G'ampa C's Blog

Saturday, December 16, 2006

The Things I Celebrate (1)

In the whole Thanksgiving issue, there are other things worth celebrating. Some seem small at first glance, but loom so large at certain times. These are random things I value and celebrate.

I'm really blessed to have a whole set of memories of my Dad. He was a simple man, eighth grade schooling, no expensive tastes. He loved my Mom with all his heart, and always worked hard. He never wasted anything, never bragged on his work, but was appreciated everywhere he went. He was faithful to God and his family. In some ways, he was very strict when we were kids, but he was a true friend when I was mature enough to accept it. I could always tickle his funny-bone with a story or joke, and he would laugh so hard he almost couldn't breathe. He was the most humble man I have ever known, but I didn't realize it until late. When he passed away unexpectedly several years ago, the church building which seated 350 couldn't hold the people for his funeral. Good memories. Really good memories. I wonder what memories I will leave my children?

I see God's hand in sunrises and rainbows, even though I can give the scientific explanation for the event.

Big church is a blessing every time I go. Home church (Life Team) is even more a blessing. I can't imagine (now) not having such a close bond to those souls.

I have been blessed with 25 years as a nursery attendant at church. In that time, I've loved and cared for something above 600 babies. Most of them don't remember me after they leave, but some do, and a child's love is a very healthy thing, indeed. I still believe, after all these years, that all the diapers, spit up, runny noses and crying were and are far outweighed by the blessings of being with the little ones. Our preacher once told me "I don't know how do you do it." My best response is -- "How can I not?". It has been a great blessing.

I have a friend named Wes. We talk deeply to each other, and confess to each other. I hug him every time I see him, and he hugs me back without reservation. We share a spiritual harmony beyond explanations, and make each other's lives richer. We share the Lord's Supper with tears and laughter.

Anyone else have any things to celebrate?

2 Comments:

  • At 7:16 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    Some things I celebrate ...

    A godly woman - My mom is a faithful woman and a powerful example to me. I can remember that she always read her Bible daily. She always made sure we prayed over every meal and told us Bible stories (my favorite was Jonah). She's respectful and submissive to my father, as the Bible teaches(something I could definitely do better for my husband). She taught us as children that you never have too little to give something away. When I was young, money was tight -sometimes it was really tight. But I can never remember a time when it was too tight to give some to Highland every Sunday, and we always had enough to donate a Thanksgiving bag or two over the holidays. Mom used to make bags with can openers, canned foods and boxes of food, complete with a note about Jesus's love, and keep them in the back of her car to give out to any homeless/begging person she saw. My mother taught me a lot about the power of kindness - she did (does) little things that might not cost a million dollars, but were warmly expressed and certainly MEANT more than a million dollars to the recipient. I celebrate her love, first for Christ, that translates into an overflow of love to the rest of us down here. She's always there with a listening ear, always there to help me when I make mistakes. She's always supported me and has always cared for me. I always feel like I have someplace to turn. As I've gotten older, we've gotten to be really good friends. And now, as I look at my own daughter, I realize the SACRIFICE of motherhood, and all that she must have gone through for me, and I love her all the more. Thank you, Lord, for my Mom.

     
  • At 7:33 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    Something else I celebrate ...

    A refuge - My father has always been a firm man. Firm, but loving. (Although I think he might be softening up a bit these days though!) :) I remember how he used to delight in watching me learn something, like fishing. He used to wake me up early in the morning before it was light, to go fishing with him. I had a blue Snoopy fishing pole. He was patient with me, and taught me step by step how to catch bait and then fish. How many grown men really have the patience to take their 4 year old hyperactive daughter on an all-day fishing trip outside of town? Much like fishing, my Daddy taught me many things about life, step by step. Actions have consequences, he would always say. He was firm with discipline, but loving. I can remember he being pretty strict with me when I was young. When my heart was broken he would listen and advise me what to do with my dating life.

    But the thing I learned from my Daddy that I will never forget -Christ's COMFORT - was something I don't think he knew he was teaching.
    My mom's sister took her own life three days before I graduated high school. I was really torn up about it and for almost two weeks I didn't sleep and my stomach hurt so bad I could hardly eat. I lost, if you can imagine, almost 15 pounds, but didn't tell anyone about my inner suffering, because I didn't want to focus on myself when it was my mom's sister! Then one morning at 5am, after a night of no sleep, lots of crying and praying and hurting ... I found my Daddy. (Just the mention of it brings tears and a wave of warmth.) He had fallen asleep on the couch after a hard day at work. I went to him and softly cried, "Daddy". (He snores so he didn't hear me) "DADDY" a little louder. (Nothing) "DADDY PLEASE WAKE UP I NEED YOU!" And then I sobbed and cried so hard I couldn't breathe, let alone talk. The look on his face as he sprang from a deep sleep - was something I'll never forget. God must look at us something like that when we call to Him in pain. His face went from startle, to terror, to DEEP PAIN, all in an instant. I wish I had better words to describe it. He hurt because I hurt. He held me in his lap, and I was four years old again, pouring out all my cares and concerns, telling him of my nightmares and feelings. And he just HELD me, and let me cry. And when I was done, he told me (among other things) "Laura, think of the GOOD times. Don't let satan rob you of those in your grief. Focus on the good memories." But for the first time I felt warmth, and love, and COMFORT. I think the love of the LORD filled my Daddy's arms as he held me that night. I could FEEL the physical presence of my Savior. It was one of the most powerful moments of my life.

    Thank you Lord, for my Daddy.

     

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