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.

Power of Forgiveness

Jermaine and Murph prior to event

Last Friday night, “The Power of Forgiveness” was held at my church. The flyer said it would be an unforgettable event and it surpassed that for me. I have to start by saying that this whole idea started on 9/11/11. We watched a video at church about a young man who died in the World Trade Centers and I became emotional and left. I get that way when I think about other mothers losing their sons. Dave Murphy Jr. saw me bolt out the door and he followed a few minutes later, finding me weeping in my car.

Dave was one of several young men that came to know Christ shortly after Spence died. He and a few others let me mother them, cook for them and I’m sure at times even correct them and there is a closeness we have that just comes from walking a road that has seen the worst and best of times. My tears dried and we began to talk about Spence and how it was coming up on ten years since he died and Dave said, “Let’s do something to celebrate all God has done!” It cheered me up but later I thought maybe he said that just to make me happy. Yet a seed was planted and the vision grew.

He laughs at himself and calls himself a “control freak” because he has a standard of excellence and knows the way he wants things done. He admits at times he goes a little over the top. But the spirit of excellence was so evident last week during this event. And most importantly, God showed up and stayed the whole time, drawing people together from every element and walk of life on Cape Cod and from local churches in Tiverton and Providence.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at old headlines announcing Spencer’s murder without feeling my heart jump. I’ve told my story dozens of times yet I still find my voice changing, my heart racing as I recall that night in the ER. But as I looked out over the fellowship hall and saw all the faces of people I’ve come to know and love within the confines of the most painful ten years of my life, I can do nothing but praise an ever- loving and merciful Father in heaven, whose power to heal, to redeem and transform is boundless.

I couldn’t sleep that night, although exhausted and spent. Jermaine told me he couldn’t either and then I talked to Dasia, Murph’s wife and she laughed and said he didn’t either. The wonder of God does that. A month ago, when I asked Murph what I could do to help, he just looked at me and said “Nothing. I just want you to be blessed.” Well done, Dave, well done.

View “Power of Forgiveness” video by One Way Pics:

http://www.youtube.com/user/onewaypics

 

 

Hope For the Busiest Day Ever

On a clear winter morning, the sunrise over the bogs in Hyannis can be spectacular. The navy sky fades to cobalt then a prism of violet to orange and if there’s some scattered clouds around it can look other-worldly. This takes the edge off of getting up for work when it’s dark out, especially dark and freezing, like it’s been. I like to leave early with a mug of hot tea and sit in the parking lot in front of the bog where I can pray and talk to God and try to get my heart and head in a good place before I head into the hospital. In the spring, it’s lighter out, and it’s fun to watch all kinds of birds waking up. It doesn’t seem nerdy to me to be a bird-watcher anymore. Maybe that’s what happens with age.

The hospital at 6:45 a.m. reminds me of one of those Richard Scarry books I used to read to my boys when they were little, “The Busiest Day Ever” or something like that. Just from the parking lot to the door I see nurses, doctors, housekeepers, food servers, nurse’s aides, maintenance crew and administrators. Except unlike the book, they are people, not cats and beavers and worms. (Yes,worms wearing hard hats, I remember that part)And we are all busy, already, before the stress of another day can really weigh in. That’s how hospitals are.

There’s a window I pass on my way to the floor overlooking the bog and it catches me, at least this time of year. The sun is edging up in the black sky and I can see over to my right a huge glass med-surg wing and I know the day is just starting there for a lot of patients, many tired already. Behind me is a building filled with sad stories of sickness, trauma and pain. In the midst of all that there are many good reports and happy endings. But there is also sorrow and unspeakable loss.

Shortly after my son died, I made a corkboard called “The Board of Hope” and tacked anything to it that would help me to look up, to stay focused on who God was, not who I was or wasn’t. I’ve learned over the years of nursing that everyone wants to hope, from the expectant mom in maternity to the chemo patient in oncology. And when a person stops hoping, they quit. As I take in God’s magnificent display in the eastern sky, I ask Him to help me be a light in someone’s darkness, like the Board of Hope. Maybe it’s being able to laugh with them, or listen or just get a ginger ale or blanket. It seems so simple but there are days I walk back to my car at the end of the day and wish I could‘ve done so much more.

The good thing (I guess) is that tomorrow I get another chance. The Busiest Day Ever will start again and as the sun warms the eastern sky over the frozen cranberry bogs, God will help me do it again. It’s what He is, Hope and what He does. So when my amazingly loud and obnoxious alarm clock jolts me out of bed into the frozen blackness of a new day, help me remember Lord, to “be joyful in hope”, and to be your messenger of grace and light no matter how dark it is out there.

 

Having a Heart of Praise

She said YES!

The pond was beautiful this morning. The woods looked as if God had sifted confectioner’s sugar over the trees and it was cold enough to hold the dusting of snow in place, making the path a distinct white trail. My thoughts drifted upward and my heart was soon filled with praise and gratitude towards my Father. A friend, who I think is so funny, once said, “There’s always something to thank God for. You can thank Him for those little coffee creamers if you just can’t think of anything else!” I do recognize seasons of life we go through when the Thanks list seems to run short. And let’s face it…it’s a lot easier to complain. But she had a valid point.

Christmas Eve my son Jake proposed to a beautiful young woman named Kayla, who loves him and more importantly, loves Jesus as much as Jake does. This adds an excitement and richness to their future that is hard to explain, unless you also share that love with your spouse. Yet I was reflecting on the not-so-distant past as I hiked the frosted woods this morning. For several years after Spence died all I could do was plead with God to take care of my two remaining sons. I was broken; emotionally, mentally, even physically for a time and I understood my inadequacy to fill their needs. I grew up in a family shattered by loss, all of us adrift in a black ocean of sorrow. I did not want that to be their story too. My journals that I kept then reflect my desperation. God, take care of Miles. Watch over Jake. I must have looked pathetic, but because of His great mercy, He just saw me with eyes of compassion. I love when the psalmist says, “I waited patiently for the Lord, and He inclined unto me and heard my cry.” I picture God stooping down like a father to a small hysterical child and with His arm around them, saying, “Yes, I’m here, I’m here. What is it child?”

Miles married a beautiful girl who loves God and who has been a perfect daughter to me besides being a wonderful wife and mother. My granddaughter sings songs about God’s love to me. And a wedding is planned for this July. As I walked through our Creator’s winter wonderland this morning I mused over days where coffee creamers might have been at the top of my “thank-you” list. And I don’t regret those days because so much sweeter are these days of incredible blessing and answered prayer. “Now unto him who is able to do exceeding abundantly above all we ask or think…” (Eph. 3:20)Yes. But may my heart in every season be an offering of praise to the One who IS able, especially when we are not.

 

Christmas Reflections

Extravagant!

I loved Pawtucket at Christmas. There was something so sweet and sad about the garish Christmas decorations strung across dirty front porches and sagging balconies. The gray city seemed to come alive with blinking color, all inhibition set aside, like a sudden burst of hope. There was no restraint. Reindeer and Santa and baby Jesus all competed for the tiny patches of worn out lawns.

And I loved the red brick of the abandoned mills set against the winter sky. There was a timeless beauty and majesty to the old crumbling structures. In a deep snow you could imagine years gone by, of industry and prosperity, laughter and hope. Now Pawtucket seemed quiet for a city, sort of a shiftless what-do-we-do-now undercurrent in the way people walked or didn’t. In the summer folks hung on the porches. In the winter they slipped inside little rooms thick with smoke. The kids in church would smell like little drumsticks and ashtrays.

I think God is much like this: He walks along the dreary wastelands of this earth and imagines things. He looked at me twenty four years ago, beat up and worn from years of hushed pain, body and soul wearing thin and stretched almost to death. He saw something entirely different. I was angry and tired without knowing why but he saw something to salvage. And His love is extravagant, kind of like throwing 14 karat gold tinsel on a Charlie Brown tree. Kind of like stringing a magnificent light display across the ruins of an old mill town.

Every Christmas I let the children in church decorate a little fake tree. We had no heat in our basement room for two years except for a little space heater we would all huddle around with our coats on. They wrapped and adorned that tree with yards of tinsel and garland until it was nothing but glitz and glitter. Then we put lights on it and plugged it in. That cold damp room was transformed. I still see the little faces lit up, reflecting the bright tree. I think they knew without me telling them that the tree is like us and all the rest, the beauty, the light, the warmth; it’s all like God’s glory and He loves to pour it on. Then He likes to stand back and watch us transform, beauty for cold ashes, reflecting His very own glory.

 

 

 

God With Us

Better than Big Screen TV!

I don’t watch the news. Nor do I listen to it or read it. I know. You’re saying,”How do you know what’s going on in the world?” I don’t. But who really does? Most of what the media tosses out there is untrue, whether by omission, ignorance or deception. And nearly all of it is bad news: spiraling economics, civil wars, global warming or cooling, earthquakes, mudslides, celebrity breakdowns, student melt-downs and whatever is the latest carcinogenic that you love to eat every morning for breakfast. Am I missing anything? Oh yeah, there’s another election around the bend. Wake me up if anything ever changes.

I can’t help but think of another time and place — over 2,000 years ago — when the world was also filled with bad news. Life as usual…taxes, oppression, death. The Jews were waiting for a savior, a king, the Messiah. But they were looking in the wrong place. Bad news distracts us. We are looking for our own loophole. Maybe it’s our retirement plan, a rich husband, our incredibly gifted children. We are looking for a ride on the tail of a comet. As the news parades by on the big blue screen we are not thinking: How can I fix this? But rather, how can I escape this?

I think the shepherds saw the angels that cold night because they were not distracted. They were simply watching sheep. Or the stars in the sky. The sheep were probably sleeping. The angels got a little rowdy celebrating what was going on in the manger down the road and ripped open the sky above the tired and dirty shepherds. “Don’t be afraid! We’ve got GREAT news!” Wow! Not more bad news, but some really, really good news.

Most of America has over-eaten and over-shopped as we head into December. If we are honest, we are a little agitated by the constant reminders to spend, I mean give. We are tired, stressed and most of our wallets are pathetically lean. And we don’t want to hear any more bad news.

The night sky is beautiful this time of year. I know this sounds crazy but sometimes I search the sky, looking for a small tear in the obscure darkness, or stars that dance, or maybe if I listen closely, I can hear hallelujahs in the wind. God does not owe us that. He sent the Good News a long time ago. But He has been known to visit us in mysterious ways…in the dark and starry night or a dirty barn or crowded mall. The Savior has come. Jesus… “Immanuel, God with us.”