NEVER ONCE

I knew the words were true, when I first heard the words to Matt Redman's song, "Never Once."

Because I know, that we have never once walked alone.

"Standing on this mountaintop

Looking just how far we've come

Knowing that for every step

You were with us.

Kneeling on this battleground

Seeing just how much You've done

Knowing every victory

Was Your power in us.

Scars and struggles on the way

But with joy our hearts can say

Yes, our hearts can say.

Never once did we ever walk alone

Never once did you leave us on our own

You are faithful, God You are faithful.

December 7-2003 - December 7, 2012

"Scars and struggles on the way

But with joy our hearts can say

Never once did we ever walk alone.

Carried by Your constant grace

Held within Your perfect peace

Never once, no, we never walked alone."

Yes today, nine years later, we are carried by His constant grace and held within His perfect peace.

There are struggles every day, but we have joy when we remember.

When we remember that we have never walked alone.

AN ANNIVERSARY LETTER

Dear Doctor B,

You weren't Ethan's doctor the day you came into his hospital room eight years ago.  You were on call for the weekend.

Before you left his room that day, you looked at me and Jim and said, "You need to be careful. Most marriages don't make it through something like this."

You thought Ethan was going to die.

So did I.


I knew you were right in your warning. During my days in college, studying special education, I read the statistics of marriages that would not survive a disabled child being born into a family.

I remembered that when people's dreams and hopes are kicked to the curb, many many times so are their marriages.

It always seemed like a double-dose of cruelty.


Yes Doctor B, I heard your warning to be careful.

But you see, it's almost impossible to "be careful" when you are just tryng to take your next breath.

When you are just trying to put one foot in front of the other.

There wasn't the time or energy back then to be careful.

And there wasn't for years.


Some days, even now, eight years later, there still isn't.

Because I saw the concern and compassion in your eyes that day, I thought of you yesterday when Jim and I celebrated our thirty-fifth anniversary.


Trust me Doctor B, it hasn't been easy.


It's never easy for two cracked jars of clay to be overfilled with the day-to-day responsibilities of caring for another.

The task of twenty-four-seven caregiving has shown every crack and imperfection and weakness in our jars of clay.

There isn't enough caulk, glue, or duct-tape to hold us together.

But we have made it this far.


Oh, there have been plenty of ugly days. Days when both of us wished that we could run away from one another.  Days when our love for Ethan and the gratitude for his life have been the only things that have held us together.

In so many ways, our individual brokenness has been a cross for each other to have to carry.

We have been guilty of letting our hopes and dreams for our relationship get kicked to the curb along with many of our dreams for Ethan... and for our family... and for our future


No Doctor B, it hasn't been a bed of roses.

But it has been a bed of grace.

GOD'S GRACE.


Over and over again, when our jars were about to crumble and break beyond repair, God poured out gifts upon us that were totally undeserved.

They were gifts for our healing.

He poured out gifts that held us together for one more day. For one more week. For one more year.

Gifts that were completely free.

Gifts that, because of our lack of faith, had not even been asked for.


Sometimes His gift came in a rainbow after a spring shower or a beautiful sunrise or sunset.

Sometimes His gift came in the early morning hours as Jim and I sat on the sofa and shared a passage from God's Word or the lyrics to a song.

Sometimes God's gift came from a pastor encouraging us and speaking God's Word directly into our fading hope.

Sometimes God's grace came to us in the love and affirmation someone gave to Ethan.


In the last year, God's Gift of Grace has come to us as He has bound up our pain and suffering from loss after loss.

On a daily basis, God gifts us with Ethan's gratitude towards us for all we do for him.

And on a daily basis also, God gifts us through Ethan's forgiveness when we fail.

God shows His Grace to us through the courage he has given Ethan to live his life, and through the joy Ethan has in the middle of huge disappointments.


Doctor B, you knew where Ethan was that day. You had seen the reports from all his other doctors. You knew the diagnosis, and the loss of hope. Because you knew, maybe you can understand what a gift it has been to hear Ethan say, "I'm glad that I am alive. I love being alive."

Many many times, God's Gift of Grace has come to us in the sound of laughter between Seth and Ethan and in seeing their embrace.


You don't know this Doctor B, but on the day of our marriage, we handed out little scrolls with ribbons tied around them. On each scroll was written the lyrics to a song by Andre Crouch that we had sung at our wedding:

"How can I say thanks for the things you have done for me?

Things so undeserved, yet You give to prove your love for me.

The voices of a million angels could not express my gratitude.

All that I am, and ever hope to be, I owe it all to Thee."

So Doctor B, I want to confess to you now, eight years later, that we haven't been careful. In lots of ways, we ignored your warning. But God has been full of care. He has done more than we ever could have thought or imagined. And somehow we both know, as our marriage begins a new year, that Our God will continue to do the same.

Because of Grace,
I am Jim's wife and Seth and Ethan's mom

 "But we have this treasure in jars of clay,

 to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us."

2 Corinthians 4:7 

HE WASN'T PERFECT

"Daddy wasn't perfect."

That's what my sister and I kept telling ourselves (and each other) as we drove around town making arrangements for his funeral.

That was six months ago.

My sister and I are still reminding ourselves and each other that our dad wasn't perfect.

We don't have to, nor do we want to, pretend that our daddy was something he wasn't.

We don't want to remember a carricature of him, or a made-up fantasy, to meet our personal needs.


We just want to remember our daddy.

The way he was.

That's how love remembers.

What makes two daughters have to remind themselves that their eighty-nine-year-old dad wasn't perfect?

It wasn't like we didn't know him.

He didn't live across the country only to be seen once or twice a year.

We were both blessed to live close to him.

What makes my sister and me have to stop mid-sentence and say, "Daddy wasn't perfect?"

 Daddy seemed perfect to us, because he knew he didn't have to be perfect.

He knew and trusted in The Perfect One.


Daddy seemed perfect to us, because he didn't expect us to be perfect.

He knew that his daughters and his grandchildren and his friends were just like him.

Made out of dust.


Daddy seemed perfect to us, because he didn't make any demands of my sister and me, his grandchildren, or his friends.

He appreciated everything anyone did for him, but he knew that we were all just the "means" God used to bless him with every gift.

If I came to see him every other week, that was okay with him.

If I came once a month, that was okay too.

The times when I couldn't come at all, he understood.

If I walked into his house with a pound cake, or a tin full of his favorite oatmeal cookies, or a roast in the crock-pot, he greeted me with a hug.

If I walked into his house with only my broken, tired, empty-handed self, he greeted me with the same hug.

Daddy knew that God would provide everything  he would ever need.


Daddy seemed perfect to us, because he just took whatever love anyone had to give him.

He enjoyed it. He cherished it. But he didn't have to have it.

Daddy knew he was filled to the top with the perfect complete love of God Himself.

Love from others was just icing on a perfect cake.


Daddy seemed perfect to my sister and me, because he never reminded us of the many times we failed.

Did he approve of everything we did?

No.

Did he let us know?

Yes.

But Daddy never beat us up with our mistakes.

He never kept a list of our wrongs.

He just trusted that The One who paid the price for his sins had also paid the price for ours.


The first time Daddy saw Ethan after his life had been crushed by a horrible choice, he didn't ask,

"What was he thinking?"

He didn't blame me or remind me of my own poor choices.

He didn't believe as a grandpa he deserved better from Ethan or better from God.

The first day Dad stood beside Ethan's body in a lifeless coma, he said, "Mourning may last for the night, but joy comes in the morning."

  
Daddy seemed perfect to all who knew him, because he gave the same grace to them that God had given to him. 
 

I shared with one of the ministers that spoke at Dad's funeral, and he in turned shared with those who were there, that my daddy was always a good man. God blessed him with wonderful parents that loved him, and taught him Godly morals and values. I believe that my daddy always had a good heart. But God, by my dad's faith in His Son, made my daddy great. 

I had a great man for a dad.

Not a perfect man.

But a great man.


Sunday I found myself singing Matt Redmon's 10,000 Reasons.

As I sang the last verse,  tears of gratitude began to flow.

"And on that day when my strength is failing,

The end draws near and my time has come,

Still my soul will sing Your praise unending,

Ten thousand years and then forevermore."

My dad is six-months into his ten-thousand-years-and-then-forevermore.


My daddy wasn't perfect.


But He is now.

"Dear friends, we are already God's children, 

but He has not yet shown us 

what we will be like when Christ appears.

But we do know that we will be like Him, 

for we will see Him as He really is."

1John 3:2

NEEDING AND GLORIFYING

"Whatever you ask in my name, this I will do,

 that the Father may be glorified in the Son." 

 John 14:13

"Suppose you are totally paralyzed, and can do nothing for yourself but talk. And suppose a strong and reliable friend promised to live with you, and to do whatever you needed done. How could you glorify your friend if a stranger came to see you? Would you glorify his generosity and strength by trying to get out of bed and carry him?   No! You would say, "Friend, please come and lift me up, and would you put a pillow behind me?" And so, your visitor would learn from your requests that you are helpless and that your friend is strong and kind. You glorify your friend by needing him and asking him for help and counting on Him."

John Piper, from Desiring God

I understand what Piper is saying.

I see it every day.

I knew that Jim was a good dad.

I knew that he was a great dad.

But until Ethan became completely dependent upon him, I never really understood what kind of a dad Jim really was.

Jim is most "glorified as a dad" when he takes care of Ethan's every need.

He is most "glorified as a dad" when  Ethan asks of Jim for his daily wants and needs, and Jim does his best to meet them.

Jim is most "glorified as a strong dad" when Ethan is at his weakest.

Jim is "most glorified as a dad" when Ethan asks his dad to do for him what he can't do for himself.


I'm not saying that a child has to be physically dependent for their dad to be an amazing dad.

There are many, many ways to be dependent and weak, and to recognize a dad's love for his child.


This is only a physical picture, and not a perfect one, because Jim is not a perfect father. As I was sharing my thoughts about this with Jim, he continually reminded me of how often he fails in his actions, and in his attitude, and that he knows his strength only comes from God.

No, it isn't a perfect picture. Only God gives perfectly. Only His strength is strong enough. Only His heart is continuously pure.


The picture above is an imperfect picture of a perfect spiritual truth: 

 God is most glorified when we are completely dependent upon Him.  (2 Corinthians 12:9)


How many times have I quoted the first few words of John 14:13 to myself:

"Whatever you ask in my name, this I will do ..."

Yet I tend to forget the last part of the verse:

"That the Father will be glorified in the Son."

I forget that the purpose of my life is to glorify the Father through His Son.

I forget that when I am weak, He is strong.

I forget that He is most glorified, when the thorn remains and His strength is all sufficient.

I forget when I think that being weak is a sin, and when I assume that surely He is tired of seeing me once again fall on my face.

Ethan asks. He asks all day long.

His needs never go away. In many ways, as God continues to bless him with healing, his needs have actually increased.

And when I take the time to stop and really look at what all Jim does, I am amazed.

And when I take the time to consider myself, and my weakness and how much I need My Father, I am amazed.

Amazed at His Strength.

Amazed at His Grace.

Amazed at His Provision and His Patience.

Amazed how He Answers me when I call.

I do have a friend, who is closer than a brother or an earthly father, that has promised to live with me and to be my strength in my weakness, to be my rest when I am tired, and to be my healer when I am broken.

He is a good friend.

He is the best friend.

I hope you know that He wants to be your friend too.

"The LORD is my strength and shield. 

I trust Him with all my heart. 

He helps me, and my heart is filled with joy. 

I burst out in songs of thanksgiving."  

 Psalm 28:7 

Gratitude List #679-693

imperfect pictures that tell perfect truths

Seth and Ethan's dad

that I wouldn't bring my daddy back if I could

the freedom to write my thoughts

the freedom to mess those thoughts up

hope for friends and their physical healing

my sister and all she does for my mother

a way to continue to provide my mother with her extraordinary-God-given caregivers

an appraisal that was more than expected

my brother-in-law and his willingness to help

and once again my neice and great nephew who celebrated July birthdays

for a church that encourages Seth

the messages of Tullian Tchividjian and his blog Liberate

that God continuously redeems my weakness and my disappointments to glorify Himself - 

How amazing is that???

THE STRENGTH GIVER

My sister ran out to the car to get something, and I was left alone with the lady who was going through my dad's clothes.

Funeral homes are quiet.

I didn't want to be there.

I didn't want to do what I was doing.

And then I remembered.

And my knees started to buckle under me.

I remembered when the doctors had said that Ethan wouldn't live.

They told us over and over again.

I stood there and wondered, how would I have ever been able to take Ethan's clothes to a funeral home?

"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

And I knew that if He had called me to do it, that's how I would have done it.

And if he ever calls me to do it, that is how I will do it.

It's how I've done everything else for the last eight years.

It hasn't been my strength.

It has been by His.

I breathed deep and long and thanked God, that by His grace and by His mercy and by His power, Ethan is with us today.

And I breathed deep and long and I thanked Him for His strength.

Strength that is outside of me.

Strength that is outside of being a mother.



There were many many tears, but we did celebrate on the day we said goodbye to our dad.

We celebrated the man my daddy was on that beautiful warm winter day.

The sky was as blue as God could ever have made it.

We celebrated as we introduced Our Miracle to Daddy's friends and distant family members.

We celebrated as they met their answered prayers.

x

x

x

Yes we celebrated.

But most of all we celebrated The Giver of Life and The Giver of Miracles.

And I celebrated His Strength.

Philippians 4:13

WE ARE SUSTAINED

As I sit here in the hospital, beside my daddy, I am so thankful for the truth of these words from Charles Spurgeon's message "Around the Wicket Gate."


"Often realize the joy of heaven. This is grand faith; and yet it is no more than we ought to have. Within a very short time the man who believes in the Lord Jesus shall be with Him where He is. This head will wear a crown; these eyes shall see the King in His beauty; these ears shall hear His own dear voice; this soul shall be in glory; and this poor body shall be raised from the dead and joined in incorruption to the perfected soul! Glory, glory, glory! And so near, so sure. Let us at once rehearse the music and anticipate the bliss!
 
But cries one, "We are not there yet." No, but faith fills us with delight in the blessed prospect, and meanwhile it sustains us on the road."

Yes.

We are sustained.

By knowing that Daddy will be with Him where He is.

By knowing that Daddy will wear a crown as a child of God.

By knowing that Daddy will see The King in all His beauty.

By knowing that Daddy will hear the voice of God calling his name. 

By knowing that Daddy's soul will soon be glorified 

and that his body will be as perfected as his soul.

We sing Glory, Glory, Glory, as we delight in the anticipation of Daddy being with his Savior, Jesus Christ.

Yes.

We are sustained.

My Wounded Healer

The first time I heard the phrase "wounded healer" was while reading the book Abba Child by Brennan Manning.


Manning tells a story that is taken from the play "The Angel That Troubled the Waters" by Thornton Wilder. It is based on the Bible story found in John 5:1-4.

The story goes like this . . . 


A wounded physician goes to the pool to be healed. But every time he begins to step into the healing waters of the pool, an angel blocks him from entering the waters. The wounded physician cries for his healing, but the angel repeatedly tells him that today is not the day for his healing.


Day after day, he sees others stepping into the waters with their wounds and leaving the waters without them. They are healed while he is still wounded.


Confused and brokenhearted, he cries out to the angel that stirs the healing waters but the angel replies, "Without your wounds where would your power be?"


The angel explains that it is the very wounds he so longs to be free of that causes others to listen to him. It is his wounds that allow him to do what no angel could ever do. His wounds are what allows him to comfort and to encourage those who are broken and who are living in despair.


As the physician is trying to absorb the words of the angel, a man who has just received his healing from the waters comes to him, and asks him to go to his home and speak to his son and daughter. Their lives have fallen apart, and they will not listen to anyone. But, the healed man knows his broken children will listen to the broken physician. 


"In Love's service, only wounded soldiers can serve." 


After reading this story from Abba Child, I read it to my Aunt Sarah.


She smiled.


She was a Wounded Healer.


She was my Wounded Healer.


Because Aunt Sarah was never a wife or a mother, I often wondered as I sat at her kitchen table and my tears dripped into my cup of coffee, if she really understood all of the fears and disappointments I shared with her.


But even while I wondered if she understood, morning after morning, I kept returning to that table to sit and to share with her.


Aunt Sarah was safe.


With Aunt Sarah, I never felt judged.


I felt free to be honest. To be myself.


Regardless of what I shared with her, she smiled and always pointed me to Jesus.


I knew what she was going to say before she ever said it, but I always wanted to hear her say it again. 


"Cheri, His grace is sufficient." 


Because of her wounds, and because of her joy, I knew it was true.


Aunt Sarah left me with an inheritance more precious than silver or gold.


Aunt Sarah chose to be a Wounded Healer to me, to my children, to my sister, to my cousins, and to her friends at AA. 


Because of Aunt Sarah, I know that I can go through life and lay down my fig-leaves.


I do not have to hide my failures or my wounds.


Aunt Sarah allowed her failures and her wounds to be evidence of God's mercy, and of His power, and of His love, to all who knew her.


I pray my failures and wounds will be evidence of the same.


As God's grace was sufficient for Aunt Sarah, who is now completely healed and glorified into the image of Christ, so His grace will also be sufficient for me, and for you.

I love you Aunt Sarah.

A CHRISTMAS STORY ONLY GOD COULD WRITE

I'd like to tell you an amazing story.


I can call it amazing, because it has nothing to do with me.


And yes, it is a Christmas story.

A wonderful Christmas story.

Last week, on the eight anniversary of Ethan being injured, my sister went into a grocery store to pick up a couple of things for her son-in-law's birthday party. It's a store where she doesn't usually shop, but that day it just happened to be convenient.


She laid a few items on the counter and reached into her purse for her cash. As she handed the cash to the clerk and looked her into her face, she thought she recognized her.

Her hair was different, and she seemed awfully thin, but my sister  knew it was her.


Debbie, my sister, asked her if she had worked for the grocery chain very long.


The clerk said "yes."


Debbie asked her if she had ever worked at the store closest to Debbie's house, and if she had, was there any chance that she had been working there eight years ago?

The clerk, though puzzled, thought for a moment and then smiled and said, "Why yes. I did work at that store eight years ago."

My sister then asked her if she remembered a woman, who while checking out groceries the week before Christmas eight years before, had asked her if she believed in miracles.


The clerk said, "Yes. That was you. It was your nephew. Your sister's boy. I prayed for him but I never knew what happened."


My sister, the one seeking a miracle for her nephew, and the clerk who believed in them, were brought back together eight years to the day on which Ethan was hurt, at a grocery store across town from where they had first met.


They were brought back together by a God who sees everything.


By a God who saw a young man who had made a terrible choice, who was sitting alone in his apartment barely breathing, for hours.


A God who saw a mom and dad out shopping for Christmas presents that their child would never be able to enjoy. 


A God who saw doctors and nurses, who would soon be standing over our Ethan, believing he was gone . . . that it was too late, but willing to use their skills and experience to allow God to work through them.


A God who saw a big brother at home, waiting for hours, days, and months, to know if he would spend the rest of his life with or without his best friend.


A God who saw an aunt, with tears streaming down her face in a grocery store check-out line, desperately seeking a miracle for her nephew, and for me, and for Jim, and for Seth.


And a God who saw one of His precious children, working as a clerk in a grocery store, that believed in Him and what He could do.


The God who sees, is the God who left heaven, took on flesh, and became man to dwell with us. (John 1:14)


Last week my sister was able to share how God showed His glory by waking up the nephew for whom the clerk had prayed. 


She shared how God had given Ethan back his memory, his intelligence, and his wonderful sense of humor.


Debbie told the clerk what a joy and delight Ethan is to our entire family.


As my sister was sharing this amazing Christmas story with me, we were both crying on the phone.


We were crying because the memory of the pain we felt during those very dark days is still very real.


We were crying because our hearts were overflowing with gratitude to the God who sees, and who does more than we can ever imagine or hope for. (Ephesians 3:10)

But we also cried tears because we so desperately want complete healing for Ethan's body. 


Loss hurts, even in the presence of a heart full of gratitude.


The God who took on flesh, and came to dwell with us, has shown His glory in the ways he has healed Ethan.


But, my friends, He has also shown His glory the greatest in the ways in which He has not.


His glory has shown the brightest in our darkness.


In the darkness of our loss and sadness, His glory has brought unbelievable and undeserved joy, comfort, and strength.


His glory has brought life. 


"Turning the calendar page to December doesn't turn life into this dance of the sugarplum fairies."  Ann Voscamp


Oh, how I know Ann's statement is true.


But I also know what memories from past Christmases or a beautifully decorated tree or parties or even friends and family can't do, God can do.


And that my friends, is what I ask for you, and for my sister, and for the clerk at the grocery store this Christmas.


I pray that His glory will shine brightly in your darkness.


I pray that the good tidings of great joy that the angels promised to the Shepherds, as they found themselves in the darkness that Christmas night so long ago, will fill your heart and bring you peace.


"Then the angel said to them, Do not be afraid, for behold I bring you good tidings of great joy which shall be to all people. For there is born to you this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign to you: You will find a babe wrapped in swaddling cloths, lying in a manger." And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying: 

"Glory to God in the highest. 

And on earth peace, 

goodwill toward men."

Luke 2:10-14

 

GIFTS

One of the best gifts I've ever received... was my big sister!

WHEN SANTA CAME TO TOWN