Who Holds My Treasure?
Our daughter was packing to leave the country as a research scholar with Suffolk University at age twenty, first for a semester in Nepal followed by a semester in Spain. Her venture would be an independent study and she would stay with host families. Everything she took would be carried on her back and would sustain her for seven months. Now…to pack her treasures.
I was anticipating our son’s decision to apply for The Salvation Army’s Summer Service Team and would be leaving for India. He too would pack his treasures and move on.
What of my treasures? For twenty-one years I had mothered our children. Often in their infant years I wondered if they would see adulthood. At one point the doctors told us that Helen would not live longer that the age of fourteen. Every officer mother works out a schedule to balance her role as a mother, wife and minister. Still there were times when the decisions I had to make were complicated with hospitalizations, surgeries, and the constant need of attention for our children. I was always hearing the doctor’s words in the back of my mind that our children may not survive their infant years or see adulthood.
There were always well-meaning advice givers who offered solutions. “You belong at home with your children; you belong at the corps community center with your husband, you are an officer first and foremost; or you need to give these difficult times to God,” were just some of their urges. I remember hearing once at an officers’ council (which is a meeting for the clergy in The Salvation Army), “I take parenting seriously and so should you.” I seriously wondered if parenting would be a continued reality for me! Who thought of it as a game anyway? Having someone competent, care for our children and ministering at The Salvation Army helped me to cope. Was it wrong? Our children needed to be treated as normal as possible. What is normal anyway?
As the years progressed, our children became part of our ministry team. Christmas was always a family affair: on the kettles, in the nursing homes, and always Christmas Eve in a shelter or somewhere we could love those in need. Corps life, however difficult at times, was what brought us together in Christ and in service. Evangelism was our goal.
As Helen packed her treasures to take with her, I felt as if I were losing mine. How would I minister without her or how could I even focus on others wondering how she was? What if she were sick, lost or even worse; what if she needed me?
Then we sang the words of Ann Warnings’ song in Officer’s Councils 2000. I realized that God was well aware of my treasures and me. I committed my treasures, my two children, again to the living God who would hold my treasures when I could not…
“My Savior has my treasures, and He will walk with me!”
Thank you, Lord!
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Friday, April 24, 2009
I Love You, Dad
I Love You, Dad
Betzann Carroll
I took one last look at my husband’s picture as I prepared to take our daughter Helen to the doctor for her physical. She was going to be a part of The Salvation Army Camp Staff. It was actually the note beneath the picture, which caught my attention. It was a note in Helen’s handwriting. It was a note she wrote to her dad two years ago. It simply said, “I love you, Dad. You are the best dad in the world. P. S. I am trying to be good.”
She wrote the note after a very difficult summer. Now, at the age of seventeen she was about to graduate high school, fifth in her class. She had overcome so much in her seventeen years: heart defects, lung disease, dyslexia, and other obstacles. Learning sometimes took Helen longer, but when she knew it, she knew it.
And she knew her dad loved her.
My dad died when I was six years old. He loved me and I knew it. He taught me a valuable lesson. This one I tried to remember when I was dealing with my children.
Once more my dad said, “Watch me.” He took both ribbons from the waist of my dress to the front (still attached) in his hands. First, he tied a knot and then he slowly tied a bow. He explained every step and said, “When you tie your shoe you do it the very same way. Now, you try it.” For weeks I had been trying to tie my shoe. I just could not do it. I could tie a knot, but… Over and over he would show me with patience and interest. I am not sure whether I wanted to learn because I really wanted to tie my shoe, or because I wanted to make my dad proud. It was time for school and my mother rushed me out the door. All day long I would reach down for the ribbons on my dress. I would tie the knot and then try to tie the bow. I just could not do it. The bell rang and I ran out of the door with the ribbons in my hands. I slipped and fell. When I stood up I realized that both ribbons were still in my hands. However, they were no longer attached to my dress. I ripped the ribbons right off when I fell. I walked slowly, still fumbling with the ribbons. Tie a knot, and then tie the bow. Over and over I tried and then I conquered the task. I ran home to tell my dad the news.
When I reached the house my parents were sitting on the porch waiting for me. My dad was home from work for a few weeks, recovering from a heart attack. “I can do it. I can do it, Dad.
“I can tie a bow,” I yelled as I ran down the street. When I held the ribbons up in the air, it was not the bow my mother was focused on.
“You ripped your dress! Look what you have done to your new dress,” my mother scolded. “Give me those ribbons.”
What a conflict. It was true that my new dress was ruined. At least my mother thought so. I could never figure out why a dress needed ribbons in the back anyway.
It really didn’t make a difference. My accomplishment seemed unimportant now. It was also true that I fell and never meant to rip the dress. I simply wanted to make dad proud of me. I had succeeded in making my mother angry.
Then Dad reached down and untied his shoe. He said, “Show me how you did it.” I carefully tied the knot. Then nervously I began to tie the bow. And, I did it. He was proud of me. His huge hands then picked me up and held me tight. Even my mom seemed to smile. He said, “Now that you have learned to tie a bow, you will have to learn to sew and fix your dress.” We all laughed. He knew I wanted to please him, even if I did ruin my dress in the process.
Helen, your dad understood your difficulties at fifteen and he understands them at seventeen. He knows you are trying. He is thrilled with your desire to overcome and do the best you can at everything you attempt. Most of all he knows you love him and He loves you.
God knows the desires of our hearts. He knows whether we love him above all else. He understands when we attempt to please him. And he understands when every now and then we don’t always succeed at what we attempt. He knows when we have tried our best and our best was not what we had hoped for. He simply allows us to start again. He is the God of new beginnings. He knows our intentions, desires, and attitudes. He knows when we are sincere. He loves us!
Betzann Carroll
I took one last look at my husband’s picture as I prepared to take our daughter Helen to the doctor for her physical. She was going to be a part of The Salvation Army Camp Staff. It was actually the note beneath the picture, which caught my attention. It was a note in Helen’s handwriting. It was a note she wrote to her dad two years ago. It simply said, “I love you, Dad. You are the best dad in the world. P. S. I am trying to be good.”
She wrote the note after a very difficult summer. Now, at the age of seventeen she was about to graduate high school, fifth in her class. She had overcome so much in her seventeen years: heart defects, lung disease, dyslexia, and other obstacles. Learning sometimes took Helen longer, but when she knew it, she knew it.
And she knew her dad loved her.
My dad died when I was six years old. He loved me and I knew it. He taught me a valuable lesson. This one I tried to remember when I was dealing with my children.
Once more my dad said, “Watch me.” He took both ribbons from the waist of my dress to the front (still attached) in his hands. First, he tied a knot and then he slowly tied a bow. He explained every step and said, “When you tie your shoe you do it the very same way. Now, you try it.” For weeks I had been trying to tie my shoe. I just could not do it. I could tie a knot, but… Over and over he would show me with patience and interest. I am not sure whether I wanted to learn because I really wanted to tie my shoe, or because I wanted to make my dad proud. It was time for school and my mother rushed me out the door. All day long I would reach down for the ribbons on my dress. I would tie the knot and then try to tie the bow. I just could not do it. The bell rang and I ran out of the door with the ribbons in my hands. I slipped and fell. When I stood up I realized that both ribbons were still in my hands. However, they were no longer attached to my dress. I ripped the ribbons right off when I fell. I walked slowly, still fumbling with the ribbons. Tie a knot, and then tie the bow. Over and over I tried and then I conquered the task. I ran home to tell my dad the news.
When I reached the house my parents were sitting on the porch waiting for me. My dad was home from work for a few weeks, recovering from a heart attack. “I can do it. I can do it, Dad.
“I can tie a bow,” I yelled as I ran down the street. When I held the ribbons up in the air, it was not the bow my mother was focused on.
“You ripped your dress! Look what you have done to your new dress,” my mother scolded. “Give me those ribbons.”
What a conflict. It was true that my new dress was ruined. At least my mother thought so. I could never figure out why a dress needed ribbons in the back anyway.
It really didn’t make a difference. My accomplishment seemed unimportant now. It was also true that I fell and never meant to rip the dress. I simply wanted to make dad proud of me. I had succeeded in making my mother angry.
Then Dad reached down and untied his shoe. He said, “Show me how you did it.” I carefully tied the knot. Then nervously I began to tie the bow. And, I did it. He was proud of me. His huge hands then picked me up and held me tight. Even my mom seemed to smile. He said, “Now that you have learned to tie a bow, you will have to learn to sew and fix your dress.” We all laughed. He knew I wanted to please him, even if I did ruin my dress in the process.
Helen, your dad understood your difficulties at fifteen and he understands them at seventeen. He knows you are trying. He is thrilled with your desire to overcome and do the best you can at everything you attempt. Most of all he knows you love him and He loves you.
God knows the desires of our hearts. He knows whether we love him above all else. He understands when we attempt to please him. And he understands when every now and then we don’t always succeed at what we attempt. He knows when we have tried our best and our best was not what we had hoped for. He simply allows us to start again. He is the God of new beginnings. He knows our intentions, desires, and attitudes. He knows when we are sincere. He loves us!
Do it Again, Daddy!
I was hanging on to this one trying to decide if it would be my Mother's Day post. But, I have another.
Do it Again, Daddy!
January 21, 2004
Dedicated to Stephen M. Carroll Jr. – January 21, 2004
“Do it again, daddy!” was a phrase, which first came alive for me during a commercial of a father and a son. Both were overlooking the ocean as the sun was going down. The raging ball of fiery orange, red and gold blazed the sky, sending dancing flames across the waters. Then slowly dropping lower and lower, and lower, it was nearly gone. Just as the last flicker of light seemed to disappear below the horizon, the complete silence is broken by the whisper of the child to his father, “Do it again daddy!”
Now the phrase consumed my mind and heart. It was not a familiar portion of scripture, or a quote from some great author, or even a friend’s voice of reassurance that gave me strength. It was this simple phrase. “Do it again, daddy?”
Throughout the Christmas season with its grueling schedule, stresses, and joys, I knew that soon our son and his wife “great with child” would arrive. They were not coming to celebrate the holidays with us. They were coming from The Salvation Army Seminary, so he could have immediate surgery. Now sitting in the hospital family room provided for those waiting for surgical results, the future became present. We had been here before. Both of our children called “Boston Children’s’ Hospital” home. We had walked these halls, frequented the coffee shop and occupied this waiting room. It was different, yet it was the same. This time we sat with his wife, his grown sister and his mother-in-law. Yet, as I looked at him in ICU, for a few moments that twenty-five year old body seemed to be the two-year-old baby, twenty-three years prior. I could remember our only son struggling for his life, buried in tubes, and surrounded by nurses and doctors.
God was so faithful then.
All I could pray, all I could even think was, “Do It Again, Daddy!” You can do it! You did it before! The God of the universe could hang the world in space and paint glorious sunsets. The God who created the world and gave His very own Son to save it. The God who was intimately involved with our son, and had saved him before, He could do it again.
I also realized that He would do what He willed; He was God. His will was ultimately best. I knew what my will was. I knew the will of an anxious, loving wife. All I could think, feel or pray was, “Do It Again Daddy!” as I seemingly drew close to Him. Just as the son in the commercial believed his father could do anything, I knew it to be true.
“Do It Again, Daddy!”… And He did.
Thank You!
Do it Again, Daddy!
January 21, 2004
Dedicated to Stephen M. Carroll Jr. – January 21, 2004
“Do it again, daddy!” was a phrase, which first came alive for me during a commercial of a father and a son. Both were overlooking the ocean as the sun was going down. The raging ball of fiery orange, red and gold blazed the sky, sending dancing flames across the waters. Then slowly dropping lower and lower, and lower, it was nearly gone. Just as the last flicker of light seemed to disappear below the horizon, the complete silence is broken by the whisper of the child to his father, “Do it again daddy!”
Now the phrase consumed my mind and heart. It was not a familiar portion of scripture, or a quote from some great author, or even a friend’s voice of reassurance that gave me strength. It was this simple phrase. “Do it again, daddy?”
Throughout the Christmas season with its grueling schedule, stresses, and joys, I knew that soon our son and his wife “great with child” would arrive. They were not coming to celebrate the holidays with us. They were coming from The Salvation Army Seminary, so he could have immediate surgery. Now sitting in the hospital family room provided for those waiting for surgical results, the future became present. We had been here before. Both of our children called “Boston Children’s’ Hospital” home. We had walked these halls, frequented the coffee shop and occupied this waiting room. It was different, yet it was the same. This time we sat with his wife, his grown sister and his mother-in-law. Yet, as I looked at him in ICU, for a few moments that twenty-five year old body seemed to be the two-year-old baby, twenty-three years prior. I could remember our only son struggling for his life, buried in tubes, and surrounded by nurses and doctors.
God was so faithful then.
All I could pray, all I could even think was, “Do It Again, Daddy!” You can do it! You did it before! The God of the universe could hang the world in space and paint glorious sunsets. The God who created the world and gave His very own Son to save it. The God who was intimately involved with our son, and had saved him before, He could do it again.
I also realized that He would do what He willed; He was God. His will was ultimately best. I knew what my will was. I knew the will of an anxious, loving wife. All I could think, feel or pray was, “Do It Again Daddy!” as I seemingly drew close to Him. Just as the son in the commercial believed his father could do anything, I knew it to be true.
“Do It Again, Daddy!”… And He did.
Thank You!
Thursday, April 23, 2009
The Button
The Button
I am intrigued by words. We can strip them down to their roots or expand them on each end. We can dress them in exciting, enchanting adjectives or energize them with fast moving adverbs. We can customize them to fit our own needs or create brand new words, being careful, of course, that no one else has put a different meaning to the word. You can give them rhythm and rhyme and even make them dance to music. They can be compound, complex, or as simple as one word standing alone. Sometimes the speaker uses a sentence with a clear meaning: however, the listener hears a totally different message. Sometimes a sentence that is used to give a particular direction can actually be used to direct so much more. Could God take a simple direction from the lips and voice of an unknowing person and reach the listener (me) with a far more transforming message? Yes! The button…just push the button!
I was lying on my side on a cot wired for everything but sound. Wires, pads, machinery and other instruments all in place and it was time to flip the switch, push the button. “We are ready for the E-Stem treatment now, she said. A young therapist was beginning a procedure on me to relieve the pain I was experiencing, and I, the patient, patiently waiting. So the we – was really I! Just before the therapist started the procedure, she had one more message for me, one more direction, and a direction with two meanings. “Wait just one minute!”
“I forgot!” she said. “You need the Stop Button. I never want to leave you feeling trapped and unable to get freedom from the procedure if it becomes more than you can bear. If the treatment is painful or uncomfortable and you need help, just push the Stop Button.” Then she flipped the switch and walked out of the room. My leg danced uncontrollably. It resembled some sort of 50’s movement. Then came the pulsating pushes and pinches, which were uncomfortable. The treatment paused for a few moments and started again. Although it was uncomfortable, it was not unbearable. When the treatment was finished, my leg was still even though it felt like it was still moving. The therapist entered the room shortly after everything was still. There was no need for a button, a bell, or an alarm. I was fine. Mission accomplished! However, if there had been a reason to feel trapped or pain or danger, I had the button. At any time in the procedure I could have pushed the button, the emergency button. I was not alone.
I Corinthian 10:13 NIV “No temptation has seized what is common to man. And God is faithful. He will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted (trapped), He will also provide a way out, so that you can stand up under it.”
The E-stem treatment was quite helpful. But, if I felt threatened, I had the button. Yes, the button would stop the procedure. However, life gets threatening and we sometimes feel trapped. There are times when we feel overwhelmed with problems, decisions, and on and on. What happens then? How do we get through the procedure called life and how do we escape when we feel we are trapped, unable to cope. The button, push the button. We have faith in Christ.
Yet, there are situations, which call for allowing Him to stop everything and reassure us of His presences. The Christian life calls for living and walking in places that are frightening and sometimes down right uncomfortable, and even painful. In every situation we have a power button, an escape. Paul reminds us that if we stand up in the face of trouble and perplexity, we do not stand alone. Face the challenge, stand in his strength, and if you get too frightened push the power button. Find the escape in Him. When we get to the point that we feel shaky, trapped, or pushed to the limit beyond what we can bear, He will make a way of escape.
The button…push the button! What God said to me came from the heart of God and was spoken by the therapist. .
During an E-Stem procedure came an eternal lesson.
I am intrigued by words. We can strip them down to their roots or expand them on each end. We can dress them in exciting, enchanting adjectives or energize them with fast moving adverbs. We can customize them to fit our own needs or create brand new words, being careful, of course, that no one else has put a different meaning to the word. You can give them rhythm and rhyme and even make them dance to music. They can be compound, complex, or as simple as one word standing alone. Sometimes the speaker uses a sentence with a clear meaning: however, the listener hears a totally different message. Sometimes a sentence that is used to give a particular direction can actually be used to direct so much more. Could God take a simple direction from the lips and voice of an unknowing person and reach the listener (me) with a far more transforming message? Yes! The button…just push the button!
I was lying on my side on a cot wired for everything but sound. Wires, pads, machinery and other instruments all in place and it was time to flip the switch, push the button. “We are ready for the E-Stem treatment now, she said. A young therapist was beginning a procedure on me to relieve the pain I was experiencing, and I, the patient, patiently waiting. So the we – was really I! Just before the therapist started the procedure, she had one more message for me, one more direction, and a direction with two meanings. “Wait just one minute!”
“I forgot!” she said. “You need the Stop Button. I never want to leave you feeling trapped and unable to get freedom from the procedure if it becomes more than you can bear. If the treatment is painful or uncomfortable and you need help, just push the Stop Button.” Then she flipped the switch and walked out of the room. My leg danced uncontrollably. It resembled some sort of 50’s movement. Then came the pulsating pushes and pinches, which were uncomfortable. The treatment paused for a few moments and started again. Although it was uncomfortable, it was not unbearable. When the treatment was finished, my leg was still even though it felt like it was still moving. The therapist entered the room shortly after everything was still. There was no need for a button, a bell, or an alarm. I was fine. Mission accomplished! However, if there had been a reason to feel trapped or pain or danger, I had the button. At any time in the procedure I could have pushed the button, the emergency button. I was not alone.
I Corinthian 10:13 NIV “No temptation has seized what is common to man. And God is faithful. He will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted (trapped), He will also provide a way out, so that you can stand up under it.”
The E-stem treatment was quite helpful. But, if I felt threatened, I had the button. Yes, the button would stop the procedure. However, life gets threatening and we sometimes feel trapped. There are times when we feel overwhelmed with problems, decisions, and on and on. What happens then? How do we get through the procedure called life and how do we escape when we feel we are trapped, unable to cope. The button, push the button. We have faith in Christ.
Yet, there are situations, which call for allowing Him to stop everything and reassure us of His presences. The Christian life calls for living and walking in places that are frightening and sometimes down right uncomfortable, and even painful. In every situation we have a power button, an escape. Paul reminds us that if we stand up in the face of trouble and perplexity, we do not stand alone. Face the challenge, stand in his strength, and if you get too frightened push the power button. Find the escape in Him. When we get to the point that we feel shaky, trapped, or pushed to the limit beyond what we can bear, He will make a way of escape.
The button…push the button! What God said to me came from the heart of God and was spoken by the therapist. .
During an E-Stem procedure came an eternal lesson.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Where Do Feelings Come From Anyway?
“Feelings, Nothing More Than feelings!” was a popular song in the seventies, which seemed to reduce love to mere feeling. “Nothing more!”
We arrived Easter Sunday morning ready to celebrate, encourage, and up-lift the congregation. Prior to the service a car drove into the parking lot. A mother got out, obviously in torment and pain as she made her plea. In the car was her twenty-six year old son sprawled out on the seat and having difficulty even speaking. “Please help me with my son? He’s been here in the recovery program before. I don’t know what to do. I am his mother and I love him. I have done everything I know, I am at a loss.” She had been picking up the pieces for him time after time, taking on his responsibilities and caring for her son. We told her to leave her son here. We would try to find him a detox. We told her to get in her car and go home to her eight year old grandson.. This love took a lot more than feelings…could she do it?
An email arrived from a woman whose feelings were raging on Easter afternoon. “I am not sure I can go on. I get so anxious and I am afraid I am going to explode. How can I even give value to my feelings? It is my husband who is dying. I love him. What can I do?” They had raised their children together, paid their bills together, and spent every night together. Feelings, there were many. Good marriages take more than feelings, much more. Now she found herself facing the impending grief and loss of the one she loved and feelings would not change that. She had shared feelings, laughter, but now felt she must go through this experience assisting her husband. Love took more than feelings…could she do it?
Another conversation with a young woman took place. She had two little babies and her husband was in trouble again. Again! How many times was this, she wasn’t counting. She only knew that again she would struggle while he practiced his favorite habit. “I love my husband, but as much as I feel for him, I need help. How can I care for these babies and deal with him. This seemed to be an impossible situation. Love takes more than feelings…could she do it?
Over and over hearts are broken, lives are shattered and hopelessly men, women and children go on wishing for more. “All You Need Is Love” is another song title. We are misled by the notion that the warm, fuzzy feelings are love. We get frustrated when the feelings we seek are just feelings and love. Love is more!
Love is letting your son go even when your heart says no. Love is overcoming the feelings of failure, abandonment and neglect. Love is more!
Love is allowing yourself to acknowledge your feelings, while dealing with your dying loved one. Love is dealing with everyday life and making decisions and plans, when you feel as if your world is falling apart. Love is more.
Love is not allowing your husband to abuse you. Love is caring for your family.
It is saying I cannot allow you to be a husband or a father to our children until you are not just sorry, but sorry enough to STOP. It is because I love you that I will not allow you to destroy yourself and your family in the process. Love is more.
“Love protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres. Love never fails.”
Over and over, hearts are broken and lives are shattered. They go on hopelessly captured by their feelings. Love is more than feelings. Love is hard work. It is perseverance. It is tough. Love is doing what has to be done regardless of how it makes you feel.
Love is much more than feelings.
We arrived Easter Sunday morning ready to celebrate, encourage, and up-lift the congregation. Prior to the service a car drove into the parking lot. A mother got out, obviously in torment and pain as she made her plea. In the car was her twenty-six year old son sprawled out on the seat and having difficulty even speaking. “Please help me with my son? He’s been here in the recovery program before. I don’t know what to do. I am his mother and I love him. I have done everything I know, I am at a loss.” She had been picking up the pieces for him time after time, taking on his responsibilities and caring for her son. We told her to leave her son here. We would try to find him a detox. We told her to get in her car and go home to her eight year old grandson.. This love took a lot more than feelings…could she do it?
An email arrived from a woman whose feelings were raging on Easter afternoon. “I am not sure I can go on. I get so anxious and I am afraid I am going to explode. How can I even give value to my feelings? It is my husband who is dying. I love him. What can I do?” They had raised their children together, paid their bills together, and spent every night together. Feelings, there were many. Good marriages take more than feelings, much more. Now she found herself facing the impending grief and loss of the one she loved and feelings would not change that. She had shared feelings, laughter, but now felt she must go through this experience assisting her husband. Love took more than feelings…could she do it?
Another conversation with a young woman took place. She had two little babies and her husband was in trouble again. Again! How many times was this, she wasn’t counting. She only knew that again she would struggle while he practiced his favorite habit. “I love my husband, but as much as I feel for him, I need help. How can I care for these babies and deal with him. This seemed to be an impossible situation. Love takes more than feelings…could she do it?
Over and over hearts are broken, lives are shattered and hopelessly men, women and children go on wishing for more. “All You Need Is Love” is another song title. We are misled by the notion that the warm, fuzzy feelings are love. We get frustrated when the feelings we seek are just feelings and love. Love is more!
Love is letting your son go even when your heart says no. Love is overcoming the feelings of failure, abandonment and neglect. Love is more!
Love is allowing yourself to acknowledge your feelings, while dealing with your dying loved one. Love is dealing with everyday life and making decisions and plans, when you feel as if your world is falling apart. Love is more.
Love is not allowing your husband to abuse you. Love is caring for your family.
It is saying I cannot allow you to be a husband or a father to our children until you are not just sorry, but sorry enough to STOP. It is because I love you that I will not allow you to destroy yourself and your family in the process. Love is more.
“Love protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres. Love never fails.”
Over and over, hearts are broken and lives are shattered. They go on hopelessly captured by their feelings. Love is more than feelings. Love is hard work. It is perseverance. It is tough. Love is doing what has to be done regardless of how it makes you feel.
Love is much more than feelings.
"Locked Out"
Mom doesn't say a lot about her childhood. When i ask she tells me. But, when she offers her child experiences without being asked it is always meaningful and usually powerful this is one of those cases
It is a terrible thing to be “locked out.” How many times we have misplaced our keys and find ourselves “locked out.” There are doors that do not lock with keys.
“You are too young for a key. I don’t want you inside alone. You stay outside and wait for me,” was my mother’s rule. I wanted a key. I could never understand why it was all right to be outside alone, but not to be inside. So…out of necessity I found a way to get in without a key.
I never said it was easy. Our house was heated by coal in the winter. The large wooden box attached to the back of the house held a ton of coal. We never had a ton of coal, at least not all at one time. We would order a ½ ton of coal in the winter but only when we could not get a ½ cord of wood. The box was called the “coal bin”. The wooden box had a large opening outside, so it could be filled easily by the truckload. Inside, however, the door was much smaller. It was designed this way, so you could open the smaller door and shovel the coal into the furnace without having the whole ton empty into the furnace room. Our coal bin was never full. And…now you know my secret!
When I came home from school I would open the coal bin door from the outside. I would jump in and push the wood aside. Then holding the smaller door open, I would crawl through to the other side. It took real talent not to get covered with dirt and coal dust. I would shut the door behind me and I was home free.
Inside I would head for the refrigerator and all the delicacies it held (which sometimes was not much). If I watched out the front window I could see my mother’s bus pull up. When I saw her step off the bus I had just enough time to run out the back door, pulling the door closed behind me. I was nervous at first, but I became very good at what I did. .
Then one day I just did not fit. The small door was the same size, but I was not. I could not go forwards or backwards. I was not in or out. I was stuck. I promised myself if I ever got out I would confess. I was as stuck as could be. I heard the bus. It was all over. I knew my mother would be stepping off the curb any minute. This was my cue to run, but I could not even move. If only she had given me a key. It was all her fault, wasn’t it? It was a terrible feeling to be locked out. However, I was neither locked out nor locked in.
Poverty, education, age, race, sex and many other labels can lock us out from where we would like to be. There are plenty of ways to refuse us entrance.
Jesus said, “I am the door, by me if any man enter in he shalt be save.”
We need not be alone, “Locked Out” inside or outside. To enter the door that really counts…we do not need a key. Nor do we need any secret entrance. Jesus is the door. The struggle is over. The door is open. Jesus has placed the welcome mat at the door of life.
I was eventually given a key. And yes, somehow with help I wiggled my way out of that small door. Since then I have lost my keys a few times and been locked out. But never will I be locked out from the door that counts.
It is a terrible thing to be “locked out.” How many times we have misplaced our keys and find ourselves “locked out.” There are doors that do not lock with keys.
“You are too young for a key. I don’t want you inside alone. You stay outside and wait for me,” was my mother’s rule. I wanted a key. I could never understand why it was all right to be outside alone, but not to be inside. So…out of necessity I found a way to get in without a key.
I never said it was easy. Our house was heated by coal in the winter. The large wooden box attached to the back of the house held a ton of coal. We never had a ton of coal, at least not all at one time. We would order a ½ ton of coal in the winter but only when we could not get a ½ cord of wood. The box was called the “coal bin”. The wooden box had a large opening outside, so it could be filled easily by the truckload. Inside, however, the door was much smaller. It was designed this way, so you could open the smaller door and shovel the coal into the furnace without having the whole ton empty into the furnace room. Our coal bin was never full. And…now you know my secret!
When I came home from school I would open the coal bin door from the outside. I would jump in and push the wood aside. Then holding the smaller door open, I would crawl through to the other side. It took real talent not to get covered with dirt and coal dust. I would shut the door behind me and I was home free.
Inside I would head for the refrigerator and all the delicacies it held (which sometimes was not much). If I watched out the front window I could see my mother’s bus pull up. When I saw her step off the bus I had just enough time to run out the back door, pulling the door closed behind me. I was nervous at first, but I became very good at what I did. .
Then one day I just did not fit. The small door was the same size, but I was not. I could not go forwards or backwards. I was not in or out. I was stuck. I promised myself if I ever got out I would confess. I was as stuck as could be. I heard the bus. It was all over. I knew my mother would be stepping off the curb any minute. This was my cue to run, but I could not even move. If only she had given me a key. It was all her fault, wasn’t it? It was a terrible feeling to be locked out. However, I was neither locked out nor locked in.
Poverty, education, age, race, sex and many other labels can lock us out from where we would like to be. There are plenty of ways to refuse us entrance.
Jesus said, “I am the door, by me if any man enter in he shalt be save.”
We need not be alone, “Locked Out” inside or outside. To enter the door that really counts…we do not need a key. Nor do we need any secret entrance. Jesus is the door. The struggle is over. The door is open. Jesus has placed the welcome mat at the door of life.
I was eventually given a key. And yes, somehow with help I wiggled my way out of that small door. Since then I have lost my keys a few times and been locked out. But never will I be locked out from the door that counts.
Monday, April 20, 2009
I’d Rather Have…
“There is a young girl coming by with her parents. She is going to attend Boston University in the fall as a voice major. Since I am the Songster Leader, I would like to show her around our corps. There are many corps around and I just know God would Rather have her here.” These were my words of introduction to Annalise. Shari, who was on her way to training, was prayerfully looking for her replacement. She had begun a small group and put her heart and soul into her vision. Now, she was desirious that it continued.
Annalise came to Cambridge. At first she came just on Sundays. You would know what time it was by her entrance. She would quietly slip into her seat and was gone after the service. There were so many other places she could have been. The first year of college is always busy, yet God would Rather have her attending.
One Sunday I asked if she would sing. A voice major must have a song to sing. She said she would practice and let me know. The next week she said, “I can sing four weeks from now.” She needed no accompaniment or amplification, and from her small stature came a voice, which reached to the depths of each heart listening. A beautiful song! Now I know she could have sung any song, but God would Rather have this particular song.
Soon she began to give herself to those in the corps. She began to love without counting the cost; just the way God would Rather have it. Shari’s prayers were answered, and as she went off to training, Annalise took the leadership of the newly formed group of singers. She also was part of the nucleus who started The Cambridge Worship Team. She encouraged other talent in our corps. Cambridge is a corps where talented men and women commence their service and then move on to their God appointed tasks. And that’s the way God would Rather have it. Mark Hood, Billy Francis, Ken Lau and so many others. Then one summer she wasn’t there. She was off to Africa, because God would Rather have her broaden her vision. She was graduating and when she came back, what then? I couldn’t think of a better place for her to use her abilities than here – Cambridge. She became the Music Director and Administrative Assistant. She endeared herself to us and became an intricate part of The Cambridge Corps. She became part of the ministry team leading men and women to new life in Christ. She became part of our family, part of us.
We were planning a Corps Retreat. Our focus was “Spiritual Gifts.” She had lots of dreams and plans. What did God want for her? Would it be a master’s education in voice, a career in the spotlight, a young man? God would Rather have her give back her talents to Him. He would Rather have her totally for His service. That is what she declared at the conclusion of the retreat.
Now she has the right young man, the warmth of God’s spotlight, with a diploma from The Salvation Army School for Officers’ Training. What was that song she sang? What was the message she proclaimed to the congregation that morning and many times hence? What is God’s message from Annalise?
“I’d Rather Have Jesus, Than Anything this World Affords to Own!”
Annalise came to Cambridge. At first she came just on Sundays. You would know what time it was by her entrance. She would quietly slip into her seat and was gone after the service. There were so many other places she could have been. The first year of college is always busy, yet God would Rather have her attending.
One Sunday I asked if she would sing. A voice major must have a song to sing. She said she would practice and let me know. The next week she said, “I can sing four weeks from now.” She needed no accompaniment or amplification, and from her small stature came a voice, which reached to the depths of each heart listening. A beautiful song! Now I know she could have sung any song, but God would Rather have this particular song.
Soon she began to give herself to those in the corps. She began to love without counting the cost; just the way God would Rather have it. Shari’s prayers were answered, and as she went off to training, Annalise took the leadership of the newly formed group of singers. She also was part of the nucleus who started The Cambridge Worship Team. She encouraged other talent in our corps. Cambridge is a corps where talented men and women commence their service and then move on to their God appointed tasks. And that’s the way God would Rather have it. Mark Hood, Billy Francis, Ken Lau and so many others. Then one summer she wasn’t there. She was off to Africa, because God would Rather have her broaden her vision. She was graduating and when she came back, what then? I couldn’t think of a better place for her to use her abilities than here – Cambridge. She became the Music Director and Administrative Assistant. She endeared herself to us and became an intricate part of The Cambridge Corps. She became part of the ministry team leading men and women to new life in Christ. She became part of our family, part of us.
We were planning a Corps Retreat. Our focus was “Spiritual Gifts.” She had lots of dreams and plans. What did God want for her? Would it be a master’s education in voice, a career in the spotlight, a young man? God would Rather have her give back her talents to Him. He would Rather have her totally for His service. That is what she declared at the conclusion of the retreat.
Now she has the right young man, the warmth of God’s spotlight, with a diploma from The Salvation Army School for Officers’ Training. What was that song she sang? What was the message she proclaimed to the congregation that morning and many times hence? What is God’s message from Annalise?
“I’d Rather Have Jesus, Than Anything this World Affords to Own!”
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