by jphilo | Nov 18, 2013 | Family
I’ve never been one of those people with a direct line to God’s voice. I spend most of the time begging him to speak in a without-a-doubt-God-is-speaking voice and waiting for it to happen.
It rarely does.
But this weekend, God spoke loud and clear through, of all things, a song in a hotel lobby. Mom, my brother, and I were checking in the evening before Aunt Lois‘s funeral, and one of my favorite songs was playing.
Matt Redmann’s Blessed Be the Name of the Lord.
I didn’t think much of it at the time. My mind was focused on conversations shared with Lois’s son and daughter. Their descriptions of last visits with their mother and how unexpected they felt her death to be since the doctor had pronounced her heart strong enough to make it to 100. Their stories of how their mother chose to use lessons learned through her losses to minister to hurting friends and family.
Their stories of her faith and faithfulness.
I didn’t think of the song from the hotel lobby again until the end of yesterday’s church service. A service spent rembering Aunt Lois, praying for her children and grandchildren, thinking about her two remaining siblings, Mom and Aunt Donna, wondering what it is like for them to be the last living children from a tightly knit group of eight. I was reaching for another tissue when the worship band played the chords of the last song in the service.
Can you guess what it was?
Yup. It was Blessed Be Your Name. I sorta sang along. But it was hard, what with the lump in my throat and wanting to plug my ears because God was speaking so loud it hurt enough to make me laugh and cry and laugh all at once. Until I ran out of tissues and wished I’d picked up the extra funeral home packets off the pew at the funeral, knowing such frugality would please Aunt Lois and her living siblings to no end. World without end. Amen and amen. While God spoke the life of Lois through the words of this song.
Blessed Be Your Name
Blessed Be Your Name
In the land that is plentiful
Where Your streams of abundance flow
Blessed be Your name
Blessed Be Your name
When I’m found in the desert place
Though I walk through the wilderness
Blessed Be Your name
Every blessing You pour out
I’ll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your glorious name
Blessed be Your name
When the sun’s shining down on me
When the world’s ‘all as it should be’
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be Your name
On the road marked with suffering
Though there’s pain in the offering
Blessed be Your name
Every blessing You pour out
I’ll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your glorious name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your glorious name
You give and take away
You give and take away
My heart will choose to say
Lord, blessed be Your name
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by jphilo | Nov 4, 2013 | Church Newsletter Columns
Therefore, brothers, be all the more diligent to confirm your calling…
2 Peter 1:10
Gratefulness. It’s a quality God’s been cultivating in me ever since his Holy Spirit started to rooting out my tendency to complain occasionally. Or maybe I should say often. All right, daily. To be perfectly honest, hourly. Even minute-ly, to coin a new word.
Compliments of the inner nudging of the Holy Spirit, which can leave my innards a bit bruised and battered (Oops…complaining again!), I am learning to recognize and thank God for his many graces: a loving husband, good health, travel safety, a warm house, financial stability, friends, our children doing well, the cutest grandson in the world, and unexpected career opportunities.
In fact, my capacity to recognize God’s grace and practice gratefulness has increased so much that the other day I interrupted my prayer time several times administer self-congratulatory pats on my back.
About the time the pat-a-thon ended, a radio report mentioned polio outbreaks among Syrian refugee children and in Somalia. My mind flashed back fifty years to my school gymnasium, where my classmates and I took sugar cubes tinted pink with polio vaccine from a tray, put them in our mouths, and savored the sweetness melting on our tongues. Tears came to my eyes, and I wept for children in Syria and Somalia, where fifty years after the first polio vaccines were administered in our country, war has halted such programs in theirs.
The Holy Spirit used that news report to reveal the shallowness of my gratitude. Had I ever thanked God for being vaccinated for polio? For living in a country peaceful enough to offer basic health care to children? For the school where the vaccine was administered? For a safe and healthy childhood? No, I had never thanked God for his avalanche of grace throughout my life.
The Holy Spirit kept rooting around, nudging me to go deeper until I finally asked, “Why? God, why have you given so many gifts to one so undeserving? Why have you opened so many doors? Why have you provided so many resources and opportunities? God, what are you calling me to do with this great bounty?”
With that question I reached the place God wants his children to find: beyond grateful. In that place he reveals how to use his gifts as the means for his redemptive work. To use them to draw near to the brokenhearted, to minister to those crushed in spirit next door and around the world.
So a few weeks from now, when the loved ones at your table reflect upon what they’re thankful for this Thanksgiving, challenge them–and yourself–to go beyond grateful and ask God to reveal what he’s calling you to do with his gifts.
He may call you to give shoes to barefoot people in the Congo, send Christmas boxes to needy children, support missionaries in Latvia. Who knows? One day, he may call you to deliver polio vaccines to children in war torn countries like Syria and Somalia. Because God’s people go beyond grateful, he does amazing things through them and his gifts.
Photo Credit: www,freedigitalphotos.net
by jphilo | Oct 14, 2013 | Out and About
Today, I can’t wait to spend the day with a high school bestie. How do I know she’s a bestie?
Because we, and two other girls, met on the first day of ninth grade.
When I looked like the girl in the picture above.
Even so, the four of us remained friends.
Not just that year, but throughout high school.
To this very day
I’m not someone who wishes to go back to high school and relive it because those were the best years of my life. Because, even though my high school years were very good, now is the best time of my life.
My husband and I are happy.
Our kids are raised.
Our grandson is perfect.
Camp Dorothy is a hoot.
I love my job.
But if I could have one thing back from high school, I would choose time with my besties. Because we went from ugly ducklings–besties, rest assured I would never post your 9th grade school pictures here–to swans together.
We studied together,
auditioned en masse for plays and speech,
joined the same clubs,
attended cast parties,
pined over the same boys,
hung out at one another’s houses,
threw pennies on the roof of Pizza Hut,
went to youth group,
and had more slumber parties than you can shake a stick at.
If I could choose one day to relive, it would be when we went all the way to Sioux City–just us 4 girls, no parents–to have our senior pictures (see below) taken and then out to a Chinese restaurant afterwards.
The memory of that day is precious.
The memory of this day will be precious, too.
One day with a high school bestie.
When we’re both old enough
to recognize the value of one day,
the value of health to enjoy it,
the value of friendships that span decades,
the value of what we had then,
the value of what we have now,
and the wisdom to be grateful.
by jphilo | Jul 29, 2013 | Reflections on the Past
A couple weekends ago, I turned 57. Not a Big–0 birthday, but big nonetheless. Because I’ve now been out of teaching for an entire decade.
This 1–0 anniversary is a good reason to think about what’s happened since my wonderful co-workers gave me a send off that included the granting of a childhood wish to be a flower girl by making a “Mrs. Philo Phlowergirl Phorever” sash for me. (Which, by the way, is still in my closet.) Here’s a smattering of where the decade went:
- We said good-bye to both Hiram’s parents.
- We hosted a foreign exchange student from Japan.
- My daughter and I went to Europe.
- My daughter graduated from high school and then college.
- Hiram and I adapted to the empty nest smoothly.
- Mom moved from her home to my brother’s house.
- Mom’s house sold 4 hours after it was listed on the market.
- Both our kids got married…within 3 months of each other.
- We helped them move from here to there to there to….
- Our first grandchild lit up our world.
- Hiram and I celebrated 10 more anniversaries, with the count now standing at 36.
- We’ve vacationed together in Alaska, Idaho, Savannah, Wisconsin, and probably other places that slip my mind because I’m 10 years older than I used to be.
- I’ve traveled to speaking gigs all over Iowa and in DC, San Diego, Long Beach, Nebraska, Missouri, Minnesota, Illinois, Texas and other places that slip my mind because of jet lag.
- Only my mother, 2 of her sisters, and 1 brother-in-law are left of her 7 siblings and spouses who filled my childhood with security and a sense of belonging.
- I worked for our church part time 4 years.
- God allowed our congregation built a new church, and He provided everything needed to furnish it.
- I’ve published scads of magazine articles and 2 books with contracts for 2 more.
- Those books have led to friendships with the most amazing people in special needs ministry around the country.
- I’ve gained enough tech savvy to be dangerous, but not enough to be proficient.
- My retirement pension started sending checks 2 years ago.
The list could go on and on, but you get the picture. God blessed my step of faith out of education and into writing and speaking. He’s been with us through every joy, every sorrow, every good-bye, and every challenge. Sometimes, He even provides opportunities so I can wear my Phlowergirl Phorever sash at speaking engagements.
What more could I possibly want?
by jphilo | Jul 8, 2013 | Family
36 years ago today, Hiram and I were…
Sitting on the second raft at the Le Mars sandpit cultivating sunburns,
Hangin’ with Hiram’s twin brother, his wife, and their baby son,
Shucking sweet corn for wedding rehearsal supper at Mom’s,
Practicing our vows and getting ready to begin our marriage,
Grateful God brought us.
Today, we are…
Toting umbrellas and wearing raincoats and sweaters to explore Kodiak, Alaska,
Hanging with Hiram’s twin brother and his wife, sharing pictures of our grandkids,
Fixing salmon for our final meal together on the island,
Ready to honor our vows for however many more years God grants to us,
More grateful than ever to have met at college all those years ago.
