"Do you have Grammy?" Katie didn't want me to get left behind. Our family of 21 was piled into several cars to head to Downtown Disney and everyone in my car laughed out loud at eleven-year-old Katie's question. But Katie's serious and obvious concern started me thinking about how our grands might view us (OLD and needing oversight?).

The next day we experienced every parent's nightmare when one of our six year old twinnies melted into the Disney crowds and was missing for an eternity (at least five minutes). Some of the cousins cried tears of relief along with the adults when we saw her walking toward her Mommy. After that terrifying experience, not one of the thirteen cousins objected when their parents demanded they stay close and connected to at least one adult. For the next few days all of us counted heads. During one of those counting moments, nine-year-old Mollie seriously remarked, "I'm keeping my eye on Grammy!"

Again, all the adults laughed because she sounded like a mommy watching a child. If you're familiar with any of my worldview, you know I am passionate about legacy and passing on a biblical view to our children and grandchildren. So I know our grands are watching us, but watching out for us? Mollie's comment started me thinking again about how I viewed my grandparents at this age. From my childhood and teen seasons of life, they looked OLD! (I also thought my parents were very old and now I know they were actually very young.) Do our grands see me as that old? I think so. And do I really need someone to keep an eye on me? Well, maybe on some days.

A few days earlier our son Chuck and I exchanged views on Florida snowbirds (retirees who escape to warm climates during winter months). I remarked that I sometimes feel depressed when we arrive at the Ft. Myers Airport in Florida because all I see are old people. I'm sad because I know this is where I'm heading. (See, I don't think I'm one of them yet!) And I don't like it. The sea of white hair, wheelchairs and sometimes hobbling, bent over adults confront me with my struggle to reconcile God's view of aging with L'Oreal's marketing scheme:

God's view just doesn't square with my body's view of aging as in "help me get off the floor, please." Maybe that's why our grandchildren think I need to be watched over!

Son Chuck's different take on this sea of aging humanity was different than mine: "Well, they actually encourage me because they are active, they aren't giving up on life, they seem to be enjoying it. Something fun to look forward to."

Wow. The grid through which we view life is everything. I don't see myself as old. Maybe I'm a young old. Maybe 62 is the new 52. I have periods when my life feels busier now than when I was raising four children. Opportunities for ministry in this season of life are more than I have hours in my day to accomplish. And as long as I get my Happy Hour (afternoon nap), I'm good to go!

Back to being watched over by our grandchildren. As Chuck and I walked into Hollywood Studios with 3 of them, Mollie pointed out the Sorcerer's Hat and said, "Mommy and Daddy told us that if we get separated from them, to come to the Sorcerer's Hat and they would find us." I smiled and asked, "Are you telling me that so that if you get lost, I'll know where to find you or are you worried about me getting lost?" Mollie smiled mischievously and replied, "I'm just saying..."

I'm thinking that our grands are not just watching us live life, they are now watching out for us. I like it.

In His Grip,
Sharon

Our daughter, Heidi Nequist, poignantly describes an impact of death that many experience but is often hidden from view. Perhaps her thoughts will reveal quiet opportunities for us to reach out and touch a broken heart that is trying to find its way back to the lap of God.

There were two instances this week in which I was reminded of the aftermath that death leaves in it's wake. There are the obvious broken hearts, the extreme loss, the empty arms, the grave, and the intense longing for heaven for those who know Jesus. And most people expect these things from the family of the one who has died...but I continue to be amazed that death touches so many...it spreads it's evil tentacles and grabs whoever it can and tries to destroy them. On Sunday, I was speaking with someone about a matter completely unrelated to death in anyway. She was sharing with me about how certain things have rocked her faith over the years. This is someone I consider to be a spirital rock and someone I have always looked up to. She was talking about divorce and how the concept of Christians divorcing has always scared her. She said that when it happens to someone she knows, she questions God and asks what will protect HER from the same thing? She paused and looked at me, and with tears in her eyes stated: "It's like after your brother died...my faith was rocked." She went on to say that she had felt that bad things happened to people as the result of their faith being weak, or the result of their own personal sin. She felt like she could keep bad things from happening. Then, when my brother died, she said that changed everything. She realized that there was nothing she could do to keep her world from falling apart. She shared with me that after Mark died, she didn't come to church for NINE MONTHS! I was shocked! I had NO idea. She said she felt that if God could do this to our family, who had given their whole lives to the work of the kingdom, then surely no one was safe or protected by the God we serve, who claims to love us. The aftermath of death.....lack of faith, the warmth of our Father's arms gone because of our pain, and our inability to absorb the shock of the death. 16 years later we are still hearing about the destruction and aftermath of our grief that was shared by so many.

Then, tonight, I was reconnected with someone I had lost touch with....thanks to Facebook! I had been an influence in her life, and I think of her all the time. I wonder where she is, what she's doing, if she's living out the things she was taught in her brief stay under the influence of the church. She was a foster child of a family I knew. During that time, the foster father died a terrible, painful, and slow death. The only father she had ever known was gone. The only man who had ever shown her love, instead of hate, was gone. And with him, death took her safety. Her life changed dramatically after he died. She ended up on her own again, in many ways by her own doing. She lost all her relationships, she went back to old ways. I asked her tonight if she was happy. No, she isn't. She said, "My dad would be so disappointed in me. I never would have lived this life if he had lived." The aftermath of death.....lack of faith, the warmth of our Father's arms gone because of our pain, and our inability to absorb the shock of the death. I cried as I chatted with her on Facebook and wished it had been different. I wished that I had been in a position to love her and show her the love of Jesus. I wished that I could've touched her more deeply so that my words would've been enough to overcome the grief that was her life. But, I couldn't...I wasn't the one....but there was one. And he suffered the ultimate grief....his own excrutiating death on the cross. As I was chatting with her a song came on the radio....."Come to Jesus.....Come to Jesus...." This song, sang at the funeral of 11 year old Ashley will forever haunt me. It will forever conjure up the images of a broken Daddy and Mommy wailing in agony for their baby girl. It will forever speak to the deepest part of my soul. And tonight, as I chatted across the country with a girl who stole my heart years and years ago, the song played on my computer....."come to Jesus....come to Jesus...."

-- Heidi's blog, My life...in print! Is a record of her personal battle to discipline her body. She transparently shares how she has lost over 100 pounds and the continuing war to maintain her healthy body. In keeping with her theology to share what God has taught her with others, she is now a personal trainer and helps other women find their way back to a healthy body. Heidi is a loyal friend to many and her compassion and desire to equip, energize and enable others to experience God's grace is evident in the way she offers God's treasures of encouragement. Can you tell, I'm very proud of our daughter!

In His Grip with you,
Sharon

"Oh, by the way, this gift covers Valentine's Day, too!" Chuck exclaimed mischievously. He had just given me an Anniversary gift that I envisioned would one day be a family heirloom, worn by a great, great granddaughter on her wedding day. It was that special. He's more romantic in a cultural way than he likes to admit. So I rolled my eyes at his reminder that he hates Valentine's Day. From the time we were married he has stood firm that he doesn't need marketing guru's to tell him how to say "I love you" to his wife. My most recent retort to his proclamation was, "You should be grateful for every opportunity to tell me you love me!" He just laughed.

News stories and headlines might lead us to believe that a faithful man is hard to find. Mention Mark Sanford, John Edwards, Tiger Woods and even the biblical David and our first thought is their infidelity. I heard a "man on the street" interview with two people where they were asked what they thought about Tiger Woods' secret adulterous life. I was shocked to hear both the man and a married woman give a similar response, "He's an attractive man, wealthy, well-known. There are lots of women who want him, so, of course, he can't help what he did." The interviewer tried every which way to get them to say Tiger Woods is responsible for his choices and he made the wrong one. They refused to hold him accountable.

Such responses could lead listeners to believe that such thinking is prevalent in our culture. Perhaps. But I want to celebrate the millions of men who take seriously the vows they made to their wives. Who refuse to take advantage of willing women and give in to temptation. I intend to use Valentine's Day to showcase my own faithful husband and remember some of the ways he has loved me. Real romance is not flowers, diamonds, jewelry and surprise trips. Sure, those are fun and we enjoy those moments but unless real romance reigns in every day interaction, these are just temporary baubles that will quickly fade. Perhaps my musings will encourage other wives to celebrate the mundane along with the majestic demonstrations of their husband's love. Remember and recapture the real romance in your marriage.

Right before our first Easter as a married couple, I found six beautiful tulips in the front seat of my car. Chuck, not only were you saying, I love you, but those tulips symbolized your joy in meeting Jesus a few days before Easter the year before. It's as though you were saying that you were committed to building our marriage on your relationship to Jesus. How safe I felt. Do you remember those tulips? I do.

I was the main breadwinner when we were first married so that you could finish college. You promised that as soon as you got a job, we would start a family and I could quit. Right after we moved into our first parsonage, you reminded me of that promise and soon we were expecting our first child. I was so sick with that pregnancy I couldn't stand the scent of any food or even wash dishes. When our pastor came to visit, I begged you not to bring him to our home because every counter was filled with dirty dishes. You said you would take care of it. I came downstairs and found a clean kitchen. You had put every dirty dish back in the cabinets - still dirty. After entertaining our guest, though we were very poor, you bought a portable dishwasher and took care of the mess. You said you hated washing dishes and didn't want me to have to wash them either. Do you remember? I do!

You brought a seminary friend home to have lunch with us and found me in tears. An older woman in the church had criticized you to me and I was undone. You marched across the street to the women's meeting in progress and told them that they were never to speak evil of you or the church to me again. You set the stage for appropriate conflict resolution in the church as well as how you expected them to treat me. Do you remember? I do.

One day you asked me how a doctor's appointment went. I started crying and said, "My doctor says I'm in a deep depression and need to get away from the church responsibilities. I told her that was impossible." You immediately cancelled all of our meetings, called the chairman of the board and told him you and I were taking off for a few days and you weren't sure when we would be back. Do you remember? I do.

Years later I left church, too distraught to stay. You found a ride home and a wife who couldn't stop crying. I felt unsafe and broken by the church conflict. You laid on the bed with me and told me to read a scripture passage out loud where Jesus told the waves to be still. I cried harder as you assured me that God was in control and that you would keep your promise that you would never put church business ahead of our family. You immediately called a pastoral search committee and asked to be considered for the position of pastor of a small church plant. You had previously told me you had no interest in starting over. But soon, we were embraced by the loving congregation of Glasgow Reformed Presbyterian Church, where you are still the pastor. Do you remember making those decisions through the grid of your love for me and our children? I do.

A year later we learned I had life-threatening breast cancer. Treatment for the disease ravaged my body and emotions yet I never felt more loved by you. As you left my hospital room one night, you heard a Code Blue called on my floor. Within minutes you returned to stay with me while doctors tried to save another patient's life. Another night you called me after going home and said, "I was listening to music on the radio and wanted you to listen to the same music because it makes me think about you." Do you remember? I do.

I learned early on that I have to be careful when I mention things I like or would like to have. Because before long, I know you will find a way to satisfy that desire. A few months ago I said I wanted to paint our colonial blue trim white. You responded, "Do you know how much work that will be? I thought blue was your favorite color. No, we're not painting." I never mentioned it again because I knew you were right. It was fine the way it was. A few weeks ago, you told me to pick out new paint for the sunroom and dining room. Do you remember all the times you've surprised me with such unexpected decisions? I do.

You go to work every day (for over forty years) to provide for your family. You regularly pay the bills and make sure our home and cars are maintained. You plow the garden even though you know that by mid-summer weeds will reign. At my request you add flower beds and bushes and encourage me to decorate our home the way I like. Do you realize how safe such care makes me feel? I do not take for granted your faithful love.

Every decision you have made throughout our marriage has centered on meeting the needs of our children and me. You bought a station wagon when I know you longed for a sports car. You sacrificed your own desires to provide a Christian education for our children. I cherish the memory of you wrestling on the floor with our children and backyard catches with the boys, teaching Mark how to kick a football and talking him through his times at bat. How you slept with Heidi after she came into our bedroom crying, unable to get the vision of a terrifying movie out of her head. The hours you spent chauffeuring the kids to music lessons and sports activities. I love how you split your work schedule so that you never missed a game or concert. How you just walking into a room filled with fear makes me feel safe. This is just a tiny list of the many ways your faithful love creates the fabric of our lives.

Now our adult children are creating homes that reflect the same faithful love. Our sons and son-in-law adore their wives and cherish their children. They work hard to provide for their families. They reflect their love for Christ in the way they approach every day tasks. I see your fingerprints all over their lives.

There is a faithfulness that is day in and day out. It's what happens in the mundane moments of life that creates a majestic legacy of faith.

How do I love thee, my husband? I cannot count the many ways. But know this, I am committed to loving you more every day so that the last season of our life is even more exciting than the first seasons.

I don't need Valentine's Day to say I love you. But I will take advantage of this opportunity to declare to anyone who reads this that I do.

In His Grip with you,
Sharon

A friend described our community's enforced homebound status as "life's pause button." I love that concept! Historic snow falls in the northeast captured the nation's attention this past week. No sooner had we dug ourselves out of two feet of snow than the weather channel warned that another major blizzard would hit us four days later. One weatherman expressed the emotional reaction of many with a live meltdown. Click here to check it out. . .

Yes, this weather is a disaster for some as tree limbs and power lines crashed and caused power outages for thousands. God bless the snow plow drivers, EMT's and thousands of workers who struggled to keep our infra-structure working. And many are nursing aching backs and sore muscles from all the shoveling. A downside to a blizzard for sure. But somehow the reaction of many to the snow house arrest seems different than in previous years.

Chuck and I took advantage of the enforced hunkering down and finished home projects that have long cried for attention. I found old recipes and prepared comfort foods that I rarely serve because they take too much time. We enjoyed leisurely mornings in the sunroom, watching the snow fall and ravenous birds empty the birdfeeders. A new friend blessed us when he stopped by to dig out our sidewalk and finish the driveway. I've been wondering why this enforced "house arrest" feels different than previous snowbound days. I think I've found the answer.

God bless the technology of Facebook. Though physically disconnected, we enjoyed community and friendships as soon as our President described the coming blizzard as a snowcalypse. Friends and family started posting snow fall amounts, pictures outside their front doors, funny videos of attempts to build snowmen, navigate the deep snow, create igloos and stories of neighbors helping neighbors. Moms shared how they are coping with restless children (or not!), recipes for crock pot meals and snow ice cream, quiet moments with a good book, and the joy of a nap on a snowy day. Encouragement and joy is contagious and who could resist the fun and joy of so many happy reports? I bet many moms and dads pulled back their impatience and decided to create some fun memories with their children because a friend described their happy snow activities.

Laughter is contagious and unleashes all sorts of good endorphins. Enjoy that kind of emotional high when you laugh at this very funny original piece called "Snow on the Ground" by our friend, Michael Shannon. [NOTE: Must have Facebook account and be logged in to view.]

I love this snow blizzard pause button. We know that God will touch the "play" button and we'll have to jump back into normal life once more. In the meantime, let's enjoy this "pause that refreshes."

Keep sharing those fun stories, videos and pictures. You're encouraging me to soak up God's awesome creation in a new way.

And for all who have cabin fever and are desperate for spring, take hope from this beautiful video. [NOTE: Must have Facebook account and be logged in to view.]

In His Grip,
Sharon

A few years ago I wrapped up a speaking engagement by asking the women to turn to Psalm 30. Something supernatural happened as I began to read. I realized that God was keeping His promises to turn my weeping into joy.

My theme for the conference was Treasures in Darkness and throughout the weekend I had shared the story of our son, Mark's death and how I wrestled to reconcile God's love with His sovereignty. I told the women that sometimes I think about our life pathway and wonder at how I am able to breathe, to live with eternal purpose and experience joy in the journey. I have to conclude that God is keeping His promise that before the foundation of the world was laid, He gave me everything I need to perform the good works He planned out for me to do in my lifetime. His definition of good works is so different than mine. Sometimes when I'm speaking I know that my words are foreign and outrageous to the listeners. It's only by the gift of faith that we can recognize His equipping and take steps toward fulfilling His plans for us.

In that supernatural moment during my speaking engagement a light went on in my soul and God seemed to quickly run a video of the many reasons for joy that I have in my life. Of course, my first snapshots were of my husband's faithful love, the walk of obedience in each of our children's lives, their marriages that reflect commitment to one another and biblical love and the joy of our grandchildren. I thought of the deep belly laughter that often filled our house when everyone gathered for family celebrations. Yes, we still had our private moments of our missing son, but our hands and hearts were open to receive the treasures God had designed to give us hope and help in the dark, secret places of our souls.

I exclaimed to the audience, "Next to verse 10, Here, O Lord and be merciful to me; O Lord, be my help' I wrote and underlined the word "PLEASE!"

"And in the margin next to verses 11 and 12, 'You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, that my heart may sing to you and not be silent. O Lord, my God, I will give you thanks forever.' I wrote, 'When will you do this for my family?'"

I continued, "I well remember the anguish in my soul when I begged God for grief relief. And in this very moment, I can proclaim that God is keeping the promise of Psalm 30."

Now, lest you get the wrong idea, please know that sixteen years later, I long for Mark. I miss him so. But in those moments of deep anguish, there is a place of joy that I can go where grief relief waits. Grief set up residence on our home on July 6, 1993. But one day unbeknownst to us Joy slipped in and gently started pushing Grief off of center stage. Grief still resides in our home but Joy has taken up permanent residence as well. Sometimes Joy fades into the background when Grief demands our attention. But Joy always comes back.

Every December we join our church family to celebrate the most wonderful gift of all,Jesus. We expect moments of joy as we connect with our covenant family and believers all over the world through the grace gift of Communion, corporate worship and soul-lifting teaching from God's Word. We'll spend special time with our children and grandchildren, soaking up the joy that exudes from their hugs and giggles. We'll miss Mark and we'll cry for what we don't have. But by God's amazing grace, we will remember that He is keeping His promises to turn our wailing into dancing, to remove our sackcloth and clothe us with His mysterious joy. I do not take one minute of joy for granted.

In His Grip,
Sharon

Read more about Sharon's grief journey in Treasures in Darkness: A Grieving Mother Shares Her Heart

Sign up for FREE Treasures of Encouragement that come right to your email box by using the Subscribe Option at the top left hand corner of this blog.

Today my friend, Chevonne Dorsey, better known as Bubbles to her friends, takes a few minutes to encourage us to soak in the truth of this statement: Jesus really is the reason for the season.

In His Grip,
Sharon

One of the biggest stresses for a newly married couple is where they will spend the holidays. Barbie L'Italian shares how she is freeing her adult, married children to develop their own holiday traditions without giving up the core traditions of their family.

In His Grip,
Sharon

Legacy and passing on a heritage of faith are important themes in our family and church family. How can we instill traditions of mercy ministry into small children in a way that makes sharing what we have with others second nature?

In my book, Treasures of Encouragement: Women Helping Women in the Church I urge women to see the goal of biblical encouragement is not to fix another person's life but rather a means to help turn hearts toward the Lord. Such a view is freeing. We should not sell short any act of encouragement as too small or insignificant. We have no idea how God will use our acts of obedience as channels of His compassion that bring hope and help to a hurting heart.

What is it about a child that can touch a lonely person's heart in a way that brings them closer to God's love and presence? My friend, Emily Holcroft shares some of her family traditions that are not just reserved for Christmas mercy ministry but all year long. Listen as she describes some of the practical ways her children are learning that big mercy often arrives in tiny packages prepared by little hands.

In His Grip,
Sharon

Do you cry over the Hallmark Card commercials the way I do. The one that really gets to me is when the family is gathered around the piano and an little girl starts singing O Holy Night. A few words into the hymn and a soldier slips into the room, obviously the brother or son, surprising his family with a Christmas return. He joins his sister in singing the hymn. Oh my, I can't stand it!

But I wonder how many people watch these beautiful vignettes designed to evoke emotions that will drive us to find just the right card or purchase a gift that subconsciously guarantees a strong family feeling? Unfortunately, many people dread holiday family gatherings, knowing that conflict will reign as relatives unload hostility and hatred instead of love and peace to all.

Years ago I heard a speaker encourage us to accept that the father who always shows us drunk or the mother who slices and dices with her words will not submit to a twenty-four hour "cease fire" so that we can have a Hallmark Card Christmas. We have to accept that angry, broken people will probably be even angrier during the holidays. We should view them as "irregular people" and expect them to behave as they always do.

What is an irregular person? When I was a teenager my mother shopped at the Wilmington Dry Goods, a store that sold clothing with "irregular" stamped on the labels. She carefully inspected each purchase for ripped seams, holes, even measured sleeves to make sure they were the same length. She knew the clothing was not perfect, she expected to find flaws. She had seven children to clothe and the prices fit her budget. Imagine her delight when she found clothing that had minor flaws that weren't noticeable or hidden. So an irregular person is damaged. I think that definition includes every one of us. Each of us is an irregular person. Some of us are better at hiding our flaws than others. For those who display their irregularities with neon signs that annoy and hurt others, we must remember that but for the grace of God, there we are as well. We will experience more peace and joy in family gatherings if we won't expect them to change in order to give us a great Christmas

In her Considerable Grace blog, Tara Klena Barthel transparently shares her own struggle to overcome childhood conflict and genuinely love family members that once caused pain in her life. Tara is known for her passion for Peacemaking and is a well-known author and speaker. If you need help in knowing how to practically prepare for dealing with difficult people during your holiday celebrations check out her post, Family Conflicts and the Holidays http://networkedblogs.com/p18945743

For more encouragement from Tara, download (for free) her message to A Woman of Peace Amidst Holiday Strife, http://tarabarthel.com/resources.html#cds

May you prepare your hearts for family gatherings by reflecting deeply on the grace God has extended to you.

In His grip,

Sharon

Today a young woman shares how her parents are teaching their children the beauty of celebrating Christmas throughout the month of December. It's not too late for you to start this family tradition, too.

In His Grip,
Sharon

Statistics show that domestic violence rises during the Christmas season. The additional stress of financial pressures, difficult family relationships, alcohol and uncontrolled tempers create a pressure cooker for an already fragile family environment. Unfortunately, church families are not exempt from this betrayal of human relationships. More than one woman has shared her terrible story of hidden beatings, verbal abuse and emotional trauma perpetrated by her husband who is a church leader. You may be that woman or you may be the friend or sibling of such a woman.

Breaking out of such a relationship is difficult at best, almost impossible for some women at worst. Fear of the unknown, shame, humiliation and terror over future beatings imprisons broken women. This article, When Domestic Violence Knocks posted by Christianity Today is written by Lou Reed. He has 25 years of pastoral experience, most recently at West Side Baptist Church in Hollywood, Florida. He is also a former supervisor for the City of Miami Beach Police Department's domestic violence unit and an adjunct professor at Trinity International University in Davie, Florida.

The article was addressed to pastors but gave me a lot to consider in my own response to abused women. I recommend it as a resource to help women's ministry teams discuss how they can partner with their pastor in helping abused women find freedom and safety in Christ. It's also a good resource for pastors and elders.

I'd love to hear your thoughts on his counsel.

Read When Domestic Violence Knocks.

In His Grip,
Sharon

A friend and I caught up while her children stood nearby. She mentioned how much she loved the leadership of an organization we both supported. I hesitated and then said, "You haven't heard?" My friend's children perked up when their mother responded, "Oh please, nothing bad has happened, has it?" Something (perhaps Someone) said to my spirit, "Sharon, don't do it!" But I ignored that warning and using code words informed my friend of damaging information, rationalizing that what I said was public so I wasn't gossiping. I finished my report with the words, "Please just really pray for everyone."

As the God-side of me stood silently, the flesh side argued, "I haven't done anything wrong. It was public, she would have found out eventually."

By the time I arrived at home, I had asked God to forgive me for not only sharing negative information about another person but my horrible example to these covenant children and their young mother. I hoped that my coded message did not filter into their minds and hearts. I emailed an apology to my friend and asked her to forgive me. It may have been ok for someone else to tell her the public details, but I knew God wanted me to be quiet. One of my "bucket list" goals for 2009 has been to think the best and refuse to believe the worst without absolute evidence of wrong-doing. I want this kind of thinking to be second nature rather than a struggle. God used this conversation to take me to a deeper level in making myself a safe place for the struggles and secrets of friends and family. I'm hoping my friend will recognize my heart for protecting her as well.

I remembered this lesson when I read a blog by Karen Casey Arneson called Cannibals in Christendom. You might wonder what this topic has to do with simplifying Christmas. Stress from holiday preparation can weaken our resolve to reflect Christ in our conversations and interaction with friends, co-workers and family members. Let Karen's comments sink into your soul and ask God to use them to equip you for opportunities to protect the integrity of your relationships. Applying these truths will help keep the channels of your heart cleansed so that you are more aware of the way the birth of Jesus redeems our sinful hearts and gives us a taste for sweet, pure conversations instead of the rotten stench of gossip.

In His grip,

Sharon

Don't forget to order Chuck's new book, Harlots and Heroines, The Midwives of the Messiah. Special discount codes - HHGIFTSET, 20% off the gift set and HHBOOK - 30% off the book.

When Chuck and I were first married I subscribed to a magazine called, Marriage Partnership. I loved being married and wanted to know every practical way I could demonstrate how much I loved my husband. Now you can pick up some of those practical ideas by visiting the website of http://www.christianitytoday.com/mp/

And in keeping with our Simply Christmas Treasures of Encouragement theme, take a few minutes to read this article on their site: Downscaling Christmas.

I'd love to hear your ideas for simplifying Christmas. How do you do it?

In His Grip,
Sharon

When I was a young mother I loved hearing practical ideas for organizing my overwhelming, over-scheduled, over-stimulated life, especially tips for thriving in the message of Christmas rather than just surviving the holidays.

In keeping with our local church's Christmas TEA theme for 2009, Simply Christmas, my friend, Erin Worden, shares how she intentionally plans so that her family more than survives the holidays. Even if you're not a young mom, let this young woman's suggestions encourage you to take a step back and simplify Christmas in your home.

In His Grip,
Sharon

Between now and the end of December, these blog posts will encourage you to focus on "simply Christmas." Most of the posts will take just a few minutes to read or view but hopefully the message of God's amazing grace will help equip, energize and encourage you to reflect the presence of Jesus as you interact with others during this holiday season.

You can receive these FREE treasures of encouragement by using the Subscribe option located on the top left hand corner of the blog.

Along with practical tips on organizing your inner life and daily responsibilities, my main focus will be on keeping our hearts fixed on Jesus. My first exhortation to myself is: Keep it Simple, Sister! I don't want to just survive the holidays. I want to thrive and soak in the priceless gift that keeps on giving. Please add your comments on how you keep Christmas simple or your commitment to Simply Christmas. When I was a young teenager, my very talented, artistic mother coached me in a Christmas talent contest. Because I trusted her artistic savvy, I willingly learned the song, All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth. That night, right before I was to perform, she handed me already been chewed licorice gum and told me to put it on my two front teeth Then she instructed me to sing with my top lip covering my top teeth until the very end. She told me to hold out the last note of the song, and then to slowly break into a wide smile, so that the audience could see the blacked out two front teeth. My performance was a hit!

But the song begs the question, what do you want for Christmas? If you could have one thing, what would it be? When I was a little girl, all I wanted was what I called a big doll. It was a soft bodied doll that was as big as a baby. Every night I lay in my bed, searched for the first evening star and whisper, "Star light, Star bright, First star I see tonight, Wish I may, Wish I might, Have the wish I wish tonight." Then I added, please bring me a big doll for Christmas. My big gift that year was my longed for doll. I couldn't wait to take my doll to school and introduce it to my second-grade friends. My teacher recommended that I leave it inside at recess time but I couldn't part with it one minute. I learned a hard lesson about listening to teachers that day. One of our favorite playground games was when the girls held hands to form a circle and the person in the middle tried to fun through the clasped hands. My girlfriend and I held the hands of my doll. I guess I believed that no one would be mean enough to try to run through my doll's hands. I didn't bank on a boy in the middle. As soon as I recognized his plan, I held tighter to my doll's hand. Silly me, why didn't I let it go? Within seconds, my precious gift broke as my classmate rammed through the circle's weakest link and my doll's arm tore away from its body.

Now the question is bigger than "What do you want for Christmas." The real question becomes, "What one gift do you want for Christmas that cannot be broken?" Let's go back in time and visit with a young woman who received the very first Christmas gift, a baby boy. Thirty- three years later, soldiers would break this priceless gift right in front of the young woman's eyes. Her precious son, broken beyond repair, or so it appeared. And yet, God would give her back the perfect gift...a gift that keeps on giving to us today.

When we meet Mary, the teenage mother of Jesus, we understand that life was good for this young woman. She planned to marry a man who loved her and shared her faith in Jehovah. In an instant, God turned her plans upside down. An angel told her that though she was a virgin, she was pregnant and would give birth to the very son of God. We know that Mary was frightened because God's messenger exhorted her, "Do not be afraid."

Mary's response to these events stuns and convicts me every time I read it, "I am the handmaiden of the Lord. May it be to me as you have said." (Luke 1:36)

Mary's Song, or The Magnificat as many call it, gives us insight into how Mary was able to respond to God's plans for her life with such sweet submission. Mary's world view is clear. In the first line she proclaims the driving force behind her actions and her own need for a Savior. Then she describes an utmost confidence in the character and promises of the Father of her son.

From Mary I learn that my circumstances make up my platform for glorifying God. Mary's response to God's pathway for her, teaches me that God is sovereign and I can trust Him. So I ask again, What is the one gift you want for Christmas that cannot be broken?

In the meantime, I urge you to open up God's Christmas Catalog, His Word, where He showcases His gift of grace on every page. Meditate on Mary's story and open your heart and hands to receive the assurance that the picture of her life demonstrates, God is sovereign and we can trust Him.

What priceless gift does Mary represent to you?

In His Grip,
Sharon

For more on Mary, check out Chuck's new book, Harlots and Heroines: The Midwives of the Messiah. He gets inside the skin of five women on the pathway to our Messiah and some of his insights may surprise you. Order before December 31 and receive a 30% discount with Code HHBOOK. Use Discount Code HHGIFT for a 20% discount on the book and our son, Chuck's piano CD, My Heart's Cry.

The theme of our annual Christmas TEA, one of our most beloved traditions at Glasgow Church, was Simply Christmas. Our team transformed our Family Life Center into a candle-lit, warm inviting room, wreathed with hundreds of gorgeous poinsettias. Over 400 women attended, many of the guests were little girls and teens. We laughed at old movie clips that captured the stresses of Christmas and some of us cried a few tears as God's Word touched the soft spots of our hearts. I'm so glad for the reminder to simplify Christmas so that I will soak up the most perfect Christmas gift of all, my Savior, Jesus.

This morning I began reading Chuck's new book, Harlots of Heroines: The Midwives of the Messiah, as one means to start each day in December with the meat of God's Word, I was struck with this quote:

A wounded widow...a professional prostitute...an indomitable immigrant, a bathing beauty...a terrified teenager. What do these five women have in common? They were all an integral part of the plan God made in eternity past to come to this earth as a man.....These women were God's conduits of love and the chosen instruments of the Incarnation who brought "Joy to the World." Their chorus of pain, loss and eventual redemption gave voice of the Angelic Host who brought the very first Christmas Carol to the hills outside of Bethlehem. God condescended in Grace to use these five mangled masses of frightened and scarred humanity to become the Midwives of the Messiah!

Perhaps one of the most important truths for me as I walk the pathway God has marked out for my family, is that God cannot lie. He does not forget His children. He keeps His promises. I think the reason I'm so taken with these five women is because not one of them, except perhaps Mary, realized how critical they were in God's eternal plan to produce the Messiah from their bodies. I remember how comforted I was when I first saw the scarlet cord of God's redemption plan that tied these women together. God was always at work behind the scenes, never thwarted by the sins of men or the betrayal or seeming lostness of these women. Their stories give me such comfort but they always deepen my appreciation for God's faithful love demonstrated by the baby boy in the manger.

Simply Christmas. Is that your goal? Over the next few weeks I'll be sharing more thoughts on how God is opening my heart to the simplicity of His redemption plan. You can receive these FREE treasures of encouragement by subscribing to my blog in the left menu.

Simply Christmas. I hope you'll share some of your thoughts on simplifying Christmas in the comments section as well.

In His Grip,
Sharon

Thanksgiving in America is over. Christmas is a few weeks away. Let the games begin! Does your to do list include simplifying your days so that you can focus on the "real meaning of Christmas?"

If so, subscribe to this blog right now and you'll receive in your email box FREE frequent, brief treasures of encouragement that will help you simplify Christmas so that you don't miss the spiritual richness of this moment in time that forever changed our world. The FREE subscription option is located at the top left hand corner of this blog. Be sure to confirm your subscription once the confirmation email reaches your Inbox.

Last year I posted Twelve Days of Christmas Grief Relief with hopes that my thoughts might encourage grieving families as they tried to find a new normal without their loved ones during the holidays. If you or a friend is struggling with how to find meaning in this "most wonderful time of the year" when your heart is breaking, I urge you to check out those posts.

This year, I'm focusing on Simply Christmas Treasures of Encouragement. Each post will be a brief devotional that encourages readers to think through how they will reflect Christ as they prepare for Christmas. Along with some of my personal musings, I'll share some links to online resources that have helped me grow as well as some video clips from our annual Christmas TEA where women share how they are striving to simplify Christmas.

The posts will officially start on December 8. Help me spread the word about these posts by forwarding this blog post to friends and family with an invitation to subscribe. Remember, it's FREE encouragement!

Don't forget to place your order for Chuck's new book, Harlots and Heroines, The Midwives of the Messiah. And here's a secret. Use HHGIFTSET for a 20% discount on the gift set that includes an autographed copy of the book and our son, Chuck's solo piano CD, My Heart's Cry. Or, use HHBOOK for a 30% discount on just the book. The discount applies to as many books or gift sets that you want. The code is case sensitive and the discount ends December 31.

If your heart resonates with the goal of keeping Christmas simple, I hope you'll share your ideas in the comment section of the blog posts. Let's help each other to think, Simply Christmas Treasures of Encouragement!

In His Grip,
Sharon

"I hate Christmas. I wish I could skip over to the end of January and be done with it. I don't put up decorations and I refuse to listen to the music. It's just too hard to face without my child." My friend's words took me back to Christmas, 1993. Our first Christmas without our son, Mark. Oh, the anguish.

Before that awful year, I loved Christmas. I looked forward to after Christmas sales and started thinking about the best gift for each child months before the event. I baked more cookies than anyone could eat and we always had a big Christmas Eve Open House before the Communion service. The more people, the better. And those were the days I wouldn't let anyone bring anything - this was my thank you to all of our friends and family. We always invited hurting people, too. Of course, I drove my children and husband a little nutty but that's a confession for another time.

On July 6, 1993, that horrible night on our way home from the hospital, Chuck grabbed my hand and whispered, "Christmas, what will do about Christmas?" The reality of life without Mark was already slamming into our hearts. We knew that this most precious season of the year would never hold the same anticipation or joy of previous family gatherings. There would always be an empty seat. How, how, how would we face that empty place?

A few days ago, I played Christmas music while I cleaned. One of my tricks to easing into the holidays. As I dusted I heard the haunting rendition of The Little Drummer Boy. Mark was a drummer and this song is now his song. That first Christmas without him I imagined his first Christmas in heaven, playing his drums for Jesus. I look for a different drummer boy Christmas decoration every year. Hmm, I thought as the music played, I can hear this song without tears. I must be getting a little better. I thought once more of Mark in heaven, and wondered what he is doing right now. I imagined all of heaven preparing for Christmas! What must it be like to worship perfectly? To have no selfish motives in offering our gifts and talents to our King. I imagined our son welcoming friends we've "lost" this past year and connecting with the children of bereaved parents who have reached out to us in their fresh sorrow. What must it be like? Are they laughing with joy that their parents are choosing to trust God in their sorrow? Are they part of that great cloud of witnesses, cheering us on, urging us to faith, to reflect the joy of knowing Christ, even in the darkness?

Yes, my friend's sad, angry words were my words for many years. And I admit, there are moments that I still dread Christmas. I've never recaptured that fun anticipation. Some days I want to run away to a warm place and pretend Christmas is over. But then I remember those early years and how Christmas forced me to meditate on that first Holy Night. How my heart resonated with the heart of Mary's, the mother of Jesus. And how a light of understanding slowly glowed brighter and brighter as I began to reflect on God's gift of His Son for sinners like me. Of all the ways God could choose to demonstrate His love for us, He chose the parent/child relationship. What tighter, more intimate connection is there between a parent and child (when that parent loves as God designed)? What greater ripping is there for a human being than to have their child forcefully taken from their arms? Studies have shown that the worst crisis human beings can experience is the sudden loss of their children. It is no mistake that God keys in on this truth when He sacrifices His Son for His adopted children.

When I question God's love for me and how He could put me on this pathway, Christmas reminds me that the One Who gave me Jesus sent this dark place my way. I do not understand why, but I do understand He gave what I would never willingly give. He gave His Son to people who didn't want Him. What greater love is there?

And so, I miss Mark. And after my moments of rejoicing that I could hear The Little Drummer Boy without crying, the tears starting flowing. Oh, how I miss my child. Many of my sweet friends are experiencing deep, deep grief this season. And so this is for you, my dear friends. You are so fresh in your sorrow - even those of you who are seven years into the journey. I know this because I've been in that place.

Your heart will always long for your child. A piece of you will never be satisfied without him or her. But hear me on this. That's a good thing. Let that broken place drive you to the manger and carry you to the Cross. Get inside the Father's heart as you look at that little boy, our brother, Jesus, sent to die for the sins of His brothers and sisters.

Do not apologize for your tears but also give yourself permission to experience moments of joy. Look for the treasures that He will send your way, open your hands to receive the gifts He has designed to help turn your heart toward Him, to remind you that He is the Lord your God, the One Who calls you by name.

I am a credible witness of His faithfulness. God is sovereign and you can trust Him. I'm praying for you to experience Christmas Presence this year. His presence.

Don't forget to subscribe to the RSS feed by clicking on the link in the left menu. This will sign you up for receiving blog posts via email as soon as they are posted.

In His Grip,
Sharon

For more on Sharon's Christmas thoughts, order Treasures in Darkness: A Grieving Mother Shares Her Heart.

A wounded widow, a professional prostitute, an indomitable immigrant, a bathing beauty, a terrified teenager: Harlots and Heroines: The Midwives of the Messiah. When Chuck told me about his idea for this sermon series and book, I questioned how it would be different from the many other resources about women of the Bible. As a women's ministry leader and Bible study teacher, I had studied and taught the lives of Bible women on numerous occasions. Even the evil ones became spiritual mothers in my own life journey and I eagerly gleaned every life lesson their behaviors revealed. I even developed my own message about the women in the genealogy of Jesus. I thought I knew the five girls pretty well. What more could they teach me?

As Chuck unpacked the scriptural context of each woman, God reminded me that His Word is living and that I will never get to the bottom of His truth. Once more these women called back to me from their perch in heaven and gave me deep theological treasures that encouraged me to remember that God is sovereign and I can trust Him. And oh, how I need that reminder.

On July 6, 1993, our sixteen-year-old son, Mark and his friend, Kelly, died in a car accident. In death's aftermath, I struggled long and hard to reconcile God's love with His sovereignty. Fourteen years after Mark's death the messages Chuck preached on the midwives of our Messiah reminded me that God will keep every promise, that He IS keeping His promises, even when it seems He isn't.

Each woman in this genealogy faced insurmountable odds that would have disqualified her from most jobs in any church. Yet in this story of redemption we see God transform the scars of emotional abuse, prostitution, murder, death, lying, widowhood, begging and an out of wedlock pregnancy into glory. Unbeknownst to them, these women are on the pathway to the birth of our Messiah. Where we might see darkness God reveals His faithful love when He used the lives of these women to ensure that our Messiah would come at just the right moment and be born into the exact family prepared for Him by His Father. Their seeming disqualifications to be in the genealogy of Jesus actually become sources of great hope to broken people like me. Harlots and Heroines: The Midwives of the Messiah is a book about our spiritual mothers. They are waiting for us in heaven and as they wait, they call back, "Dear Daughters, study our lives and you will see that God is sovereign and you can trust Him, too." Thank you, Tamar, Rahab, Bathsheba, Ruth and Mary from one of your daughters.

In His Grip,
Sharon

Special Offer: Order your copy of Harlots and Heroines: The Midwives of the Messiah in time for Christmas giving.

Man Up! That's the title of Chuck's current sermon series. The men in our congregation are listening carefully as the words of the Apostle Paul to young Timothy take on current day application (2 Timothy). Though the subject is men, women are also listening and the scriptural truths for men are just as important for us. Yet, it's tempting for women in the congregation to poke their husbands in the ribs when a specific truth seems to be just for her man.

At the end of Sunday's message, Chuck switched gears and spoke to women. In the sermon he had described a special relationship with an elderly woman in our second church. Chuck and I were both about twenty-five years old when he was appointed as pastor of Logan United Methodist Church in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Yes, we were babies trying to do a grown up job! And this was our second church assignment. He took on the job of pastor in our first dying city church when he was twenty-one years old. He had been a Christian for one year. Chuck often calls those early years in ministry our school master. Yes, we were babies!

After our first Sunday in our second dying city church, Chuck came home and cried. This was not what he signed up for. Where to begin? We had about thirty people, all over 70 (or so it seemed) in a huge stone church building. We had been told that the music ministry was strong. We learned that day that the music ministry consisted of a great organist playing a majestic pipe organ, a choir director and three very elderly people in the choir. No children and no outreach. One of the leaders told Chuck that our new church was three dying churches that had merged and the hearse was backed up to the door. Until Chuck arrived - no pressure, though.

We would have done almost anything to have at least two other well-grounded young people to help build God's kingdom in this dying city. Early on God gave Chuck Mrs. D. Margaret Kelley. She was an elderly, almost blind woman who saw her calling as a prayer warrior for Chuck. He has many stories about Mrs. Kelley (you can hear one of them in his message, Do You Have a Gangrene Mouth? But his most coveted memory is that she encouraged him as a young, inexperienced pastor and she prayed for him.

At the end of Sunday's message Chuck asked us, the women: "Are you praying for your men? I don't mean superficial stuff, I mean real, heart, gut-wrenching praying? Are you taking your men to God through prayer and pleading with Him to strengthen and guide the men in your life? Are you praying for the leadership of your church? Are you a Mrs. Kelley or are you the woman who finds fault and has a critical spirit and has nothing but negative words? Encourage your men with prayer."

Over the past few years we have lost some of our most precious prayer warriors, men and women who took on the burden of praying for Chuck and our sons as they worked in full-time ministry. When they died, I felt a hole in our spiritual covering and asked God to burden others with the need to pray for their spiritual leaders. I am confident God has people praying for us daily or we would not be able to function in His work.

Over the years I have not always known how to pray. My desires may not have been God's and so instead of praying my words, I have prayed scripture, specific scriptures for the members of my family, for our church leadership, and for friends. I personalize the scripture:

And this is my prayer for Chuck: that his love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that he may be able to discern what is best and may be pure and blameless until the day of Christ filled with the fruit of righteousness, that comes through Jesus Christ - to the glory and praise of God. Philippians 1:9-11.

I pray Psalm 112 for our sons and grandsons and Proverbs 31:10 - 31 for our daughters and granddaughters. I prayed Psalm 121 for our granddaughter, Siddhi, as we waited for God to bring her to us from India. I included my niece, Elizabeth, as she served God abroad in a third-world country. I continue to pray Psalm 121 for our grandson, Cori, who is in the Navy. Psalm 122 is my prayer for our local church and leadership.

When I pray scripture for those I love, my own agenda melts away and God opens my hands to receive His will. I think that this is one means He shapes our desires into His desires.

Are you praying for your men? Even if you're not married, there are men in your life who need you to pray - fathers, brothers, church leaders, pastors. Women, are you praying?

In His Grip,
Sharon

The bad report about a friend stunned me. Without hesitation, I believed it. Anger, sadness, disappointment. All of those emotions followed me around the house as I prepared for a busy day of running errands and catching up on undone tasks. I threw my purse and library books into the car, made sure I had my to do list and started to back out of the driveway.

That morning I had studied Psalm 32 and 33 and was struck by a picture of God's love resting on me and surrounding me. I had committed to viewing the circumstances of that day through the grid of God's surrounding love. I was eager to see how practical the presence of God's love would be in every day details. Frankly, I was looking forward to a warm, fuzzy intimacy with Him, maybe a parking space in the crowded mall, a great price for a purchase...you know, fun things. God had another agenda.

Before I turned onto our street, something other worldly happened. I heard a voice or a thought, not sure exactly, "Sharon, my love rests on you. My love surrounds you. How will that truth change the way you respond to this bad report?"

Yes, God had another agenda. My first opportunity to choose God's way, not mine. Was my friend guilty as charged? What was the evidence? Another person's words? What was the "reporter's" agenda? Before you rebuke me for listening to gossip, the "reporter" wasn't gossiping. Trust me on that. Another scripture came to mind:

The first to present his case seems right, till another comes forward and questions him. Proverbs 18:17

For forty years I've been a pastor's wife and I'm confident that many bad reports have been shared about my husband's ministry. And I'm sure that many are the words spoken about my own fallacies and mis-steps. I've always hoped that when those reports are given that the hearer would step back and think, "I won't believe this until I see the evidence." At the least I hoped for an opportunity to give our side of the story or explain our behavior or even ask forgiveness for hurting another and righting the wrong. I hoped for mercy and compassion.

Yet in those first moments after hearing the bad report about my friend, I did none of those things. I jumped to judgment.

God's love surrounded me in those moments because He used the bad report as spiritual sandpaper to reveal my own dark heart. How many times have I believed a bad report about another person, with no thought for how hurt she or he would be if they knew I did not believe the best (1 Corinthians 13)? How many times has an unsubstantiated bad report unfairly influenced my relationship with another person? How many opportunities to share hope and help in Jesus have I missed because I pre-judged another woman? How often do I treat such reports with a casualness that diminishes the value of the other person's life?

I should know better. James tells me (and I've taught it so many times) that the tongue is a fire that fills the body with great evil. He gives me hope in that he declares none of us can tame it, that we will stumble. But he also warns me to beware of this great potential for evil and that only by God's grace can we find any victory over our tongues. I felt such guilt over my initial reaction. What to do? Repent and choose to believe the best. Fortunately I had not repeated this bad report to anyone else.

You may wonder if the initial bad report was true. For this discussion, it doesn't matter. What matters is that in that moment God's love gave me a choice: automatically believe the worst or choose to withhold judgment until all the evidence is in.

That's how I hope others will treat me. And I know that's how my friends hope I will protect them. God's love surrounds me whether I treat others with compassion or not. And sometimes that love is the voice of discipline as my Father takes my face in His hands and rebukes me for choosing evil over His righteousness. May God (and my friends) have mercy on me as I continue to learn what it means to be His daughter.

In His Grip,
Sharon

I laid in bed this morning thinking through the next week and tried to determine how to fulfill all the tasks on my to do list. To accomplish my goals, I had to stay focused on my responsibilities. God smiled at my thoughts for He had other plans.

My wonderful husband Chuck asked me where all of our old pictures are. He had read something online about the need to preserve them. Because of our life journey, our old pictures are priceless. We lose them, we lose many evidences of our son, Mark. Browse the walls of our home and you will see many family pictures that record our lives. At some point, you might notice that after July, 1993, one person is absent, and that Mark is frozen in time as a sixteen-year-old boy. Every picture of him is a treasure. Sometimes I wish I could put out a notice to all of his high school friends that if they find pictures of Mark in their elementary and high school memorabilia that instead of throwing them out, would they please send them to us.

But I digress from my original thoughts. Chuck didn't know that a few years ago, when our daughter was into scrapbooking, I organized all of our old pictures by child and topic. Since my desk is always a picture of chaos, I was proud to inform him that I had all the old pictures safely stowed in boxes in my office closet. I pulled out the crates and called down, "Chuck, if you want to be overwhelmed, here they are."

I couldn't resist. Old albums that pre-dated our marriage drew me in. Along with old pictures that reminded us of our dating years and engagement, were ticket stubs from every University of Delaware football game we attended. Dried flowers and our wedding invitation took us back forty years to a season of innocence and anticipation of how we were going to change the world for Jesus.

The clock was ticking and nothing on my to do list could be erased. But still I pulled out pictures. Chuck went downstairs to look for more albums as I rummaged through boxes of Mark's belongings, carefully packed away over fifteen years ago. I found a metal box, labeled "My Stuff." In it was a silver bangle bracelet. Another time I will share the significance of this treasure of encouragement. I caressed the pirate bandana Mark wore with his raggedy jeans and leather boots and tried to recapture his scent, long gone. A treasure trove of pictures of Mark's growing up years broke the walls of emotion that I usually successfully hold in check. I whispered, "This isn't right. None of this is right. I want my son now. What would he be like as a grown up, a husband, a dad? What about his kids, our grandchildren? Oh, Jesus, help me trust you and thank you for the life we had with Mark rather than stay in my buried grief."

Instead of gratitude for the sixteen years, all I could see was loss. God answered by reminding me of the little hymn written by J.B. F. Wright in 1877. It's the same song He placed in my heart during our Cousins Camp last week as I observed our grandkids making memories that will last a lifetime. And today this little song is God's treasure of encouragement, written and designed by Him over 100 years ago as a treasure just for me. Instead of staying in my sorrow today, may I open my hands and heart to this gift sent to turn my heart toward my Father. May I rest in God's sovereign plan for our lives as well as Mark's. And may any grieving sister reading this take hope and courage from her precious memories as well.

And now, I MUST tackle that to do list!
In His Grip,
Sharon

God sent me a treasure of encouragement this morning, a gift designed to turn my heart toward Him and I am still stunned by its simplicity and potential for transforming this day from the mundane into the majestic.

The means by which He delivered this treasure reminded me of the priceless gift of covenant community experienced when God's women gather. Last night I enjoyed meeting with our small group that is studying Psalms. I soaked up the words and insights of my sisters as our leader guided us deeper into the truths of Psalm 32. We were daughters of the King enjoying a family gathering as we considered this "letter" from our Father. What difference would this study of confession and repentance make in our lives?

This morning I began working through our next assignment, Psalm 33. I picked apart the first few verses: Sing joyfully to the Lord, Praise the Lord with the harp; make music to Him, Sing to him a new song; play SKILLFULLY; SHOUT for joy.

The rest of the passage declared multiple reasons for me to joyfully proclaim with music, my words and my life, the goodness and unfailing love of God.

And there it was. That treasure of encouragement that helped turn my heart toward Him in a new way. "May your unfailing love REST upon us, O Lord, even as we put our hope in you. (Psalm 33:22)." I turned back to Psalm 32:10 and read, "Many are the woes of the wicked, but the Lord's unfailing love SURROUNDS the man who trusts in him." God's love RESTS on me; SURROUNDS me.

Have you ever watched the colors of a sunset spread out like a can of spilled paint? In that moment this morning, that's how God's love looked to me. In my mind I pictured a bucket of God's deep, pulsating passion for me, His daughter, resting on my head. And then with a smile, in a surprising move, He tipped it over and covered me, surrounded me with love that is unfailing, steadfast.

How do I take this moment into my day, I thought. I pictured the waiting tasks: a doctor's visit, errands, time with some of our grandkids, laundry, cleaning, preparing a meal for a friend. I started imagining how an intentional recognition of God's surrounding love could impact my response to the needs of the day, my interaction with cashiers and the doctor's staff, and our grandchildren or unexpected phone calls or emails. How could this treasure of encouragement from God Himself make me more like Jesus in my response to others?

My day looks different than it did a few hours ago because I'm more aware that God's love rests on me and surrounds me. I plan to look for evidence of that love wherever I go. I have a feeling I may be challenged with difficult circumstances, perhaps an irritating person, or a disappointment - only God knows (Psalm 33 reminds me of His sovereignty and that He considers everything I do). But this treasure of encouragement is equipping, enabling me and exhorting me to look for His love in those challenges. And then to display that love no matter what.

I have a feeling that God may be giving this same treasure to someone reading these words. If so, it's exactly what you need to help turn your heart toward Him. Are you His child? His love rests on you! His love surrounds you! May the adventure of seeing and experiencing that love begin right now!

In His Grip,
Sharon