Spencer's Mom

Except a kernel of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.

Hero to Zero

…until you lose your Super Powers.

 “Everybody come look at this!” a nurse called from the hallway, waving us all towards the break room. My assumption was there was more food – pizza, sandwiches, cakes that had been flooding in from the community. Or maybe more cards from elementary school students. Thank you for being a hero! in crayon or markers. We all piled into the small corner room – nurses, CNAs, housekeepers, doctors. From the fifth floor, we were able to get a good view of the road that wrapped around the hospital. A parade was moving slowly by, horns honking, flashers on, flags waving. Thank you, heroes! Thanks! Thank you! various homemade signs proclaimed. I watched this unusual spectacle for a minute, because we were, after all, at work, and thought this:

  • If I’m a Hero now, then I’ve been an undercover hero for over 30 years. AND…

I do miss the free lunches!

  • This won’t last long.

It was 2020, probably late spring, the kickoff to the pandemic that was supposed to be a predictable bump in the straight line of healthcare and we were ready. But Covid19,  the Coronavirus that tiptoed into the world during 2019, was not to be reckoned with. It was skittish, volatile and completely unpredictable. As the world divided into vaccination camps, and Dr. Fauci became another pop culture icon, we donned our gowns, gloves, eye shields and N95 respirators and went to work. My job is an RN, which means I care for sick people.

I became a nurse during the AIDS epidemic of the 80’s. “Universal precautions” was the new buzzword, which simply meant wear gloves, stupid. We didn’t know how it was transmitted at first, so we were fitted with these hideous Hazmat-type respirators. I’ll never forget the expression on a young  AIDS patient’s face when I walked into his negative-pressure room wearing one. I took it off. It was enough that he had a death sentence. The isolation and shame of being an “untouchable” is a scarlet letter medicine can’t redeem. But we can reach through the barrier and love. Was I a Hero? No. I was just trying to follow Jesus through a dark and murky unknown, just like Covid19,  35 years later. Sometimes the heart has to go before the science – that’s just my creed. I’ve been called Reckless. I like it better than “hero.”

Jesus understood mankind and our faithless affinities. One day, the crowds are shouting, “Hosanna in the highest!” as He is led through a pressing crowd of adoring followers. A few days later, many of these same fans are yelling, “Crucify Him!” And they did. I know Jesus felt a lot of things on the cross, but Surprise was not one of them. He knows what we are made of. And He loves us beyond what we can imagine anyway. As Oswald Chambers puts it:

“Our Lord trusted no man; yet He was never suspicious, never bitter, never in despair about any man, because He put God first in trust; He trusted absolutely in what God’s grace could do for any man.”

June 2021, I left work for several months to have a hip replaced. I came back just in time for the real wave to hit, the “curve” that looked more like a tsunami. As I got on the elevator, I noticed a carefully framed sign hung at eye level.

ZERO Tolerance

Our staff is here for you and has the right to carry out their work in a safe environment.

Violence, foul language, and/or abusive behaviors are unacceptable.

Verbal threats or acts of violence will not be tolerated and may result in the immediate removal from this hospital and/or prosecution.

If you are seeking care, you may be screened for prohibitive items to ensure the safety of everyone in the hospital.

 Hmmmmm. We’ve come a long way from parades and free lunch. They must’ve found out we were just human after all. By the time I hit the 5th floor, I realized something profound. Hero to Zero. It’s best to trust in neither – accolades or threats. Just do the next thing, and trust God alone.

I am not a Hero, and I never have been. I’ve taken care of dying Covid patients, AIDS patients and a multitude of no-less-important cancer, cardiac or “Comfort Care” end-of-life patients. Just this week I held an exhausted wife and let her sob into my shoulder. Healthcare can be triumphant, as we lined the halls back in 2020 and cheered Covid survivors on their way out the door. But it can also betray. We are frail. For all we try our best to do, we fail. To me, the heroes are those that reach beyond the limits, in obscurity, and touch the untouchables, letting sorrow have its place. “Mourn with those who mourn.” (Romans 12:15 NIV)

Just like the airlines, the supermarket, and used car dealers, healthcare has changed. Raging against those of us who have stuck it through will not bring it back to the pre-Covid good ol’ days when complaints and anger were linear, and the answers attainable. Many patients and families have expressed grace and gratitude and we appreciate that more than you know. But as Chambers said, to be Christ-like is to trust in God and what His boundless grace and mercy can do in any situation. That’s where I stand, without the cape, and preferably without the N95. May He continue to use these old hands to heal, reckless in His love.

Left on the whiteboard by an elderly patient I cared for.

The Club With No Title (and Five Things You Can Do To Help)

        We don’t have a title!
I wasn’t quite sure I understood my friend, sitting across her living room from me.
         What?
         We don’t have a title. You know, like woman who have lost their husbands are called “widows.” But mothers who have lost a child have no title. She looked at me as if I’d have a logical explanation. Honestly, in the 20 years that I’ve belonged to this peculiar group, this thought has never occurred to me. But I also understood that this precious woman, who has not even buried her son yet, was not thinking in a linear way. It’s just part of the crazy package, trying to get a foothold somewhere, feeling for something familiar or safe. But you can’t. Instinctively you know you can’t because it’s all changed – everything. People like to call this Shock. I guess it’s as good a word as any, although it seems to denote something fleeting, that when it subsides, you will be “back to normal.” But there’s the Big Lie.

         Recently I was contacted by a stranger. She said she read my book and loved it. Then she said she gave it to her psychiatrist friend who was visiting from San Francisco because she had a client who lost a son two years ago and “was stuck.” I paused at this. Stuck? According to who? To an algorithm learned in med school? To an impatient counselor who is frustrated by a mother’s inability to “move on?” This could be conjecture, but in the 20 years that I have sat across a table sharing coffee with women who are trying to comprehend a world without their child, I still can’t come up with a Normal. In fact, I tell them, “Be as crazy as you want and take your time. There is no wrong way.” This drives people nuts who don’t belong to this club. You don’t get it, you never will, unless you lose a child. And we hope you don’t.

        My mother lost a son when she was 36 and I was eight. After that, every time she heard of a child dying, she’d look away, her eyes suddenly turning dark, and say, “Someone’s life is about to never be the same.” Deep calls to deep. She knew somewhere there was a mom falling to her knees, a mom becoming one of us – the very exclusive group with no title.

        I’m often called when this happens locally. I don’t think it’s because people think I have an answer or some kind of formula. You can’t stop a tsunami. More and more I believe it’s because people are afraid. It’s not only unfamiliar, but it touches a deep nerve within every parent.

Maybe I’m not really in control.

        But the thought is quickly vanquished, like a bad dream. Instead, we try to figure it all out, just like Job’s friends in a story ancient as time, but still so profound today. Or we run.

“An odd by-product of my loss is that I’m aware of being an embarrassment to everyone I meet. At work, at the club, in the street, I see people, as they approach me, trying to make up their minds whether they’ll ‘say something about it’ or not. I hate it if they do, and if they don’t…Perhaps the bereaved ought to be isolated in special settlements like lepers.”― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

         And then I get calls like this: “What can I do for …?” or “I don’t know what to say!” That’s a good place to start. So here’s my five things. I know there’s a lot more, but this is just a punch list to get you started.
1. Be a listener. That means forever, because a mother always wants to talk about her kids. Yes, even when they’re dead. You can’t make us feel worse, or remind us of our loss. We don’t forget, ever. We just get good at acting like we have so you can be more comfortable. I still love it when people tell me Spencer stories, or just say, “I miss him!”
2. Please don’t say, “Call me if you need anything.” I know you mean it, but we won’t. We have a hard time getting fully dressed every morning. We don’t know what we want or need, other than our child back. So be creative. Surprise us!
3. You can’t fix it. We don’t really notice what you do, it’s just that you care. Conversely, we also notice what you don’t do, or if you’re not there.
4. We learn to smile, to become two people. A public person, and a private person with a pain deep and inexpressible. It’s a long exhausting road. Remember that. We need a lot of grace. Be gentle.
5. This is not a matter of who is strong. No mom is strong enough to bury their child. Dumb cliches like “God never gives us more than we can bear!” or cheap platitudes like, “At least you have two other kids!” or “I could never go through that!” offer no comfort, and maybe just add to our pain and isolation. Try being quiet, giving hugs and just being there.

        Right after I lost my son, one of his dearest friends, Emily, came and stayed with me for a couple of months. I’m sure she did a lot I never noticed, but her sweet presence, her smile and sometimes her tears mixed with mine gave me great comfort. She was just there, accepting my craziness, no answer to offer, just love. Did I mention love?

        I’d like to come up with a snappy title, but the truth is, we know who we are. We greet each other with a sense of relief and familiarity. “You know,” we will say. I do.

        Almost twenty years down this never-ending road, I am grateful for so many who chose to come close. In a fumbling, awkward dance of love, you reached into my brokenness and stayed. Thank you for that. But I could never be where I am today if it weren’t for the one who was always there, never left and still stays – Jesus, “a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief.” He was the anchor that kept me, the Healer whose hand stayed pressed against my shattered heart. And He is the only one who can Redeem – beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning. Find Him now, before the waters begin to rise. It’s the very best thing of all the Things You Can Do.

Therefore let all the faithful pray to you
    while you may be found;
surely the rising of the mighty waters
    will not reach them.
 You are my hiding place;
    you will protect me from trouble
    and surround me with songs of deliverance.

Psalm 32:6,7

Miss you Spence!

 

Five Hard Lessons for the Christian (or Read the Fine Print)

Enter by the narrow gate; for wide is the gate and broad is the way that leads to destruction, and there are many who go in by it. Because narrow is the gate and difficult is the way which leads to life, and there are few who find it. Matthew 7:13-14

                I feel like I say this a lot lately, “Life is hard. It’s supposed to be.” I say it to crowds, or friends or sometimes strangers. I would not have to say this in most other countries except maybe France, because they know this already. And sometimes I get this back: Blink. Blink. Respectful silence. I know they want to argue. Many know it can be difficult, but most do not agree that it should be. In fact, our culture sets comfort as a priority.

             Okay, I admit I like comfort too. I love my flannel sheets in winter, and I secretly covet those car-starter-uppers on days when snow and wind make just a short walk to the driveway feel like an arctic trek. But I also have learned the benefit of being challenged – at work, at home, in church. Here is where Pride collides with our incompetence or sometimes laziness, where a mirror is held up to self-righteousness and we are uncovered. Our first instinct is to cover and deflect. We get angry, petulant. “I have my rights.” Well, actually you don’t.

Hard Lesson #1. God’s kingdom is not a democracy.

           There are no rights for God’s children because it is an unimaginable privilege and undeserved gift to even know Him, let alone be “joint heirs” to all that is His. Leave your rights at the foot of the cross and make sure you read this disclaimer carefully:

And if children, then heirs—heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him. Romans 8:17

           Ah, the hard part!

Hard Lesson #2: You will suffer if you follow Christ. No sissies allowed. Read this too:

Count it all joy, my brothers,[ when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing. James 1:2-4

            Don’t worry – be happy! We get a variety of trials and they are good for us, because there is no other way to have a faith that is real and unshakeable. And then you get to be perfect, complete, lacking NOTHING. Wow! But first, the fire…

Hard Lesson #3 God does always answer prayer, but sometimes He says No.

           He’s God. He can do whatever He wants and it’s always right and for our good.

Hard Lesson #4 You have to love everyone. E-ver-y-one! No exceptions.

           In fact, God will intentionally bring you unlovables, all those people you really can’t stand. (refer back to Hard Lesson #2).

Hard Lesson #5 It’s not fair.

So the last will be first, and the first last. For many are called, but few chosen. Matthew 20:16 

            Back to the narrow gate. It’s not that Jesus doesn’t want us all crushing the gate, or having to create a wait-list because the line is so long. Jesus really is calling, but few are answering this call. They hear the call, but opt out of the “difficult” part. We want results, guarantees, position. On this side of heaven, there is no reward. Instead you will likely be laughed at, scorned as foolish or ludicrous.

            You don’t mean to tell me that you believe the whole Bible? My mother would ask, one eyebrow raised as if to coach me away from saying something she considered idiotic.

            Yes, I would say. The whole thing. Because it’s not just a book, it is life, from the Giver of Life.

            But what about Blessing? The Promises? Ah yes – lots of those. But read the fine print…

And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are called according to his purpose. Romans 8:28 

            Do you love me? Jesus asked this of Peter three times. Exasperated, Peter finally said, “Lord, you know all things.” He does, He knows what is love and what is just lip-service or lukewarm compliance.

            Called according to His purpose. What if His purpose for my life is obscurity? Or more humiliating than that – a laughing stock, an offense? Elisabeth Elliot noted:

Did the earthly life of our Lord appear to be a thundering success? Would the statistics of souls won, crowds made into fruitful disciples, sermons heeded, commands obeyed, be impressive? Hardly.

            At the foot of the cross, there is a lot of room. There’s no box seats, or roped off sections. It’s you, it’s me, staring into this unfathomable love despite the seeds of evil that are implanted deep in every heart. He is calling me from death to life, into a love I am incapable of but for His immeasurable grace. 

            Follow me. The way is difficult, uncertain. I stumble, waver or sometimes stop dead in my tracks. Which way now?

Jesus Christ had to fathom every sin and every sorrow man could experience, and that is what makes Him seem strange. When we see Him in this aspect we do not know Him, we do not recognize one feature of His life, and we do not know how to begin to follow Him. – Oswald Chambers

            There are times where nothing is familiar. No GPS.

And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, “This is the way, walk in it,” when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left. Isaiah 30:21

            God is there, always. Even in the dark, or when the pain is so loud you can’t hear him. Jehovah Shammah: “the Lord is there.” And I am His, the only one that I care to please, and He will lead me according to HIS purpose. Then one day, I will meet him at the narrow gate. I don’t know for sure, but I think Jesus will be there with a huge smile, holding it open just for us. I hope I see you there too, as we enter into the fullness of His joy and glory. Then real life, the one we were made for from the start, will begin.

 

 When Love Was Slain by Selah – Enjoy!

 https://youtu.be/6mcxNJ1BFLU

 

 

Set Apart – Not All Set

Jesus People 1970’s

 

“Quench not the Spirit.” 1 Thessalonians 5:19

Sanctification: 1. to set apart to a sacred purpose: Consecrate 2:to free from sin: Purify

This word popped into my mind as I made my way through the woods this morning, lifting my concerns before God. “Sanctified.” But then what God spoke next was disturbing. “They will not be sanctified.” Specifically, believers – I was praying for one in particular who I see as a bit adrift.  I’ve tried to call her in, to reason with her and she hears me, but she does not “heed.”  I don’t think she sees it as obstinacy or rebellion.  She is surrounded by a cloud of other compromised Christians and a group-think of postmodern plurality and half-truths.

        I’ve been making my way through the Bible over the last six months and I’m now in 2nd Kings. After several chapters, you pick up a pattern. Two kingdoms, Israel and Judah with two kings, their reigns overlapping throughout the course of each nation’s chaotic history. Some kings were flat-out evil, laughing at a God they assumed was blind.  Then there were the good kings. They usually had to tear down what the bad kings built. They wanted to please God, but I noticed a disturbing trend with these kings. The Bible states,  “but they did not remove the high places.”

        The “high places” refers to altars that were built to worship strange pagan gods. Solomon’s compromise, as he tried to appease way too many women, led to building pagan altars, a split kingdom and two nations veering off track. An occasional king would tear these places down in order to restore his people back to God, but then the next king would build it again.

        I thought of this as I circled the pond this morning. Sanctified means “set apart.” Not set on a fence, straddling two worlds. If I had to define what disturbs me most about many millennial Christians I meet is a disregard for what is holy. They won’t tear down the High Places.  They want to dine at the King’s banquet wearing flip-flops and pajamas.

Sanctify yourselves therefore, and be ye holy: for I am the LORD your God. Leviticus 20:17

        I know what you’re thinking. Doesn’t Jesus love me just the way I am? Well, it depends. Any wretched sinner, no matter how filthy, who is repentant, is welcome to eat at His table. Come as you are! But when I should know better, when I should be eating meat and I’m still on the bottle, when I know the Truth but fail to speak or live it… I better get it right. “Quench not the spirit.” If I just ate a box of bavarian creme donuts (I did that once when I was slightly impaired) I will pass on an invitation to dinner. All set.

       Dietrrich Bonhoeffer said, “Cheap grace is the grace we bestow on ourselves. Cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance, baptism without church discipline, Communion without confession…Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ, living and incarnate.”

        When you get as old as I am, you begin to see cycles. As Solomon lamented, there truly is nothing new under the sun, including the “postmodern” philosophy. As a child of the 60’s, our mantra was  “if it feels good do it.” Why not? We weren’t hurting anyone! But unlike today, we would’ve proudly admitted our rebellion and rejection of all things holy. We built the altars ourselves and partied into the looming darkness. The hangover was immense and the whole nation suffered. Strange that the Jesus People Movement was born out of the midst of this depravity, yet so just-like-Jesus.  

        “A false scale is an abomination to the Lord.” Proverbs 11:1. I read this today, and I know it is talking about a literal scale, but I sensed the Holy Spirit highlighting it before me. What is my false scale? How am I weighing in on sanctification, holiness and the standard that God expects of me? A false scale is a deceptive scale. Do we also think our God is blind?

Much will be required of everyone who has been given much. And even more will be expected of the one who has been entrusted with more. Luke 12:48

         I have been given much – much more than I ever deserved or could even ask for. I want to tear down any lurking High Places and come to His holy altar –repentant, hungry for more of Jesus, abandoning all.  Oswald Chambers says, “Am I prepared to let God grip me by His power and do a work in me that is worthy of Himself?”

        This is the cost of sanctification. It is not cheap. But I want to be set apart for my Master’s use, so that when He needs me, He can joyfully reach for me.

        Perhaps the “Postmodern age” will signal a new revival, a resurgence of the Truth the Way and the Life.  If God is looking for some Jesus People, will we be ready? Worshippers in Spirit and in truth or worshipping before strange gods? Let’s demolish the High Places and return to our first love. There is a fountain of grace at the altar of repentance.

 

” but as He who called you is holy, you also be holy in all your conduct, because it is written, “Be holy, for I am holy.”1 Peter 1:15-17 (NKJV)

 

 

O Come to the Altar – beautiful song!

 

The Top Ten Things Mama Taught Me

  1. Manners. I hated learning them and I was the only girl north of Baltimore who knew how to curtsy. I was banished from many meals, red with shame for “smacking my lips” or slipping an elbow onto the table. It was often absurd and out of touch, but included in that package was learning to respect those folks older and usually smarter, and learning to be gracious with the ungracious. Poise. It’s an old fashioned ideology.
  2. How to make the best southern biscuit in the world. Sorry, I’d have to kill you if I told you, and besides it’s acquired, not taught. Just stay close by, I’ll give you some warm out of the oven, soft as Gabriel’s pillow.
  3. Every time you say “I can’t,” substitute it with “I don’t want to.” Dang, she was right again. Every time.
  4. The only time it’s okay to lie is when someone gets a bad hairdo.
  5. The only time it’s okay to be rude is when someone talks too much. “Just walk away. They won’t even notice.”
  6. Swearing is a lazy use of language. There are more creative ways to express yourself.
  7. Life is short – eat french fries and drink milkshakes.
  8. There is no sorrow like losing a child – you will not get over it, and that’s okay.
  9. People can be jackasses (her word), but refer back to #1.
  10. “Motherhood is self-defeating; the only way you succeed is to let go.”

            My mom is in heaven now, finally reunited with a son and a grandson. I don’t think she would’ve called herself a great mother but let’s be real – we are winging it, especially when they’re teens.  Love  really does cover a multitude of sins, because Love is gracious, just like my mom taught me. Only God’s love is perfect, but a mom’s comes pretty close. Happy Mother’s Day to all of you beautiful moms out there!

My grandson Eli presenting a rose to his mom.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Love Lessons From Jail

“First Corinthians 13…”

      I’m opening a small Bible that I brought to give to one of the inmates.

      “Where is that?” Jessica asks.

      “It’s right here.” I push the Bible towards her, keeping my finger on the page.

      Kara glares at her from across the table. It’s her Bible after all. I just gave it to her. Jessica grabs my pen and starts to mark the page.

     “Do you mind if I make a little mark here? Just so I can find it?” Jessica doesn’t even look up.

      Kara leans forward, starts to say something but stops. She looks exhausted, her hair is a matted mess like she’s been sleeping in the woods, but I catch a little fire in her eyes, then she sits back, shaking her head. She’s too tired to care. “No, it’s alright,” she says softly even though Jessica has already underlined the chapter number, a small mark that she won’t ever look for.

      I want to check my watch but I don’t want them to think, no, to know that I am tired too. I stand and walk back over to the whiteboard.

Love is patient…

       The topic is Love tonight at the jail. I picked it – it’s February after all. I realized scrolling through past lessons that I had picked Love last February too, but I can’t remember how it went. Better than this, I bet. It’s an off night. Only three came out, for reasons I can never understand, and sometimes that works for the best. A small group is less intimidating, the girls can open up more and God will help me. But tonight it’s two new girls and Gail, an older woman who I swear lives here. Her sentence stretches out past the horizon, due to frequent trips to the hole. Someone told me she lived on the streets with “her man.” But it’s been a while.

Love is kind…

      I draw two big hearts side by side and write WORLD over one and GOD over the other.

      “Tell me what kind of love the world gives,” and I watch their faces twist up in confusion so I reset it.  “Ok, what kind of love does God give us?”

      “Unconditional,” the girl with the matted hair says flatly.

      “Good!” I write it inside the God heart, then write Conditional in big letters in the other heart. Now they get the game. The God heart fills up with Freedom and Forgiveness and the World heart fills with selfishness and shame. I feel like this is too easy so I throw in some Greek.

Eros. Phileo. Agape.

      “Agape sounds Indian,” Gail says.

      “No it’s Greek,” I correct her, feeling the foolishness of this conversation. I can see her bumming money at the bus station. Hey do you want to hear some Greek? As soon as I tell them that Eros means sensual or sexual love they completely regress to somewhere around fourth or fifth grade. I sit back down, feeling defeated and a tad disgusted.

Love never demands it’s own way.

      I’m praying under my breath as I try to rustle the last shreds of my lesson together. Gail senses my despondency.

      “I can be mean sometimes,” she says.

      “Well, I know you can be sweet sometimes too Gail. ” I’m touched by her honesty. “And I can be mean too.” My words settle like pretty snowflakes.

      Then Gail says, “I wish a was a bird. A big bird.” I wonder where she’s going but I want to think of David writing a psalm about flying away.

      Jessica starts to laugh at her. “So you can escape?”

      “No, so I can poop on everyone who’s pooped on me.” By now Jessica is sputtering and turning red, and falling into Gail.

Love bears all things…

      “Then you want to be a horse!” as she demonstrates the size of horse manure with her hands. Kara is silent, her face expressionless and it occurs to me she may be withdrawing form something. Or very medicated.

      “Ok guys, back to love.” They stop laughing and look up. I feel like the kind of teacher I couldn’t stand. Dull. A droning voice. Even my notes wonder what I’m doing.

      Jesus made a point of showing us over and over that what we thought we had was beside the point. Five fish. Two mites. Or should we just call down fire and toast them all? I remember one time when my husband and I were pastoring that I confessed to my mother that I felt like telling everyone to go to hell. She thought that was terrific. But it wasn’t – it was a screaming indication that I was spiritually bankrupt. I was sitting at the piano smiling every Sunday, embracing women I considered faithless and teaching their little demons about Jesus in the cold basement. Apart from me you can do nothing. (John 15:5) Oh yeah, I forgot. Again.

       An exasperated Jesus asks his disciples, “Are you being willfully stupid?” (Matthew 15:16, MSG) They weren’t getting it. Neither was I, trying to love what i thought was worth it, with a small love that I manufactured for my own benefit. And here I was again; a teacher trying to teach something that I understood but didn’t really know. I forgot AGAIN.

Love hopes all things..

      “Do you want to know why I’m here?” They are silent. “I’m here because I love you.” The words come out soft and I am as surprised as they are. Yes, that’s it.

      “I’m here because Jesus loves me. I don’t deserve it, but He does and He’s put His love in me. That’s why I’m here. Because I love you. And Jesus loves you.”

      Kara looks up from the table, her eyes searching. Jessica and Gail are looking straight at me, and I know I saw just a small flash of hope, like a shooting star.

Love rejoices in the truth.

        As I drove home that night I prayed for Kara and Jessica and Gail. I knew that despite my dumb lesson in Greek, that the Holy Spirit was able to take my notes and breathe upon them – to feed 5,000 with two loves of bread, to feed three women with the feeble prayers of another woman who knows what it’s like to be held captive, without hope, then set really free. And He is still able to teach an old teacher a new lesson in Love – even when I’m willfully stupid. It just takes a spark, a small spark of humility and a flash of hope. That’s all He really needs.

Love never fails.

 

*** All names have been changed, except Jesus.

(All Love scripture from 1 Corinthians 13, NKJV)