Family

Teach Your Children

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

Hello, dear readers!

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

My beloved maternal grandfather, PaPa, was a kind, gentle man of faith who served as a deacon at his church.

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)

Legacy, Lament, and Longevity

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

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!

The Sad Relief

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

It is the Lord who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed.
Deuteronomy 31:8

Holiday Blues

For most of my life, I looked forward to the final six weeks of the year, full of holiday cheer, beginning with Mom’s November birthday, followed by Thanksgiving, my mid-December birthday, Christmas, and New Year’s, with long-standing traditions associated with each. Granddaughter Lyla arrived the day after my birthday in 2013, multiplying the joy by becoming my birthday buddy.

But several years ago, my anticipation of the end-of-the-year celebrations began to wane as Mom’s health declined, and she couldn’t fully enjoy the season as she had in the past. Then 2020 rolled around, and, like many other families, COVID-19 derailed our Christmas traditions.

Little did we know it would be our last Christmas with Mom.

December 2021 found me going through the motions. Not only was it my first Christmas without my beloved mother, but my strong father had suffered a stroke six months after her passing. Though the physical effects were minor, the stroke impacted Dad’s cognitive abilities, leaving him incapable of handling his finances or medications, making it impossible to live on his own. Though we found a live-in caregiver for him, Dad grew tired of having someone in his space all the time. Thus, December found us looking at assisted living options, planning to move him in January.

I was equally despondent as the holidays approached in 2022. If it had been possible to fast forward to mid-January 2023, I would have done so. Dad contracted Covid at the end of October. His health was so fragile I thought it likely I would be planning a funeral before the end of the year. But he rallied and was able to celebrate Christmas, New Year’s, and his 92nd birthday before suffering another stroke in May of 2023 and gradually declining until passing away peacefully on July 12.

Grieving with Hope

After four years, holiday joy finally returned to my heart last December. That may sound strange considering it was my first without either of my parents. I’ve pondered that myself and have frequently returned to a phrase one of my friends used when she replied to my text informing her of Dad’s passing:  “I’m so sorry. Now begins the sad relief.”

The sad relief – an apt description of the blend of sorrow and joy known to Christians because we’re able to grieve with hope (1 Thessalonians 4:13-18). Though I miss Mom and Dad, there’s great comfort in knowing they’re together in the presence of Jesus, far beyond the reach of earthly pain and distress.

After three years of intense caregiving, first for Mom and then Dad, another type of relief joined that of knowing they’re better than they’ve ever been – the relief from stress related to not knowing what any given day would bring, having to make so many difficult decisions, and, as an only child, feeling the heavy weight of responsibility. Only now, after several months of no longer experiencing the daily tension, do  I realize the load I carried, one always tinged with guilt and doubt. Was I making the right decisions? Should I be doing more? Ultimately, I knew that no matter how hard I tried, I was helpless to stop the relentless march of aging or prevent the inevitable conclusion.

Faithful God

But looking back, I also have a much clearer view of how God went before us every step of the way.

Mom’s agony was intense but relatively brief. God directed and redirected throughout the ten-day interval between the moment she fell and broke her hip and the one in which she drew her final breath. We intended to bring her home and endeavored to do so, but the Lord had plans to call her Home.

Though the stroke Dad experienced six months after Mom died wasn’t as catastrophic as her broken hip, it initiated a decline that lasted 18 months before he joined her in Glory. When he came home from the hospital, we secured a male, live-in Christian caregiver for him. I’ve got to believe that’s a rare combination of traits! When Dad grew tired of that arrangement, we found a cozy apartment in a lovely assisted living community two miles from my daughter, son-in-law, and grandchildren.

Then came the day when Dad’s primary care physician recommended we transition to palliative care. The assumption underlying her suggestion wasn’t lost on me. We were running out of options to make Dad “well.” It was time to focus on making him comfortable instead. And, when we needed to take the next step and enlist hospice care, who would turn out to be his primary nurses but two women who’d overseen his care after his seizure some months before. In the interim, they’d started working for the hospice provider. Coincidence? I think not!

There are other examples of God’s provision and presence during Dad’s final months, but I’ll let these suffice.

Never Alone

There were times when I felt so alone in my seat on the emotional roller coaster associated with Dad’s ever-changing status, from declines to rallies and back again. Yet I was never alone. The One who promised never to leave or forsake me was there for every up and down, every daunting diagnosis and surprising recovery, not only knowing but also ordaining the end from the beginning (Isaiah 46:9-10).

The sadness of no longer having Mom and Dad to share things with, celebrate with, or reminisce with will stay with me for the rest of my life. But there’s the joy of cherishing memories of times past, carrying on favorite family traditions with my grandchildren, and mentioning Mama and Papop often so the youngest generation doesn’t forget their great-grandparents.

Ultimately, the greatest joy comes from the realization that God accomplished what I could not – relieve their pain and suffering – and He did it for eternity.

Epilog

Several days ago, I opened my journaling Bible to a section of Psalms I hadn’t read for a while, at least not in that particular Bible. I did a double-take when I saw what I’d written next to Psalm 40:17 two days before Mom broke her hip: “My prayer for Mom tonight, Lord. Please don’t delay in helping her or delivering her from the pain she’s been experiencing.” At the very moment I was writing that prayer, He had already determined how He would answer. Twelve days later, the Lord delivered Mom entirely and eternally from her pain.

Watching Mom and Dad decline gave me a glimpse of what my future might look like as I continue my journey Home. It also provided ample evidence of God’s faithfulness. It saddens me to think of possibly losing the capability to care for myself, yet there is relief in knowing God’s grace will be sufficient for my caregivers and me, just as it was for Mom and Dad and theirs – all the way to the end (2 Corinthians 12:9; Hebrews 10:23).  

Gifts in Disguise

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.
James 1:17

The Backstory

Many of you are longtime friends and blog followers, familiar with some of what I’m about to write. Please bear with me as I set the stage for other readers needing these initial details to better understand this post.

I lost my 39-year-old husband to a heart attack in 1997. Ray had a degree in horticulture. The lovely garden he designed and tended on our small suburban property was part of the legacy he left for me and our two elementary-aged daughters. It didn’t take long for me to realize that I would need to learn how to care for the plants or risk losing a precious connection with him. Thus, the seeds were sown for my interest in horticulture, which would develop into a passionate pursuit, including a desire to return to school to study plants. 

In a beauty-from-ashes scenario, I realized my dream when I enrolled in the horticulture program at a local technical school two days after my 30-year career with a large corporation ended when they eliminated my job.

Study Buddy

Six months after I lost my job, I became Grammie when my first grandchild, a beautiful baby boy, was born. Joshua was my study buddy from his earliest days. I’d point out different plants as we strolled the neighborhood, repeating their names to my little passenger. I wasn’t sure how much he was absorbing, but the repetition was a great way for me to study.

As Joshua grew, our plant discussions expanded. He has a keen eye for detail and an impressive capacity to retain information. I eventually told Joshua about his Grandpa Kuipers and how his love of plants inspired my passion for horticulture.

A Passion of His Own

Little boys have lots of interests, and Joshua is no different. Only time would tell if he’d tire of Grammie’s plant discussions and tagging along on her horticulture excursions or if the seeds planted on those early stroller walks would bear lasting fruit.

Last spring, I asked if he would like to go to The Pocket with me. I couched my query amidst some disclaimers. It would require a 75-mile drive to reach our destination, a small but flower-filled area. Though small, it would take me about two hours to complete my leisurely stroll and admire the numerous specimens. Despite my stipulations, Joshua quickly accepted my invitation.

Some folks might be able to traverse the wooden boardwalk in less than an hour, satisfied that they’d seen enough. Others, like me, want to take it all in – hike up to the waterfall, as well as make the loop around the boardwalk. Joshua proved to be one of the latter. Any doubts I had about the genuineness of his enthusiasm disappeared before we left the gravel entry road and made it back to the paved highway when he exclaimed, “I love this place, Grammie! Can we come back next year?”

Not only did we go back this year, but we made two trips to my, now our, beloved wildflower mecca. And Joshua is becoming quite the botanist, collecting plants, growing oaks from acorns, and learning about the art of bonsai from reading one of his Grandpa Kuipers’ books.

From Study Buddy to Plant Protege

Last week, we went to Opryland as part of Lyla’s 10th birthday celebration. I’d only been once before, and that visit was years ago, so I’d forgotten about the extensive indoor gardens. Although we had several activities planned during our brief stay, Joshua requested a “plant walk with Grammie” soon after we arrived.

As we took that walk the next day, I was again overwhelmed by the blessing of Joshua and our shared love of plants. It’s not hard for me to imagine Ray smiling as Joshua and I crouch together, examining a plant and extolling the One who created such a vast array of beautiful specimens for us to study and enjoy.

More Than We Can Imagine

Sometimes, we don’t get what we want, or it doesn’t come in an appealing container, beautifully wrapped. However, God often gives us good gifts in unexpected packages. Isn’t that the way it was with His very best gift?

A baby in a manger wasn’t the gift God’s people were expecting or longing for. They wanted a powerful ruler who would free them from oppression by overturning the Roman government. Instead, God gave them what they truly needed: a Savior who would free them from a master much more sinister than the Roman rulers. They were slaves to sin, dead in their trespasses, unable to free themselves. So were we (Ephesians 2:4-6).

Because of that gift, planned before time began, we know God will never withhold any lesser thing from us and that He is able to work all things together for good, even the darkest things, even if it doesn’t appear good in the moment (Romans 8:28, 32).

The abrupt end to my 30-year career certainly didn’t look like a gift the afternoon I handed in my computer, building pass, and credit card and exited into the gray January day, befitting the occasion, but what a gift it was!

And the sweet baby boy born a few months later who’s grown into a handsome young man whose plant knowledge is quickly catching up to mine? A gift beyond what I could have asked or imagined (Ephesians 3:20).

I treasure memories of my godly, plant-loving husband. I cherish the gift of loved ones in my life now, and I look forward to the day when the family circle will be unbroken through all of eternity because of God’s unimaginably perfect gift. Joshua and I will be able to stroll the heavenly gardens with Ray, exulting over the beauty of the new earth, no longer marred by sin (Revelation 21:1-4; 22:3).

In the meantime, I pray we’ll be expectantly vigilant as we enter the new year, assured that God’s good gifts are all around us if we only have enlightened eyes and hearts to see them (Ephesians 1:17-18).

Chief Cheerleader

/ Patsy Kuipers / 6 Comments

If God is for us, who can be against us?
Romans 8:31b

My daughters run. Mary, my eldest, began cross country in 8th grade, while Jessie, my youngest, ran the middle distances. They’ve remained diligent in their running endeavors. Mary has completed three marathons and several half-marathons. Jessie, too, has completed several halfs. Both have competed in countless 5ks, 10ks, and 10-milers.

My granddaughters, 9-year-old Lyla and 7-year-old Emma, have taken after their mom and Aunt Jessie. Starting with tot trots and moving up to 1-mile fun runs, they’ve now completed several 5ks. That’s a long way for little bodies and relatively short legs, but they’ve made it.

I don’t run. Running didn’t agree with me when I was in my early 20s, and it sure doesn’t agree with me forty years later. I suppose I could run if something were chasing me, but I prefer walking. However, this lack of enthusiasm didn’t deter me from attending my daughters’ races as often as possible. I took my role of head cheerleader seriously and still do.

A nearby town hosts a series of 5k races each year. Once a month during race season, I take up my post on my cheering corner to exhort my runners on to the finish line.

The town where Mary and her family live hosts an annual Turkey Chase. This year marked my second time at this particular race, so I’m not as familiar with where to stand to best encourage my runners. Nonetheless,  I positioned myself at what I hoped would be a promising location and waited for my people to appear.

Jessie was the first to come into view. I cheered her on, took a couple of photos, and turned my attention back to the hill as she rounded the corner and disappeared out of sight. Lyla was next to appear. She was walking as she crested the hill, but as soon as she heard my, “Go, Lyla, finish strong! You can do it!!” she took off with a burst of energy I couldn’t have mustered at the start, much less the end of the race.

I expected to see Mary and Emma close behind. Minutes passed. I peered as far as I could down the course, anxiously scanning each group of runners. But still no Mary and her happy little sidekick. Finally, fearing I’d somehow missed them in the throng of runners, I turned to “Find My Friends” to check for Mary’s dot. I hadn’t overlooked them. They were still out there. More minutes ticked by, and I moved further down the sidewalk so I could see them as soon as they turned the corner and started up the big hill.

Finally, they came into view, moseying along. I had no doubt Emma’s legs were tired, and mama bear Mary was sticking with her cub. I mustered my loudest voice and yelled, “Go, Mary! Come on, Emma!!”

Like a shot of adrenaline, my words had the desired effect. No more strolling for Emma! She was running at top speed and flashed a big smile my way as she barreled by, shouting, “Hey, Grammster!”

Likewise, Mary upped her pace, and they dashed to the finish line where the rest of their adoring fans (Jessie, Lyla, son-in-law Justin, and grandson Joshua) were waiting to welcome them. Even from a block away, I could hear Jessie yell, “That’s my sister!” when Mary crossed the finish line, arms raised in victory.

We all need cheerleaders, don’t we? Those people who’ll believe in us no matter what and encourage us to keep going. My husband Ray and my mom were those people for me. Death silenced Ray’s voice 26 years ago and took Mom from me almost three. Yet, after benefitting from Ray’s encouragement for 16 years and Mom’s for six decades, I still feel their love and am sustained by their belief in me.

I don’t consider it a stretch to think they’re still cheering me on. After all, Scripture says we’re surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses, faithful saints who’ve followed Jesus’ example and shown us how to run well (Hebrews 12:1-2).

The introductory verse above begins one of my favorite passages:

If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things? Who shall bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died—more than that, who was raised—who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? . . . No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord (Romans 8:31b-35; 37-39).

Not only is God our biggest cheerleader, He’s ensured we have everything we need to finish our race. Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, is seated at the right hand of God, interceding for us! We will be victorious because Jesus ran the perfect race and secured the victory with His precious blood. No trial or hardship or calamity, nothing, not even death, can separate us from His love. In fact, death is merely the portal through which we pass to eternity in His presence with our loved ones.

Dear readers, I pray you have at least one person standing staunchly on your cheering corner. Equally important, who might need your encouragement? Is there someone in your circle whose trot has turned into a trudge? Maybe your voice is the very one they need to hear cheering them on.

Epilogue

Several months ago, it became apparent that my dad’s earthly life was drawing to a close. I assured him he was almost Home and that Mom would be there to greet him. As we waited for the undertaker to arrive in the wee hours of July 12th, Dad’s hospice nurse asked, “Did he tell you he’s been seeing your mom?”

“No, but I’m not surprised. I told Dad she’d be waiting for him.”

Jen replied, “When I was with him the other day, he asked me if I saw Thelma. I said, ‘No, John, it’s just us,’ but he assured me she was there.”

I’m equally confident that Mom, Dad, Ray, and a bevy of other relatives and friends will be waiting as I near the finish line, elated and exuberant, ready to welcome me Home. As I run into Jesus’ arms, I hope to hear, “Well done, good and faithful servant!” And, after hearing Jessie’s proud pronouncement over Mary, I can imagine Him adding, “That’s my sister!” affirming my forever place in His family.

Precious Moments

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

Teach us to number our days and recognize how few they are; help us to spend them as we should.
Psalm 90:12 TLB

I was ambushed in a parking lot recently. Don’t worry, it wasn’t a carjacking! My granddaughters and I had almost reached our destination, the dance studio where they take classes each week. As I rounded the last corner, I saw three men gathered around an eye-popping teal-blue Maserati. I had no chance of fending off the tear-producing reaction that overtook me. I recognized a scene Dad had experienced countless times as admiring people approached him requesting an up-close look at his GT-R. The connection wasn’t the problem. The fact I couldn’t tell him about it was.

One of my friends has described me as a grief veteran. Having been widowed since age 38, I know you never stop missing departed loved ones. I also know it’s the little things that can sneak up on you. Birthdays, anniversaries, and the like – you know they’re coming and can prepare for the attendant feelings. My husband Ray managed the indoor gardening department at a local Home Depot. There are still times, over 26 years since his passing, that a wave of emotions will sweep over me when I’m strolling the aisles and see all the associates in their orange aprons.

Having grown accustomed to such occurrences,  I acknowledged in Mom’s eulogy two years ago that my unique connections with her would most likely get to me. Haircut days are the hardest. I always scheduled our appointments back-to-back, and then we’d go to Starbucks to chat while we enjoyed our favorite beverages. Now, when I drive to the salon, the empty passenger seat mocks me. I went to Starbucks after my first appointment without Mom, but I haven’t since – no need to have another vacant seat glaring at me.

I knew it would be the same when Dad passed. We always talked about sports, mostly golf and college football, with a bit of baseball thrown in. Sunday afternoons would find me pulling up the leaderboard for the week’s golf tournament and, during the season, the latest football rankings. I still check the rankings, but oh, how I miss having Dad to mull them over with.

And then there are the stealth attacks, like seeing the guys talking to the owner of the Maserati. I’ll be going along fine when Bam! The enormity of the loss hits all over again, fueled by the knowledge that I can no longer share the experience with Dad. A similar situation arose last week when I finished reading a novel by John Grisham, one of Dad’s favorite authors. I’d barely closed the book when tears started to flow. I’ll admit the satisfying ending would have provoked tears in all-occasion crier me, but others streamed down my cheeks because I wanted to discuss the details with Dad, confident he would have remembered the storyline even though he read the book several years ago.

But there would be no such discussion.

I suppose we could look at these emotional ambushes in a negative light, but I’ve come to appreciate them as enduring ties to my loved ones, each a distinct link in a tender fetter that binds us together. Sure, our lives occasionally contain highly anticipated events, dream vacations, and the like, but the little moments, woven together over time, make up the essence of our lives. Remembering that encourages and comforts me since simple moments are more attainable than expensive events, at least for most of us.

The moments – and memories – become priceless when we share them with those we love.

One recent afternoon, grandson Joshua and I worked together to divide and repot some of Mom’s aloe vera plants. Seeing we had two dozen baby plants, I commented, “If these little guys make it, we’ll have plenty to share!”

Joshua added, “We can give them to people who loved Mama and love succulents.” Then, after the briefest of pauses, he exclaimed, “Wait! Everyone loved Mama, so we’ll just figure out who loves succulents.”

His statement began a pleasant reminiscence between us as we talked about Mom’s beautiful spirit and her kindness and love toward everyone she knew. What a blessing that Joshua got to experience her love. Our conversation reminded me of my tender feelings toward my dear PaPa, my maternal grandfather, whose love I still feel even though he’s been gone nearly 60 years. [1]

I pray I’m forging similar links with my grandchildren – playing in the dirt (i.e., gardening), drinking tea, taking leisurely strolls through their neighborhood – and making sure they know how much God and I love them!

Dear reader, I don’t know who you may be missing today, but I pray you’ll find comfort in remembering sweet connections that bind you and your loved ones together while we await a joyful reunion when Jesus calls us Home (1 Thessalonians 4:13-18).

In closing, I offer one of my favorite Dietrich Bonhoeffer quotes concerning grief:

There is nothing that can replace the absence of someone dear to us, and one should not even attempt to do so. One must simply hold out and endure it. At first that sounds very hard, but at the same time it is also a great comfort. For to the extent the emptiness truly remains unfilled one remains connected to the other person through it. It is wrong to say that God fills the emptiness. God in no way fills it but much more leaves it precisely unfilled and thus helps us preserve—even in pain—the authentic relationship. Furthermore, the more beautiful and full the remembrances, the more difficult the separation. But gratitude transforms the torment of memory into silent joy. One bears what was lovely in the past not as a thorn but as a precious gift deep within, a hidden treasure of which one can always be certain. (Emphasis added.)[2]

[1] You may enjoy reading about PaPa in “Eating Apples – encore,” Archives, July 2022.

[2] Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works, vol. 8, Letters and Papers from Prison (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2009), letter no. 89, page 238.

Orphaned Widow

/ Patsy Kuipers / 12 Comments

Father of the fatherless and protector of widows is God in his holy habitation.
Psalm 68:5

A New Reality

They’re gone.

Sometimes it’s my first waking thought. The reality settles over my sorrowing soul like a heavy mantle. I’m an orphan now. Though some might reserve that designation for minor children, and I left my childhood years behind many decades ago, in the strictest sense of the word, I assumed that title when Dad joined Mom in the presence of Jesus in the wee hours of July 12th.

I’m finding it difficult to grasp my new status or describe what it feels like to realize the two people who knew me from the first day of my life and through all the ups and downs that followed are no longer within reach of a phone call or hug.

Admittedly, our roles began to shift three years ago when Mom’s health declined significantly. There were times when I would accompany her to a doctor’s appointment, and she’d say, “Patsy’s the mother now. I don’t know what I’d do without her.” Then, six months after Mom died, Dad had a stroke. Fortunately, the incident didn’t leave him with any physical weakness, but it took a toll on his brilliant mind. Details confounded him, and he couldn’t keep track of time. Thus, I took over his finances and oversaw his care at the assisted living facility we picked out together, his home for the last eighteen months of his life.

Cheerleader and Protector

Everyone needs someone in their corner, and Mom was in mine from my earliest days. She was my lifelong cheerleader, always encouraging and believing in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself. Though my relationship with Dad was more turbulent, I never doubted he would protect and provide for me and that I could turn to him for wise counsel.

Despite the role reversal that accompanied her final months, as long as Mom was alive, I knew I had someone who would cheer me on and believe in me unreservedly. Likewise, the sense that Dad had my back remained even though, more and more, it was me who had his.

When I became a widow at age 38, Mom and Dad graciously moved to Georgia to help me raise Mary and Jessie, who were only 10 and 7 years old when their dad died. No special-occasion-only visits for us. Nope, Mom and Dad completed our nuclear family. Mom usually picked Mary and Jessie up from school, and we ate dinner with them most nights.

The fact that Mom and Dad played such a prominent role not only in my life but also in my girls’ magnifies the loss. They were tightly woven into the fabric of our lives, and their passing produced holes in our family tapestry.

Widowed First

As I’ve been contemplating my parentless state, verses that declare God to be a Father to the fatherless have come to mind. Have you ever noticed how those passages usually include His concern for widows too? I became a widow 26 years before becoming an orphan, and across those years, I’ve become well acquainted with God’s steadfast love and faithfulness. He has been my Defender, and I know I can count on Him to be my Father.

Wisdom tops the list of all the things I’ve prayed for since my husband died. I’ve routinely sought the Lord’s guidance, and He has repeatedly shown me the way. Now is no different as I seek God’s will to navigate this season of life as the eldest generation, responsible for managing the legacy Mom and Dad left to us – how best to glorify God and honor their memory in the process.

I’ve been journaling more than usual the past few weeks, trying to work through the emotions accompanying my parents’ loss and the feelings of “what now.” One day, I listed four specific areas where I needed wisdom and asked God to show me how to proceed. When I revisited the list a couple of days ago, I realized God had already given me clear direction on three of the four decisions. The fourth matter is ongoing, and I trust God will provide insight when I need it (James 1:5-6).

Motherly Love, Fatherly Protection

In addition to prayer, I’ve sought solace in familiar Bible verses. As is often the case, I’ve seen a new angle as the Spirit has applied the living, active word to my present situation (Hebrews 4:12). Take a look at these two passages:

The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing (Zephaniah 3:17).

Behold, the Lord God comes with might, and his arm rules for him; behold, his reward is with him, and his recompense before him. He will tend his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms; he will carry them in his bosom, and gently lead those that are with young (Isaiah 40:10-11).

In the past, I’ve focused on the tenderness in these passages, the motherly qualities, if you will, but this week, God’s mighty power stood out to me. The love of my heavenly Father, who’ll never leave me, encompasses the aspects I miss most in my dear parents – Mom’s enduring encouragement and Dad’s persistent protection. What a blessing!

Sojourners

Remember the passages I referred to earlier that mention orphans and widows? God included a third category among the groups His people were supposed to care for in their midst: aliens and sojourners. Regardless of our marital or parental status, all of us are sojourners in this world. As God’s children, we are on our way to a better country, our true Home (Hebrews 11:16).

Mom and Dad knew and loved me from my first day in this world, but God chose me before the foundation of the world to be His (Ephesians 1:4-5). He knit me together in Mom’s womb, predestined me to be conformed to the image of His Son, determined when and where I would live, and wrote my days in His book before even one came to be. His love for me will never end.

One day, I’ll join Mom and Dad in the presence of Jesus, where there will be no more orphans, widows, or sojourners because we’ll all be safely Home.

Dear Lord, thank You that Mom and Dad were in my life for over six decades and for the blessing they were to me, my daughters, and my grandchildren. Even so, I know their love for us pales in comparison to Your perfect, infinite love. I rest and rejoice in the assurance that You will guide and protect us until we arrive Home to spend eternity in Your glorious presence.

Faith Connections

/ Patsy Kuipers / 4 Comments

I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth.
3 John 1:4

Ending and Beginning

My 30-year career at a large corporation came to an abrupt end 12 years ago in a windowless conference room where my manager stated, “I know you’re expecting your annual review, but you won’t be having it because your job has been eliminated.”

Given all that had happened in the months leading up to her pronouncement, the news didn’t come as a surprise. I knew it was an answer to prayer for direction and a clear indication from the Lord that my time there was over.[1]

Some might say a chapter of my life ended that day, but the years encompassing my work history would fill a volume. I was thankful for the many opportunities and relationships I’d had over those three decades and for the salary and benefits the work provided, especially after I was widowed at age 38 and was left to raise two young daughters on my own.

I knew the Lord had something else for me to do, but I never could have imagined the story He planned to write in Volume 2. Three months after the fateful afternoon, I returned to school to study horticulture. Three months after that, I became Grammie to my first grandchild, a beautiful baby boy.

Grandboy Blessings

When I worked, my cubicle overlooked an attractively landscaped courtyard. Many days, I’d gaze out the window and wish I could be outside enjoying the fresh air and sunshine. I recalled those longings when I pushed Joshua through the neighborhood in his stroller, grateful that the Lord had not only fulfilled them but had also given me someone to share my love of the outdoors with. Joshua was my study buddy from his earliest days. While we strolled, I practiced my plant ID, pointing things out to him and repeating their names.

As Joshua grew, it became evident that he had an extraordinary ability to learn and retain information. Words like predator, prehensile, and paleontologist were part of his pre-school vocabulary. One day when I asked him which animal we might find in a box of animal crackers, he sincerely answered, “Ringtail lemur.” (If you surmised we watched countless episodes of Wild Kratts, you’d be correct!) I made a deal with Joshua, “You teach me about animals, and I’ll teach you about plants.”

Our deal has worked well over the years, even though I’ll never catch up to Joshua’s knowledge about animals, and he can hold his own in our plant discussions. He’s a great field trip buddy too. I wasn’t sure how he’d feel about The Pocket, my favorite place to relish spring wildflowers, since it’s a small, remote area some 70 miles away. His enthusiastic, “Can we come again next year, Grammie?” when we’d barely left the parking lot after our first visit, dispelled my doubts.

Spiritual Links

As much as I delight in telling Joshua about plants, I cherish telling him about the One who created everything even more. In fact, many of our plant and animal conversations will lead us to a Scriptural connection:

  • We marvel that God created so many different varieties of plants and animals.
  • We look forward to the day when the ground will no longer be cursed with thistles and thorns, and the animals will no longer attack each other (Revelation 22:1-3; Isaiah 11:6-9).  
  • We ponder things like, “Why did God create roaches?” (Ick!!)
  • When the good guy wins and the bad guys get their comeuppance in a Wild Kratts episode, we assure each other that Jesus, the ultimate Hero, will subdue His enemies and make all things right (Revelation 11:15).  

I often remind Joshua and his sisters that God displays His character throughout creation. It’s up to us to pay attention, see the spiritual tie-ins, and give thanks for God’s good gifts.

Parable of the Bulbs

Given our nature-related Bible lessons, you can imagine how pleased I was by the exchange Joshua and I had one recent afternoon. He’d been helping me clean out my garage when he came across some bulbs I’d dug up and tossed into some empty pots intending to offer them to fellow gardeners. Alas, they’d been sitting in those pots for over a year. After such a long time out of the ground, I doubted they’d be viable, but I told Joshua he could sort through them and see if there were any signs of life.

He set about his task and found a few bulbs with tiny green sprouts emerging from their tips. I explained he could gently squeeze the other bulbs to judge their status. They might be worth planting if they weren’t mushy or completely dried out.

 A few more minutes passed, and Joshua announced, “Grammie! I removed the dried-out layers from the outside of the bulbs, and some of them show signs of life. That made me think of a parable!”

“Really? Tell me your parable!”

He did.

“That’s great, Joshua! I might have to include it in a blog post.”

Thus, here, with some minor edits, is Joshua’s “Parable of the Bulbs”:

Mankind is like a pile of bulbs sitting in a pot. They look dead until you strip away the outer layers. On some you’ll see some new foliage, yellowed from lack of sun, but the bulb is still alive. On others the core of the bulb is dead. The ones that are dead can’t be planted. Their core is rotten and they must be thrown on the debris pile. The others, however, can be placed in a pot of soil and can be grown again.

This parable is applicable to our life in Christ because we’re like the bulbs. We’re all dead until Jesus comes and strips the outer layers away and gives us new life in Him. When we’re alive, we can be planted in the pot of heaven. Those who lack new life in Christ are thrown into the debris pile, where they’ll rot forever.

The fact that Joshua could see a spiritual connection while sorting through the pile of bulbs made my heart happy. It also fuels my desire to continue to help Joshua and his sisters make those connections – evidence of God’s goodness is all around us. What a privilege to tell the youngest generation about His steadfast love!

[1] If you’d like to read more about those circumstances, please see “Working All Things Together for Good,” Archives, July 2014.

Legacy and Longing

/ Patsy Kuipers / 2 Comments

Dear readers, the events of the past few years as I walked with Mom and Dad on their Homeward journeys have filled my mind and heart with myriad images and emotions, plenty to ponder, process, and write about in the coming weeks. But today, the brain fog of grief is still with me, and those images and emotions are jumbled together, so I’m rerunning one of my favorite posts with a brief intro.

Last Wednesday, we laid Dad to rest in the little country cemetery where Mom, my husband Ray, and many other cherished relatives are already interred. Until Mom’s funeral two years ago, the peaceful place was an abstract idea for my grandchildren, “where Grandpa Kuipers is buried.” But now they’ve sat in the same wooden pews where several generations of Phillips relatives sat and have seen the Sunday school classroom where I heard Bible stories before joining adults for worship when I visited as a child. They’ve seen the grave markers and felt the tranquility that permeates the very breeze that gently ruffles the leaves of decades-old trees that tower above them.

They’ve also walked the aisles of the general store just down the street from the little church, the same aisles I trod with my beloved grandfather six decades ago. I wrote “Eating Apples” in loving memory of him. I’m not sure if he was the first believer in his family or if our Christian legacy began even further back. Regardless, his faith and faithfulness formed a significant link in my heritage, one that is now shaping a fourth generation.

With the passing of each loved one, the hope of heaven becomes increasingly precious. Just as there is a spot between Mom and Ray waiting to receive my earthly remains, I know Jesus is preparing a place where I will dwell with Him forever. Until then, I pray He will help me to be faithful in sharing His goodness and grace with those He places in my path.

And now, let me introduce you to PaPa, my beloved grandfather.

Eating Apples – encore

So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.
1 Corinthians 13:13

Cherished Memories

I don’t have many distinct memories of my grandfather since I was in first grade when he passed away. However, I cherish the recollections I do have. Details provided by my mom as she spoke lovingly of her father over the years complete my mental portrait of this kind and gentle man. 

Born July 31, 1890, James Alton Phillips was a short fellow, about 5’ 3”, who weighed 125 pounds, give or take a few. Genetics undoubtedly played a part in his slight build, but a lifetime of hard work farming his land also contributed to his compact physique. My mom was the baby of her family, the youngest of eight siblings, and her father’s darling. He called her “Babe” and warmed her clothes by the fire before she went to school on cold mornings.

Occasionally my grandmother, sterner in her demeanor, would delegate the task of disciplining a wayward child to my grandfather. He would take the offending party outside beyond her view and tell the child to cry out while he used the switch on some inanimate object instead of their legs.

As for me, I recall walking hand in hand with him to the small general store, stopping by the post office to check Box 73 for mail, and waiting for the train to come by so we could wave to the conductor and count the cars. But my favorite activity was eating apples with him. “PaPa,” as I called him, would sit me on his lap, producing an apple in one hand and a small knife in the other. He’d cut a slice for me, then a slice for himself. Back and forth the ritual would continue until we finished the tasty fruit. For as long as I can remember, I’ve eaten an apple almost every day. And when I do, I always think of my grandfather.

A Godly Man

“Mr. Jim,” as the people around town knew him, was a man of faith, a deacon in the tiny country church where he worshiped. He embodied the fruits of the Spirit – love, joy, peace, patience, goodness, kindness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22-23). When he suffered a heart attack a few months before he died, the doctor told him he had to limit his physical activities. The doctor’s order was like a death sentence for a man who loved his garden and was used to being outside. He’d sit in the kitchen of the home he shared with my grandmother, his wife of 55 years, turn his gaze toward the little church, and comment he’d rather be in the cemetery than just sitting around.

Nearly 58 years ago, on October 25, 1965, God called PaPa Home. He had gone outside to check on some work a neighbor was doing for him, work he would much rather have done himself. In a fitting end to his earthly life, he died in his garden. I can still hear my mother’s anguished cry, “No, not Daddy!,” when she received the phone call telling her of his passing.

Abiding Love

Although our relationship was brief in terms of time, and nearly six decades have passed since we last shared an apple, PaPa’s love impacts me to this day. Years after his death, the large corporation I worked for sent me to a training course, one of many I attended during my career. But that one, a self-awareness workshop, was different. A team of psychologists facilitated it, and it was intense. One of our first exercises involved closing our eyes and imagining a safe place. I immediately envisioned myself in my grandfather’s lap, sharing an apple with him. The physical nourishment we’d partaken of paled compared to the bonds of unconditional love and acceptance formed during our time together.

Today I’m privileged to be “Grammie” to three precious grandchildren. Sharing snacks, especially apples, is one of my favorite things to do with them. It connects me to them and them to my grandfather, who they’ve come to know by my loving accounts of my short yet precious time with him.

A Promised Reunion

I don’t get to visit the small graveyard where my grandparents and many other maternal relatives are laid to rest as often as I’d like. My husband Ray is buried there, too, near my sister, Mary Jeannette, who died in infancy. Last spring, Mom took her place between them, leaving a space for me.

When I worked, my job frequently took me to that area of North Carolina, and I’d visit the cemetery as often as possible. I would gaze at the tombstones, each representing someone I love and long to see again, pondering how glorious it will be when we all rise to new life, a life that will never end (1 Thessalonians 4:13-18). For the love we share now is but a shadow of the Love that awaits when the Everlasting Arms reach out to embrace us and welcome us Home (1 Corinthians 13:4-13).

Until then, I’ll remain thankful for little rituals and rock-solid faith, lovingly shared, that can reach across the decades, blessing one generation after another.

O Lord, how great are the gifts of familial love and a heritage of faith! Please help us to be resolute in telling those coming along behind us about Your great love and faithfulness so that they, too, may know the joy and peace of belonging to Your family.

I’ll Be Back!

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also (John 14:2-3).

A Difficult Decision

I wasn’t with my husband when he passed away. I was holding Mom’s hand when she took her last breath. Given Dad’s fragile health, I had mixed emotions about embarking on my long-awaited, highly-anticipated trip to South Dakota. However, after much prayer and consultation with close friends, I decided to go. I trusted the Lord knew my plans and would orchestrate the circumstances of Dad’s passing so I would be exactly where I was supposed to be if the time came. Even so, I prayed I wouldn’t be halfway across the country if the Lord called him Home.

At my request, I received daily text updates from Dad’s hospice nurses. Though the ups and downs I described in my last post, “The Rollercoaster,” continued, Dad didn’t experience any extreme lows while I was away. In fact, as I sat in the Denver airport waiting to board my flight back to Atlanta, my phone dinged, announcing the day’s report. Not only did the words contain positive news, but there was also a photo of Dad sitting up, smiling, and eating apple slices. What a wonderful sight! I texted the picture to my daughters along with the message, “Papop’s having a good day!”

Nonetheless, remembering the last time I texted them similar news only to have Dad’s condition plummet a mere 24 hours later, I prayed, “Lord, please give me the grace to deal with whatever situation I find,” as I walked the hall to Dad’s apartment Friday evening.

Joyful Reunion

Much to my delight, I found him awake and ready to eat dinner. A mixture of relief and joy colored his countenance as I approached his bed. When I put my hand in his, he squeezed it tightly and said, “Oh, Patsy! You’re finally back! I’m so happy to see you. I love you so, so much!”

I told Dad about my trip before I left and assured him I would be back in a week, but the stroke he had 20 months ago robbed him of his ability to keep track of time. I could only imagine the week felt more like a month. Maybe he’d even begun to wonder if I’d ever return.

After I helped him with his dinner, he said he needed to call Mike, a dear family friend. I wasn’t sure what he wanted to talk to Mike about in the middle of our visit, but I obliged. When Mike answered, he asked Dad how he was doing. Nothing could have prepared me for his answer.

“Heaven has poured out blessings on me!”

Mike, somewhat puzzled, replied, “Oh, really?”

“Yes, my young’un has come home!”

Suffice it to say, I don’t remember much of the rest of the conversation. Overcome by Dad’s exuberant declaration, I struggled to contain my tears.

Jesus’ Return

As I replayed the scene in my mind, I began to think about Jesus’ promise to return. It’s been a long time since He left, and sometimes we may be tempted to believe He’s forgotten about us and isn’t coming back. Scripture assures us that God is not slow in keeping His promises. Furthermore, much like Dad has trouble keeping track of the days, we don’t reckon time as God does (2 Peter 3:8-9).

Those musings, in turn, led me to recall how rarely my daughters ever cried when I left them in the church nursery or daycare or at a friend’s house with a hug, kiss, and cheerful assurance, “I’ll be back!”

I suppose they knew they could count on it because I’d never abandoned them, though I did get my signals crossed one day, thinking Mom was picking Jessie up from school, only to arrive home and find her missing at the dinner table, but that’s a story for another time!

If my daughters could depend on me, a finite being, to keep my pledge, how much more can we rely on Jesus to keep His?

God the Father vowed to send a Redeemer (Genesis 3:15), and, in the fullness of time, the Son came (John 3:16), fulfilling God’s promise and hundreds of Old Testament prophecies surrounding the Messiah’s birth, life, and death. That’s a way better track record than I have, one that guarantees the trustworthiness of the prophecies and promises yet to be accomplished.

Never Forgotten

When they were little, I doubt my daughters realized that even when we were apart, they were on my heart and in my prayers, and I looked forward to the time when we would be back together. The same is true today and extends to other beloved family members and friends; thus, Dad is never far from my mind, regardless of our physical location.

These sentiments provide an inkling of God’s intense, abiding love for us, recorded by the prophet Isaiah:

Can a woman forget her nursing child,
that she should have no compassion on the son of her womb?
Even these may forget,
 yet I will not forget you.
Behold, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands (Isaiah 49:15-16).

What a consolation! God hasn’t forgotten us, and He never will, not for a moment. Jesus is preparing a place for us. He’s promised to return and dwell with us forever. It’s a promise we can rely on and joyfully tell others about, just as Dad gladly shared the news of my return with Mike.

I’m thankful to have Dad with us for another Father’s Day. I rejoice even more in knowing we’ll have eternity together in God’s presence, reunited with the loved ones who’ve gone before us. Count on it!