Wedding Showers in June

I am told

there is an old Italian phrase

about rainy weddings ~

Sposa bagnata, Sposa fortunata.

It means, Wet Bride, Fortunate Bride!

Eleven years ago this Saturday, on June 6, 1998, our house was filled with excitement. Amy and Jeff were getting married in a few short hours!

We spent that day decorating the lovely yard of the Jackson's home beside the Kings River. Friends brought the bouquets of wild flowers they had grown to decorate each table. Twinkle lights and white tulle draped the edge of the yard and the center aisle where Tony would escort our daughter. Amy and her bridal party were upstairs in the Jackson home, having their hair and make-up done. It was a wonderful day and a fairy tale wedding was in the making!

Then, about 4:30 pm, the clear blue sky darkened. Out of nowhere, two storms merged over central California and the rain began. It did not just drizzle or sprinkle. No, it was a downpour. Although sunset was not for another four hours, the sky was dark. Soon lightning and thunder filled the sky. And the fairy tale wedding, the beautifully decorated tables, the white tulle and twinkle lights, were drenched.

Records from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA), which date back to the 1800's, state for June 6th:

1998: An evening storm drops 1.80 inch of rain in six hours on the Fresno- Yosemite International Airport, part of a total of 1.88 inch for the event. This set records in Fresno for the wettest calendar day in June, the wettest June overall and the wettest 6-and 24-hour periods in the month of June. Across Fresno and Tulare Counties over $27 million dollars in damage occurred to crops damaged by hail and trees downed by the wind. The Reedley area was especially hard hit with 414.8 million in damages.

I remember the tears that rolled down my checks as I watched 400 guests

wade

down that long Jackson driveway under their umbrellas to join us for this blessed event. Amy had dreamed of an outdoor wedding. Hoping the rain would stop, we decided to have the reception first! All our wonderful friends helped set up the buffet lines under the carport. Guests walked on soggy towels to keep from slipping on the wet cement.

It did not stop raining that evening, but it did not keep us from having a wedding. We hastily set up the candelabras on the hearth, and guests found a way to see or hear from throughout the house; some were able to see and hear the ceremony. The music began, and Amy came down the winding staircase on Tony's arm. She was so beautiful, and what had been planned as a lovely outdoor wedding was transformed into an intimate setting around the hearth of this welcoming home.

I have favorite snapshots in my mind, moments I have tucked away of the day of my daughter's wedding. But there is one memory which truly symbolized for me the choice that was made that evening.

As we set things up for the ceremony to take place in the house, we made sure we dried everything off as we brought it inside. We lit all the candles in the candelabras to be sure they would light for the ceremony. But we forgot to dry andtest light the Unity Candle.

When it came to that part of the ceremony, Amy and Jeff picked up their candles to join their individual flames together into a single flame. But the Unity Candle would not light. The wick was thoroughly soaked. After many tries, Amy removed the Unity Candle from its stand, blew her candle out, and set Jeff's candle in the place of the Unity Candle.

I remember all of us laughing with them at the situation. But as I look back on that moment; Amy's actions at that time speak volumes of how she and Jeff would approach their life together.

I know; fairy tale weddings are what most little girls dream of having someday. But too many fairy tale weddings end in broken promises, bitter custody disputes, or merely settle for relationships that have more to do with selfish desires than unconditional love.

What I saw that night, sitting on an ottoman in the Jackson's living room, witnessing my daughter and her husband make vows to one another before God and these witnesses was an act of commitment to take a higher path through life. The rain could have destroyed the wedding. It could have brought out the worst in these two young people. But they chose to find a path of transformation.

Married life is not always sunshine and blue sky. There will be storms and times when it seems the rain just will not go away. Some may make a choice to be destroyed by these times; others will be transformed in spite of them. I am so proud of the marriage that came from that rainy wedding night eleven years ago. I am grateful to watch Amy and Jeff love, honor and respect one another, in good times and bad, as they raise up another generation who are learning that when life sends a storm, you pull on your boots and pop up your umbrella, and find joy in the puddles!

Happy Anniversary,

Amy and Jeff.

How Serious Am I?

Perhaps I can trace my thoughts over the past two weeks to conversations with my cousin Dave. He and his wife, Rachel, are missional artists in Köln, Germany. As a potter, his

story

of reclaiming broken clay is all about

redeeming the future

. I

posted

about brokenness and the impact of his work a few months ago.

Dave and Rachel spent a week with us this month while in the US on Home Assignment. I spent many hours talking with and listening to them as we shared about the struggles and brokenness in our lives through the eyes of The Potter of Jeremiah 18:1-4.

It seems my thoughts continue to dwell on these things. Am I centered on His Wheel? Am I willing to be formed into something that pleases The Potter? With all the pressures of life, can I even feel His hands molding me?

Today I received a link to a video entitled,

God's Chisel

. I watched with tears as I realized how I fail to address the things that keep me from reflecting Christ. I know what they are. Yet I ignore, excuse, forget, dismiss, cover up . . .

you pick the verb

. . . I just don't want to deal with the things that get in the way of what really matters.

I know the video is 9 minutes.

Who has 9 minutes?

My prayer is that you will

give

yourself 9 minutes

and see how He transforms

and

redeems

us for His glory.

Memories and Realities of Mother's Day

Today ~ Mother's Day, 2009 ~ I am rather emotional. Sweet memories and painful realities have me torn to know what I am really feeling. So if this post seems to meander past green pastures and arid wastelands, all in the simple curve in the road, that about sums it up. For Mother’s Day, perhaps like no other day, seems to send me on a journey.

As a child, I fashioned

priceless

gifts for my mom on Mother’s Day. You remember the treasures ~ an empty tin can painted to be a pencil holder; a colorful paper flower with each petal displaying a pledge to do chores for her; a pin made with sequins and beads. Perhaps my favorite Mother’s Day gift I gave my mom was a shiny necklace with a scene of a tropical paradise, all made from butterfly wings. I

sacrificially

purchased it with my tickets at the school carnival.

Really

. It was the most beautiful thing I ever saw, and when she wore it, we both recognized the enormous value of that second-hand piece of costume jewelry.

I became a mother in 1977. Amy was due to arrive three days before Mother’s Day, and I eagerly awaited my first Mother’s Day. Sadly, she came 10 days late. I was well aware as I shuffled into church on Mother’s Day, 1977 that I would have to wait until 1978 to officially qualify to be honored on Mother’s Day.

When Amy and Scott were little I was awaken each Mother’s Day with breakfast in bed. Amid the giggles and battling elbows to be

the one

who carried the tray, I knew I was receiving the most delicious peanut butter toast any mother could ever consume. And, they presented me with their own priceless, handmade gifts, which I still treasure.

This year is different. To be honest, I am grieving. My heart breaks once again for what might have been if Scott were still alive. My soul is heavy as I carry the loss of other young moms who have placed their children in the lap of Abba Father. My eyes weep for my friends whose infant son has lived all of his two and a half months of life at Children’s Hospital.

And yet I find that it is when I am in my darkest place that I more clearly see the pain of others. On this Mother’s Day, I grieve with those whose arms are empty because their wombs are barren. I see the pain in the eyes of young women who always thought they would marry and have children of their own. I am saddened for the children who never knew the love and nurture of a caring mother.

So today, as millions of moms are honored . . . as you honor your own mother, or open handmade trinkets or expensive gifts in your own green pasture . . . look around you. There are arid wastelands where you can be a stream of refreshing love, as you become the arms of God’s grace today.

Surviving the Present

I know there are times it is too much for me to even think about redeeming the future; when today is just too overwhelming ~ I hope I can just survive the present. You know those kind of days.

You are or you have been the mother of small children and you do not have one.more.ounce of energy to offer. You have deadlines and responsibilities that seem to consume every brain cell. You are battered with images from your past that rob your joy. The memory of someone loved who has died opens that hole in your heart to allow all your strength to drain away. The future just looks hopeless.

I know there are times I just want to survive today. I cannot think about redeeming tomorrow.

I am thankful our Lord knew we would have days like this. Listen to his words in Matthew 6:34,

Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.

I am grateful for God's promises in Lamentations 3:19-24 when I encounter these times.

Remember my affliction and my wandering, the wormwood and bitterness. Surely my soul remembers and is bowed down within me. This I recall to my mind, Therefore I have hope. The LORD'S lovingkindnesses indeed never cease, For His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; Great is Your faithfulness. "The LORD is my portion," says my soul, "Therefore I have hope in Him."

How precious, how refreshing, what a hope-filled picture, as I face one of those kind of days, to know He is the great I AM, offering His lovingkindness and compassion, renewing my hope, and filling my portion.

I know I will have days where I do not have one.more.ounce of energy to offer; where it seems every brain cell is consumed with deadlines; where the brokenness of my past robs me of the joy here and now, my strength is simply draining away, and I feel hopeless.

When those days seem to find us without the energy, joy, strength and hope we need, may we dwell on the promise of His strength for today and His bright hope for tomorrow. As we wait on Him to renew us, restore us, fall a fresh on us ~ as we survive today ~ we ARE investing in the future that He promises to redeem in His perfect time.

Great is Thy faithfulness, O God my Father;

There is no shadow of turning with Thee;

Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not;

As Thou hast been, Thou forever will be.

Great is Thy faithfulness! Great is Thy faithfulness!

Morning by morning new mercies I see.

All I have needed Thy hand hath provided;

Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me!

Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth

Thine own dear presence to cheer and to guide;

Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow,

Blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside!

Easter Reflections

Easter stirs so many emotions for me. It seems my reflections are intricately woven with the events of Jesus' last week on earth.

As I approach Holy Week, I feel myself drawn to Gethsemane. It is a place of protest, you know, where Jesus went to ask the Father to let this cup of death pass from him. I have stood among the old olive trees in Gethsemane on a trip to Israel in 1997. The year before, I quite literally found myself begging God to let the cup of death pass over our family. I have laid a precious life in the lap of Abba Father and uttered the words,"Not my will but yours be done," as I learn to trust Him with the pain.

As I awake on Good Friday, I find myself identifying with the sorrow of Mary, whose son's life is slipping away as he hangs before her on the cross. And yet I find comfort in the words Jesus speaks to her in John 19:26, 27. He sees her tears, and looking down from the cross, he meets her in the form of her need, to fill the deep void created in her mother's heart.

When Jesus saw his mother

and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby,

he said to his mother,

"Woman, behold, your son!"

Then he said to the disciple,

"Behold, your mother!"

And from that hour

the disciple took her to his own home.

And then the hope of Easter comes upon me. I realize the power of the resurrection to bring a glorious reunion with those who have gone before. I recognize the promise of Jesus to his disciples as he taught them about his Kingdom that would be ushered in by his death. Jesus tells his disciples in John 16:22, 23 ~

You have sorrow now, but I will see you again,

and your hearts will rejoice,

and no one will take your joy from you.

In that day you will ask nothing of me.

My Easter reflections always take me back to a Garden in Jerusalem, where I stooped to enter an

empty

tomb. I praise Him for the promise of resurrection, the hope of reunion, and the Kingdom where he will . . .

. . .

wipe away every tear from their eyes,

and death shall be no more,

neither shall there be mourning,

nor crying, nor pain anymore,

for the former things have passed away.

Revelation 21:4

One Week to Live

Today is

Palm Sunday

. I remember from childhood the palm branches that adorned the sanctuary to signify the importance of Jesus' triumphal entry in our faith's historical record.

Many of us know the story well ~ the disciples get the donkey and tell the owner

The Master

has need of it, while the people of Jerusalem line the road to get a glimpse of Jesus as he enters Jerusalem as their King. Pastors across the nation today will probably use this text and historical context to focus our thoughts and lives upon

OUR

response to Jesus.

This year as I think about this first day of Holy Week, I find my thoughts on

Jesus' response

to the fact that he has

only one week to live.

As Jesus sends his disciples to get the colt, he knows he has

one week to live.

No disrespect intended toward the very King of Kings, but what might be on Jesus'

Bucket List

as he mounts that donkey and enters the city of David?

The movie

The Bucket List

suggests to its audience to think how we might redeem the last few days, weeks or months of our lives, if we knew when we would die. Following the lead from the movie, people have created extensive inventories as they envision projects to accomplish, places to see and people to meet, before they breathe their last breath.

In the last scene in the film

The Bucket List

, Carter Chambers expresses the transformation that has taken place in the life of Edward Cole. Both men spent their short time left on earth accomplishing many things

important to them

~ traveling to places and meeting people. As the camera focuses on the mountain where Edward is buried, Carter says,

I know that when he died,

his eyes were closed and his heart was open.

In the account found in Scripture of this final week in Jesus' life on earth, I am struck by the fact that nothing he chooses to do that week has anything to do with

his wants and desires

. He does not travel to far off places. He does not seek out old friends to hang with. Rather, he moves confidently toward the cross, hoping to

redeem the future for eternity

as he teaches the crowds about the coming Kingdom and presses the religious leaders to recognize the Father who sent him.

As the Scripture account of Jesus' life pans from this joyous

Triumphal Entry

to the somber climb up the mount called

Golgotha

, it is quite clear that Jesus'

eyes were open

to God's purposes AND

his heart was open

to increasing the Kingdom for eternity.

I am challenged anew this Holy Week to not only

respond

to

Jesus but

respond

like

Jesus. I want to spend however many days, weeks, months or years I have left, glorifying God and peopling the Kingdom.

May our prayer this Palm Sunday be ~

God, open our eyes and our hearts to how we can redeem the future ~

with what time we have left on this Earth.

The Triumphal Entry

by George and Diana Voyajolu, Iconographers, Kamena Vourla, Greece

Happy Birthday to You, Tony!

Happy Birthday to my . . .

• best friend
• counselor
• companion
• supporter
• husband and love of my life, Tony Redfern!

First of all, I need to know, how did you get to be 60 years old so fast?

Wasn't it only yesterday . . .

. . . I watched in

disbelief

as you and Bobby Elliff, Mark Hanna and Glen Plowman messed around in the back row of Children's Church at Lakewood First Baptist?

. . . I saw you drive up to volleyball in your sporty white MGB-GT, with leather interior?

. . . You literally swept me off my feet (

quite another story

) on our first date at the Hollywood Bowl?

. . . You sent me 2 dozen red roses, paid for a window table at the Gate of Spain Restaurant on Santa Monica Bay to ask me to marry you?

But in reality, you

were

born in the first half of the last century, and that was six decades ago!

We have been together almost 40 years ~

4 years of dating at Biola,

and 35 years as husband and wife

this coming July.

We have enjoyed sunny times

and weathered many storms.

Happy 60th Birthday!

I love you.

I cannot imagine how my future would ever have been

so redeemed without you by my side.

Come and grow old with me . . . the best is yet to come.

Robert Browning

Redecorating the Future with the Past

Scott loved tools from a very young age and to build something with his hands was his ultimate form of play. If there was a job to be done, and he could use his tools, he would beg to do it. If he stayed home from school sick, I knew he would complete some "fix it" job around the house while I was at work.

During his sophomore year, Scott was very excited to help Dayn, his youth pastor, remodel the old barn our church used as its youth center. It turned out to be one of his last projects before his fatal accident.

When Scott died two months later, the youth group decided to rename the barn,

Scotty's Place

. It was a thoughtful way to remember Scott and also acknowledge the

hole

left in their midst by his absence.

Age and weather eventually took its toll on the old barn, and it became a safety hazard. The leaders of the church told us about the situation a few years ago, and graciously asked for our input. From a logical position, a decision was not hard to make; the building could not remain standing if it could collapse on someone. But from an emotional perspective, the choice to demolish it was complicated; Scotty's Place would be no more. We gave our vote to have the old barn taken down, but we asked to keep some of the old window frames as a memory of Scott and his work on the place.

The day for demolition finally came. Just before the bulldozer moved in, some friends gently removed three window frames from the sides of the old barn. Then, in a matter of minutes, we watched as Scotty's Place became a pile of rubble.

We recently did some painting and redecorating in our house. (Scott would have loved to be there - especially pulling the old built-in bookcase out of the wall!) We gave a fresh coat of paint to one of the window frames from Scotty's Place and decided it looked great as an accent piece hanging by our dining room table.

Like the youth group, there will always be

Scotty's Place

in our hearts and home. Now, there is a window in our home; to provide a glimpse of the past and to remind us to focus on the future, when we will experience a blessed reunion one day.

Baby Eli

Will you join me in praying for our dear friends again? Eli has shown slow but gradual progress for the past 3 weeks. Today was the day to extubate him, to try to take him off the respirator.

Here is the report his parents just posted:

"Eli was taken off the respirator this afternoon. That was about an hour and a half ago. He's struggling quite a bit, so there's very real concern that he'll have to be re-intubated. His voice doesn't work yet, but he's constantly crying... a silent cry, but his face still shows the struggle all too well. This is pretty hard to endure."

You may remember, Eli had open heart surgery at 2 days old to replumb his heart to a 3-chamber heart. He has been in PICU since he was born, 3 1/2 weeks ago.

Eli's parents, Tanya and Jason, ask for prayer that Eli will have the strength to breath on his own, and that they will know the will of God.

My own prayer is that Tanya and Jason will feel the everlasting arms of God holding them as they wait upon Him to reveal His perfect will.

The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases;

his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning;

great is your faithfulness. "The LORD is my portion,"

says my soul,"therefore I will hope in him."

Lamentations 3:22-24

Faith That Cannot Be Eclipsed

I remember the first time I saw a solar eclipse as a child. A total solar eclipse could be frightening for people who are unaware of its explanation, as the Sun seems to disappear in the middle of the day and the sky darkens in a matter of minutes. For me, it has since become a wonderful illustration of transformation in suffering.

While talking with a friend last week, I was reminded of this as our conversation turned to the suffering of Job,

a righteous man

, given so much to bear. My friend and I talked about the exchange of words between God and Satan recorded in the first chapter of the Book of Job. After some debate about Job’s commitment to trust God in all circumstances, God gives Satan permission to

bring on the suffering

!

I began to reflect upon a similar event recorded in the New Testament. Jesus declares to Simon Peter in Luke 22:31-32, that Satan has

demanded

permission to bring suffering into the lives of righteous individuals. Jesus says:

Simon, Simon, behold, Satan has demanded permission to sift you like wheat;

but I have prayed for you, that your faith may not fail;

and you, when you have turned again, strengthen your brothers.

To be totally transparent here, I am a bit uneasy by what Jesus

does not

say to Satan. I would prefer to hear Jesus say:

Satan has demanded permission to sift you like wheat;

but I have told him “

No

.”

I am not a student of Greek, but there are times when knowing the original language can grow us. That is the case for me in these words of Jesus. A deeper look at Luke 22:31-32 helps me understand the power in Jesus’ prayer.

Jesus’ words, “

that your faith may not fail

” are really metaphorical. In the Greek, Jesus says, “

I have prayed . . . that your faith may not

Ekleipo

.” Our word

eclipse

comes from this Greek word, e

kleipo

. It means to darken, obscure or diminish in importance; to surpass or outshine.

Jesus is saying to Simon Peter, just before His own crucifixion, and to us today, “

I have prayed . . . that your faith may not be darkened, obscured or diminished from what Satan may bring into your path

.”

And the image of that first solar eclipse I saw as a child comes to mind.

Suffering

, like the moon itself, seems to orbit around my life on a fairly regular basis because of choices I make that are not the best for me or Satan’s desire to sift me like wheat. Satan wants this suffering to darken and diminish my faith and hope in the Lord.

I don’t know about you, but the image of an eclipse is powerful to me. Jesus’ words indicate that it is possible for MY FAITH to be stronger, deeper, wider ~ to literally shine through SUFFERING. It is possible for me to not be destroyed, but rather transformed. These changes will not destroy me, but can give me a chance to speak of a faith that is firm and cannot be eclipsed!

God's Economy

Part of the beauty of living in this agricultural area is the opportunity to observe truths about God in nature. The other day an orchard caught my eye as I was driving to an appointment. It just seemed to illustrate to me how God

redeems the future!

It seemed to say, even in times of drought or distress,

nothing is wasted in God’s economy!

The orchard pictured above obviously has seen better days. The farmer reduced his once thriving, fruit-producing trees to stumps. You can see the rows of white-washed stumps in the background.

When I had a closer look at these old stumps I saw new growth where each branch had been. The farmer carefully

grafted

small branches of a

new tree

(each with three or four buds) where the old branches were removed. The old, seasoned stump became the solid base for a

new tree

.

As the years pass, the new tree continues to grow out of the old stump; its long, healthy branches bringing life anew to this orchard.

It will not be long before the new tree has grown as thick and strong as the old tree had once been, and bears fruit.

As I stood in that field, I filled up with hope ~

God

does

redeem the future.

Some of us are like those old trees. Depressed economic times take the life out of us. Choices we make allow dead wood to grow. Bitterness chokes off our ability to bear fruit. But like this old orchard ~

Nothing is wasted in God's economy

!

God creates a way for the trials and circumstances to be a place for transformation. We grow afresh to glorify Him and draw people into His Kingdom,even by the very things we thought might well destroy us.

Finishing Well

The telephone woke me about 5:00 a.m. on February 25, 2004. It was the nurse from Bethel Home telling us that on their last hourly rounds, they found my dad had passed away in his sleep. I called my sister, Kathy, in Long Beach, and then Amy, our daughter. Amy said she wanted to go with us to spend some time with Grandpa. Tony and I picked up Amy at her home, drove through Starbucks

(so glad they open at 5:30 a.m.)

and drove to Bethel Home, in neighboring Selma.

There we sat, with my dad, Grandpa Goodie*, whose earthly tent lay motionless in the bed. It was there we prayed and thanked God for bringing Dad back to us. If you follow my blog, you will know that my dad went through a rough time

(

read about my prodigal dad

)

~ from 1993 to 2003, to be exact. The estrangement from him was painful and consumed me for almost two years. With a wonderful counselor companioning me, I was able to reconcile the loss of my dad's presence in my life

(

read about the fat cows

)

, and rest in the hope of a reunion in eternity.

Then, in 2003, my dad humbled himself and came home. Literally. He came to live with us. He met his great-grandchildren for the first time, ate pot roast and gravy like Mom used to make, and listened to Amy's husband, Jeff (whom he had never met) play hymns on the piano. He lived with us for about one year before suffering a stroke which took him at the age of 94 years old.

So on this the anniversary of his death, I remember a father who finished well. He was not perfect. He lived with regret and brokenness. But, his story is truly one of

redeeming the future

. His pride, his shame, his old age . . . all could have kept him separated from his family. It seems many individuals become set in their ways. But my dad chose to

come home

~ to renew the relationships lost with his family, confess to God and to us the hurts of the past 10 years, and finish well.

The thought I have today, February 25th, is a powerful one.

It is never too late to redeem the future.

I am told by those who keep statistics that only about 60% of individuals actually finish well. I am proud to say the my dad, William W. Goodrell, beat the odds at 94 years of age. As we met at the mortuary to take Dad's body to be cremated, I stood before the box where he laid. Tony and my dear friend Eunice were with me. I asked Tony to give me his pen. And with tears streaming down my cheeks, I wrote on the lid of that box:

Thanks for loving me.

Thanks for coming home.

Thanks for finishing well.

Tell Mom and Scott hello.

We'll see you soon.

Remember . . . It is never too late to redeem the future and finish well.

*My maiden name is Goodrell. When I was little,

I could not say it clearly, so my dad's parents became Grandpa and Grandma Goodie.

The name stuck and when our children came along, my parents inherited those loving names.

A Beating Heart

I just returned home from Children's Hospital of Central California. We stopped in to visit Baby Eli's parents who had waited all day as their precious 2-day-old son underwent about a 12-hour surgery to literally restructure his heart.

What a joy to stand beside his bed in PICU with his mom. He looks so sweet and handsome. He is resting well and the surgeon says Eli is right where he should be on this journey. (See Eli's picture below.)

You can imagine the excitement when Tanya and I noticed Eli's little chest moving up and down with the beat of his heart, pumping his oxygenated blood through his body on its own. Eli has many hurdles to overcome and more surgeries in the coming months. We are thankful for the wisdom of the doctors who worked for so many hours today to repair the intricate parts of his little heart. We are thankful for God's grace to allow his parents to stay near him.

We continue to pray for Eli's recovery and prognosis. Please join Jason and Tanya in praying that God will use this situation for His glory as we live out our faith and trust Him with this precious little boy.

Praying for God's Comfort and Healing

It is with a heavy heart and with tears in my eyes that I write this post. Our dear friends' baby, Eli Ryan, has continued to be assessed by the physicians at Children's Hospital of Central California. The report has indicated that there are many issues that need to be addressed. His heart has many defects that must be repaired to guarantee proper oxygenation and blood flow. Tests also reveal that there are other problems that may effect his development and life expectancy.

At just

40 hours old

, Eli will undergo extensive

open heart surgery

. The surgery will begin about 8 a.m. on Friday, February 20, and will lasts for many hours as the doctors attempt to repair many parts of his little heart.

I ask you first of all to pray for healing, for a miracle, for Eli. I ask you to pray for the doctors to receive divine wisdom as they make decisions about his little heart. I ask you to pray for Jason and Tanya. They are trusting God, yet their own hearts are breaking as more news about the severity of Eli's condition continue to come in.

Please lift this precious family up to the God of all Comfort as you think of them throughout the night, tomorrow, and the days and weeks that follow.

UPDATE: Baby Eli

Dear Friends,

This will be a brief post as I am going back to the hospital to wait for our friend's baby, Eli Ryan, to arrive.

Please pray for Jason and Tanya. They have known for several months that their second child, Eli Ryan, has HLHS, Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome. He has survived in the womb because her receives oxygenated blood from Tanya. Once he arrives, he will need surgeries to keep his heart working.

I'll try and post in a couple of days. Thanks for your prayers.

**** UPDATE:

We waited all day and finally Baby Eli Ryan was born by natural birth at 4:01 pm. He weighs 7 pounds, 15 oz, and is 20.1" long. He had reddish hair and had good color and was alert. He seems strong and was able to oxygenate himself at about 80% which is very positive. He was to be intubated and given medicine to keep his valve open so the blood can continue to flow through the chambers of his heart.

Please continue to pray for Eli, and his parents, Jason and Tanya. They may have a long road ahead and the future is truly unknown. It is their desire that God be glorified and even some come to faith in Him through their response to this situation.

Buck Rock

Do you know the hymn

Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing

? Ever wonder what the words

"Here I raise my Ebenezer"

in the second verse mean? This hymn was written over 250 years ago, and I imagine many who sing it do not know what

Ebenezer

means.

Written by Robert Robinson in 1758, the reference to raising an

Ebenezer

refers back to I Samuel 7:12 in the Old Testament.

Samuel took a stone and . . . named it Ebenezer, saying

"Thus far has the Lord helped us.”

The spot where Samuel placed this stone or monument is the exact place where the Israelites had been defeated again and again by the Philistines. The day Samuel builds a small pile of stones and names the place

Ebenezer

is the day in which God gave the Israelites victory over the Philistines.

In the original Hebrew, an Ebenezer means

stone of help

. It is a monument, a reminder of God’s presence and provision in a time of difficulty.

Buck Rock, pictured here, stands high in the Sierra Nevada Mountains at 8,500 feet. One of the last standing fire lookouts sits atop this huge stone. Buck Rock also marks many trail heads for awesome mountain bike runs.

Buck Rock is

my

Ebenezer. It is a reminder of God’s incredible comfort in a time of deep sorrow. Buck Rock is where . . .

• Tony and Scott often began their mountain bike treks.
• Tony, Amy and I, with a host of friends, scattered Scott's ashes from a high crevice in 1996.
• Friends gathered rocks to build a memorial to Scott, which still stands today after 17 years. (One of the rangers who works the fire lookout frequently tends to the memorial as she remembers the young boy who would come up to ride.)
• We still gather to remember Scott and rejoice in the blessed reunion yet to be.

Buck Rock, my

Ebenezer

, does not deny my pain, but rejoices in the hope of things yet to come. Buck Rock can be a painful reminder that Scott no longer rides with Tony, but we know from the pile of stones that remain as a memorial that we do not bear this burden alone. Buck Rock, an incredible monolith, would slide off the side of the mountain were it not for the massive shelf rock that lies beneath it.

Likewise, our faith and hope is built upon

The Solid Rock

. 

How glorious it is many mornings to look east over our back fence and see the outline of Buck Rock, rising from the crest of the mountains off on the horizon. I raise MY Ebenezer, a reminder of God's strength in my weakness, God's comfort in my sorrow, God's promise of victory even in my difficult times.

The Forgiving Father

Many people are familiar with The Prodigal Son, a parable of Jesus, depicted in this famous painting by Rembrandt. Although it gives hope to parents of prodigals, the emphasis on the story in the Gospels is more about forgiveness than a wayward child.

I have always loved this story for many reasons. But it was not until I was asked to forgive like that Forgiving Father did the story become etched on my soul.

You see, my mother passed away in 1993. I knew it was hard on my dad to lose his wife and companion of 47 years, but I did not know how hard until his grief drove him away from us.

In his loneliness, just seven months after my mother's death, my father eloped with a woman he hardly knew. (Yes, he eloped; carrying their luggage covered with large trash bags, leaving their apartment complex before the sun came up, like sneaky teenagers.) His new wife convinced him in his weakened emotional state that my sister and I were after his money. Mind you, he was not a wealthy man. His money was hardly enough to quibble over and was there for any long term health care needs. Yet her incredible greed sucked his bank accounts dry with a brand new car, plastic surgery, and whatever else she desired. The emotional, mental and physical abuse she brought upon my 84 year old father, convinced him to break all relationship with us.

For the first few years, I sent him letters, called him on the telephone, and even showed up for surprise visits at his apartment in southern California, only to have my mail returned unopened, the phone slammed down, and his door shut in my face, with the words, "I'm sorry; I have no family." Eventually I was able to clothe myself in the peace with God, knowing I would get my father back in Eternity.

In 2003, my dad found himself alone. In a little over nine years, she moved him four times (including one move across ten states), spent all his money, claimed any thing of value from his belongings, and eventually, locked him out of his own apartment. In his broken, penniless state, he was finally able to listen to the truth about his family. On February 3, 2003, just a few days before the tenth anniversary of my mother's death, my 93 year old father moved in with us.

How could I accept him in after all the rejection? How could that Forgiving Father welcome home the prodigal after the financial loss, physical separation, and embarrassment he caused the family?

In the book, Exclusion and Embrace, theologian and author Miraslov Volf writes ~

The most significant aspect of the story is, however, that the father who lets the son depart does not let go of the relationship between them.

Volf adds ~

... the father’s directed, expectant gaze toward the distant land filled the father’s heart with compassion when he saw the son returning; it made the father run, put his arms around the prodigal, and kiss him. Without the father having kept the son in his heart, the father would not have put his arms around the prodigal.

Once we let go of a relationship, once we no longer count it as valued, once we no longer see another human being through the loving eyes of our Heavenly Father, it is often very difficult to forgive. I had kept my father, and the many memories of our life together, stored away in my heart.

The Forgiving Father in this parable taught me many things . . .

. . . never give up on anyone

. . . never let go of a relationship in my heart

. . . even while others are separated from me, remain ready to embrace

. . . always be willing to welcome home the prodigal, regardless of the pain

. . . just as God forgives me, so I should forgive those who hurt me

The first night that my father spent in our home, he walked from room to room, and I heard him say, "Talk about amazing grace, this is amazing grace."

My dad lived with us a little a few weeks shy of one year before he suffered a stroke at 94 years old, and passed away six weeks later.

In this world of exclusion, where relationships are easily discarded, families are torn apart by divorce, and children are disposed of before they are even born, what an example of embrace - of God's amazing grace - the practice of forgiveness can be. It is powerful enough to transform relationships, to draw people into God's Kingdom, and redeem the future.

I thank God often for the gift of my dad's return to me, and for His love that covers both my sins and those of my father.

Speak the Name

Today marks the 13th anniversary of Scott's death. What a joy to receive emails and messages from friends and family sharing memories of Scott. Most of the stories make me laugh; some make me cry. All are a comfort to my soul.

A few years before Scott died, another bereaved mother, Nancy Williams lost her son, Matthew. Shortly after her loss, she penned the following poem:

The mention of my child’s name may bring tears to my eyes,

But it never fails to bring music to my ears.

If you are really my friend, let me hear the beautiful music of his name.

It soothes my broken heart and sings to my soul.

I love

Scott stories

! Whether they bring tears to my eyes or laughter to my heart, they transform my thoughts and bring me joy.

Is there someone you know who needs to hear you

Speak the Name

of a loved one?

Author Norman Cousin wrote,

Memories are where the proof of life is stored.

I can almost guarantee the memories will soothe their broken heart and bring healing to their soul as they know others remember the life that once was.

Take time to call, email or text them, and share a story.

Don't be afraid of their tears . . .

Blessed are those who mourn

. . . who bring their grief to the outside . . .

for they will be comforted.

Before the Sun Sets

Sunday, February 4, 1996

is a significant day

in the Redfern family.

Our son, Scott, was a sophomore at Immanuel High School in Reedley. (Keep in mind:

sophomoric

means

overconfident with knowledge but poorly informed

.) He was having a

sophomoric

morning. He argued with me all the way to church about

some

issue on which he was not well informed. He was relentless and unapologetic about wanting his way. Neither Tony or I can even recall the issue, but we remember the argument well.

As we arrived at church, Scott was still angry and left the car in a huff. Am I the only one out here who finds it so artificial to sit through church with an argument still on the table?

Following church, Tony reminded Scott how important it was to make things right with me. Time, and perhaps some serious conviction, had softened Scott's heart. He told Tony that he knew he was wrong and was on his way to talk to me. Scott walked up beside me, put his arm around my shoulder and apologized for his anger. He asked me to forgive him, and I did. We hugged and went on to have a great day, laughing and talking with one another about the plans we had for the coming week.

The next day, February 5th, at 11:36 a.m., God called Scott home

(

read Scott’s story

)

.

He was placed on life support and kept alive about 30 hours. Scott was declared brain dead on Tuesday, February 6th.

February 4th is such an vital day to our family's journey. Not because it was our last full day with Scott, although we cherish that time. Even more importantly, February 4th is one of our most treasured days because Scott chose to not let the sun go down on his anger - without even a hint that he would never have another day to offer an apology.

The words of Ephesians 4:26 are not a suggestion; they are an imperative in living out our faith –

Be angry and do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger.

Anger is not always a sin. Holding on to one's anger to the point of breaking relationships is where sin grows.

Do not let the sun go down on your anger

became very real to our family as we gathered around Scott's hospital bed. Amid our immense sorrow arose a deep gratitude that in his last hours, Scott allowed his commitment to Jesus Christ to transform his own selfish, natural desire to be right. Although we miss Scott deeply we find comfort in knowing that we do not carry the regret of

unfinished business

– a conflict left unresolved.

Could today become one of your family's most significant days?

Is there an apology you need to make . . . before the sun sets?

Brokenness

This is the season of the year

when I am painfully aware of brokenness.

It was 13 years ago that my son’s body was broken beyond repair. Hit in the face with a piece of wood that spun out of control off the lathe in his wood shop class, Scott’s body crumbled to the cement floor on impact.

It was 13 years ago that we sat with countless friends and family to keep a 30-hour vigil, hoping and praying for a miracle that would allow Scott to survive. I remember bringing a picture of Scott to the hospital to show the doctors what Scott

really

looked like . . . before he was broken.

It was 13 years ago when we returned home to an empty house after hearing two neurologists declare our only son brain dead. I remember thinking . . . our family, our home, and our lives will never be

whole

again.

During this season of the year, I am reminded that God is the Master Potter. With gratitude, I read and re-read Jeremiah 18:1-4. This passage tells about God's desire to transform brokenness to wholeness.

The word that came to Jeremiah from the Lord: “Arise, and go down to the potter’s house, and there I will let you hear my words.” So I went down to the potter’s house, and there he was working at his wheel. And the vessel he was making of clay was spoiled in the potter’s hand, and he reworked it into another vessel, as it seemed good to the potter to do.”

Spoiled in the potter’s hand; those words have such deep theological meaning for me. You see, I am held in The Potter’s hand. Scott was held in The Potter’s hand. Our family, your family, all of creation is held in The Potter’s hand. Sometimes events of this world and our choices in life spoil, even break us.

How sad it would be if brokenness was a terminal condition like the shattered pot in the picture above.

But the promise of redemption is so clear in these verses. “He reworked it

(the broken pieces of the vessel)

into another vessel, as it seemed good to the potter to do.”

For Scott, his transformation meant healing in Eternity. It meant what seemed good to God was to use Scott’s death to draw others into the Kingdom.

For me, it means that God lovingly gathers

all those broken shards

laying around the floor of my heart,

and transforms the brokenness of my life,

my dreams, and my emotions –

into a vessel that is useful and whole.

I hope you noticed the

tense

of the words above. God

gathers

, continually gathers, my brokenness, and lovingly transforms it into something new. As one who has lost a precious loved one, I know all too well that there is no such thing as closure. My grief and brokenness come upon me at various times of the year, at family events, or when I find objects that link me back to my precious Scott.

That is why I love God's example of broken pottery.

My cousin Dave, and his wife Rachel, are missional artists living in Germany. I appreciate how Dave's work at his potter’s wheel embodies the message of Jeremiah 18:1-4. Dave takes the broken pieces of pottery - the shards of broken clay laying on the studio floor and the excess pieces cut away by other artists, and

reclaims

them

(his word)

-

redeems

them

(my word)

- transforming the broken pieces into something beautiful.

Dave says,

Nothing here is wasted. Even the mistakes and broken pieces can be restored into something beautiful.

It is my prayer for myself, and for you, that we will continue to trust The Potter with the shards of our lives, and trust Him to bring transformation.

Click

here

to visit Dave’s blog to see his process of redeeming brokenness.