Valentine Miracle & an Extra Pair of Pants

          ’Twas a year ago this month we learned of an emergency and a miracle—both within days! You see, on February 12^th, seventy-nine-year-old Mr. Murray decided to go for a walk. This wasn’t unusual for him, but it became so when he didn’t come home.

          As the day wore on, alerts went out through police, community, and their church family. People not only began to pray, but they went out in vehicles and on foot—adults and kids alike—all searching for this dear man who simply…

          …lost his way home, for Mr. Murray had dementia.

          When night fell, there’d still been no signs of him. The Murray’s pastor and other of their church family comforted the Mrs.

          And the prayer warriors prayed.

          Temperatures dropped below freezing, as they could that time of year—Louisville KY nights quite chilly for the south. How would Mr. Lynn survive, and how afraid and disoriented would he be?

          The next morning, searchers went out again—adults and kids—until Day Two came to a close.

          Was there any way Mr. Lynn could survive another night in the cold—who knows where?

          God knew where! And as you read on, you’ll surely see God in this story too, as did we.

          We kept up on this situation long distance through our son, Michael, and his wife—they updating the prayer need. I’ll be honest with you though. To us it seemed almost impossible Mr. Murray could survive another night in the cold.

          South of the rural road where the Murray’s lived stretched acres and acres of rough, hilly woods—some areas so rough it’d challenge even a very physically fit person to scale it.

          The Mr. hadn’t been spotted along the road during searches. Could he be in the heavily wooded area?

          Everyone prayed on, hundreds searched, and Mr. Murray remained in the Hands of his God.

          But God wasn’t just with Mr. Murray. He surrounded his wife as well—this loving bride who trusted her husband into the care of her Lord, believing He would return her groom to her! Those who came to her aid found a woman who inspired their trust in God’s care of Mr. Murray.

          God was also with the prayer warriors. Some of the men seeking His Guidance believed they should go the next morning to a remote area of those woods.

          Valentine’s Day. Day Three.

          Not only did God’s Spirit speak to the hearts of the church men, but He was in the change of plans for another team that morning.

          Tree trimmers! They hadn’t planned to head to a remote area of the woods that day, yet that’s where they went. Unbeknownst to them, this was the same place the praying church men believed they should begin searching on Day Three.

          Not coincidently, another fellow joined the Murray’s church that Sunday before. He was a first responder and would play a part in the hours to come.

          Then the miracle came full circle! One of the tree-trimmers spotted a body lying below a bluff—an area that wouldn’t’ve been noticed usually or easily. And there?

          Mr. Murry! Bruised and scraped some, but…

          …alive!!! He opened his eyes, saw his rescuers, then closed them again. When he reached the hospital, his body temperature registered 85.

          You see, God protected Mr. Murray and even used his dementia to do so. For on that first day—the day he took this walk—he forgot he’d already gotten dressed and put on a second pair of pants!

          Tears of grave concern turned into ones of great jubilation on Valentine’s Day 2024! And there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that a miracle happened that day!

          A miracle of great love! 

My Father Watches Over Me—Mahalia Jackson sings:

My Father Watches Over Me

 

I trust in God wherever I may be, upon the land or on the rolling sea;

For come what may, from day to day, my heav’nly Father watches over me.

 

(Refrain) I trust in God, I know He cares for me, on mountain bleak or on the stormy sea

Though billows roll, He keeps my soul, my heav’nly Father watches over me.

 

He makes the rose an object of His care, He guides the eagle through the pathless air;

And surely He remembers me, my heav’nly Father watches over me. (Refrain)

 

I trust in God, for, in the lion’s den, on battlefield, or in the prison pen;

Through praise or blame, through flood or flame, my heav’nly Father watches over me. (Refrain)

 

The valley may be dark, the shadows deep, but oh, the shepherd guards His lonely sheep;

And through the gloom, He’ll lead me home, my heav’nly Father watches over me. (Refrain)

 

(from the hymn My Father Watches Over Me by W. C. Martin—1910, public domain)

Our son posted this on Facebook when Mr. Murray was found:

“Lynn has been found alive! Praise the Lord!! God sent tree trimmers up there doing their job to find him this morning in the woods!!!!

We're very proud of our church family, Valley View. As you may have heard, one of our members, Lynn, who suffers from Alzheimer's, went missing for the last two days in a wooded, hilly area. He spent two full nights in the cold.

Dozens of volunteers from the church scoured the area…sacrificing untold hours…drove, used ATVs, walked, and hiked. So many passed out flyers, shared the golden alert on social media, and prayed continuously. Two of the search volunteers are just ten years old. Some of our widows--Louise, Betty, and Elizabeth (who's 100 years old)--helped in the search effort. Some of the volunteers have gone to Valley View for decades. Others joined on Sunday, the day before Lynn went missing.

We're proud of our staff. You came alongside Brenda right away and ministered to her. You drove the area late into the night. You printed at least 700 flyers for volunteers to distribute. Immediately after Wright Tree Service discovered Lynn, you went to the scene to care for him and assist with carrying him down the mountain. Our pastor ministered to Brenda the whole time this was happening.

We're proud of the community. So many people from other churches and neighborhoods showed up to help search, distribute flyers, posted signage, organize search parties, and spread the word.

We're proud of the first responders--PRP and Nichols Fire & Rescue, EMS, EMA, LMPD, and the Bullitt County Sheriff's Office. What would we do without you?

We're thankful for the medical staff at the hospital working tirelessly to nurse Lynn back to health. And we're indebted to the tree service employee who spotted Lynn. We would love to know who you are.

Finally, thank You, God, for allowing Lynn to be found and cared for. We see Your providence in the timing and location of his discovery. We continue to pray for the family. Seeing the church and the community rise up together was truly amazing, so we thank you for this special moment.” 

                                                                                                    –Mike Hampshire

#ValentinesDay #miracle #Alzheimers #dementia #search&rescue #LouisvilleKY #ValleyViewChurch

#prayer #goldenalert #faithfulwife #volunteers #treeservice #firstresponders

 

Some content from KENTUCKY TODAY, “Church Comes to Aid in Crisis with Miraculous Ending” by Mark Maynard—managing editor

https://www.kentuckytoday.com/baptist_life/church-comes-to-aid-in-crisis-with-miraculous-ending/article_e461e62c-d7f2-11ee-8767-777cf6fa753d.html?utm_medium=social&fbclid=IwAR0W4gf1t0oSSdpGVqSXrmV5ZbCFR1GPP5YUoYqnMGSuv9akVMRU5bb_ysU

 

Photo Credit: Rescue: Pleasure Ridge Park Fire Department—Louisville KY

Lynn & Brenda Murray: Used with permission.

Personal sources: Mike & Shannon Hampshire

Hope in the Unexpected

 

          Dear Readers, may I introduce you to Tracy Crump, a fellow believer and author friend I met?

          Well, actually we haven’t met. Not face-to-face, that is.

          A couple years ago I attended on-line “Reality Coaching for Writers” classes to hone my writing skills. One of the guest instructors? Tracy Crump—specifically sharing how to write for Chicken Soup for the Soul, having been published in more than twenty of their books.

          I’d not considered writing for Chicken Soup, but after listening to Tracy’s presentation, I communicated with her and gave it a whirl.

          Tracy patiently led me through the process, cheered me on, and gave me the courage to submit a couple stories. How grateful I was for her coaching!

          But Tracy went even further. She helped launch our son’s memoir, writes me notes to see how I’m doing with my physical struggles, and prays for our family.

          I’ve been touched by Tracy’s testimony—her faith in Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior and her dedication to caregiving as well as her strong commitment to writing and writers.

          Tracy also ministers to caregivers through Instagram reels, monthly blogs, and her devotional book. She understands the isolation and helplessness caregivers often feel.

          And now, Readers, you'll become acquainted with Tracy too!

Tracy, thank you for guesting on my blog. I’m thrilled to share sweet you with the world! –Sarah

 

 

Hope in the Unexpected

By Tracy Crump

 

          Well, my year didn’t start out as planned.

 

          A few days after Christmas, my throat began throbbing on one side with pain shooting into my ear each time I swallowed. Over-the-counter pain meds barely dulled it. I saw my primary care provider, who prescribed an antibiotic, but the pain grew worse over the next few days. When I couldn’t get an appointment to see my doctor again before the weekend, I went to an urgent care clinic.

 

          The nurse practitioner took one look down my throat and said, “You have a tonsillar abscess.”

 

          She confirmed it with the other NP on duty.

 

          “The swelling could close off your airway,” the nurse said. “You need to go to the emergency room now.”

 

          So off to the hospital I went. ER personnel said the condition is usually diagnosed by CT scan, so I thought the nurses had overreacted. But no, they were right. A CT scan done at the hospital did show a tonsillar abscess. I received IV steroids and antibiotics and went home on oral meds. Two days later, I had to return to the ER when the pain and swelling increased and received more steroids.

 

          The following day, my husband and I both tested positive for Covid. Sheesh!

 

          We can’t predict when emergencies will happen, but we can find hope that nothing takes God by surprise. My online community of caring prayer partners bolstered me, and I even found reasons to be thankful for my predicament.

 

          When I posted about it on Facebook, one friend commented, “God led you to the right people.”

 

          So true! If the nurse practitioners at the urgent care clinic—a facility I had never visited before—hadn’t correctly diagnosed the problem, things could have turned ugly fast. I was also grateful that the ER doctor treated me conservatively rather than opting for more invasive intervention.

 

          God used the situation to minister to someone else, too. When I walked into the emergency room that first night, there sat a friend from church. She single-handedly cares for her husband, who is on hospice for cancer, so I knew something was very wrong. She had driven herself to the hospital after falling off her porch and injuring her ankle, which she thought might be fractured.

 

          “That’s all you need right now,” I said.

 

          My friend’s concerns for her husband overrode her pain for a while. He hadn’t eaten anything all day. Fortunately, she was able to secure someone to stay with him and texted back and forth with the caregiver about what to feed him. She hadn’t planned on a trip to the hospital that day, but managing care for her husband brought her peace.

 

          As her pain set in again, we talked about how hard caregiving is and the importance of a support system, but even in that, I felt God’s hope infusing the conversation. Just then, our pastor stopped by the hospital and prayed with us both, confirming that God knew our needs and would take care of them one by one.

 

          No, hospital trips and illness weren’t what either my friend or I had envisioned for the new year, but God often uses unexpected paths to lead to renewed hope in Him. That’s one reason I love the old Irish hymn, “Be Thou My Vision.” God is ever with us, whether in the emergency room or the hospice home. He brings hope and light to any situation.

 

Be Thou My Vision

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Optrm7lF16s

 

Be Thou my vision, O Lord of my heart; Naught be all else to me save that Thou art.

Thou my best thought by day and by night; Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.

 

Be Thou my wisdom, and Thou my true Word; I ever with Thee and Thou with me, Lord.

Thou my great Father, I Thy dear child; Thou in me dwelling, with Thee reconciled.

 

Be Thou my breastplate, my sword for the fight; Be Thou my dignity, Thou my delight.

Thou my soul’s shelter, Thou my high tow’r. Raise Thou me Heav’nward, O Pow’r of my pow’r.

 

Riches I heed not, nor vain, empty praise; Thou mine inheritance, now and always.

Thou and Thou only, first in my heart, High King of Heaven, my treasure Thou art.

 

High King of Heaven, my victory won, May I reach Heaven’s joys, O bright Heav’ns Sun!

Heart of my heart, whatever befall, Still be my vision, O Ruler of all.

 

(from Be Thou My Vision—Eleanor H. Hull, versifier & Mary E. Byrne, translator. 1905—public domain)

Tracy’s links:

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/tracycrumpwrites/

Blog: https://tracycrump.com/blog/

Devotional book: https://amzn.to/2OinraH

 

#writing #RealityCoachingforWriters #DianaLeeFlegal #EddieJones #ChickenSoupfortheSoul

#caregiving #nurse #emergencies #tonsillarabscess #emergencyroom #hopeinGod

 

Photo credit: “HOPE”—istock & additional via T. Crump

Silver Boxes, Gifts of Encouragement (Part 2)

           Will I give silver boxes to those who’ve hurt me?

          Remember the classmate I mentioned in Part 1—the one who tormented me with a word that’s no longer even acceptable to use? Let me tell you what happened more than five decades later:

          When I “joined” Facebook in 2011, I thought about looking up this girl. That thought grew into a burden. I’d despised her previously, but no malice now. Just wondering if I would heal that memory if I found her.

          Would you believe I did? There she was on Facebook—plain as day. So, I wrote to her.

          Wonder of wonders, she responded. Not coldly. Instead, genuinely kind.

          As we corresponded over time, this girl shared about hardships in her life—ones I’d never realized. I ached for her although I still didn’t understand why she targeted me back in school; but now I saw she may’ve been “venting” some of what she endured.

          Then it happened. A reply I couldn’t even comprehend.

          This girl shared I was the only friend she had in school.

          Me? The one she called “retard?” Wow!

          I still can’t figure out the psychology behind all this (I basically failed that subject in college because I was…um, “learning-challenged”). But I’m smart enough to know something happened that magically changed when this girl shared her thoughts with me.

          I hadn’t realized what I meant to that girl. I didn’t even try back then. Mostly I dodged corners when I saw her coming. But somehow, she interpreted something I did as being a friend.

          Weird!

          These decades later, as the girl and I exchanged chat messages, a trust grew. Mine. Apparently not hers because she already thought I was a friend.

          Wild!

          So, the time came I was able to share Jesus with this hurting girl—now lady—who, by the way, still suffered from the effects of her childhood-carried-into-adulthood trauma. She graciously received a Bible from me. And she’s responded positively to prayers I cried out on her behalf through typed words.

          I apparently gave this former classmate a silver box way-back-when. She unknowingly gave one back to me. And now I’d been able to give her another—God’s Silver Box, the most important of all but also the means by which she was able to see me as a friend long ago and accept His Word now.

          Wonderful!

 

How I praise Thee, precious Savior, that Thy love laid hold of me;

Thou hast saved and cleansed and filled me that I might Thy channel be.

 

(Refrain) Channels only, blessed Master, but with all Thy wondrous pow’r

Flowing through us, Thus canst use us every day and every hour.

 

Just a channel full of blissing, to the thirsty hearts around’

To tell out Thy full salvation, all Thy loving message sound. (Refrain)

 

Emptied that Thou shouldest fill me, a clean vessel in Thy hand;

With no pow’r but as Thou givest graciously with each command. (Refrain)

 

Witnessing Thy pow’r to save me, setting free from self and sin’

Thou who boughtest to possess me, in Thy fullness, Lord, come in. (Refrain)

 

Jesus, fill now with Thy Spirit hearts that full surrender know;

That the streams of living water from our inner self may flow. (Refrain)

 

(from the hymn, Channels Only, by Mary E. Maxwell, 1900, public domain)

 

 

#encouragingwords #channelsonly #friendship #silverboxes #bullying #beingJesuswithskinon #HolyBible

 

 

Photo credit: wtsbooks.com online image

Silver Boxes ~ Gifts of Encouragement (Part 1)

          Oh, how essential encouragement is in these troubled times! Maybe more than ever before. Hearts downcast, economy tanking, and the enemy—the devil—knowing when to strike when we’re at our weakest.

          In my growing up years I struggled with a lot of criticism. By the time I was in what was then called junior high (now middle school), I believed I wasn’t much of anything. I’d even adopted the moniker “retard,” which one classmate heckled me with every time I encountered her.

          Along the way, though, God placed people in my life who lifted me up. They were few, but they—to this day—mean the world to me, most of them now gone from this earth. This handful of folks gave me silver boxes.

          No, there’s not a literal pile of silver boxes in my possession, but their encouragement was nothing less.

         When Brian and I were recently married, he realized I hadn’t been encouraged greatly along the way. We then heard a radio broadcast titled “Silver Boxes” with Florence Littauer. Listening to this reduced me to a puddle of tears. It meant so much that we later bought the audiobook on cassette. And still later, the book—in real live paper form.

          My husband then wrote me a note: May I give you silver boxes for all the ones you’ve missed. That note, which I treasure to this day, was in and of itself a silver box.

          The gift of a silver box—life-lifting words given to another.

          Having thus been blessed now with silver boxes over the years, I find it my mission to gift encouraging words to others.

          Have you received silver boxes in your life? Are you able to share encouraging words to lift others? Or are you one who hungers to hear you’re valued and loved?

          Here’s something else I’ve thought about in more recent years? Do I give silver boxes unknowingly? Or do I secretly wish to withhold them from those who’ve crushed me, feeling they must “earn” them? Hmm.

          More about that in Part 2.

Living for Jesus, a life that is true, striving to please Him in all that I do;

Yielding allegiance, glad-hearted and free, this is the pathway of blessing for me.

 

(Refrain) O Jesus, Lord and Savior, I give myself to Thee,

For Thou in Thy atonement, didst give Thyself for me;

I own no other Master, my heart shall be Thy throne;

My live I give henceforth to live, O Christ, for Thee alone.

 

Living for Jesus Who died in my place, bearing on Calv’ry my sin and disgrace;

Such love constrains me to answer His call, follow His leading and give Him my all. (Refrain)

 

Living for Jesus, wherever I am, doing each duty in His holy Name;

Willing to suffer affliction and loss, deeming each trial a part of my cross. (Refrain)

 

Living for Jesus through earth’s little while, my dearest treasure, the light of His smile;

Seeking the lost ones He died to redeem, bringing the weary to find rest in Him. (Refrain)

 

(from the hymn Living for Jesus by Thomas O. Chisholm, 1917, public domain)

 

Lord God,

          If I live for You, I will give encouraging words to everyone I meet.

Please help me be a giver of silver boxes!

    In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

 

 

#silverboxes #encouragement #livingforJesus #notforreward #soldoutforGod

Photo credit: freepik & online image

A Christmas Concert for Those Who Hurt

          Blessed Christmas, dear reader (and listener)! This blog post is unusual in that it’s loaded with music, chosen just for you.

          Oh, you may say, “I don’t want to hear music now—especially Christmas music. I’m raw. Broken. At the end of myself. The hurt in me is so deep, nothing can give me joy. Not even the birth of Jesus.”

          We might not have experienced the same hurt you hold. But I can tell you there was a time we were so deeply sunk in despair that my husband—a singer his whole life—stopped singing for years.

          What carried us through the most difficult years of our lives? Prayers of caring believers for sure, but in a big way music was our balm. Healer. And, although we didn’t want to go through Christmas when our emotions were so raw, in time we came to realize Christmas didn’t hurt us. It brought Hope—the Promised One Who heals us from our hurts.

          The coming of the promised Messiah—Savior of the world—foretold long before the Babe was born! Here’s a portion of Old Testament Scripture sharing this promised Hope to the broken:

“The Spirit of the Lord God is upon Me, because the Lord has anointed Me

to preach good tidings to the poor; He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted,

to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound…

To comfort all who mourn, to console those who mourn in Zion,

to give them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning,

the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they may be called

trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified.”

Isaiah 61:1,2a, 3

          This year a number of our friends have experienced deeper pain than I can even fathom. So much sorrow! I thought, Sarah, what can you share this Christmas that will minister to them?

          Music! More specifically songs from ones who hurt, who knew incredibly deep pain, who’ve “been there.”

          My gift to you, dear hurting souls? A Christmas concert, so to speak.

          Let’s begin our “program” with a carol of yearning, waiting, expecting the birth of the promised Messiah—Come, Thou Long Expected Jesus—original words by Charles Wesley, no stranger to tragedy. Charles and his wife suffered deep loss. Only three of their eight children lived beyond infancy. Can you imagine their grief?

          When I listened to this selection, I was struck to the core by these words:

“Come to earth to taste our sadness, He Whose glories knew no end.

By His Life He brings us gladness, our Redeemer, Shepherd, Friend.”

 

          Beautifully presented to you by Keith & Kristyn Getty—please listen and let the words of promise help lift you.

Keith & Kristyn Getty sing:

Come Thou Long Expected Jesus (Performance Video) - Keith & Kristyn Getty - YouTube

 

          Another couple who’d empathize with families like the Wesleys lived in my lifetime—Roy Rogers and Dale Evans Rogers—well known in the last century of radio and television.

          Roy and Dale both experienced broken marriages. Then Roy lost his second wife due to complications from childbirth. Later with wife Dale they would bury three of their nine children. They both came to know Jesus as their Savior and Lord, and they gave the credit to Him for bringing them through their grief and sorrow.

          I’ve chosen one of the songs from the Roger’s Christmas album—this one because so many people asked this year if I was ready for Christmas.

          My reply? “I have Jesus in my heart and life, so it’s Christmas all year. Yep, I’m all set!”

          Some smiled and moved on, others gave it some thought, and a few added, “I have Him in my heart too!”

          Dale expresses this in our next concert number.

Dale Evans Rogers sings:

Christmas Is Always

 

          Our next segment holds four carols along with thoughts from Ken & Joni Tada and a friend. (You may wish to listen to all of it or go to the time stamps where Joni sings.)

 

          Now, Joni also shares from a life that’s been broken—quite literally. As a teen she dove into shallow water and broke her neck, leaving her paralyzed from the neck down. She battled with anger, bitterness, and depression a long while before she accepted her “new normal” and her sitting-downness. Yes, the rest of her life in a wheelchair. Joni wasn’t healed in her body, but her mind and spirit were. She uses her life gloriously for the God she adores!

          I met Joni nearly fifty years ago. I remember telling my mom then, “I think she’s the most charismatic person I’ve ever met.” The real deal! Her exuberance for life bubbles over.

          Joni also suffers with chronic traumatic injury pain and has battled cancer twice, yet she still holds to her faith in her Savior.

          In the broadcast Joni says, “Here we are, preparing for another celebration of the birth of Jesus into our dark world. It’s what Advent’s all about. Preparing our tired hearts to receive in a fresh new way our Savior and our King.”

Joni Eareckson Tada sings and shares:

The Spirit of Christmas with Joni Eareckson Tada

(Carols are at time stamps 0:18, 3:29, 12:44, 18:29, & 24:09.)

 

          A bereaved mother who buried her three-and-a-half-year-old daughter this summer introduced me to this next song. It speaks deeply to many roots of brokenness. Here are portions of its writers’ testimonies:

          Lisa: “I was struggling…a long year and a half. Finances were stressful, I miscarried twins…I was battling a deep relational bitterness...

           ‘O come all you faithful, joyful and triumphant.’ I remember hearing those words and thinking, I have been so unfaithful. My joy has dwindled, and I am a triumphant failure. Is that really who is invited to come to Jesus? The faithful? The joyful? The triumphant? If so, then I am hopeless.

          Thankfully, later that afternoon the Holy Spirit reminded me of Jesus’s invitation in Matthew 11:28—Come to me all who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest…Rest found in his life, his death, and his resurrection, not my own.

          That evening I had a strong conviction to write a song for myself and for the weary, the broken, and the ashamed. (from “Worship Matters” – The Story Behind O Come, All You Unfaithful)

          Bob: “…fear, hopelessness, depression, detachment anxiety, and emptiness became my daily companions…Apart from Jesus, I was completely hopeless and had every reason to fear. But Jesus died on the cross to save hopeless and fearful people. And I was one of them.

          That thought process…pointed me again and again to the Savior I needed more than I had ever realized. He gave me a deeper trust in the care of my heavenly Father, a more passionate love fore Jesus and the gospel, and a greater awareness of his Spirit’s presence.” (from “Desiring God” – May 16, 2019)

Bob Kauflin & Lisa Clow with O Come, All You Unfaithful:

O Come, All You Unfaithful • Official Video - YouTube

          Poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow found himself in deep despair during the Civil War. But this wasn’t his first meeting with sorrow. Years before, his beloved wife’s dress accidentally caught fire. Although Henry tried to extinguish the flames, being badly burned himself, he couldn’t save his wife.

          Their oldest son fought in the War Between the States. When Henry received word his firstborn took a bullet near the spine with fear he’d be paralyzed, he again mourned.

          It was then he heard the bells ringing out and penned the transition his heart and spirit went through when the meaning of Christmas reached him.

          Here’s a beautiful rendition of Mr. Longfellow’s poem:

The Collingsworth family sing the words of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow:

I Heard The Bells on Christmas Day | The Collingsworth Family | Official Performance Video

 

          Thank you for “coming” to this Christmas Concert. My hope and prayer? That you grasp hold of Hope—Jesus, sense the peace He freely offers you while you rest in His Arms, and come to firmly understand He can heal your brokenness if you but allow.

 

“…lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” –Jesus

(Matthew 28:20)

 

This concert is dedicated in memory of

Everly Grace, Samantha Grace, & Hannah Marie.

 

 

#Christmas #suffering #hurting #tragedy #death #depression #nativity #birthofJesus #music

#JoniEarecksonTada #BobKauflin #LisaClow #HenryWadsworthLongfellow #CivilWar

#KeithKristynGetty #RoyRogers #DaleEvansRogers #carols

 

Credits: stockadobe.com & YouTube