Devotion

          This week is our wedding anniversary. Forty-seven years ago, we made promises to each other—to love, cherish and more. The preacher who married us included that we pledge our abiding devotion.

          And we did.

          I’ve thought a lot about that part of our commitment—the abiding devotion part, and I’m brought back to the times in our marriage that were good but also the struggles. Marriage—the good, solid kind—is hard work, and that’s where abiding devotion comes into play. That commitment to be one before God no matter what happens.

          No. Matter. What.

          So, because my husband was committed to me and I to him, we weathered storms and came out the other side still thanking God for bringing us together. Why? Because I can’t imagine having done these forty-seven years alone. Not without Brian and certainly not without the Lord.

          Some of our anniversaries have found us in strange places. One even separated us by several countries’ borders. And this year, after an over-flowing year of medical challenges, we’ll “celebrate” in a surgeon’s office far from home.

          Because we’ve had some “very interesting” anniversaries, this one didn’t seem particularly odd. We’ve always managed to plan a dinner out or have a special dessert at another time. I guess we could have thought, Why don’t we get a break? We could have thought that. We might have.

          Then this happened...

          We received a wedding invitation from a girl we’ve known since she was born and her fiancé who we’ve gotten to know by mail. You see, Naomi and Nick* were engaged several years ago, but…

          …something happened. Prior to their engagement, Nick took a wrong turn and found himself sentenced to a penitentiary. This is where I came into Nick’s story because Naomi shared about him, their being apart, and how hard life was now that he was incarcerated.

          I offered to write to Nick. That’s how we “got acquainted”—through our once-in-a-while exchange of letters. What I learned from Nick’s letters? He was full of information, very smart and interesting, sociable, and so in love with Naomi who wrote to him every day. He also was clinging to the Lord and hanging tight to his faith, despite the opposition behind bars.

          So, when we received Nick and Naomi’s wedding invitation, we rejoiced that the groom was now free and ready to start a new life. But…

          …then I read their invitation aloud to Brian:

“With joy in our hearts, we are excited to announce

our upcoming wedding…It won’t be a typical wedding—

no bouquet toss, no dance floor, no cake. Just heartfelt vows,

faithful commitment, and a lot of love.

Because we can only have four witnesses present,

we’re asking the rest of our family and friends to celebrate with us

in spirit on our wedding day. Pray for us…

After a long engagement, we’re thrilled to be joined in marriage,

even at the prison. Thank you for walking beside us the last seven years.

God’s faithfulness has carried us every step of the way:

through separation, struggle, and the long refining road of grace.

This marriage is a testimony to His mercy, redemption,

and the love that holds all things together.”

“I have found the one whom my soul loves.” Song of Solomon 3:4

…and to say I got through without totally choking and flooding with tears? Impossible. But here’s what struck me, and I shared this with Brian.

          “This is what marriage is all about.”

          I’m not sure our abiding devotion holds a candle to Naomi and Nick’s, even though our marriage went through so much that psychologists would’ve given us a 0% chance of survival.

          Nick and Naomi. Already a long-lived relationship while a bride-to-be sacrificed years of her life for the one she knew was God’s man for her. Waiting. Separated by distance, locks, and prison bars.

          Devotion.

          Then we took our developmentally disabled son for his annual oncology appointment. We sat waiting for some time between two appointments—one for labs and the other to see the doctor. So, we saw people come and go—all of them with their own difficult stories.

          Then this happened…

          A couple stepped out of the elevator, she shuffling and holding onto her husband’s arm. They sat facing us. The wife immediately sprawled across the couch-like seat, laid her head on her husband’s lap, and closed her eyes.

          No doubt which was the patient to be seen that day.

          The husband gently stroked her arm, kissed the palm of his other hand, and placed it on her head for a moment. He looked toward her closed eyes, dosed off, and awoke to make sure his bride was as comfortable as possible—again stroking her arm. Repeatedly. Tenderly.

          Both weary. Both sharing the burden.

          We didn’t wonder if this couple loved one another. Not for a second. What we witnessed?

          Devotion.

          And, again I turned to Brian, eyes filled with tears and voice quivering. “That’s what marriage is all about.”

          He nodded.

          I’ve learned lessons this year. From Nick and Naomi. From a couple whose names we don’t know, and from reflecting back on the day we took our vows and, amongst the other things, pledged…

          Abiding devotion.

          The following hymn—loved by so very many—may sound like a groom writing to his bride, but Rev. Matheson had no bride. He wrote it on the eve of his sister’s marriage—the one who’d helped him through his years of blindness.

          That evening Rev. Matheson fell into deep melancholy. Whether because of losing his sister as a loving aide or thinking back to when he was much younger or both.

          You see, the reverend, who’d struggled with his eyesight all his years, once was engaged to be married. His eyes had worsened to the point he was told he’d become blind. When he shared this news with his intended, she broke their engagement because she was quite sure she couldn’t cope with a blind husband.

          About penning the words to this hymn, Rev. Matheson said, “Something happened to me…which caused me the most severe mental suffering. The hymn was the fruit of that suffering…I had the impression rather of having it dictated to me by some inward voice…this came like a dayspring from on high…”

O Love that Will Not Let Me Go

 

Bill & Gloria Gaither - O Love That Will Not Let Me Go [Live] ft. Gaither Vocal Band

 

O Love that will not let me go, I rest my weary soul in thee;

I give thee back the life I owe, that in thine ocean depths its flow

May richer, fuller be.

 

O Light that follows all my way, I yield my flick’ring torch to thee,

My heart restores its borrowed ray, that in thy sunshine’s blaze its day

May brighter, fairer be.

 

O Joy that seekest me thru’ pain, I cannot close my heart to thee;

I trace the rainbow thru’ the rain and feel the promise is not vain

That morn shall tearless be.

 

O Cross that liftest up my head, I dare not ask to fly from thee;

I lay in dust life’s glory dead, and from the ground there blossoms red

Like that shall endless be.

 

(from the original hymn, O Love that Wilt Not Let Me Go, by George Matheson, 1882, public domain)

#devotion #marriage #anniversary #prison #cancer #lifestruggles #commitment #vows

 

*Thank you, Nick & Naomi, for permission to include your love story. You are a blessing!

Helping Soldiers Smile

          When our twin sons were deployed in the war (Afghanistan and Iraq), they wrote letters to us when able. They also wrote to one another when possible, but their “letters” to each other were more—oh, how shall I say it—comics poking fun at one another in their situations.

          Yes, laughs in the toughest of times! Humor, like joy, can be a “good medicine!”

           I know that might sound weird, but—to be honest—those drawings gave the brothers and us smiles. And that crazy art work has been preserved over these years. Keepers!

          Last month I pulled a book off our shelves that reminded me of those cartoons our boys drew, but these were done in a different time and different war. The book had belonged to Dad. I remembered it being loaded with comics, but I’d not read it before.

          What started as a I’ll-read-it-then-likely-pass-it-on moment grew into a I-cannot-help-but-read-this.

          Up Front by Bill Mauldin* (an American editorial cartoonist) shared his war comics featuring generically named Willie and Joe—GI characters he created for Stars and Stripes while imbedded with several units in the European Theater during World War II. Bill wrote the history behind his comics in Up Front. He also shared his observations of war, soldiers, and so much more. Here’s a little of what he had to say about men in combat when they come home:

“…There are millions who have done a great and hard job. But so far there are only a few hundred thousand who have lived through misery, suffering, and death for endless 108-hour weeks and, as I said, they are going to be too tired and sick of it to bother anybody who might be worrying about their becoming problems.

They don’t need pity, because you don’t pity brave men—men who are brave because they fight while they are scared to death. They simply need bosses who will give them a little time to adjust their minds and their hands, and women who are faithful to them, and friends and families who stay by them until they are the same guys who left years ago. No set of laws or Bill of Rights for returning veterans of combat can do that job. Only their own people can do it. So it is very important that these people know and understand combat men.”                     –Bill Mauldin

          That’s only a snippet of Up Front. I failed to mark more parts that touched me deeply, so I’ll want to read it again. There are no chapters—just text running from front to back with corresponding cartoons decorating almost every page. Bill shares things a GI might never speak about himself or the circumstances he endured.

          Willie and Joe? Corny characters really, but they shared a naive mix of winsome and hard truths of war. They also weren’t too shy about poking fun at officers!

          At any rate, those fictitious characters gave our military some smiles. After all, good humor—really well-crafted—is so relatable. The GIs who read those comics “got” the messages they were meant to convey.

          How many of us know Veterans who never speak of the war in which they fought? Who die with long-lived aching or nightmare visions that repeat themselves over and over until he/she is laid to rest?

          And what about the ones who do finally talk? Ones now old and so wrinkled who can no longer hold back tears when asked, “Grandpa, what was it like?”

          Anything I could write about Veterans will not suffice. All the thanks I can give will never be enough. And all I’ve gone through in life falls in a small heap at the feet of the ones who made such tremendous sacrifices for me.

          And for you.

          As for the copy of Up Front I now own, I wonder what those comics meant to Dad. After all, he kept his copy of this very different book throughout his life.

          Ironically, while writing this blog post, I discovered We’ll Meet Again, written during World War II—a coming-home song.

We’ll Meet Again (by Ross Parker & Hughie Charles)

Sydnie Christmas - We'll Meet Again (Official Video) - YouTube

 

          Many of us, like Sydnie Christmas, have grandparents/great-grandparents who fought in World War II. My own dad had a stop-over in England (Sydnie’s homeland) before he was shipped to Europe with his unit of combat engineers from Fort Bragg.

           When we were growing up, we knew our dad served in the Army. In fact, he and Mom chose Dad’s dear, Army buddy and his wife to care for us girls if something happened to our parents before we were grown. And other Army buddies remained in our lives until God called Dad Home.

          I didn’t realize then what our dad sacrificed for us—how much all Veterans did. Yes, we always went to the cemetery on Decoration Day where we placed flowers on graves, joined in military remembrances, honored all branches in church, and took part in Veteran’s Day parades.

          But I don’t think it ever truly registered then what all our soldiers went through. In my young mind, they went to war, came home, got jobs, and raised families.

          My favorite Veteran now lives in Heaven. Unlike the song posted above, I do know where we will meet again! But I don’t know the when. How thankful I am to God for His Son’s sacrifice through which Dad could gain eternal life in Heaven.

          For Dad not only served in the US Army but was a soldier of the Cross too!

 

#Veteran #WorldWarII #comics #humor #laughtergoodmedicine #BillMauldin

#UpFront #Willie&Joe #soldiersreturn #sacrifice

 *Cartoons copyrighted 1944. Text in book copyrighted 1945. 1st 3 printings sold before the 4th came out in May of 1945. 

Photo credits: image 1 & 2—pinterest, image 3—pinterest.com.au 

Persecuted for Christ's Sake

           Some weeks ago, I was driving home from our local dollar store when a hymn popped into my brain first, then my heart. Surprising because I’d not heard this particular hymn since my youth!

          Once it penetrated my brain and I sang the words aloud, tears ran down my cheeks as the meaning pierced my heart.

“Are ye able,” said the Master, “to be crucified with me?”

“Yea,” the sturdy dreamers answered, “to the death we follow Thee.”

 

Refrain: Lord, we are able. Our spirits are Thine.

Remold them, make us, Like Thee, divine.

Thy guiding radiance above us shall be

A beacon to God, to love, and loyalty.

 

          I’d not expected a moment like this after what had been just a quick errand.

          When I got home, I sat on the couch and waited for my husband to pause from his studies. He was filling in for our pastor that upcoming Sunday, so he was deep in thought. When he glanced up, he asked, “Is there something I can do for you?” as he always does when pausing in his studies and spotting me sitting across the way.

          “I just wanted to tell you about a hymn that shook me up. I only remember the first verse and chorus.” I shared that with him. “I’m gonna look up the rest.”

          So, I moved over to where my laptop was, fired it up, and found the hymn. I read the other verses to Brian.

Are ye able to remember, when a thief lifts up his eyes,

That his pardoned soul is worthy of a place in paradise?

 

Are ye able when the shadows close around you with the sod,

To believe that spirit triumphs, to commend your soul to God?

 

“Are ye able?” Still the Master whispers down eternity,

And heroic spirits answer now, as then, in Galilee.

 

          “Maybe this hit me so hard because of Charlie Kirk’s martyrdom and all the horrible things that are going on,” I said.

          Brian wiped the tears from his cheeks. “I, too, have been thinking about that, and it’s what the Holy Spirit led me to touch on in this sermon prep.”

          I’ve thought a lot about martyrs these past weeks. To have “witnessed” Charlie’s brought others to my attention. I knew persecution of believers still happens in our world, but I’d not been abreast to the number of brothers- and sisters-in-Christ who’ve perished. Then I spotted articles and photos concerning believers in Nigeria and other countries as well—a staggering number killed for Christ.

          How can this be??? my soul cried out. Then I remembered Jesus’ Words:

“If the world hates you, you know that it hated Me before it hated you.

If you were of the world, the world would love its own. Yet because you are not of the world,

but I chose you out of the world, therefore the world hates you. Remember the word

that I said to you, ‘A servant is not greater than his master.’ If they persecuted Me,

they will also persecute you. If they kept My word, they will keep yours also.

But all these things they will do to you for My name’s sake,

because they do not know Him who sent Me.” John 15:18-21

 

          I recalled those who’d been martyred for their faith so very long ago, amongst them one of my many-times great-grandfather, Dr. Rev. Rowland Taylor*. He was burned at the stake by the queen known as “Bloody Mary” in 1555. And he wasn’t alone. No less than 280 believers (men and women) were martyred during Queen Mary I’s short reign.

          I remember, when I learned about this brave ancestor, being taken aback by his testimony and death. In my DNA is a tiny bit of him. How could I neglect to stand for Christ, knowing what this many-times great-grandfather endured? Succumbed to?

          Then I had an additional thought. I am blood-bought by the One Who lives in me still—Who gave His life, sacrificed on a cruel cross. Dead. Buried.

          Resurrected!

          How could I neglect to stand for He Who endured so much for me? Whose blood paid the price for my sin? Who lives in me?

          This brought me to my knees. Lord, You have told us, since they persecuted You, they will persecute us also. We believers, then, have targets on us, so to speak. I have one.

          Believers were martyred on the mission field, the first I knew about were the five missionaries killed in Ecuador. I was so very young when that happened, but I still remember my mother crying and telling us they died. We were acquainted with missionaries—those who serve God no matter what. But to think they were targets! And are still!

          Believers have been targeted in school killings, the first incident I was acquainted with being Columbine. 

          So, it’s possible any of us believers might fall for our faith.  

          What if that happens to me? To us? Again, Jesus’ Words ring out:

“For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” Philippians 1:21

          We may be asked to drink from the cup of sacrifice that Jesus also did—pouring out His Life.

“…Jesus said to them (disciples James & John), ‘You do not know what you ask.

Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, and be baptized with the baptism

that I am baptized with?’ They said to Him, ‘We are able.’” Mark 10:38-39

 

          Lord, we are able! May this be our commitment—our prayer. Not only during this week of Reformation Day** remembrance but every day of the year.

 

Refrain: Lord, we are able. Our spirits are Thine.

Remold them, make us, Like Thee, divine.

Thy guiding radiance above us shall be

A beacon to God, to love, and loyalty.

 

Melody of Are Ye Able is in the first half of this YouTube video:

Are Ye Able Said The Master / All The Way My Saviour Leads Me

(“Are Ye Able,” Said the Master by Earl Marlatt, 1926, public domain)

 

 

Historical Christian Persecution Statistics

     More than 70 million Christians have been martyred in the course of history. More than half were martyred in the 20th century under communist and fascist governments (Gordon-Conwell Resources).

     In the 21st century, roughly 100,000 to 160,000 Christians were killed each year (Gordon-Conwell Resources & World Christian Database). Roughly 1,093,000 Christians were martyred, worldwide, between 2000 and 2010 (World Christian Database).

     Modern, Global Church Persecution Statistics: 322 Christians are killed for their faith every month. 214 churches and Christian properties are destroyed every month. 772 forms of violence (beatings, kidnappings, rape, arrest, etc.) are committed against Christians every month (Open Doors).

     Christians in more than 60 countries face persecution from their governments or neighbors because of their faith (United States Department of State). At least 7,100 Christians were killed for faith-related reasons in 2015, up from at least 4,344 in 2014 (Open Doors).

(Copied from The Esther Project—A Voice for the Persecuted Church Internet site.)

 

#persecutionofbelievers #martyrs #CharlieKirk #assassination #RowlandTaylor #burnedatstake

#FoxsBookofMartyrs #church #Columbine #missionarymartyrsEcuador #ReformationDay #JesusSavior

 *Written about in Fox’s Book of Martyrs—Chapter 267.

**October 31^st, 1517—Martin Luther nailed his ninety-five theses to the door of the castle church (catholic at that time)

                                      in Wittenburg, Germany thus bringing about the beginning of the Protestant Reformation.

 

Photo Credit: Charlie Kirk—religionnews.com, Rowland Taylor—Wikipedia.com, 

                       Ecuador/5 martyrs—blogspot.com, Columbine memorial—USAtoday.com

The Messiah—Written for a King, Composed by the King

Dear Mr. Handel,

          We’ve not made acquaintance. That’s quite impossible since you lived centuries before me, but we will meet when the trumpet sounds and the dead in Christ rise. I desired to write you now, though, to thank you for using your musical talent for our Lord God. Your compositions have touched our world and inspired many, giving Hope even in darkest times.

          I’m acquainted with the deep struggle you went through during your writing of The Messiah. How you poured out your soul to your Creator, seeking His guidance so this masterpiece would be solely from His Hands, not yours—you desiring His Will be done! How you starved, became so ill and weak, and slept minimally!

          I learned the Scriptures used in The Messiah were chosen by another, inspired to share them with you for this purpose. But how did you create such a masterpiece in that summer of 1741 in less than a month’s time? Surely the Holy Spirit worked through you—His instrument. And in the 284 years since, your composition is still revered worldwide!

          Beyond your composing The Messiah for King George II as his court musician, it was truly written by the King of Kings—each piece speaking Scripture through music. Those who’ve sung it (or heard it repeatedly) find The Word of God flowing from their lips.

          Just three weeks ago, my husband, son, and I traveled a long way. We were so weary! My husband plugged in his IPOD. “Ancient technology,” he said (but of course you don’t know of such a thing). We listened to The Messiah from beginning to nearly the end, and the beauty and inspiration we received carried us all the way home in our vehicle (something else you know nothing of).

          We pulled into the driveway to Hallelujah! Please forgive us, gifted composer, for we did not stand while it played, as did King George II when he heard the first performance. Be assured, though, our hearts “leapt to their feet!”

          Mr. Handel, our world is so terribly troubled in this era. Was it so in yours? This is why I’ve chosen to share in this blog post (“What is that?” you’ll also wonder) some pieces from The Messiah.

          There is overwhelming sadness. So many know not the Savior. They yearn to be comforted in their sorrow but seek this in wrong places and in empty ways. I’m so glad one of your pieces shares the message of comfort—to all and especially mentioned, Jerusalem.

Comfort Ye My People ~ Handel Messiah, Tenor Accompagnato: Comfort ye, my people

(Isaiah 40:1,2)

          Did you experience God’s comfort when you went through trials, struggling with anxiety and hardly able to make ends meet with the path you’d chosen—giving your life to music? And may I not forget to mention the challenge in and of itself, being the King’s court musician!

          Many in our world also seek to be led. Some follow false leaders and evil doers. I’m sure you knew of those in your time as well. Every century has both. Still, we people, being like sheep, seek a shepherd to lead us safely and with tender loving care. If only more souls knew the Good Shepherd, our God, Who gave His life for His sheep.

He Shall Lead His Flock Like a Shepherd

Handel: Messiah | He shall feed his flock | Academy of Ancient Music & VOCES8

(Isaiah 40:11)

          You must have experienced the Good Shepherd’s care in your life when you suffered strokes, eventually leaving you blind. I wonder if hearing your oratorio ministered to you as well.

          Oh, how wonderful it would be if we sheep grasped that our God can carry us through any trials that come our way because for Him, the load He carries is but a light affliction.

His Yoke Is Easy, His Burden Is Light

Handel Messiah, Chorus: His yoke is easy

(Matthew 11:30)

          All this is possible because a Child was born! Mr. Handel, it won’t be long now until we celebrate that Baby’s birth—Christmas. Isn’t it astounding, though, His Birth was prophesied long before even you were born? And, although this piece from The Messiah is usually heard at Christmas time, I love hearing it throughout the year. It holds such Hope—such promise!

For Unto Us a Child Is Born

Handel Messiah, Chorus: For unto us a Child is born

(Isaiah 9:6)

          Again, thank you for all the life you poured into composing The Messiah. I will close with the song that filled our vehicle at the end of our journey three weeks ago, as it makes one’s heart sing even in the darkest hours.

          Mr. Handel, I will greet you in Eternity where we’ll join the music, praising God—the King of Kings and True Composer of The Messiah which was entrusted to your care!

Hallelujah Chorus

Handel: Messiah | Hallelujah Chorus | VOCES8 & Academy of Ancient Music

(Revelation 19:6)

Gratefully yours,

a lover of music from another time & place who, decades ago, played some of your pieces

 

#Handel #TheMessiah #KingGeorgeII #music #troubledworld #comfort #shepherd

#HolySpiritinspired #Scriptures #LordGod #PromisedChild #Hallelujah

This is a colorized version of The Great Mr. Handel ~

the story telling how The Messiah came to be!

The Great Mr. Handel 1942 (Full Film) - YouTube

It moves me each time I watch it.

Photo Credit: letter writing—stock.photo.com, Handel—allaboutHandel.com, musical score--CCARHWiki

Musical Credit: Tafelmusik & Academy of Ancient Music 

“Sweet-ish” Death Cleaning (The End) ~ Who Gets the Rat Trap Bank?

          Confession: We’ve found some possessions too hard to purge. One such item? Our rat trap bank! Yes, we really do own one.

          Now, before you screech, “Oh, ick!” allow me to plead my keeping-the-rat-trap-bank case. It’s displayed prominently in our home office where we work on ministry. Why? Because it reminds us of the Provider’s care throughout our missionary years! Perhaps another time I’ll share the whole story behind it (it’s so worth knowing), but for sake of this blog post I’ll keep it shorter.

          Part of our earlier ministry years were in New York City where Brian held Bible clubs. One growing Bible club located in the South Bronx had a problem—no place to meet.

          Long story short, permission to use a room was eventually given, but to get there Brian and the kids needed to cross rubble from a neighboring building. These kids, however, weren’t deterred—even by the rats!

          Yes, rats—plural! But Bible club was life-giving to this group, so each week they showed up and scattered the rats so they could learn God’s Word in that answer-to-prayer room!

          Brian and I affectionately called this “the rat-smack club” when telling how God answered prayer for those South Bronx kids! We shared the good news in pulpits and in our missionary prayer letter.

          When we visited one supporting church, they presented us with—tah dah!—the aforementioned handmade rat trap bank! They also filled it with financial gifts from the congregation—another answer to prayer at that time.

          So, do you see why we cannot throw away this reminder? What’t’do, what’t’do, what’t’do…

          Brian and I were going through items as we death cleaned.

          “Who gets the rat trap?” I asked hubby. “It’s meaningful to all our kids, but who’d want it, and how do we choose?”

          Brian smiled. “This is a strange conversation, you understand.”

          We laughed! (By the way, we haven’t decided yet, should any of our kids read this post while sitting on pins’n’needles whispering, “I hope it’s me!”)

          Maybe the rat trap bank will be one of those things we leave in our you-go-through-and-decide baskets. But for now, it continues serving as a reminder how God cared for us and answered prayer more times than we could count!

          You may have mementos like the one I’ve just shared about, although you may sigh with relief and say, “I’m so glad I don’t own a rat trap bank.”

          There are those items your children or friends might love to have—or might not. Perhaps you can put a note in a you-go-through-and-decide basket giving your family permission to discard (like you may do with some photos).

          Another category that comes close to this, at least in my thinking, are drawings and crafts our kids and grandkids gave us over the years. These would fill a sizable basket in and of themselves, had we placed them into one. Here are a few thoughts what to do about these:

Drawings? No problem unless there are so many they overfill an album and you wish them smaller. It’s possible in this day and age to take pictures of them all (or the most treasured ones) and preserve them as minis or electronically.

Or, maybe do what we did with our children’s drawings and schoolwork (having only saved choice items). Give them back to them to treasure. (We’ve hung onto grandkid ones for now though. We’re not that cold hearted—smile!) 

We also returned the crafts our kids made for us many moons ago. Their spouses enjoyed seeing those, much to their mates’ chagrin.

          Christmas ornaments each family member collected were gifted back to them when they began their own homes and families. Our single son has his in a special box. Oh, going back to photos, we also gifted all our kids with a decorative box of them as a Christmas gift one year, reducing the amount they’ll need to go through here by the hundreds.

          “What about collections?” you may ask.

          I used to collect lighthouses and colored glass bottles. My collections weren’t huge, but I decided some years back to let the glass bottles go and only keep a few very small lighthouses that family gave me.

          If you’re death cleaning and an avid collector, you might want to downsize collections. I have a friend who’s collected angels over the decades. She just adores them, so I know it could be hard for her to let these go. But, if you’re a brave soul, could you…

…gift one item each to family members and close friends before you die or designate with a note to whom you wish it be given?

Or donate your collection to nursing, Veterans’, or children’s homes where these type items will be treasured? This is true of custom jewelry too. (Nursing homes, for example, love these type things to use as gifts or prizes for their residents.)

Or can you take a keepsake photo of your collection, pick out only a handful to keep, and sell the rest?

          One thing you probably shouldn’t do once you’re a very seasoned citizen is enlarge your collection. Instead of buying more, can you just admire them, window shop, or live with a photo of the item? Would it help to tell family members and friends (who might gift you with more) that you are blessed with enough now? (They’ll likely respect your wishes about this.)

          One item I treasure and deeply respect is our dad’s folded flag, given to my sister at his funeral. She passed it on to me, and we’ve agreed it will be gifted to the one who made Brian and I grandparents. Some things are just too important and special to let go out of one’s family circle.

          What about Bibles—those large family ones and those left by parents, grandparents, and beyond? Sadly, according to The Art of Swedish Death Cleaning, most of these don’t find a future home. That shocked me as I can’t believe The Word wouldn’t be treasured by all. But if it’s not, what will you do with old Bibles—particularly disintegrating ones in the attic?

          I wanted to honor God with these, but many fell apart when I handled them, even carefully. I discovered, though, that these old Bibles held family history. You’ll want to preserve those notes by either copying them or keeping those pages and putting them into protective sleeves. One of my grandmas kept all family newspaper obituaries in between her Bible pages. I took those out, saved them for our children, and gave the Bible to our firstborn.

          If you married a preacher, missionary, or Bible scholar or you are one, you probably have at least one shelf full of Bibles. Right? In our most recent death cleaning step, we decided to give some of those Bibles new homes. After all, wouldn’t it be better if they were being read?

          In conclusion, may I tell you I realize parting with precious items can be hard and even bring tears. But foremost in your mind and heart, when deciding what to do, ask yourself, “What’s most important? What lasts?”

          Eternity lasts! All that’s here and now passes away. If you keep the forever goal in mind, you’ll find, as you death clean, the items you’ve held onto begin to lose their grip.

          It’s eternity that matters. Reader, may you focus on Heaven—the ultimate prize! And, should you choose to death clean, may you find joy while doing that part of life’s journey!

Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus

 

O soul, are you weary and troubled? No light in the darkness you see?

There’s light for a look at the Savior, and life more abundant and free!

 

Refrain: Turn your eyes upon Jesus, Look full in His wonderful face,

And the things of earth will grow strangely dim, in the light of His glory and grace.

 

Thro’ death into life everlasting, He passed, and we follow Him there;

O’er us sin no more hath dominion—for more than conqu’rors we are! (Refrain)

 

His Word shall not fail you—He promised; Believe Him, and all will be well:

Then go to a world that is dying, His perfect salvation to tell! (Refrain)

 

(from the hymn, Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus, by Helen Howarth Lemmel, 1922, public domain)

 

#deathcleaning #rattrap #treasures #collections #keepsakes #childrensart

#Bibles #remindersofGodsprovisions #temporalthings #eternity