days going from 

one responsibility to the next. 

Rest at noon – no way. 

What about resting at other times during the day?  

I'm not talking about sleep that may or may not come at night, but rest in our heart, soul, and mind.

If you need rest today then consider doing three things:

Go to Jesus, for He tells us to "Come . . ., all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest" (Matt. 11:28).

Cast "all you care upon Him for He cares for you" (I Peter 5:7).

Be "still, and know that I am God" (Psa. 46:10).

I try to remember to do these when I feel tired and need rest, especially rest from stress and worry. 

But I have to admit . . .

     the thought of taking a nap 

          in a hammock 

               with a comfy pillow 

                    in a garden 

                         does cross my mind sometimes!

photos courtesy of morguefile.com

God, You Waiting For Me?

I don't know about you, but I seem to always be waiting for God to do something in my life or in the lives of the ones I love. Do you do the same? Probably. We pray and say we are waiting on His perfect timing for:

• jobs
• healing
• provision
• mates
• children
• direction
• wisdom
• answer to many unspoken and spoken prayers
• on and on we go . . .

And wait we should. We're told in Psa. 27:14 to "Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord."  Psa. 37:7 tells us to not only wait, but to "Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for Him" and then Psa. 38:15 says "O Lord, do I wait; it is you, . . . who will answer."

But did you know God also waits for us? I've spent so much time concentrating on waiting for Him that I didn't realize He waits for us. Isa. 30:18 says:

"Therefore the Lord will wait, that He may be gracious to you; 

And therefore He will be exalted, that He may have mercy on you . . .
Blessed are all those who wait for Him." (NKJV)

How is the Lord waiting? 
He's waiting earnestly—expecting, looking, and longing.

Why is He waiting? 
To be gracious, to show us favor, to show how kind He is, and to be full of grace.

And to . . .
Show us mercy, have pity on us, to show us compassion, and to rise and comfort us.

As sinners we don't deserve mercy, grace, or compassion. But sinners, saved by God's grace through the death of His Son, we do. And for this God waits.

As I continue to wait for God, as the Bibles instructs, 

I will also be thankful that God waits for me.

And for this I'm blessed and you are too.

photo courtesy of morgueFile.com

Living in the Moment

"Living in the moment." 

This statement has been bouncing around in my head lately. I've been searching within to see if I do indeed live in the moment and I've come to the conclusion that I don't.


Sometimes I live in the past that's wallpapered in remorse, guilt, failure, disappointment, as well as missed opportunities. This is NOT a healthy place to be. Yes, I can LEARN from the past but I don't need to LIVE in the past. So much of today will be missed.



Other times I live in the future chasing after dreams, the what if's, and what can I do next. I don't finish one thing before I'm looking for the next thing to do. Again, this is NOT a healthy place to be. Yes, I can PLAN for the future, but I don't need to LIVE in the future. So much of today will be missed.


I need to live in the moment—today—where I am right now. This moment needs to be enjoyed, embraced, captured, shared, and consumed . . . for it will be gone, never to return again.  The past helps me realize where I have failed before and the future holds my plans, but I need to live today.

Where are you living? 

Search within to see if you are living in the moment. 

LEARN from your past, 

PLAN for your future, 

LIVE in the moment!

photos courtesy of morguefile.com