Though the fig tree should not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines, the produce of the olive fail and the fields yield no food, the flock be cut off from the fold and there be no herd in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I will take joy in the God of my salvation. Habakkuk 3:17-18
I have so much to be thankful for, so I endeavor to count my blessings instead of being negative and complaining. But, as Mom used to say, I am human, and sometimes things get me down. This summer is one of those times. As long-time readers of my posts know, my garden is usually a source of great joy for me, a place of solace where I love to spend time with the Lord. However, after an incredibly long and beautiful spring, we’ve had a summer of extremes.
June was hot and dry, with above-average temperatures and rainfall way below average. Then July arrived, and we got twice the usual amount of rain, which perked up all the plants and trees languishing from the early summer heat and drought but produced a bumper crop of mosquitos and created unfavorable conditions to do much of anything outside since the soil was too wet to weed, dig, or even stand on. Now August is here and we’ve returned to sweltering heat and humidity, with no rain in the forecast for days.
What’s a gardener to do?! I had such high hopes of tackling several significant projects this summer, but alas, I’ve barely been able to keep up with essential maintenance.
And then there’s the deer. They’ve passed through in previous years, feasted on some of my medium-sized hostas, and nibbled on a few toad lilies and asters, but this year, they’ve decimated even my biggest hostas, left nary a bud on the toad lilies or asters, and sampled all sorts of other things.
Between the weather, munching, and mosquitos, I haven’t experienced the garden joy I’ve come to count on.
Yesterday afternoon, I was picking up branches, big and small, dislodged when a mighty windstorm blew through last week, thankful that none of the towering trees had fallen. I was moving fast, focused on my task, trying to outpace the mosquitos. I turned to head back to my debris pile with another armload of branches when a pop of color caught my eye. I stopped and gazed at the brilliant blossoms covering one of my Encore® azaleas. I’d been so intent on my mission that I’d missed them earlier.
Despite the swarming bloodsuckers, I decided to engage in one of my favorite pastimes, also mostly abandoned this summer, and stroll the property in search of other treasures I may have missed. I wasn’t disappointed. As I spied first one flower and then another, my spirits lifted, and the passage from Habbakuk came to my mind.
Even though I haven’t been able to do much in my yard the past couple of months, God has been sustaining the plants, birds, and pollinators, just like He always does. And, as my compassionate heavenly Father, He remembers I’m dust, vulnerable to the vicissitudes of life (Psalm 103:13-14). Thus, whether joyful or distressed, I can bring it all to Him, knowing that He who graciously provides for the flowers and birds cares immensely more for me (Matthew 6:25-34).
I’ve lived in Georgia for over thirty years, plenty long enough to know that the summer heat will eventually give way to more moderate weather. Regardless of the season, I will keep my eyes open for the evidence of God’s love all around me, and with Habbakuk, I will rejoice in the Lord and take joy in the God of my salvation.
I hope these photos, a sample of the things I saw yesterday, will bring joy to your heart just as discovering the flowers themselves did to mine.
A recent conversation with friends began with one of them apologizing for the tears that accompanied her reply to our question, “How are you?” “Not great,” followed by, “Oh, I’m sorry, I cry too easily!”
My other friend and I assured her there was no need for an apology. After all, we cry easily, too! Thinking back on our exchange reminded me of this blog post I wrote several years ago. I decided it was time to dust it off, make a few edits, and rerun it.
Tears for All Occasions
I suppose I should begin with a confession: I’m an equal-opportunity crier. My eyes are just as likely to well up in moments of joy as in sorrow – while reading sweet sentiments in Hallmark cards, watching heartbreaking news stories, attending weddings or funerals, even when leading Bible study, as the magnitude of God’s grace and mercy floods over me. Yes, from a barely-there trickle to gut-wrenching sobs, I’ve shed my share of tears and expect to shed plenty more.
A quick Google search reveals three different types of tears. Basal tears keep our eyes lubricated, while reflex tears pop up in response to irritants like slicing onions or having a pesky gnat flit into your eye. And then there are psychic tears associated with our emotions, distinct from the other two in that they contain stress hormones.[1] No wonder we often feel better after shedding them. They’re like an overflow valve for the soul.
Biblical Weeping
The Bible has much to say about tears and the circumstances surrounding them. Consider, for example:
Loss of a loved one by separation or death
David grieved the loss of his closer-than-a-brother friend, Jonathan, first from necessary distancing and then by death (1 Samuel 20:41; 2 Samuel 1:12).
Mary and Martha mourned Lazarus’ death. Seeing their distress, Jesus wept too, even though He knew his Father would hear His prayer to raise him. Jesus had compassion for the sisters in their time of loss, and He has compassion for us as well (John 11:31-35).
Jesus’ followers were bereft and befuddled after His death despite the many times He’d told them what was to come (Luke 18:31-34; 36:13-49).
Disappointments of various sorts
Esau wept over losing his birthright when he realized his brother had tricked their father (Genesis 27:30-38).
Hannah’s unfulfilled desire for a child, exacerbated by her rival’s provocation and her husband’s lack of understanding, led to her fervent, tear-stained prayer for relief (1 Samuel 1:1-10).
Sorrow for sin
Three of the four Gospels recount Peter’s tear-punctuated dismay when Jesus’ statement that he’d betray Him came to pass (Matthew 26:75; Mark 14:72; Luke 22:62).
James says we should be wretched, mourn, and weep over our transgressions, humbly drawing near to God for forgiveness and restoration (James 4:8-10).
Worship and Gratitude
The penitent woman who wet Jesus’ feet with her tears, wiped them with her hair, and anointed them with ointment was motivated by her love for her Savior (Luke 7:36-38).
Joyous reunion
Though bitterness marked their estrangement and Jacob feared the worst from Esau, the brothers’ reunion was accompanied by joyful tears (Genesis 33:4).
I’m taking some liberty here because none of the translations I consulted mention crying, but I’ve got to believe the prodigal son’s compassionate father had tears of elation streaming down his face as he ran to greet his returning son (Luke 15:20).
To Grieve or Not to Grieve?
Even though these passages and others make it clear psychic tears are part of our God-given emotions, we’re quick to admonish, “Don’t cry!” Could it be that others’ tears make us uncomfortable or tearful ourselves? Or worse, might we believe God’s children aren’t supposed to cry because we know the end of the story?
I distinctly remember a visit from the mother of one of my daughter’s friends, though it occurred 27 years ago. She, too, was widowed at a young age, losing her husband a few months after I lost mine. Being a wee bit further along the path of single parenting, I hoped to console her, but when she arrived, she was surprisingly joyful and radiant. I’ll never forget her statement, “The elders and my church family have been praying I won’t grieve, and it’s working!”
Not grieve the loss of your life partner and father of your children? I was speechless. Granted, we don’t grieve as those who have no hope, but we do grieve.
Man of Sorrows
The women who witnessed Jesus’ crucifixion no doubt wailed at the sight of their beloved Teacher and Friend, bloodied and beaten, being nailed to a Roman cross – the innocent One put to death for the sins of others. Isaiah 53 is one of my most cherished passages, but also one which I can rarely get through without tears. Man of sorrows, acquainted with grief. Despised. Rejected. Wounded for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities. My transgressions. My iniquities.
A conversation with my pastor regarding our propensity to rush to the good news of Christ’s victory over death without allowing ourselves or others to grieve reminded me of my daughter Jessie’s comment as we stood by Mom’s grave following her funeral three years ago. After watching Mom endure horrible pain the last ten days of her life, I said I was thankful she wasn’t suffering anymore. Jessie replied, “That’s true, but don’t miss out on the mourning, Mom.”
Don’t miss out on the mourning.
If we ever doubt we have permission to grieve, we have only to look to Jesus. He experienced what it’s like to walk through this sin-scarred world. Even though He knew He would defeat death and not one of those entrusted to Him would be lost, Jesus wept because death was never part of God’s good plan. It stings. It always will this side of heaven.
As we go through difficulties in this life, we know the One who keeps track of every tear (Psalm 56:8) is seated at the right hand of God, interceding for us. Nothing can separate us from His love (Romans 8:31-39). He has promised to return, to usher in a new heaven and a new earth, to wipe every tear from our eyes (Revelation 21:1-4). Until then, let us rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep, unafraid of our tears.
O Lord, thank You for hearing our cries for help. Though weeping may last through the night, joy comes with the morning (Psalm 30). You have shown great mercy in sending Jesus to die for our sins and will turn our mourning into gladness. For we know this momentary affliction is preparing an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison (2 Corinthians 4:17).
Note: A blend of joy that my granddaughter Lyla Ray arrived safely and sorrow that her Grandpa (Ray) Kuipers wasn’t with us to greet his namesake produced the barely visible tear on my cheek in the accompanying photo.
They shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore. Micah 4:3
Recently, my daughter Jessie and I had the opportunity to visit England. A tour of Windsor Castle was high on my wish list of stops. When we entered the immense structure, threatening clouds filled the sky. Jessie and I agreed it made a fitting backdrop for the formidable fortress.
Many things about the massive compound impressed me, but one element reminded me of a Bible passage. When I saw a lush garden thriving in the gulley formerly occupied by the moat, I immediately thought of the phrase, “swords into plowshares.”
The phrase appears in Micah 4, a chapter brimming with future hope for the people of God. Take a look at the first four verses:
It shall come to pass in the latter days that the mountain of the house of the Lord shall be established as the highest of the mountains, and it shall be lifted up above the hills; and peoples shall flow to it, and many nations shall come, and say: “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob, that he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths.” For out of Zion shall go forth the law, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. He shall judge between many peoples, and shall decide disputes for strong nations far away; and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore; but they shall sit every man under his vine and under his fig tree, and no one shall make them afraid, for the mouth of the Lord of hosts has spoken.
Like swords becoming plowshares and spears turning into pruning hooks, the once-menacing moat, long associated with intruders and fierce battles, is now a serene site. However, it is not accessible to visitors. I longed to stroll the flower-lined paths, but I could only admire the beauty from a distance as I peered over the stone wall erected centuries ago.
I rarely watch the news since doing so can leave me feeling anxious and overwhelmed. Yet even a glance at the headlines informs me of ongoing wars and uprisings around the world. Closer to home, I have friends waging battles of a different kind as they or loved ones fight to overcome cancer, depression, financial hardships, or myriad other challenges.
And then there are days like yesterday when events command my attention, when the brokenness that permeates our world takes center stage, making me wonder what will happen next. Seasons of upheaval and uncertainty, whether personal, within my church family, or in the public realm, drive me to remember and rehearse what I know to be true.
We’re not Home yet, and we will face hardships in this life. But we belong to the One who promised never to leave or forsake us (Deuteronomy 31:8), the One who told us to take heart because He’s overcome the world (John 16:33), the One who will return to do away with the former things and establish His eternal kingdom (Revelation 21:1-5).
Though there are times when the waiting seems interminable, we wait in confident assurance of Jesus’ return. And while we wait, He graciously gives us glimpses of what it will be like when He makes all things new, like a once-ominous moat turned into a beautiful garden, even if we need to make the effort to peer over a wall to see them.
Epilog
By the time Jessie and I completed our tour of the magnificent state apartments in the Upper Ward, the sun had appeared. The blue sky and radiant light took the edge off the castle’s sinister side.
Jesus, the Light of the World, commands His followers to be light (John 8:12; Matthew 5:14-16). We have the hope of the Gospel (John 3:16) and the assurance of God’s promises to His people. May we endeavor to shine as beacons pointing others to the hope we have in Christ, making this dark world a bit brighter and less scary for all those God places along our paths.
For the mountains may depart and the hills be removed, but my steadfast love shall not depart from you, and my covenant of peace shall not be removed, says the Lord, who has compassion on you (Isaiah 54:10).
And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them” (Revelation 21:3).
As each has received a gift, use it to serve one another, as good stewards of God’s varied grace: whoever speaks, as one who speaks oracles of God; whoever serves, as one who serves by the strength that God supplies—in order that in everything God may be glorified through Jesus Christ. To him belong glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen. 1 Peter 4:10-11
Dear Readers,
July 1st marks the 10th anniversary of my first post. When I launched Back 2 the Garden in the summer of 2014, I didn’t know what to expect. Would anyone read what I wrote or care about what I had to say? All I knew was that I wanted to glorify God and encourage others by recounting examples of His faithfulness in my life. Two hundred seventy-two posts later, that continues to be my goal.
There have been times when the silence was deafening, as the old saying goes. Those times tempted me to quit, as I wondered if my stories heartened those who read them and whether or not God was pleased with my efforts. Inevitably, when those moments arose, someone would comment something along the lines of, “Thanks for sharing. I needed to read this today!”
I took those comments as God’s nudge to keep writing, to use the gift He’s given me, and to trust Him to use my words as He sees fit, to direct them to the right person in His perfect timing.
Over the years, my posts have tended to fall into one of three broad categories: those inspired by my passion for gardening, those based on insights gleaned from being a mother and grandmother, and those borne from working through deep grief after times of significant loss. I loosely refer to them as lessons learned in my garden, from my grandchildren, and from being a widow – the foundations for a trilogy of books. So far, only one has come to fruition. In fact, my first post, “Consider it Pure Joy,” became the basis for the prologue of Be Still, Quiet Moments With God in My Garden, which I published in November 2020.
Lord willing, I’ll eventually compile and edit posts to create the other books. For now, I will strive to continue to share stories of God’s steadfast love, mercy, and faithfulness.
As I’ve done on the previous anniversaries, I want to thank all of you who have taken the time to read my posts and helped nurture my writing endeavors. Some of you have followed along from the beginning, while others have found your way to this site more recently. Regardless of the tenure of your readership, my prayer continues to be that my words will encourage you and point you to the hope we have in Jesus. God is faithful, and we can trust Him through all the joys and sorrows of our lives. Our stories are part of His eternal, overarching story. I’m grateful that you’ve allowed me to share some of mine with you.
See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are. 1 John 3:1
When my daughter and I started planning our long-awaited trip to England and France earlier this year, I gave her a short wish list of places I would like to visit and left the planning up to her. I thought it would be fun, but in hindsight, I realize it was a tremendous amount of work. Not only did she research the places on my list, but she also scheduled many other adventures, lodging options, and special meals.
As dedicated fans of Downton Abbey, Highclere Castle was near the top of the must-see list for both of us; however, Jessie didn’t secure reservations for us before we left. Instead, we hoped to get tickets when we showed up.
Our hopes were dashed when Jessie checked the castle’s website the night before we planned to visit. Bold letters proclaimed, “ALL TOURS SOLD OUT.”
Jessie lamented, “I’m sorry I didn’t reserve the tickets earlier, Mom!”
“It’s ok, Jess, you worked so hard arranging so many other details for our trip.”
I was disappointed about not getting to visit the castle, but I was more concerned that Jessie would focus on this perceived misstep and forget about all the other things she set up for us. We’re cut from the same cloth when it comes to focusing on the one thing we missed instead of giving ourselves credit for the many things we’ve accomplished.
I prayed as I drifted off to sleep, “Lord, nothing is impossible for You, and You know how much we would like to visit Highclere tomorrow, but if it’s not to be, then please help us to accept that and enjoy all the other things You’ve got in store for us on this trip. And please help Jessie not to be upset with herself.”
It was pouring rain when we got up the following morning.
Jessie asked, “What do you want to do, Mom? Should we just forget about it and move on?”
“Nope! When we get home, we’ll be over 4000 miles from here. Right now, we’re five miles from the castle. Let’s drive over and see how far we get. Eventually, we’ll meet up with someone at a checkpoint, and we can explain our situation. All they can say is no, but at least we will have tried, and maybe we’ll get to see it from the outside.”
We ate breakfast, donned our rain jackets, and set off. We traversed the winding drive, drawing ever closer to our destination. Sure enough, someone was minding the entrance to the parking area. But it wasn’t an armed guard. It was a delightful lady in a yellow slicker and rain boots. She listened as Jessie described our plight, then cheerfully replied, “The morning group has already entered the house, but if you come back at 2:30, you’ll be able to get in.”
Jessie and I could barely believe our ears.
“Should we be here earlier to make sure?”
“No need. Be here by 2:30, and you will get in.”
Happily astounded by this turn of events, we had lunch in a nearby village and made sure to return by the appointed time. The same cheerful lady was there to welcome us back when we approached at 2:15.
She checked her watch, “You’re early!”
Jessie and I replied in unison, “We didn’t want to miss our chance!”
“You won’t. Go ahead and park, and then go over to the ticket booth. Once you get your tickets, you can queue up in front of the house.”
We purchased our tickets and strode toward the mansion. A jumble of emotions welled up as we approached the stately manor we’d seen countless times across six seasons of Downton Abbey. It was all I could do to keep from sobbing. Not only would we get to tour the grand house, but even more importantly, I knew we’d received a bear hug from our heavenly Father.
In the ranking of responsibilities, enabling a visit to Highclere Castle barely registers when compared to keeping the universe going. But the One who hung the stars and spoke everything into existence also knows every detail of His children’s lives, and He graciously gives us good gifts that leave no doubt that He knows and loves us.
The heavenly hug I received on that damp, chilly day was specially tailored and multi-layered, as they often are:
I’ve been walking with the Lord for nearly 50 years, but I sometimes act like I’ve forgotten Truth that He’s repeatedly affirmed in my life. I genuinely believe I’m never out of His sight (Psalm 139). However, when I travel, I sometimes feel vulnerable, and the further I venture from my home base, the more uneasy I become. An ocean stood between home and me, providing ample fodder for concern, but the Highclere experience was a beautiful reminder that God hadn’t lost sight of us just because we were overseas. That reminder stayed with me for the rest of our twelve-day trip, a touchstone when some circumstance or another tempted me to worry.
If we’d reserved tickets for the morning entry time, we would have been soaked waiting to enter the castle. As it was, the rain had stopped by the time we queued up in the afternoon. No soggy jeans to deal with!
Perhaps most importantly, Jessie didn’t have to feel bad about not getting the tickets. I didn’t want a perceived failure to overshadow all the hard work my caring, capable, conscientious daughter put into planning our trip. Neither did her Father.
Today is Father’s Day. It may be a joyous occasion for many of you as you celebrate with your dad. For others, it may be a sad day. It is for me because it’s my first Father’s Day without my dad. Though our relationship was rocky at times, I knew Dad always had my back, and there were plenty of instances when his hugs calmed my fears. From childhood scrapes and booboos to life-changing losses in adulthood, he was there. I’m thankful for the love that accompanied those consoling embraces.
I pray those of you who, like me, no longer have your earthly fathers will take comfort in knowing you’re never out of sight or reach of your Heavenly Father. Look for His affectionate hugs – those little reminders that He sees, He knows, and He loves you more than you can imagine (Isaiah 49:15-16).
You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your father who is in heaven. Matthew 5:14-16
I opened the car door to put something in the backseat the day after I had taken my granddaughters to dance. I saw three tiny shimmers on the seat and smiled. They were sequins from Lyla‘s recital costume, and they weren’t the first sparkles to detach themselves and remain at my house. I’ve found them in my kitchen, upstairs in my TV room, and one even made it onto my bathroom counter. I think it may have stuck to me when I hugged Lyla goodbye one evening and hitched a ride upstairs!
Finding these sparkles always makes me smile because they remind me of my beloved granddaughter. Her kind heart and sweet smile brighten many of my days.
I had the opportunity to sit in on two of the end-of-year rehearsals as Lyla and her dancemates prepared for their recital. The instructor reminded all the girls to smile during their performance. Of course, my eyes were fixed on Lyla while they went through their routine. She smiled throughout, just as the teacher had requested, but I knew her smile wasn’t forced. It was coming from the joy she carries inside.
Even at her young age, Lyla is a life-giver. She cares about others and is a blessing to those around her in both big and small ways.
I was privileged to serve as Shepherd for Lyla’s American Heritage Girls troop last year. Each week, I tried to prepare a short, meaningful devotional that would hold the girls’ interest and give them something to think about. Attention varied across my audience, but inevitably, when my around-the-room gaze found Lyla, she was looking at me and listening attentively, offering silent affirmation of my efforts.
I used to tell my now-adult daughters to treat others in such a way they’d be glad to see them, not whisper, “Oh no! Here come those Kuipers girls again!” That was long before I heard the concept of being a life-giver or life-taker, but I knew it was in keeping with Jesus’ instructions to be light in this dark world.
I recently visited Paris, nicknamed the City of Light. Though some sources confirm my guess that it earned the title because it was a center for education and ideas during the Age of Enlightenment, others say it came about because King Louis XIV ordered almost 3,000 street lanterns be erected to light Paris brightly at night to prevent criminals from hiding in the shadows and thus stem the crime wave rampant in the city.
Conquering the darkness. Isn’t that what Jesus did? He is the Light of the world (John 8:12). John tells us that the darkness will not overcome the Light, ever (John 1:5.) In fact, when Jesus returns, the night will be no more, and we’ll no longer need the light from lamp or sun. He will be our Light forever (Revelation 22:5).
While we wait for that glorious day, may we walk as children of light, sprinkling life-giving sparkles everywhere like Lyla’s sequins and smiles, pointing others to the hope we have in Jesus. For at one time we were darkness, but now we are light in the Lord (Ephesians 5:8).
Grandchildren are the crown of the aged, and the glory of children is their fathers. Proverbs 17:6
Losing my job had an upside I couldn’t imagine the afternoon my supervisor informed me that the company I’d worked for for 30 years no longer required my services or expertise. God knew I was needed elsewhere. My daughter Mary was early in her first pregnancy when I lost my job and was looking forward to having me around more often. She gave birth to Joshua, my first grandchild, six months later. For eleven years, until all the children were in school, I spent two days a week at Mary’s house, first with Joshua, then later with three little ones when his two sisters joined the mix. We looked forward to those days and came to refer to them as Grammie days.
Several summers ago, I became aware of a “whoosh” whenever I stepped out the front door onto their small porch. I soon realized I was being strafed by a mamma bird who’d built her nest in an eave of the entryway. She picked a perfect place. Not only were she and her carefully constructed home sheltered from the elements and out of reach of any passing predators, but we could observe from inside the house without disturbing her. My son-in-law Justin peeked into the nest when mamma bird was away and found five tiny eggs. We watched as she faithfully warmed and protected the eggs. One day we saw five little heads, mouths agape, as the babies begged for food. Mamma bird diligently cared for her brood. The little ones thrived under her care. Then, one day, I went over, and the porch was quiet.
They were gone.
Even though we human mothers have years to nurture our children, time passes so quickly that it sometimes seems it’s only days, like the time it took the mother bird to raise her young. Over the years, I’ve shared this bittersweet sentiment with other mothers: “If we do our job well, the result is an independent adult.” Mothering requires a balance of holding on and letting go and the wisdom to know which to employ at any particular time in our children’s lives. It’s a difficult but necessary process.
Yet my dear mother often said, “Once a mother, always a mother,” a statement as valid as the one I wrote above. We hold our children close in our hearts and prayers regardless of their life stages, ready to assist if called on. I’m quite sure the mamma bear syndrome knows no age limits. After all, of the many people who were upset when my 30-year career ended via termination, Mom was the most incensed by the treatment I’d received. Though tiny, she was my staunchest defender until her passing three years ago. Likewise, I can’t stand the thought of anyone hurting my kids and grandkids!
It’s that time of year – the time of graduations and weddings. So, for you mothers reading this and contemplating the emptying of your nests, I offer this: one day, you may realize the independent adult you worked so long and hard to raise has become one of your very best friends. Someone who brings joy to your life in new ways as you continue to cheer them on and are blessed by the fruits of your labors and theirs.
I vividly remember driving home after Mary and Justin’s wedding. I thought, “That’s it. I gave her away. It’s all over.” I was so wrong. I gained a son that night, and then came three brand new people whom I’m blessed to know and spend time with. Though my nest emptied years ago when my daughters graduated from college and established their own households, Mary and Justin’s nest is full, and I am welcome there. Welcome to help nurture a new generation and introduce them to plants and mamma birds and to their Savior, the One who loves them even more than I do.
Occasionally, I’ll take a devotional I’ve prepared for a women’s event, make a few edits, and use it as a blog post. This is one of those times. It’s a bit longer and not as tidy as usual, grammatically. Still, I hope you can imagine yourself being part of the group listening to this message on one of my very favorite subjects, passing our faith on to future generations.
As you’ll see, I alternated between reading Scripture and making comments.
24/7
“Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might. And these words that I command you today shall be on your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise (Deuteronomy 6:4-7).
Moses’ directive to teach our children may feel overwhelming because it covers every part of our day. But it is doable! Because God is present and pertinent to every moment of our lives. As many of you know, I love to garden. When I’m outside, many of Jesus’ parables come to life – God’s care for the birds of the air and the lilies of the field, how branches can’t survive much less bear fruit if they’re not attached to the vine, the importance of good soil if you want your plants to flourish. And then there’s the vast diversity of plants and animals that God created.
When my grandson Joshua was still a toddler, we made a pact that he would teach me about animals, and I would teach him about plants. It’s worked out great. Not only have we both learned from each other, but many of our conversations include comments about God. We wonder why He made roaches. (Most days, we think they were part of the curse!) We look forward to seeing how everything will fit together when all the plants and animals take their proper places on the new earth. And, when Joshua starts talking about predators, and I lament creatures killing each other, I often quote Isaiah 65:25: “They will not hurt or destroy in all my holy mountain,” says the Lord, followed by, “I can’t wait!”
Abundant Evidence
You may be thinking, “I’m not a gardener. I don’t particularly like being outside, especially during pollen season!” But listen to this verse from the first chapter of Romans:
For (God’s) invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. So (we) are without excuse (Romans 1:20).
That verse certainly speaks about creation – all the world around us, the heavens, oceans, mountains, plants, animals – but God also created us, and, as Psalm 139:14 states, we’re fearfully and wonderfully made. So, we can talk to our children about how wonderfully God made our bodies. We get well when we’re sick. Cuts and broken bones heal. And how about the miracle of sleep? We’re unaware of the world for hours at a time and then wake up again. I think that’s amazing!
I’ve been blessed this year to be the troop shepherd for the American Heritage Girls troop that meets at our church. Each week, when I prepared the devotional, I found Scriptures that related to what we were doing, regardless of the week’s focus. Subjects ranged from our identity in Christ to architecture to world cultures and aspects of our Oath and Creed. The latter features characteristics that we’re trying to develop in our lives so we’re more like Jesus, things like compassion, honesty, loyalty, perseverance, and helpfulness. In the last devotional for the year, I told the girls I hoped they’d been able to see how God’s inspired Word applies to all of life.
Spiritual Legacy
Give ear, O my people, to my teaching; incline your ears to the words of my mouth! I will open my mouth in a parable; I will utter dark sayings from of old, things that we have heard and known, that our fathers have told us. We will not hide them from their children, but tell to the coming generation the glorious deeds of the Lord, and his might, and the wonders that he has done. He established a testimony in Jacob and appointed a law in Israel, which he commanded our fathers to teach to their children, that the next generation might know them, the children yet unborn, and arise and tell them to their children, so that they should set their hope in God and not forget the works of God, but keep his commandments Psalm 78:1-7
We’re commanded to tell the next generation about God and His mighty deeds – personal stories recounting how God has worked in your life and been faithful to you and your family. Most of us would say we want to leave a material legacy of some sort for our offspring. However, a spiritual legacy is even more significant because it has eternal value. It’s part of the treasure Jesus commanded us to store up in heaven, a treasure that can’t rust or decay or be stolen (Matthew 6:19-21). I know my grandparents were Christians, so my grandchildren are at least the fifth successive generation who’ve been told the mighty deeds of the Lord. I pray that our family’s heritage of faith will continue until Jesus returns, regardless of how many generations are yet to come.
Overflowing with Thankfulness
Going back to Deuteronomy chapter 6, we see the following warning:
“And when the Lord your God brings you into the land that he swore to your fathers, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob, to give you—with great and good cities that you did not build, and houses full of all good things that you did not fill, and cisterns that you did not dig, and vineyards and olive trees that you did not plant—and when you eat and are full, then take care lest you forget the Lord, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery (Deuteronomy 6:10-12).
We’re in danger of forgetting that God is the source of all good gifts, aren’t we? When things are going well and we’re thriving, we tend to think it’s due to our actions and that we’ve got it all under control. One way to combat that wrong thinking and to share our faith is to openly and frequently praise and thank God for His many blessings, acknowledging that all we have and are is from Him and encouraging our children and grandchildren to do the same.
Furthermore, we, too, were enslaved until God rescued us from the bondage of sin. The fact that He transferred our citizenship to the kingdom of His beloved Son is reason enough to rejoice and give thanks every day (Colossians 1:13-14).
The Danger of Misplacing the Word
This spring, we’ve been studying “What a Royal Mess“ in Bible study.[1] The lessons take us through Israel’s history, focusing on the ups and downs associated with some of the kings of Israel and Judah. Often, it was a mess because many of the kings were evil and led the people in worshiping other gods. After God gave the Law, He gave further instructions, including this message for Israel’s kings:
And when he sits on the throne of his kingdom, he shall write for himself in a book a copy of this law, approved by the Levitical priests. And it shall be with him, and he shall read in it all the days of his life, that he may learn to fear the Lord his God by keeping all the words of this law and these statutes, and doing them (Deuteronomy 17:18-19).
Fast forward several hundred years, Josiah is on the throne in Judah, and Hilkiah, the high priest, found the Book of the Law in the temple when renovations began. When he read it to Josiah, one of the few good kings, Josiah tore his clothes in dismay because he realized God’s people had been far from obeying its contents. To say Hilkiah found the Book of the Covenant implies that it had been lost and certainly not kept on hand, much less read, by the kings who preceded Josiah. It’s no wonder the people had gone astray without God’s Word to guide them. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be the generation that misplaces God’s Word for the next generation.
This sobering reminder takes us back to where we began, emphasizing the importance of one generation telling the next about God, His Word, His abundant blessings, and the need to obey Him. We must practice seeing and sharing how God, His ways, and His glory are apparent in all aspects of our lives. The more we practice seeing, the more we’re able to see.
Another beautiful thing about sharing with our children and grandchildren is that in reminding them, we’re also reminding ourselves, creating a delightful process of growing together. I hope I’ve given you plenty of ideas and reasons to do so. 😊
[1] Susan Tyner, “What a Royal Mess, A Study of 1 and 2 Kings,” (Lawrenceville, GA: CDM, 2023)
He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away. Revelation 21:4
The end of March inevitably brings with it a sense of melancholy. The foreboding creeps up on me, gradually increasing, until I realize, “Oh, it’s almost April again.”
Mom and I used to dread the arrival of the last week of October each year since her parents and my paternal grandfather passed away on the 25th, 27th, and 30th of different years, but April long ago superseded October when it comes to personal losses.
My beloved husband, Ray, went Home on April 19, 1997, two months after his 39th birthday, stricken by a fatal heart attack. His passing forever severed my life into before-and-after pieces.
Ten years ago, a dear sister-in-law fell while helping Ray’s brother reroof a building on their farm. Marcia succumbed to her injuries on April 12, 2014.
Three years ago, my dear little mom fell and broke her hip on April 20th, my dad’s 90th birthday. Though she survived the surgery to repair her hip, her body and mind were too fragile to recover, and she entered the presence of Jesus on April 30, 2021.
And now here we are, April 2024, the first April of my life that I won’t be able to celebrate Dad’s birthday with him. Though he joined Mom in Glory last July, his birthday will be forever linked to the final days of Mom and Ray’s lives.
That listing may feel like cold, just-the-facts reporting, but I can assure you each one of those losses packs a powerful gut punch regardless of how long my loved ones have been gone. Having missed Ray for 27 years, I know the longing to see Mom, Dad, and others who have gone Home won’t fade away either.
As hard as the losses have been and as deep as the lingering grief is, I know there’s a day coming when I will see my loved ones again. I can be confident because of Jesus’ death and resurrection. And when the day of His promised return arrives, there will be no more death or tears or pain or suffering! Whenever I think about it or read the passage in Revelation 21, I want to shout, “Hallelujah! Praise the Lord! Come, Lord Jesus!!”
Yet, I can’t gloss over the pain of loss because to do so would be to minimize the penalty of sin as well as the ultimate sacrifice it cost Jesus to save us (Genesis 2:16-17; Isaiah 53:5-6; Romans 3:23). Death hurts because it was never part of God’s good plan. Watching our loved ones’ health decline hurts because we weren’t supposed to get old and sick. Missing them hurts because we were never supposed to be separated – from them or God.
We’re in good company when we lament the passing of our loved ones. Even though Jesus knew He would raise His friend, Lazarus, He had great compassion toward his sisters and wept outside his tomb (John 11:32-35).
However, we can grieve with hope because death doesn’t get the final say (John 11:25-26; 1 Corinthians 15).
A friend was visiting the other day and commented on how beautiful my flowers are. I thanked her and explained that April is a bittersweet month for me. I told her that although I revel in the beauty of springtime, I also associate the season with significant losses. Knowing that I love to garden and surveying the vast array of plants on my little property, she said, “That’s why God gave you all these pretty flowers!”
Her statement affirmed what I’ve often thought, and I replied, “I agree! Everywhere I look, creation is shouting ‘resurrection!’ From the colorful flowers to bright green leaves to baby birds, there’s new life everywhere!”
Dear readers, I expect each one of you has experienced significant loss in your life. Jesus told us that we would have tribulations in this world, but He went on to say, “Take heart, for I have overcome the world!” (John 16:33) We can take comfort in His triumph over tribulations as well as in knowing He’s overcome death, the final enemy. Jesus promised to return and make all things new (Revelation 21:1-5). While we await that glorious day, may we see evidence of His love and care all around us, interwoven with shimmering threads of resurrection realities that provide solace for our hurting hearts.
When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written: “Death is swallowed up in victory.” “O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” 1 Corinthians 15:54-55
There they were, sitting side by side on a sofa at a funeral home – Mom, Dad, and my Aunt Margie, Dad’s only remaining sibling. The occasion? The service for another of his sisters. A solemn thought pervaded my soul later that evening when I gazed at the photo capturing the moment. Mom was one of eight siblings, and Dad was one of ten. Eighteen siblings had been reduced to three, and, given their ages and the relentless march of time, I knew they, too, were drawing near to the end even if the Lord blessed them with several more years.
That was January 2020. Mom passed in April 2021, Dad in July 2023, and Aunt Margie joined the family circle on high ten days ago. Oh, how it hurts to write those words and contemplate the void left in our family. A whole generation is no longer with us.
But what a generation it was! Dad’s family line-up began with two older brothers, followed by four older sisters. Dad came next, the eldest of the four younger boys. The siblings who preceded Dad served in WW II. Uncle Harry was in the army and helped liberate one of the concentration camps. Uncle Fred flew numerous bombing missions. Meanwhile, the sisters worked for the Justice Department in Washington, DC. The younger brothers served our country in later conflicts and times of peace.
With birth dates ranging from 1916 to 1937, Dad and his siblings lived through the hardships of The Great Depression. Their experiences during that tough time and humble beginnings in rural North Carolina undoubtedly shaped their values. During his eulogy for Dad, one of my cousins described him and his siblings with three Ds: Duty to country, devotion to family, and dedication to their chosen professions.
Aunt Margie
I could say so much more about my aunts and uncles, but I want to turn my attention to Aunt Margie.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve known Aunt Margie was a widow who raised four children on her own. My admiration of her as a single mother grew exponentially when I, too, was widowed at a young age and started raising my two elementary-aged daughters alone. Knowing she’d persevered for years and seeing how my cousins turned out inspired me to keep going. It wasn’t until I read Aunt Margie’s obituary that I realized she began her solo journey at an even younger age than I did – 33 years vs 38.
But that wasn’t the only area where Aunt Margie’s determination encouraged me. Like me, she loved to work in her yard and continued to do so well into her 80s.
Mom and Dad kept in touch with Aunt Margie and would fill me in on their conversations, including reports of “Margie was out working in her yard again!” which they inevitably conveyed in concerned tones. My enthusiastic reply? “Good for her! I hope I’m able to do the same!”
I felt a similar sense of, “You go, girl!” when I read this section from Aunt Margie’s obituary:
She didn’t care for Pilates or yoga, and she absolutely despised having to do physical therapy after a fall. She preferred to get her exercise by planting, weeding, and tending her flowers and vegetable garden, and insisted on mowing her yard with a push mower. Her approach to physical fitness served her well, as evidenced by her longevity.
Grandmama
Speaking of longevity, though Dad was the only one of the male siblings to make it into their 90s, all four of his sisters did. Two passed away within days of their 94th birthdays, while the other two made it to 95. And Grandmama, who bore those ten children, surpassed them all. She lived 95 years and 10 months, six months longer than Aunt Margie.
Though I have fond memories of visiting Grandmama when I was a child, I treasure the times I visited her as an adult, especially when it was just the two of us. She’s been gone 30 years, but even now, as I type, I can envision her serene countenance and see the Bible she kept on the table next to her favorite chair. I recall the softness of her skin as I held her hand during our quiet chats.
Another memory comes into focus, one of a visit my husband Ray and I paid her. When our visit was over, Grandmama walked us to the door. As we lingered on the porch, saying our reluctant goodbyes, she said, “Don’t wait too long to come back to see me. I’m going Home soon.”
I have no doubt that confident assurance contributed to Grandmama’s serenity. After a long and often challenging life, she knew she was nearing Home.
The Ultimate Longevity
It’s been heartbreaking to lose so many loved ones over the years. But death doesn’t get the final say. Regardless of how many years God grants us in this life, they’re a mere drop in the vast ocean of eternal longevity. As I grieve the loss of my last aunt, I’m once again turning to the promise of a grand reunion to assuage my sorrow. If it weren’t for that, our lament would know no solace, but because of it, we can rejoice in knowing that for those who die in Christ, death isn’t the end. It is a most glorious beginning.
Dear Lord, last Sunday, we celebrated Your resurrection. Thank You for conquering death so that we, too, will rise again when You return with glorified bodies like Yours that will never get sick or grow old or die! What a joy to know that we’ll be reunited with our loved ones and live in Your presence forever!
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