KEEP DOING WHAT IS GOOD

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“So let’s not get tired of doing what is good. At just the right time we will reap a harvest of blessing if we don’t give up”

(Galatians 6:9, NLT)

Today was a work day, of course it’s Thursday.  Sometimes at work I feel like I’m in a trial and can never get out.  I’m sure I’m not the only one who has ever experienced trial.  The reason I know I’m not the only one is look at the world today.

If you go into the news you can read on every page some kind of trial that people are experiencing.  On lunch, I was reading a devotional that is sent to me every day and the writer used the above verse.  It was a verse that was written for me, during this day, at this moment.

That’s what I love about bible verses.  God uses them to speak to us whenever we need to be encouraged.  Encouragement is all around us.  We get one word, one affirmation, or even one bible verse and it can change the day. 

He reminded me that I don’t need to get tired of doing what is good.  He is with me every day, every step of the way and no matter the circumstances, at just the right time I will reap a harvest of blessing.  Don’t give up.  Keep on the straight and narrow.  Rocks are being thrown at us from every side but we have a safety net.  No matter how the enemy tries to knock us off kilter He will be there to catch us. 

Encouragement is a wonderful thing.  Everyone can practice it at least once in the day.  A smile for someone that you’re not particularly fond of, or you don’t ordinarily talk to goes a long way.  Maybe your child fell down and has a boo boo, a kiss and a band aid goes a long way.

Whatever your trial is today, get a little encouragement from a source right at your fingertips.  Read your favorite poem, watch a happy movie, pick up the phone and call an old friend.  Put a positive in your life.  Look in the mirror and smile at yourself.  You’d be surprised how good you will feel.

Last but not least, don’t give up.  Stay on the narrow road; understand that He is always the same, yesterday, today and tomorrow.  My afternoon is going much better, much more relaxed and more encouraged. 

A PINK DAY

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I sat on the chair outside the hospital room.  The familiar smell circled aaround my nose and I wanted to breath any other smell.  I was tired of sitting erect in a chair and trying to dose.  I felt like there was no pink in that day.

My face in my hands, I was feeling pinkless.  Suddenly I looked up and there before me was a Catholic priest.  "Can you baptize my son?"  He looked at me, I can't remember his face but I remember he looked long and hard at me.  "Are you Catholic?", he answered.  I felt compelled to lie but he was a priest after all so I answered, "No."

"I can't babtize your son if you're not Catholic.  It's against my vows.  He's dieing I answered.  He's had pnemonia for months and months and it's not healing.  I want him to go to heaven, I want him to be baptized.  My hiusband was raised Catholic, but never goes to church."

"Does you husband want him to be baptized?  I don't know whaat my husband wants.  I've been here for seventy five days and I haven't seen my husband for many days.  My daughter is five and I haven't been able to see her either.  I've not left my son.  I've not had sleep, shower or a decent meal.  I don't have any money and I haven't moved my car from the parking spot in seventy five days.  I don't know what I'm going to do, I don't know if today it's going to be his last.  I believe in God and I know my responsibility is to teach him about God.  I saw you and it occurred to me thagt God wants us to be baptized."

He looked at me with that look.  He removed his robe, his priestly robe.  Slowly we entered the hospital room together.  He used the bedside table and pulled out his baptismal kit from a satchel, something like a doctor would carry.  He cherished his tools, delicately he laid them out one by one.  First, a white linen cloth with a cross on it.  Then he took a small bowl from the satchel and next he poured water from a vile; I assumed it was holy water.  He took out a baptismal certificate and filled it out with our names and carefully he placed the date on the paper.  He prayed silently for it seemed like an eternity. 

Then he reached through the bars of the crib.  Louis lay sleeping, IV's dripping and his breathing labored.  He didn't know, wake up or even acknowledge we were in the room.  The priest began saying his ritual words.  The only ones I heard were, "I baptize you in the name of the father, son and holy ghost.  Louis Conner, Jr. , you are sealed with the cross of Christ. 

I let out a sigh.  Pinkness filled the room.  There was only me, the priest, Louis and God.  I thought I could hear angels singing Halleluyah.  The room was filled with other patients, other parents, nurses and doctors.  I couldn't see them.  I could only see the color pink.  A smile spread on Louis' face.  He lay sleeping but a smile graced his face.  I always wondered if he somehow knew that he was a child of God.  Did he feel the pink, spreading over the room?  Did he feel the arms of God holding him and the angels singing?  Did he know that he was a child of God?

Come with me to the Pink Saturday Party today.

Morning Feet

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This morning I was blessed by waking up to the sound of small feet.  The running back and forth on the hard wood floors and the wonderment of how that burst of energy can be felt so early in the morning.  As I listened it took me back to another time when I was listening to my own waking up with that burst of energy.

Such love is presented in those feet.  The sound of happiness that the day has begun and the sound of determination as they look for another toy or as they explore the household acting as if it's the first time that they are seeing it.

When someone leaves us, the sound of morning feet is one of the things that we miss.  We miss waking up and seeing them waiting for you to crawl out of bed and make their breakfast.  We miss hearing the bare feet slapping against a hardwood floor, calling out to you mommy, I'm awake.  We miss that first smile in the morning and that first hug they throw our way.  We miss the sound that the day has begun.  The way we are reminded one step at a time.

Yes this morning as I listened to my Grandson's feet I felt blessed.  I felt as if God was reminding me, giving me a present, a warm and simple memory to begin my day.  He was waking me gently, rocking me from a night of slumber with a pleasant sound, a present for my ears. 

What sounds remind us?  What are the sounds that bring a smile to our faces?  At four thirty in the morning I can't think of a more pleasant sound than two tiny feet running back and forth, up and down the hallway reminding me of another time, another joy, another happiness.

A MOTHER’S TEARDROP

When I’m asleep,

I dream of you,

And not the sadness,

Of your plight.

I dream of yesterdays,

Gone by,

I dream of holding you,

Upon my lap,

Of conversations,

Once held dear.

I dream of you my little one,

I dream of you so near.

I can close my eyes,

And see your smile,

Anytime of the day or night.

But the one thing I can never do,

Is hold you close for real and true,

You’re not here,

You’ve flown,

Gone to heaven I’m sure.

And for the sadness of a mother’s heart,

There never can be a cure.

If you close your eyes and dream of me,

Just know that someday,

When I’m underground,

That no more fantasy will prevail,

Our hands will clasp for real.

Linda Bowden

TODAY IS THE DAY

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It's the eighth of June 2012.  Today in my heart and mind he's nine years old because that is the year that he left this earth.  If he was still here on this earth he would be age 36.  I can only imagine what he'd be doing, what job he'd be working on, whether or not he was married, whether he had children.  I can only imagine because these are accomplishments that did not come to be.

A mother does not forget the day she gave birth to a child.  I don't think it's the pain she remembers because if she did let's face it she probably wouldn't repeat that.  It's the joy that she doesn't forget.  There is a joy that surrounds the experience that far out- weighs any pain that she felt.  There's the happiness that drips from the brow and spreads out over the room, like butter on toast. 

In the beginning of having to spend this day alone, tears would come to my eyes and I would mourn the smell of him, the laughter, the sparkling eyes.  Now I look at this day as a new beginning, a respectfull remembrance of the joy that filled that room, on this day 36 years ago.  I have spent time meditating, listening to uplifting messages, and reading the Word, to strengthen me for whatever blessings that God will give to me on this day. 

Does the world remember?  Not really.  I've even found that the people who knew him don't always think of it.  That used to really bother me.  Not anymore, because their lives surround them and they go on with their day.  Some of them stop to think of the birthday but to most people it's just another day.  There is no fault in that. 

As time wears on, I find myself seizing the day, this day's happenings, this day's blessings, failures and accomplishments.  Louis is at peace.  If he can see me, today, I believe that he is the happiest of all.  He is in heaven with his Lord, no pain, no worries, just happiness.

I recall one day when he was in the hospital and I got a phone call at work.  "Mom, mom, guess what?  What son?  Listen to this, he began reading the passage, and the streets are of gold, and there is no more pain.  No more pain, mom.  How wonderful can this place be?"  I remember, my eyes welled up and I thought "How can a nine year old be so prepared?"  Well, God prepares us at any age to be received by Him.  To be ready.  Today I celebrate that Louis is at peace, enjoying no more pain, happy and relieved.  I hold on to this truth for one more birthday.

Happy Birthday son, a mother's love does not forget!

Louis, Taking the Good

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Last night I lay with my grandson in my bed and memories begin to flood in.  Two days ago my grandson had a seizure and I was reminded of how fragile each day on earth is for us.  My daughter was traumatized and all of us are watching and waiting for something more to happen.  I realized that we can't live each day with the remembrance of something negative.  For his sake and ours we need to push through those feelings of waiting for the other shoe to drop.  He was so sweet as he lay beside me, holding my hand and watching his favorite Mickey Mouse Club. 

As I held him close to me, not too close, cause he's an independent guy, I realized that he doesn't know why we're concerned.  Mickey Mouse played on and on and the little lessons that are taught in the show seemed so interesting to him.  Counting by fives, and getting the tools from "Oh Toodles" seemed to be in his concentration.  His favorite part is the end when they sing the "Hot Dog Song."  He loves to look at his Grandma and show me that he can sing, "Hot Dog."  Last night he took that one step further and began to harmonize long after the song was finished.  I wondered what he was thinking because he really doesn't talk yet.  He's only twenty months.

I was reminded how Louis my own son would take these kind of moments and make something good out of them.  He would put aside sickness, pain and suffering and hold on to the Hot Dog Moments, the way Hayden did last night.  Even in times of being bed ridden he would make a game out of everything.  Sometimes in the hospital he would grab whatever might be at his bedside, an emesis basin for a boat or a water pitcher pouring the water into his boat and making even a pencil floating in his homemade toy special. 

A child is resiliant.  They make the best of their situation because that's their natural instinct.  We as adults whine and complain about our situations and don't always make the best of what we have today.  We don't always show our gratitude for the moments we have and don't provide examples for the children around us.  Watching Hayden reminded me of how little children are comfortable with their surroundings and make the best of every minute.  His actions reminded me of Louis and the times that he would push aside all of the bad and let only the good into his heart.

A mother can store the memories of the good.  A mother needs to erase the bad, push aside the darkness and learn to walk alongside their children into the light.

On the Pink of It

No one knows what is going to happen on any given day, whether or not the days color will end with a pink hue or even a day that begins with a dark green color will soften as the hours go by.  Yesterday there was darkness, and as the day wore on the nighttime closed the hour with a lighter shade ending with a pink hue. 

Yesterday was filled with uncertainty and angst but today is a little bit lighter.  As I sat in a Starbucks this morning, sharing and talking with friends I realized how much we are all connected in some way.  My grief stricken days can often be erased when I share with others and more importantly listen to their stories and how the learning process in this universe is a daily and sometimes minute by minute experience.   The world, and the people in it, are full of their own grief and how they have overcome these grievance experiences.  They share their daily struggle and somehow hearing what they have to share lessens my own grievance experience.

God is constantly giving me new tools, new blessings that make each day easier to taken another step towards joy. Reminded of the bible verse, Joy comes in the morning.  Joy is a word that is short and precise.  It's funny how three little letters can say so much.  I think of Joy as being a blessing.  I think of this word as being a pink word which spreads like butter on a hot biscuit.  Don't we wish we could have joy around us every day of the week and every minute of the day.  Sometimes we may not feel joyous and we let the heaviness of the night darken the light of the day.  I try to hold on to the morning, to think of the good things in my life.  To share with others how joy can fill the dark spaces if I allow it to come.  Not to feel guilty, not to let go, or surrender every problem that has ever defined me but rather to allow myself to feel joy, the blessing of the morning. 

When I was a child and I was distraught my mother would say, "Sleep on it, everything will look differently in the morning."  The older I get the more I understand how wise my mother really is.  I just wonder how long do we want to stay in the night.  How long do we wollow and struggle in the dark colors and when do we have that epiphany that it is okay to get to the pink of the morning. 

Today, this day I choose to put pink in my color pallet.  It's the beginning of joy and the end of the darkness.  Have a pink weekend!

The Season of Birthdays

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It seems that the birthdays are so abundant during the summer months.  Yesterday we went to a birthday party at a long time friends house.  So many children, all of my grandchildren were there.  Both of my daughters and their spouses were there.  I suppose that there are many summer birthdays because of those snuggly winter nights. 

I was reminded of how much love surrounds a birthday party, young and old.  Louis' birthday was a summer birthday.  June 8th, 1976 was his birthday.  I remember his birthday well as being my easiest, fastest labor even though he was my biggest baby.  Ten pounds, three ounces and twenty two inches long.  My last daughter was longer but did not weigh the extra three ounces. 

Even though he only had nine birthdays, he was no different than any other little boy.  He loved the joy, the love that surrounded him by family and friends during these times.  He loved his new bike, or his baseball mit.  He even loved those clothes that he would receive on a birthday.  Toys and games, especially toys to do with dragons or cars were his favorite.

Yesterday as I watched our friends little boy open his presents it reminded me of the joy that surrounds a day called birthday.  It's all about the love, the friends, the family the people that make up the wondrus happiness that completes the circle. 

Little boys are so special, the jumping, the shouting, the chasing their brothers and friends.  They are mysterious and explode with excitement on their special day.  There is nothing dainty about their actions, they shout and tell us what they want.

Thank God for birthdays, for special days that bring together a combination of friends and family to share in the joy and happiness of little boys and girls.  I am forever grateful for these days, in my memories and in my present life.