There are some things that are so important that they make an impact, even at an early age. I was 5 years old and I was playing with my toys while my mama was in the kitchen. I saw the news come on the TV and I called her...We sat together on the sofa and prayed for the president's family and for our nation.
Next thing I knew, my sisters were home from school - released early. Everyone had been crying. I wanted to cry, too. I liked this president. As a little girl, I knew that he smiled a lot, his wife was pretty, and he had kids that were close to my age. His daughter even had a pony, and since I did too, I felt connected to her.
Now her daddy was dead and that made me very sad.
The next few days all I recall is that the news was on a lot more than usual, although we always watched Walter Cronkite. Once I even saw a man shoot another man as he walked through a hallway. Later I realized I saw Ruby shoot Oswald. Wow.
I remember the funeral. School was out again and we all watched it. It was sad and beautiful and important. And very American. The caisson with the flag-draped casket. The riderless horse. And the little boy saluting his father. These are the first images of a sad America for one little girl. Now we have another generation with its own sad images. Planes tilting at eerie degrees and aiming for destruction. People running from giant buildings that are about to collapse.
These are our sad American memories. But think about the ones generations before us-
Children asleep in their beds suddenly awakened by the intrusion of natives bent on reclaiming their land and seizing and killing everything in their path in order to do it. Sad, scared children.
Fathers leaving their families to fight a war against a king, leaving the women and children to fare as best they could, so in the end, they would have a better life - and true freedom. All they knew is that it was sad.
Our own nation fighting against itself for a way of life that was at the same time evil and necessary, depending on whose life it was. Disease, poverty, and bitterness grew out of this war and to some degree we are still fighting it.
Sad American memories became global over the next several years-- thoughts of foxholes and air battles. New kinds of evil that threatened the American ideals. But that didn't matter to the little boys and girls whose dads - and moms- weren't there to tuck them in. It was just sad.
So as we remember this Kennedy family who gave up four sons to this nation (one killed in action, two assassinated, and one a life-long public servant) let us also remember the rest of us who were forever changed because of the evil shown to us at an early age. In its truest sense, may God bless America.
Friday, November 22, 2013
Saturday, November 16, 2013
Greetings from Music City!
I am writing this on the end of a three-day thrill ride known as "The Forum." The forum is offered by Lifeway, and it is an oasis in the desert for women's ministry leaders. This year the theme was about filling up so we can pour out. The theme was based on Romans 15:13, which offers hope to the weary believer, assuring her that she is going to "overflow" from the power of the Holy Spirit. God will fill us with JOY and PEACE as we believe in Him and we, in turn, can pour that JOY and PEACE out on others in His name and for His glory!
Right now, though, I am just tired. This is my third Forum and, even with last year's broken toe, this one has been the most taxing. The one where the Lord has done the most work on me. The one that has left me both begging for more and begging to go home and sleep. And to retreat from some of the things I have come to realize about leading a ministry.
For that's what this is: a Ministry. It's not a fluffy, pretty, committee that plans monthly parties and exists to exchange coupons. This ministry is here. It is available. It is strong and it is here to glorify God and to help you seek Him and to know Him. We want to offer you His joy, His strength, His love, and a deeper relationship with the One True Living God!
Today I will fly home to my sweet family. When I board the plane and buckle up, the flight attendant will go over a little safety speech that I always try to pay attention to, even though I could probably recite it for her. (Or him) Confession time: I pay attention so that, if something should happen, she won't shove me out of the way and remind me that she saw me reading during her speech. "No!" she will shout, "I saw you- go to the back of the line!"
This time, though, I will pay attention when she talks about how, in the event that the cabin should lose pressure, oxygen masks will drop fom the compartment located above me. I will be instructed to place the mask over my nose before I assist others. I need air before I can help anyone else. Don't we all.
We need the power of the Living God before we can share Him with others. Having descended from above, just for us, He is our oxygen. Breathe Him in. Fill up. Then be ready to pour out. I know I am.
I can't rest until I get this stuff said. So here goes. Why is it that, if I disagree with someone, I "hate," but if they ...