Julie Echols Reyburn

A tiara on our kitchen table caught my daughter Lily’s attention, a random piece of pretend royalty I’d discovered in a drawer full of phone chargers and miscellaneous cords.

“What’s that?” Lily asked.

“Well,” I started. “That’s a tiara I wore a long time ago.”

Years have dulled the diadem’s shine. One of the combs designed to keep the crown in place is missing. The rhinestones, which once sparkled in the springtime sun, are now more gray than grand.

May 16, 1981.

I don’t remember the day – I was just shy of 4 years old – but pictures and my mom’s handwriting capture it clearly. The tiara, along with a trophy and roses, was my reward as I took the title of, ahem, Little League Queen. Appropriately, I’m standing in the dirt of a baseball diamond. My big brother is next to me wearing his uniform and ready to play or, by the looks of his pants, ready to play again.

Bayview Ballpark was the stage for a lot of my childhood memories. Lily’s question rekindled a few: t-ball games, concession stand corndogs, and a tall, silver, metal slide that scorched our legs when we sailed its length on hot summer days. Lily has a few stories of her own from the playground, though many years removed from mine.

The field is mostly silent now. No one’s played ball there in decades. But the park comes to life for me when I pass it by, whether on the road or in my mind.  

Or when my daughter says, “What’s that?”

I don’t know about you, but I don’t always appreciate my kids’ curiosity. As a busy mom I become overwhelmed, even annoyed, when they ask a lot of questions. I hurry an answer, which is usually “We’ll see”, and move on to the next task on my to-do list. I frown on their questions as an imposition when what they really are is an invitation.

To listen.
To learn.
To lean in.

Week 2 of Illustrated Ministry’s “An Illustrated Lent for Families” talks about curiosity. I mentioned this resource in my last writing, and we continue to enjoy it.

I’ve never considered Jesus as a curious boy or that Mary and Joseph may have found him precocious. Luke chapter 2 gives a glimpse of this through the story of Jesus becoming separated from his parents during the feast of the Passover in Jerusalem. When the family finally reunited, the first thing they did was ask questions. Mary wanted to know why Jesus would make them worry. Jesus asked why they were surprised to find him in the temple. (He was curious there, too.)

My emotions would have flared in this moment – relief, anger, joy. But look at what the Bible says about Mary’s response to the situation. It’s a worthy lesson in parenting.

“… but his mother treasured all these sayings in her heart.” (Luke 2:51)

Does that verse sound familiar to you? It struck me as I read it during our family devotion, and I quickly connected it to an earlier narration of Mary after Jesus’ birth.

“… but Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart.” (Luke 2:19)

She treasured.
She pondered.
She stored up memories.

Our best memories – the ones we will treasure, ponder and store – may be just one question away. Think about ways you can encourage curiosity with your family. What can you bring into your home to connect you to your kids and them to you?

I haven’t worn a tiara since my reign as Little League Queen at Bayview Ballpark in 1981. My headpiece from our wedding day in 2006 comes close. It’s wrapped in tissue paper and tucked inside a storage chest in our living room, just waiting for Lily to open and ask, “What’s that?”

When she does, I’ll indulge her curiosity with care and take my time telling that story, because it is the beginning of her own.

“When his parents saw him, they were astonished. His mother said to him, ‘Son, why have you treated us like this? Your father and I have been anxiously searching for you.’
‘Why were you searching for me?’ he asked. ‘Didn’t you know I had to be in my Father’s house?’
But they did not understand what he was saying to them. Then he went down to Nazareth with them and was obedient to them. But his mother treasured all these things in her heart. And Jesus grew in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man.”

(Luke 2: 48-52)

Here are a few ideas if you feel stuck or unsure about how to be curious with your kids:

1. Spring Break and summer vacations are a fun time to talk about travel. Buy a map from the dollar store and hang it in your house. Plot the places you would like to visit.
2. Host a family Show and Tell. Each person can pick three things that have a special meaning. Tell a story about the items you chose.  
3. Play “Fun Facts” at the dinner table. See how well you know each other by guessing each other’s favorite song, movie, book, etc. Then ask why those things are favorites.

“But I don’t want to give up anything.”

Abby Kate worried as we talked about Lent and the traditional practices that accompany the season, particularly sacrifice. It was tough to imagine life without her favorite things: electronics, toys, pizza and french fries.  She was ready to give up peanut butter. She does not like or eat peanut butter.

In the spirit of Easter, we had some “good news” for Abby Kate: you don’t have to give up anything.

Jeff and I would not have set that expectation for her. Abby Kate has not yet asked Jesus into her heart. Also, she is only 11 years old and while I do not draw boundaries around a child’s faith choice or ability, I believe authentic Lenten sacrifice requires a degree of spiritual maturity. My daughters are not ready. Still, I want them to be mindful of Lent and to understand what it means.

Our family is working through “An Illustrated Lent for Families”, a packet our church provided that includes weekly scripture, reflection, and questions to spark conversation. The theme is “treasure.” At the dinner table the first week, Abby Kate and Lily were quick to name their favorite visible treasures. They had to think harder about invisible treasures but ultimately agreed on “memories” and “family.”

Memories and family are among my invisible treasures, too. They influence my list of visible treasures; things such as a wooden checkerboard from my Nanny Cunningham’s house, hymnals from the church where I grew up and holiday decorations my mom has passed on to me.

I cleaned our guest room not long after our family talk about treasure. As I dusted, I held a forgotten treasure (I don’t dust very often!) displayed on a bookshelf. It is a set of two brown boxes my Aunt Sue gave me 20 years ago to decorate my first on-my-own apartment. The top box is, appropriately for this writing, shaped like a treasure chest. Neither box has ever held visible treasure, but they are an example of those invisible treasures Abby Kate and Lily named: memories and family.

Faith is another of my invisible treasures – mine and my daddy’s. I have realized the impact of his faith in the 13 years since he died. His Bible may be as close to an actual treasure as I will ever get. It was discovered in November, tucked in a treasure chest of sorts, inside a time capsule my childhood church had kept closed for 20 years. Abby Kate and Lily were wide-eyed as I told them the story, much as I was when my mom texted me that the Bible I had been asking about was found.

I want my daughters to one day add faith to their treasure chest. It’s a legacy my daddy left to me, and now my privilege to model for my daughters. Our church’s invitation to Lent observances is wonderfully inclusive for our family this year, and I’m happy for all four of us to participate. 2020 forced a lot of loss, so instead of giving something up our pastor has encouraged us to add something good to the world. If Abby Kate wants to spread peanut butter that will be OK with me. Contrary to her opinion, I count peanut butter a joy.

What is kept in your treasure chest? Are you focused on the treasures you can touch or are you investing in invisible riches held only in your heart? Let Lent inspire you to answer those questions. Reflection is as valuable a spiritual discipline as sacrifice.  Consider your faith roots. They may hint towards ways you want to shape your children’s relationship to God and the church.

These are three practices that join my faith foundation with my daughters:

1. Give thanks before a meal.  “God is great, God is good” may be the most familiar prayer children know. My brothers and I offered it many times around the dinner table. Abby Kate and Lily recite it now. Last week I asked them “What does the word ‘great’ mean to you in the context of this prayer?” Simple prayers can prompt meaningful discussion.
   
   
2. Sign up to serve. I volunteered in the church nursery when I was still a kid myself. In our current church I have supervised nursery care during the early worship service. Abby Kate and Lily liked to stay with me to play with the toddlers and help care for the babies. They have also enjoyed our church’s ministry of assembling weekend snack packs for low-income students in a local school system. Pay attention to the enthusiasm your kids show when they serve. It will help them identify and hone their spiritual gifts.
   
   
3. Attend a seasonal service. Jeff and I did not grow up in churches with Ash Wednesday, Maundy Thursday or Good Friday services. We experienced them after we were married and have decided they should be part of our family’s faith traditions. Tenebrae service two years ago literally brought me to tears as my daughters sat next to me. Let your children see the Spirit move you. It invites them to embrace the power of faith.

Traditions are treasures, the ones we carry on and the ones we create. When we honor them, they grow into beautiful gifts for our children and their children, in both visible and invisible ways.

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

Matthew 6:19-21

Valentine’s Day is what I call a hassle holiday. It feels more like an obligation than a celebration. I played the part for many years. I’ve dressed my daughters in Cupid-inspired clothing and pulled creative Valentine cards from Pinterest for them to share with classmates.

Abby Kate is in middle school this year so school parties are a thing of her past and, because of COVID, Lily’s class exchanged virtual valentines. My contribution to the 4^th grade special snack in Mrs. Brooks’ room was plastic forks.

The girls have almost outgrown the anticipation of the day, though I expect they will always look forward to a Valentine from their daddy. I know I did.

My daddy bought me a Valentine until I was 29 years old. The last one he mailed to me showed up in a Facebook memory yesterday. It caused me to reconsider my indifference to Valentine’s Day.

I wrote this last year:

(Originally shared to Facebook on February 14, 2020)

My daddy mailed cards to me throughout my college years and into my 20s. Eventually, early on-set Alzheimer’s Disease affected his handwriting and he had to stop. This, he wrote in 2006, was his “last crd” to me. He signed it Mr. Echols, quite possibly because in that moment he had forgotten I was his daughter.

I found his card last night just before I stepped onto our elliptical machine. It was laying on top of a storage tote that holds many other notes, cards and letters. I have not used the elliptical in months, until this week. Somehow, I didn’t see this card when I exercised Monday or Tuesday or Wednesday. I found it Thursday. Valentine’s eve. I don’t think that was by chance or coincidence.

“Lasts” are hard. But my faith gives me a holy confidence that I have not seen my daddy for the last time. He’s waiting on me in Heaven, my forever first Valentine.

Just below this tribute to my daddy was a Facebook memory with a friend. This one, from 2019, made me smile.

 (Originally shared to Facebook on February 14, 2019)

When Chick-Fil-A rings the doorbell you wonder, “Is this heaven?” Thank you Matti for our CFA cookiegram. (She got me one too.)

A chocolate chip cookie and plush cow may seem more frivolous than meaningful, but they mattered deeply to me. It was a generous gesture for the three of us because my husband Jeff had left the week prior to begin a 10-month deployment to Afghanistan. Matti wanted to assure us we were loved, and not just by Jeff.

Hebrews 10:24 calls us to show love to one another, cards, cookies and cows optional. The Message translation interprets the verse this way:

“Let’s see how inventive we can be in encouraging love and helping out.”

I love that.

Valentine’s Day seems, to me, the opposite of inventive. But it does spark intention. February 14^th prompts us to show love with purpose, just like my daddy and Matti did. It also gives us the opportunity to receive love well and with gratitude.

We need more days like that.

Let’s start with February 15th.

“Dear children, let’s not merely say that we love each other; let us show the truth by our actions.”

(1 John 3:18)

I don’t ask for much.

When I’m tasked to pick presents, I have to think hard about what I want. I have everything I need. On my last birthday I asked my husband Jeff for Ticonderoga pencils. Once for Valentine’s Day, he gave me potato chips. I love potato chips.

I thought harder this year about what I wanted for Christmas. My list of links was mostly writing-themed. Jeff added AirPods so I could listen to my Hope*Writers lessons without having to perch at my computer.

The gift he bought our girls to give me is a journal. This one requires only one thought, or as its cover shows, one line a day. I’ve journaled every page since January 1st. 25 days! Only 340 to go.  

One line seems slight, especially for a writer, but my tiny commitment is teaching me that small steps matter.

Look at this snapshot of my daughter Abby Kate. She’s 1 year old and still wobbly in her walk. There are lessons to learn, right there in black and white, if you see beyond her little baby legs and consider the big picture.  

1. Trust baby steps.

We want to take big, bold strides when we’re starting something new. Our eagerness can exaggerate our ability. When I was an intern at ABC 33/40 in Birmingham, Alabama, I was assigned a script to write for the 6:00 newscast. I labored a long time over this story that was going to take the news anchor 20 seconds to read. The producer was not impressed with my words. He returned the copy to me and said, “How about starting with a word other than ‘it’?”

There are two ways to count a baby step, or in my case a 20 second story. I could contend the brevity of 20 seconds is not that important or create 20 seconds of words that might make an impact. I chose to try again.

Little things help us build big things. Even the Bible says we must show ourselves faithful in small ways. (Matthew 25:14-30)

If you’re curious, my script made the 6:00 news that night in 1999. Before my internship was finished, I was offered a job as an Associate Producer.

Trust baby steps.

2. Find a hand to hold.

It’s hard to ask for help. The same pride that prevents us from allowing ourselves baby steps also wants to convince us we can do it alone.

We can’t.

You may suppose the adult walking alongside Abby Kate in that picture is me. It’s actually Jeff’s cousin, Sandy. Our extended family loved and cared for Abby Kate through her early life. In the same way, we need to build a bond with people who hold us up as we begin new things.

Jeff and I were sitting in a booth at Chick-Fil-A four years ago when I told him I wanted to write a book. He said, “I want you to go after your dream because you and the girls are mine.”

Jeff cheers my writing – AirPods, remember? – but his eyes glaze and his ears close when I ramble about niche or newsletters. And that’s OK.

We need people who share the thing that excites us because they push us towards our purpose – and pull if it’s necessary! A sweet friendship refreshes the soul. (Proverbs 27:9)

Who do you want to join your journey? I’m thankful for Alicia and Olivia.

Find a hand to hold.

3. Keep going. 

Do you remember the Energizer bunny? Between Roku, Netflix and Disney+ I don’t watch enough traditional TV to know if the commercial still airs. But the bright pink bunny, powered by Energizer batteries, promotes that the product keeps going and going and going and…

If only we were battery powered.

In case you missed it in tip #2, I told Jeff I wanted to write a book four years ago. In 2017. Two years passed before I posted my first blog, and another year before I shared my second writing.

I am not quick like the Energizer bunny. Currently, I’m a snail. While I may move at only .03 mph, I am moving. My one line a day journal suits me just fine in this season.

Whatever you do, or how quickly you do it, work as though you’re working for the Lord. (Colossians 3:23)

Pick your pace. Then, keep going.

There’s one week left in January 2021. How are you progressing in your goals, resolutions or whatever you choose to call the thing you’re pursuing? Whether you’re starting or re-starting, take these three with you:

Trust baby steps.
Find a hand to hold.
Keep going.

They are how Abby Kate learned to walk, and they’ll help us get where we’re going, too.

“… Always work enthusiastically for the Lord, for you know that nothing you do for the Lord is ever useless”

(1 Corinthians 15:58)

I lost 40 pounds in 2016. I found 8 of them in 2020.

OK. 11 of them.

I made up my mind to lose weight 5 years ago (though in August, not January). My first day in a WW (formerly Weight Watchers) workshop I expected the coach to be kind. She was. I also expected her to sugar coat my start. She didn’t.

As I explored the WW app on my phone, I discovered the number one reason I was 40 pounds too heavy for my health. Sweet tea. I was drinking it almost literally by the gallon. A day.

Lisa, my WW leader, didn’t water it down.

“Decide what’s worth it,” she said.

So, I did. And I have a closet of 4-sizes-smaller clothes to show for it.

There are a lot of motivations this month that advertise “New Year! New You!” They encourage us to lose weight, save money, or set goals with the fantasy that those things will fix us.

I did lose weight but guess what? It didn’t create a new me, just a thinner me.

On the inside I’m still Julie Echols Reyburn.

I still have a lazy streak.
I still forget things.
I still like sweet tea.

I am, however, an improved me, irrelevant to the number on a scale or the size of my clothes. I’m better because I realized a confidence along my months-long weight loss journey that has helped me do hard things.

I can learn discipline.
I can create healthy habits.
I can inspire others.

Those strengths will help me shed the next 8 pounds.

OK. 11 pounds.

A quote circulating through social media suggests it is not enough to build a better me, that instead my energy should be used to imitate Jesus. Yes, the Bible instructs us “He must increase, but I must decrease.” (John 3:30)

It also says “we are fearfully and wonderfully made” (Psalm 139:14) and “we are His workmanship.” (Ephesians 2:10.)

His workmanship.
His works of art.
His masterpieces.

God has uniquely equipped each one of us with gifts and talents. We should absolutely hone and refine those parts of us. Ephesians 2:10 affirms this saying we are “created in Christ Jesus to do good works which God prepared in advance for us to do.”

God has a specific plan for each of us. When we pursue our best selves in service to Him and others, we fulfill His purpose. We also spur people around us towards their potential.

As you consider your dreams for 2021 find peace in this: the world doesn’t need a new you. It needs the best you. And you’re invited to become the person God created you to be on any day, not just the ones to start a new year.

“For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.”

(Ephesians 2:10)

A recurring question has filled my post-Christmas Facebook feed. Journalists, bloggers and friends have polled in search of popular opinion:

When do you take down your Christmas tree?

My tree? I haven’t even taken out our Christmas trash.

Cardboard boxes branded Hot Wheels, Lego and American Girl have littered our living room for days. Some of them are in the same spot Santa left them. I have a kid who likes to take it one toy at a time. So far, she’s got two in regular rotation.

I’m in no hurry either.

Every decoration that adorns our home this season, including the ornaments on our tree, connects us to moments in time:

A whimsical “Merry Christmas” platter thoughtfully gifted to us at our wedding by one of Jeff’s co-workers.

A handmade table runner won in a highly competitive Dirty Santa shuffle with our Sunday School class.

A ceramic Nativity set crafted by my grandmother and displayed on her mantle during our Christmas Eve gatherings.

Then, there’s a stuffed white bear and a plush pink pig, in my family since 1980-something. The bear wears a beanie, the pig a bib. A Christmas tree accents their attire along with their names, Richie and Priscilla. They, along with a candy cane carrying mouse, create quite a Christmas menagerie on my couch.

The bear and pig were gifts to my mom and me from a family we met through church more than 30 years ago – Charlotte, Danny and their three sons. Charlotte was our church pianist, her husband Danny our music minister. Charlotte and my daddy shared a once in a lifetime friendship, and even when her family left our church, they remained in our lives. Charlotte played piano at my wedding. She also played at my daddy’s funeral.

My friend Lynnea and I share the lingering grief of losing a parent. In a Facebook message exchange last week, she typed something that has stuck with me:

“I feel like people are the best things I have taken along with me from my life.”

People.

Jeff’s co-worker.
Our Sunday School class.
My grandmother.
My daddy and his dearest friend, Charlotte.

People are what have turned my Christmas trinkets into lifelong treasures. Memories are why a serving platter and a stuffed pig matter to me.

I’m not ready to box them into a closet.

So, my tree is still up. My decorations are out.

And I may very well welcome in a new year holding on to all I love about my old ones.

“I thank my God every time I remember you.”

(Philippians 1:3)

My absence on the blog this month has been a mix of not enough time and not the right words.

I feel I should focus on my daddy as November marks 13 years of life without him, but none of my new thoughts seem ready to share.

Facebook memories have cycled through previous writings about him, and this past week I kept returning to a post that I typed two Thanksgivings ago. Maybe they are words someone needs to read (again).

Maybe I’m that someone.

I suppose my Novembers will always be colored with shades of sadness.

Still, there’s a lot to be thankful for.

(Originally written and posted to Facebook on November 23, 2018)

I didn’t post anything on Thanksgiving Day because I didn’t feel I had anything meaningful to say. The day marked 11 years since my daddy died (it was Thanksgiving that year, too) but it seemed insincere to acknowledge it because I didn’t experience any particular feelings of grief or loss. My brothers were not able to make it to mom’s house, so while it was an enjoyable day it didn’t feel very holiday.

I sat in my own home last night and watched the trailer for the upcoming live action movie “The Lion King.” A fragment of grief pierced my heart as James Earl Jones (I could listen to him read the phone book, by the way) voiced in familiar Mufasah wisdom:

“A king’s time as ruler rises and falls like the sun. One day the sun will set on my time here…”

The sun set on my daddy’s time more than a decade ago. But our family – his family – still exists.

I have wrestled with and reflected on legacy for almost 2 years. The more I think about it the less I know but I am certain of this: roots matter. They are not just a pathway to our past, buried in the deep underground. They have shaped us into the people we are at this very moment, and they sustain us as we grow and grasp the many good things life brings.

As mom prepared our lunch, she said to me “At least we’re not in a hospital waiting room.”

That’s how we shared the last Thanksgiving daddy was alive. We gathered around a cramped conference room table to eat; daddy lay unconscious in a hospital bed down the hall.

“Yeah, but at least then we were all together,” I said.

“Not all of us,” mom answered, catching me off guard.

“Who was missing?” I asked.

“Abby Kate and Lily,” she said.

Life with my daddy was life without my daughters. If you have both your parents and your children today, celebrate that for the treasure it is.

I don’t know how many more Thanksgivings I will have with my mom in the home where she and daddy raised me but I want to be there – in that little yellow house on Railroad Avenue – for every one God gifts me because y’all, home is a gift.

As 2007 ended, Jeff and I played Scrabble and watched Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve. (We’re clearly the party people you all believe us to be.) I didn’t really want to move into 2008. I had my daddy in 2007 and wanted him there even with the hurt and hard of Alzheimer’s Disease.

Eleven years later. Life goes on.

It can be hard to honor tradition and accept change at the same time, especially when change is not what you want. I was reminded this Thanksgiving we don’t have to choose between the two.

Joy exists in both.

I choose joy.

“Praise the Lord. Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good; His love endures forever.”

(Psalms 106:1)

My daughter Abby Kate broke her arms at the end of summer.  She wrecked her scooter on a sidewalk in our neighborhood while our family was out for a walk. I did not see her fall because she had scooted around a curve ahead of me, her dad, and her sister. I’m glad for that as I suspect it’s one of those slow-motion moments my mind would replay. Her cry for help was haunting.

She was scraped from chin to shins. Worse, the wreck broke the radius in her left arm and caused a buckle fracture in her right arm. I don’t suppose there is ever a good time for this sort of thing to happen, but the timing was especially inconvenient for Abby Kate.

It happened three days before the start of school.

I wrote on this blog back in May about the ways God has placed people in Abby Kate’s life at exactly the right moments, especially at school. For six years He showed us His faithfulness as she moved through her elementary years. If any year was going to douse me with doubt it was this one – middle school.

Now, on top of all the other newness, I had to factor two broken arms.

COVID cancelled the usual ways we would have calmed (my) nerves and set (her) expectations for a new place, including the annual Open House for incoming sixth graders. But it didn’t cancel school altogether and the first day was coming, whether I liked or wanted it.

I would’ve been worried, perhaps even panicked, wondering how Abby Kate would navigate a new place with her arms in casts if not for a note I read on my phone just hours before our trip to the emergency room.

I was laying down for a nap (because that’s my idea of fun) when my phone buzzed, alerting me to a new message. I ignored it and closed my eyes. When I woke and finally checked, I found an answered prayer, one spoken so long ago I had almost forgotten it.

The message was from Jessica, a young lady who had been our babysitter since Abby Kate was in kindergarten. We met through chance encounters at church when Abby Kate was 5 years old. Jessica was in college at the time, studying biology with the intention of becoming a teacher. One night after babysitting, she shared with Jeff and me her hopes to teach middle or high school, and maybe even return to her alma mater, the same school our kids are zoned to attend.

Knowing we were in for a long haul with Abby Kate’s social challenges I replied, “I need God to get you back home before Abby Kate starts East.”

And six years later…

Three days before school…

Four hours before Abby Kate broke her arms…

He did.

This is part of Jessica’s message to me:

“I accepted a long-term sub position today in a pretty good school. I will start tomorrow 7:30am as the sub for 6^th grade science for the first several weeks of school at East! … I wanted to let you know because I’ve never forgot the time I told y’all I was going to be a teacher and you said something along the lines of ‘Well hurry back so the girls can have you at East.’”

I had all but dismissed that prayer, if that’s what you’d even call the words I so casually spoke that evening in our living room. Jessica had settled in a city 90 minutes away. Never in a million years, much less six, would I have expected her to be hired in time to teach Abby Kate at East. But the Bible says my thoughts are not His and neither are my ways.

Thank goodness for that.

• 

• 

• 

It was not a coincidence Jessica messaged me mere hours before Abby Kate’s scooter spill. God knew what was about to happen and He knew the assurance I would need to get through it. I sat in the ER beside Abby Kate, completely calm.

Middle school was going to be just fine.

I’ve imagined the look on God’s face as Jessica realized her wish to return home to teach. I think about how He must have smiled as she typed the news in that message to me. He could’ve been annoyed that I took a nap (though what’s 30 minutes when it’s been 6 years?!) but I think He was patient as He anticipated my joy.

You may call this sequence of events a coincidence, but I believe with my whole heart that God delights in the details of our lives and orchestrates them in ways we could never imagine.

What are you praying for today? What have you asked Him to do?

I promise you it’s in progress.

God sees you. He hears you.

Keep praying.

Fingers crossed that your answer won’t come with broken bones.

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord.“As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.”

(Isaiah 55:8-9)

“Keep asking and it will be given to you. Keep searching and you will find. Keep knocking and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and the one who searches finds, and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened. What man among you, if his son asks him for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish will give him a snake? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children how much more will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask Him! Therefore, whatever you want others to do for you, do also the same for them – this is the Law and the Prophets.”

(Matthew 7:7)

The last day I saw my daddy and knew that he saw me we sat side-by-side in a hospital waiting room. He was scheduled for surgery to have a kidney stone removed.

It was October 26, 2007.

Thirteen years ago.

The procedure might have been routine except nothing had been routine for daddy in the six years since he was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s Disease. He was 52 years old when we found out.

My whole life daddy had been our protector and provider. In a blink, he became our patient.

One of the ways my mom helped him was by posting calendar pages on their refrigerator door (chicken-themed because, well, you should see her kitchen.) This date, October 26, 2007, hung for many weeks after the actual day.

Maybe that’s why I remember it so clearly.

It marked the day daddy was admitted to the hospital for surgery to remove a kidney stone. It was the last morning he was home. He lived his last 3 weeks in that hospital.

I talked to my mom this morning about October 26, 2007. I said to her “The point of my blog today is… well, I don’t know what the point is. But I feel like I need to acknowledge the date.”

I don’t remember the last conversation I had with my daddy or his last words of advice to me. He was quiet in that waiting room. I wish I had known it was our last time to sit together, side-by-side.

So, I guess my point today is this:

Look for the lasts.

Not just the ones you can see coming.

But the ones that may happen on an October 26^th too.

“Teach us to number our days that we may gain a heart of wisdom.”

(Psalm 90:12)

A cloud-free and cobalt blue sky reminded me this weekend of our family vacation to Disney World last January.  My husband Jeff had returned home from a 10-month deployment to Afghanistan and this was our celebration vacation. It was pretty much perfect.

One of my most fun memories didn’t actually have anything to do with Disney.

A skywriter was circling Epcot as we walked our way from Soarin’ to Mission: Space.  Our daughters Abby Kate and Lily had never seen a spectacle like this, and they were as entertained by the plane as anything Disney was offering at that moment.

We watched while the pilot painted the sky.

L… O…

As the plane spun, we tried to guess the next letters. We were encouraged (and Jeff and I somewhat relieved) when the plane finished its last loop-de-loop:

“Love God”

Very cool, we thought. Believing the show was over, we turned our eyes back to the familiar and favorite sites inside the park. Then, the plane returned and began to write again.

P… U…

“Put”

We arrived at the next attraction and hurried through the que to board, hopeful the words would hang in the sky long enough for us to see the rest. They did not. So, we took turns guessing what the message might have been.

“Love God. Put offering!” Abby Kate said with the kind of confidence she carries in all her opinions. Jeff and I joked that the finance committee at our church might recruit her.

I never decided my thoughts that day at Disney. I considered them again as I observed a similar blue sky while driving the interstate on Saturday.

I know exactly what my daddy would write:

Love God. Put Him first.

I have countless cards and letters from my college days in which daddy spelled out his priorities for me:

1. God
2. Study
3. Daddy

It wasn’t a bad list.

Study is no longer something I must do. Sadly, writing to my daddy isn’t either. He’s been gone nearly 13 years. Still, I want to keep him on my list. His words continue to influence my priorities.

One of my favorite writings from daddy is a Sunday School lesson on the Lord’s Prayer. It echoes his advice to Love God. Put Him First.

“If you are too busy to pray then you can’t have God in control of your life.”

Life competes for the top spot on our list, doesn’t it? 

Family.
Work.
Chores.
Naps.

(OK, that last one might just be me.)

I’m up past midnight writing this blog, even though I know my priority should be sleep. I can only imagine what my daddy would say about that.

As you start a new week, I encourage you to consider how you would fill in the blank.

Love God. Put _________________.

We may not be pilots painting words in the sky, but we are writing a message that others see every day. 

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.”‘

(Matthew 22:37)