No Room for the Squawker

My fourteen month-old Grandson spent the night with us this past weekend and Sunday morning was his first time in church. It didn’t go so well. The sign-in process went well but by the time I released him to the nursery attendant, he was crying. I overcame the twinge of guilt that popped up in my heart by reminding myself that he was in loving, capable, and well-trained hands. As I walked back to the sanctuary, I found myself looking forward to what was sure to be an inspiring sermon from our pastor.

During the third song of worship, I felt the spirit moving – a warm vibration emanating from deep within. But something was wrong. Was it an earthquake? Or perhaps a heart attack? I suddenly realized the violent vibration from my right side was the nursery pager. Now I knew why the young mothers jumped up so quickly when summoned to the nursery. “How do you turn this thing off?” I thought as I hurried back to the nursery wondering what could possibly be wrong.

From the far end of the long hallway, I heard his loud and tearful screaming. As I opened the door, a young nursery worker with a smile that thinly veiled her concern and frustration handed my grandson to me. With an apologetic tone she informed me that he had been crying nonstop from the moment I left. She kindly offered me the option of taking him to the squawkers room. The squawker’s room is the one year-old equivalent of toddler detention where you go when you get kicked out of the nursery – without the pink slip.

As I comforted my sobbing grandson and made my way to the squawker’s room, he quieted down and gave me a big smile – the one that always melts my heart. I reached to open the door and wondered if we would have the detention center to ourselves or if someone else might be there. Imagine my surprise when I found myself in a very large squawker’s room that was packed to capacity with noisy children and their mothers. Pink slip or not, there was no room for us.

I returned to the sanctuary and told my husband that our little angel had been kicked out of the nursery and sent to detention – but since there was no room at the inn, we were going to roam the halls for a while and then head to the car until church was over.

After a quick stroll around the children's area, I took our little charmer outside. As we walked to the car, he darted after a butterfly as fast as he little legs could carry him. With purse and diaper bag in hand, I worked hard to keep up with him.

I got him settled in his car seat and gave him a cookie and some juice and I wondered how I had done this with my own kids. (the answer is that I was younger – a lot younger). Soon he was finished and ready to get up out of the car seat and play. So we walked some more. He was fascinated by the flowers growing near the fence and excited about the bug by the rock we sat on. He loved splashing the water in the little fish pond. We walked and I told him about all the fun and beautiful things he was experiencing and how God made them for us to enjoy.

Something began to change in my heart. Suddenly I wasn’t missing church. I was no longer frustrated or resentful that I wasn’t able to listen to our pastor speak. God had a different worship experience planned for me that day. I felt his presence as I walked and talked with my little grandson. I marveled at the simple wonder of God’s creation. I saw the world through the eyes of a child and stood in awe as I felt the joy evoked by a flower, a bug, a rock, and a splash of water. I was overcome with a sense of gratitude. God is good.

Never Forgotten

I am blessed to spend four days a week with my two grandsons. The oldest, a six-year old Kindergartner, catches the bus in front of the house each morning. This morning I watched from the front porch as he waited at the end of the driveway. We both saw the bus coming but today was different. Instead of stopping, the bus just kept on going – driving right on by without even slowing down.

An unforgettable expression crossed my grandson’s face as he turned back to look at me – a perplexed look of complete bewilderment. At the same moment, I heard the kids on the bus yelling and screaming, “Stop! Wait! Go back!” to let the bus driver know she had missed a stop. As the bus came to a screeching halt just a few houses down the street, I wondered what was going through his young mind as I watched him climb onto his bus.

When he got home from school I asked him about the bus incident and how he felt about being forgotten. He told me it had happened once before and seemed to know that it wasn’t anything personal. He said that sometimes the bus driver just gets to talking and forgets to stop because she didn’t have her mind on him at the moment.

This gave me a great opportunity to remind my grandson how God loves us so much that he never stops thinking about us. We are valuable and precious to him and he always has his mind on us. I prayed with him and thanked God for never passing us by – for never forgetting about us.

When we finished, he aimed one of his precious smiles at me. As he ran to the door to play outside, he paused, turned around, and asked, “Does God think about me even when I’m sleeping?”

“Of course he does,” I answered. “God is always thinking about you because He never sleeps. He created you just the way you are and is very interested in each and every minute of your day. He wants you to grow up to become all that He created you to be.”

Thank God for teachable moments.


Psalm 139:13-18 (NLT)
You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother’s womb. Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex! Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it. You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion, as I was woven together in the dark of the womb. You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed. How precious are your thoughts about me, O God. They cannot be numbered! I can’t even count them; they outnumber the grains of sand! And when I wake up, you are still with me!

Unexpected Blessings

It’s Saturday afternoon and I can hear the neighborhood kids jumping off our deck and onto the rope swings we put up for the grandkids. Our acre in the country offers a lot of room for kids to play and when you put eight or ten kids together with a Great Dane named Maverick (who also believes he is a kid), who knows what will happen? The young couple living in our guest house has two children, ages six and eight who are magnets for the neighborhood kids and our house is often the grand central of play areas for the neighborhood.

A bit later, the joyful shrieks and unending laughter draw me to the window where I have a front row seat for the squirt gun battle of the ages. As the kids tear across my deck and run around the yard, stepping out from behind trees to squirt their unsuspecting victims, I find myself laughing and wondering again where they get all their energy and wishing there was a way to bottle it. I would definitely be a regular customer.

At that moment a gentle sense of God’s joy, peace, and contentment overwhelms me and I recognize again how truly blessed I am. Right here, right now in the midst of the uncertain and difficult times in which we live, God’s unexpected blessings appear just when I need them most – and I am grateful.

God is so good. He’s so good to me.

A Glimpse of Heaven

My mother was an impressive woman and people who met her never forgot her. She was strikingly beautiful, vivacious, graceful, and energetic with a wonderfully wide smile that helped her meet people and make friends easily. She was the quintessential home maker – the prototypical female of the 1950’s (think Donna Reid meets June Cleaver). I was her first-born daughter and she worked hard to instill these feminine traits and value in me.

Then there was my other mother – the one with a drink in her hand. Alcohol would turn this otherwise refined and genteel woman into an obnoxious, impatient, overbearing, irresponsible, and boorish stranger. It was during these times that I became the mother to my three younger siblings.

I remember being so confused by her mood swings. I could not understand them until one day I overheard a neighbor in the grocery store making a remark about my mother’s drinking problem. At nine years old, I just hadn’t made the connection between the empty vodka bottles and her mood swings.

My mother’s bondage to alcohol continued throughout my childhood and on into adulthood until shortly before she became ill with brain cancer. On her death bed she apologized for all that she had put me through as a child. She told me she loved me and had always been proud of me – words I had longed to hear as a child.

God’s unconditional love and forgiveness in my life allowed me to forgive my mother long before her apology. And two days before she died, she came to faith in Jesus and found peace with God. But there’s more to the story. Just days before her death, my mother had a vision – an up close and personal glimpse of heaven.

Toward the end of her battle with brain cancer, when death was imminent, my aunt, my sister and I took turns sitting at my mother’s bedside. We wanted to be with her to the end. On one such night my aunt reported that Mom opened her eyes, looked all around the room, and asked my aunt if she was still alive. My aunt smiled and said, “Yes Charlene, you are still here with us.” With a look of wonder and amazement on her face, my mother turned to my aunt and said, “Oh Patty Ann, I have been to a beautiful place full of brilliant colors and indescribable beauty - things I can’t begin to understand.”

God gave my mother a glimpse of what was waiting for her if she would just surrender her life to Jesus, which she did later the next day.

Some think there is no God. Others believe he has forsaken us and scoffers say he isn’t returning. But the Bible says that God is holding back judgment because he doesn’t want anyone to be left behind. He waits with open arms for anyone, anywhere, anytime who will place their faith and trust in him - even an old, alcoholic woman, who came to faith on her death bed.

God isn't late with his promise as some measure lateness. He is restraining himself on account of you, holding back the End because he doesn't want anyone lost. He's giving everyone space and time to change. ~ 2 Peter 3:9 (MSG)

Santa and the Easter Bunny

My six year-old grandson came over for a visit on Saturday. He invited the neighbor boy who lives next door to play at our house for the afternoon. After an hour of outdoor activities and adventures, they came inside to “build stuff” and I couldn’t help but overhear their conversation. Here’s an excerpt from the best part:

Grandson (GS): I can’t wait for Christmas!

Neighbor Boy (NB): For sure… Christmas is awesome!

GS: What do you want Santa to bring you?

NB: There is no Santa.

GS: (shocked and a bit confused) Well, if there is no Santa where do all the presents come from?

NB: They come from your mom and dad and your grandma and grandpa.

My interest in their conversation escalated from casual overhearing to full on eavesdropping. I was paying attention – curious as to how my grandson would receive this earth-shattering news. A renewed confidence swept over his face and he continued the conversation with a somewhat indignant tone:

GS: That is so totally not true ‘cause I’ve seen the real Santa that comes from the North Pole. I saw him at the mall. I even talked to him.

NB: That was just a man in a costume. There is no North Pole and Santa Claus is not real.

At this point, my grandson decided to let things slide and there was a lull in the conversation. Then the neighbor boy piped up:

NB: Same thing with the Easter Bunny… not real. Who ever heard of a bunny that drops off candy to little kids? Ridiculous!

By this time my poor grandson was reeling. His core belief systems were under attack. I could see his little mind spinning and churning as important parts of his world were crumbling right before his eyes. No Santa? No Easter Bunny?

Suddenly, he jumped up and ran into my office. He asked when his mom would return and I said, “Pretty soon.”

“Good” he answered (with a very serious look on his face), “cause we’re gonna have to have a long talk when she gets here.”

I just smiled and said, “Well, that’s good.”

So there it is. One family lets their children know that Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny are myths while another keeps the illusion alive for yet a while longer.

Dress up, make-believe, and childhood fantasies are a fun part of growing up (and of parenting). There is certainly nothing wrong with imaginary fun and pretending. But I believe Christian parents must be careful about crossing the line between creative pretense and imaginary fun and encouraging our children to “believe in” things that aren’t real.

Let's make sure our children don't have to wonder if the things we teach them are true or worry that someday they will "find out" that Jesus was just a man in a costume.

Do you believe in God? Do you believe in Santa?

Hazards in the Dark

Four mornings a week I go to our local aquatic center to work out and swim. Because I am an early riser, I usually try to get there by 5:30 AM when they open.

I am a little nervous about driving in the dark anyway - so I am extra careful when I drive the three short miles to the pool. I have driven the road enough times that I am familiar with the possible hazards I could encounter. I always choose the well-lighted route and am extra careful when driving on darker streets that have rough patches and bumps in the road.

As I was heading to the pool this morning I thought about how God often lights our way and steers us through the dark places. And how he sometimes allows rough patches and bumps in our lives to help us learn what he wants us to know or to help us to grow in our faith.

Have you come to a dark place, a rough patch, or a bump in the road in your life? Remember that our light and our hope is in Christ. Trust him today to take you through it.

Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path. ~ Psalm 119:105

Bad Day Blessings

Have you ever had one of those days – a day when nothing seems to go right and you wonder why it’s all happening to you and if God will ever show up? I’ve had days like that and last Saturday was one of them. I spent a good portion of the day feeling sorry for myself and refusing to find anything to be thankful for or about.

The reason for my pity party was that I wanted to be outside working in the yard. The sun was shining and I had spring fever. But I was dealing with arthritic pain in my hips and lower back and it was a particularly bad pain day. Yard work was out of the question.

I decided to go outside anyway – to clean out my car. Wallowing in self-pity, I stepped out of the house into the warm spring air and grumbled my way down the sidewalk to the outbuilding where my car was parked.

As I was complaining my way to the car, I encountered one of the new neighbors living on our property (we recently rented our guesthouse to a young, Christian family who graciously offered to manage and care for our property). She was weeding one of the large flower beds in our yard and if the radiant smile that lit up her face was any indication, she was enjoying it immensely. We chatted for a few minutes before I proceeded to my car cleaning project.

By the time I was finished, our six year-old grandson had arrived to spend the night. Within fifteen minutes, he had rounded up half a dozen kids from the neighborhood who were running around the yard and bursting into our house for snacks and drinks. It reminded me of summer when our yard and pool reverberate with the playful shouts and joyful chatter of children.

Suddenly, while watching the kids play on the lawn and rope swings, I caught myself smiling. I heard God’s still small voice in the laughter of the children and felt his peace in my heart. My pain had not diminished but authentic joy and a sense of deep peace enveloped me as I stopped dwelling on “me” and my arthritic pain.

At that moment, I recognized that I am truly blessed. God has allowed pain and suffering into my life for a reason. There is no wasted pain or accidental suffering in God’s economy. Sometimes God reveals the purpose of pain and suffering. Other times he doesn’t.

Even when I don’t understand the purposes behind my pain and suffering, I am able to understand and fully experience every blessing he sends my way – even in the midst of my bad days. Bad day blessings are the best.