Family – Page 6 – Kathi Waligora

March 8, 2021March 9, 2021

While I was Sleeping

It’s been over 25 years since the movie While You Were Sleeping came out. You might remember. An attractive, well-to-do young man falls in front of a subway train, and although rescued by a young woman, is nonetheless in a coma for quite some time. Meanwhile, his family mistakenly believes that the young woman, played by Sandra Bullock, is his fiancé, thus, for some time, they bestow upon her all the courtesies and endowments expected for their future daughter-in-law. It’s a cute story of this mistaken identity, which occurs “while” the young man “is sleeping.”

Sometimes, for whatever reason, we’re “sleeping,” unaware of the turmoil occurring in our lives or in our families’ lives. Time goes by. Circumstances worsen, and by the time we are fully aware, it appears we’ve lost control of the situation. This happened in my life. But it wasn’t “cute” like the movie. I recognized it, in fact, reading the gospels, in which Jesus told us exactly what happens if/when we are “sleeping.” I wrote about it in When Life Roars, Jesus Whispers. Here’s an excerpt:

Even more life-changing, a spiritual battle was taking place. Ron and I were at war with the enemy, the thief. He was stealing and killing and destroying our family,[i] right in front of our eyes. The Word of God is truth, and it told me about the enemy:

“But while everyone was sleeping, his enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and went away.”

“Where then did the weeds come from?”

“An enemy did this,” he replied. “The weeds are the sons of the evil one, and the enemy who sows them is the devil.”[ii]

Our battle was against the enemy, the devil. I had the power to fight back. I was in the Lord’s army. So I put on the armor.

Suddenly we were facing the enemy in our daughter’s defense. It had been Paul’s final instructions to the Ephesians:

“Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand.”[iii]

The instructions were given to the church members in Ephesus, and to me. The passage continued, “Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist.”[iv]

I know the truth. Jesus is the truth. His Word is truth.

Earlier in his letter, Paul had told the Ephesians to “speak the truth in love.”[v] These instructions confirmed the very path I had been taking to reach my daughter, the path to break through the evil force that was surrounding her. It was a path of love.

I had carried her within me, and I had loved her from that time. Her backsliding didn’t change my love for her. Her anger or harsh words didn’t change my love for her. I flooded her with unending love.

The instructions Paul gave to the Ephesians and to me are the inspired Word of God. The passage continued speaking of righteousness and readiness and faith: “With the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one.”[vi]

I want this faith. I need this faith. And with this faith, I can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one.

The final piece of armor? The sword! The sword of the Spirit! God’s Word! “Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.”[vii] I delved into it; I searched it; it became more alive to me than it had ever been. “Consequently, faith comes from hearing the message, and the message is heard through the word of Christ.”[viii]

My faith will increase through hearing the Word!

I pictured myself with the armor – the belt, the breastplate, the footwear, the helmet – with a shield in one hand and my Bible in the other. Yes, I put on the armor, and I pictured the Lord God Almighty, the Most High leading me, surrounding me, filling me, protecting me, and delivering me and my beautiful daughter, Amber.

Trusting Him didn’t come easy for me during that time. Fears came. Often. I had to keep reading the Word and speaking the Word. The Word, itself, became my prayer to Him: Lord, you have said that because you love me, you will rescue me; because you love Amber; you will rescue her. I will call upon you, and you will answer me. You will be with me in trouble; you will deliver me and will honor me! My, what a gracious and awesome God you are![ix]

And Jesus Whispered ~
Kathi, I made you and I know you. I give you understanding of my Word. Someday Amber will rejoice because you have put your hope in my Word.

Click here to order When Life Roars, Jesus Whispers and/or Kathi’s published Bible Study, Shh! Listen to His Whispers.

[i] John 10:10 NIV

[ii] From Matthew 13

[iii]Ephesians 6:10-13 NIV

[iv] Ephesians 6:14 NIV

[v] Ephesians 4:15 NIV

[vi] Ephesians 6:14b-16 NIV

[vii] Ephesians 6:17 NIV

[viii] Romans 10:17 NIV

[ix] Psalm 91:14-15 NIV paraphrased

March 4, 2021March 4, 2021

Their Wedding Rings

Their wedding rings remain a symbol and a promise of their commitment to each other and of the fidelity they exhibited for 66 years.

I had observed those rings on their fingers, year after year. The fingers, once young and taut, became aged and thin, as did the gold bands around them. Both wedding bands and the diamond engagement ring are worn through from years of hard work, in the factory, the dirt, the water. From years of play and of cooking and baking and of praying together. And why wouldn’t they be worn? Sixty-six years as symbols and promises of commitment and fidelity.

Daddy and Mama have been gone now for some years. And I miss them. So, on occasion, I hold those rings in the palm of my hand and visualize their aged hands, wishing I could hold those beautiful old hands in mine once again. I occasionally slide the rings on my fingers, especially when I want to feel their presence. Having the rings near reminds me of how they prayed for me and my family.

They passed one spring, just one month apart. Early that fall, I slid the rings on my omega necklace chain, and wore them throughout a most difficult day, the day of our daughter, Amber’s, sentencing. The rings hung close to my heart, touching my skin. I sensed their presence with me in that courtroom, reminding me that their God was my God. – always faithful. On that taxing day, the rings, once a symbol and a promise in the marriage, became their symbol and promise of commitment and fidelity to us, the family resulting from the marriage. Our family continued to be one – in the Lord.

One morning, shortly thereafter, I placed the rings, along with my birthstone, on the necklace. and headed out the door for Mott’s Children’s Hospital at U of M in Ann Arbor, where our baby grandson, Luke, was to undergo open-heart surgery. Throughout the long day and the trying days ahead, I often touched the rings, fidgeting with them, remembering Daddy and Mama’s faithful prayers for me and my family – prayers that are still held in a bowl, each prayer like incense going up before the Lord God (1). At times, I raised my hand to my breast and clutched the rings ever so snugly within my grasp for quite some time, picturing the Father holding my little Luke in His hand, never letting him go. As I did so, I prayed. And prayed. And prayed.

On the trying days of Baby Luke’s surgery and recovery, the rings symbolized even more. Suddenly, they were reminders of Daddy and Mama’s commitment and fidelity to the Lord Jesus, which is the heritage they have passed on to us, their children, and to our children, and to our children’s children.

That heritage, in turn, reveals the greatest promise of commitment and fidelity – that of the Lord Jesus to me, and to my children, and to their children . . . “I will never leave you nor forsake you,” He says (*2). And I have found that promise to be true.

Just days later, I again wore the rings on the necklace to await and then to celebrate the birth of our grandson, Jack, the newest life born into our family. Memories flooded my mind of Baby Jack’s Daddy, our firstborn, Matt. Matt was Daddy and Mom’s first grandson, Matt. On that day years ago, the rings were on their own fingers – now I wore them near my heart. The rings connected us from the past to the present and in some way, to the eternal future we will all have together. And as we all praised and thanked God for this new gift of life in our family, I wrapped my fingers around those rings and whispered, “Thank you, Daddy and Mama, for your example of commitment and fidelity – to each other – to us, your family – and to the Lord Jesus.”

(1) Revelation 5:8

(2) Hebrews 13:5b

February 6, 2021

“Are you the one?”

They asked Jesus, “Are you the one . . . or should we expect someone else?”
Jesus replied, “Go back and report . . . what you hear and see: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is preached to the poor. Blessed is the man who does not fall away on account of me.”
(Matthew 11:3,4)

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

I ponder this scene in my mind. They come to Jesus to inquire, “Are you the one we’ve been expecting?” You see, they knew the Messiah was coming. They had been awaiting the fulfillment of the prophecy for a very long time. But they just weren’t sure if this Jesus was the one.

Jesus responds, “go back and report . . . what you hear and see.”

So I come to you now, in writing, to “report” some of the amazing things He has done for my family and for me, “the poor.”

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

My husband, Ron, and I raised our children to know the love of God and His amazing grace. They knew what we wanted for them; they knew what God wanted for them; but, as adults, of course, their choices were their own.

Our youngest daughter and her husband “tried” to follow what “we wanted” for them. They attended church for awhile, possibly trying to please us, maybe thinking it was the right thing to do, but they did not seem to have a relationship with God. Soon, they wandered far from us, from the church, and seemingly from their God. But He was “their God” because, you see, God calls us. He ordained us before the world began, and He had ordained our Amber and her husband, Jesse.

Amber and Jesse went through years of turmoil. Lifestyle and life choices brought them heartache and sorrow. They were depressed. They lost their jobs. A house fire put them out of their home for 18 long months – with 3 children. When the home was finally restored, they lost it back to the bank. Then Jesse’s beautiful mother died, much too young. They were both very close to her, and the loss devastated them.

We observed their depression.

But we didn’t know of their addiction.

Our hearts ached for them. We were angry. We were sorrowful. We were sad. We pled. We cried. We begged. We suffered in our own way. A terrible way. A way that only a mother, a father, or a grandparent can know. A way that eats at your soul and steals your sleep, while it agonizes your mind and your body. An enemy is present and he preys upon your family. We try to change things. We try to make things better. But we can’t.

We share the only thing we can share with them – the good news. The good news that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God. That he died on the cross for them – in their place. That He rose again for them. That He loves them. That He has planned abundant life for them. That it is a free gift.

Then we pray. We cry and pray. We plead to God. We read in His Word that there is victory in Jesus. We read that He – our Lord God – is GREATER than the enemy. We read that the name of Jesus has power over the enemy. And we say that name aloud over and over and over and over and over and over . . .

And I place that powerful name in writing. I write letters to my daughter! God’s Word enters her home through those letters. God’s Word is placed in her hands through those letters. And God’s Word is in front of her eyes.

I claim that name – the name of Jesus – for my family! I rebuke the enemy. I tell him that he no longer has control over my family. My Lord Jesus died on the cross and rose again for my family, and our Almighty God has the victory in our family. His Word is filled with promises for my family. The enemy is no more!

. . . he answers [her] from his holy heaven with the saving power of his right hand. . . we trust in the name of the Lord our God. (Psalm 20:6)

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

“Go back and report . . . what you hear and see,” Jesus says.

I hear a phone call in the middle of the night. I hear a message – a message I don’t want to hear. I see my daughter and her husband in shackles – a sight I don’t want to see.

I hear God’s comforting voice, speaking to me in my deepest pain. I see his angels surrounding me. I feel His tender arms holding me, lifting me up when I feel I can’t go on. I experience His amazing grace and His unfailing love that pulls me through the agonizing moments of each day.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

“Go back and report . . . what you hear and see,” Jesus says.

I hear and see a miracle. The dreaded message of that dark night changes to the good news of a the Light of the World – and the shackles of bondage and addiction are removed forever. My daughter and her husband are transformed by the power of the resurrected Christ. They give their lives to the Lord Jesus, the God of miracles.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

“Go back and report . . . what you hear and see,” Jesus says.

I hear my daughter and her husband speaking of God – their God – telling of His amazing, saving grace. I see their changed lives. I see light where there was darkness. I see a bright and promising future. I see a new love and a new life. I see a couple nurturing their wounded children, parenting them, loving them, and guiding them in the love of the Lord. I see Jesus.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

They asked Jesus, “Are you the one . . .?” (Matthew 11:3)
“Yes, Lord,” [I] tell him, “I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, who was to come into the world.” (John 11:27)

Yes, my friend, Jesus is the one!

He is the Jesus of Miracles. He is the Jesus who heals the broken-hearted and mends broken families. Jesus has compassion for you. He can heal your broken heart and mend your broken family. Jesus died on the cross to save you. He can change your life. He can change your family’s lives. Call upon him in prayer today.

I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” (John 14:6)

Click here to learn more about calling on Jesus.

I would love to speak to your group and share my story. Contact me here.

December 30, 2020March 28, 2022

From a Whisper to a Roar

Today I came across a short journal entry I’d written one morning years ago:

“I slept well last night, which I so needed, as my body has been fighting an illness. I thought I would feel refreshed this morning but instead, I feel discouraged and depressed. Not because of the illness, I’m sure – although one thing does add to another- but because of a different, ongoing situation very close to me that doesn’t seem to be getting better in spite of days, weeks, and months of prayer.”

Although written quite some time ago, this could just as easily be my story – or your story – today. Especially today. Ongoing problems, seemingly yet unanswered prayers, weighted and worsened by isolation, COVID fears and lockdowns, loneliness, mandates, and divisions.

Has this happened to you? Is it happening now?

In your weakness, a voice speaks to you, saying,

“God doesn’t hear your prayers. He isn’t answering your prayers. You might as well give up.”

I’ve heard that voice – often. It brings fear – fear of the unknown, fear of the future, fear that God doesn’t care. I’ve come to recognize that malevolent voice, knowing it is not from God because God doesn’t give me fear. His Word tells me He gives me a spirit of power and of love and of a sound mind. (2 Timothy 1:7) So, I simply pray,

Thank you Father for the spirit of power and of love and of a sound mind.

In my weakness, however, it may be difficult to pray. Very difficult! I sometimes forget the words of Scripture, or I’m too exhausted. It is then I simply speak to my Abba Father, pouring out my heart:

Lord, I know you love me and you love my family. We need you.

When I speak, a single tear fills each eye.

Abba Father speaks to me through His Word: “See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?” (Isaiah 43:19)

Yes, I perceive it Lord! Thank you!

Then I go to His Word to read more about the new thing He is doing. I read that He is making a way through this desert and wasteland we are in. He is providing Living water in this barren place so that we might praise Him. We do and we will continue to praise Him! He reminds me that He has chosen me, made me, formed me, and helps me. He pours that Living Water and His Spirit out on me and on my children and grandchildren. And they will spring up! (Isaiah 43, 44)

I keep opening and reading His Word because I know that faith comes from hearing the message of Christ. And it is faith I need. (Romans 10:17) And the message adds to my continuing prayer today:

Lord, let me remember who I am, whose I am, and the territory that belongs to me. For the loss I and mine have suffered, take back that ground for us. Release the boldness of the Lion of the Tribe of Judah in my prayers – that my prayers will be fierce – that they will rise from a whisper to a roar.

And as my day progresses, my prayers become more fierce, intensifying from whispers to roars, knowing that He is making the way for me and for my loved ones through the desert and the wasteland.

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My 2020 Christmas Letter

This is not your typical “Christmas letter.” Instead, I’m opening up, which isn’t always easy for me, sharing a composition of my thoughts late in this beautiful Christmas season of this dreadful year of 2020.

First, I must clarify – every year is “blessed” – none can truly be “dreadful,” if one is alive to tell about it. But we all know what 2020 has been, and it is not at all pleasant. So, even though as a Christian, I find blessedness in all the Lord has provided and brought us through this year, I also find dreadfulness in the year itself. Why? Because our enemy has twisted and maligned, and – well, Jesus stated it so well in John 10:10, when He told us that our enemy, the thief comes to steal, kill, and destroy. That’s just what the enemy has done this year. Every heartache, trial, illness, death, separation, loneliness, divisiveness, turmoil – all fit in the categories of at least one of those three words: steal, kill, and destroy.

Woe! And whoa! This piece of writing is becoming dreary and seemingly hopeless.

But Jesus . . .

My friend, our Jesus turns this terrible year completely around – totally inside out – from darkness into light – from death to life. It started when He was born, it continued when He saved me, and it’s happening right now. He makes all things new. He is our hope. His promises are true. He is unchanging. He is all faithful. He will never leave us or forsake us. Never. He is with us now – at the end of this dreadful 2020 – in the midst of this beautiful Christmas season.

This is our Jesus.

He came to give us life. LIFE! Not just a sense of “living” but a LIFE abundant! (Also John 10:10) Jesus refers to that life as rich and satisfying (NLT) – as full. NIV).

This is our Jesus.

So at this Christmas time, we can rejoice in singing of Jesus as Immanuel, the Prince of Peace, the Newborn King. We can rejoice in singing of the hope and peace He brings.

Recently, I saw these pictures of the Baby Jesus and as our Savior Jesus, dying for us:

He came for all. He died for all. And He rose from the grave for all. But He is not yours if He is only your Christmas Baby Jesus. He cannot be your peace and hope if you have not trusted Him as your Lord and Savior. This year – this dreadful year – may you realize the fullness of His love for you. May you realize why He truly came.

I’m sure this is a strange Christmas for many. It is different for me, too.

Ron and I were blessed to celebrate Christmas with most of our children and grandchildren in Michigan – early. They all had other plans around the actual “Christmas Day,” so my home was decorated early – and for just a short period of time. It was different. It didn’t seem like Christmas time that early, so I did not deck the house as usual.

Although the nativity was set in a prominent place, the remainder of Nana and Papa’s Michigan home didn’t change much from Thanksgiving to Christmas. Only the lighted church was set up – not the many lighted houses, the tiny ice skating pond the little ones so love, or the snow and mini fences completing the beautiful little village. No wreaths adorned my doors this year; no garlands embellished the fireplace mantles; only one tree was decorated instead of two. I’m not sure why. Was it the mindset of an altered year? Or was it because of an altered mindset?

On a Monday, nearly three weeks before Christmas Day, Ron and I “took down” Christmas and packed it away for another year. We headed south.

Once settled into our southern Florida home, we scouted the local stores in hopes of finding the perfect little Christmas tree and the most meaningful Nativity set. In hopes of establishing a new little tradition of Christmas with just the two of us. Because we must. It is different. Many of you know. More than I. You’ve been alone. Perhaps single. Perhaps divorced. Perhaps widowed. This year, isolated by the evils of a virus. It is different yet. And most often unwelcomed. You try. You bake cookies and place at another’s front door. You send cards and encourage others. You mail packages. Sometimes you cry. You often pray. You find Jesus sufficient. More so than you ever realized. You have found Christmas.

You have probably learned what I am now discovering. The truth about Jesus. The truth of meeting him in the manger. The truth of looking ahead to His suffering and death and resurrection. The truth of peace and joy – that only He can bring. The truth of knowing why – why He came as a baby. The truth that we sometimes can only learn at the end of a dreadful year.

And it is a blessed understanding. One that needs not a lighted tree or even a beautiful Nativity. One that needs only the Word – the Carol – the Worship.

If Jesus is your Savior, as well as your Christmas baby, you understand. If you are uncertain, click here to read how to make certain – to receive Him as your Christmas gift – as your Savior.

Turn from thoughts and anxieties and pain and fear of the killing, stealing, and destroying brought by the thief – turn to the abundant, full life promised by Jesus!

Join me in the true celebration of Jesus’ birth. Together, we’ll sing,

“Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests.”

And His favor rests on us, His children,

because of our Jesus.

December 14, 2020October 15, 2021

Treasures from the woodshed.

Daddy and Mama bought the big yellow house when I was 13 months old. Surrounded by red barns, white board fences, chicken coops, and corn cribs, the house sat on 80 acres of fields, pastures, and woods, bordering a creek. They paid $10,000 for it. Grandpa Nutt said they’d never live to see it paid! But he was wrong.

(more…)

November 28, 2020January 28, 2021

I’m weary.

I’m weary. You know how it is.

It’s not just one thing. It’s more than one. It’s more than two. It’s one thing upon another. Stacking. Compounding. Until that one more thing, no matter how small, seems just too much.

I’ve been aware of the stacking – the compounding – for quite some time. I’ve dealt with it in the past, and I’ll deal with it again. But for now, I’m weary. It’s like a compounding pile of rocks. Some light. Some heavy.

Today, as I write, my brother in law is in surgery, having a lung transplant. This rock is a heavy one, and it’s been on the compounding pile of rocks for a long time. Its very presence on his stack, and on my sister’s stack, causes it to accumulate in diverse sizes on my own rising pile. It makes me weary.

Facebook and Instagram photos look lovely, but we all know, there’s quite often pain behind the smiles. My family is no different. I’ve encountered those heaping rocks many times, repeatedly, and have pushed them off, one by one, turning them over to the Lord, trusting those issues to Him. Oftentimes, when I do, I figuratively wipe my hands and smugly say, Take that, you cursed enemy. By the power of the name of Jesus. But today, those same stones – or rocks, as they’ve become, aren’t moving as easily. Because I’m weary.

You understand because it happens to you too. Sometimes it’s a recurring pebble that pops up – with your spouse’s name on it. Sometimes an entire little bag of pebbles – you know, like the bag of marbles we had when we were kids. Sometimes it’s huge – the loss of a child – or of a parent. It’s the grief that permeates and changes your life forever. It’s your child’s middle-of-the-night fever or her wicked diagnosis. It’s a learning disability or a mental illness. It’s a daughter’s addiction or a son’s waywardness. It’s the pain on your grandchild’s face and the tears in his eyes when his daddy yells and leaves the house. It’s the pain of your daughter’s singleness when she yearns for marriage. The problem burdens not just one in the family; it burdens all. You hurt not only for the burdened one but for each one who suffers – physically, mentally, emotionally. The rocks seem heavier than they once were. And they’re all stuck together. Sometimes they seem cemented. I’m weary from it. And I know you’re weary. I can see it behind your smile.

The enemy throws a lot of political rocks onto my stack, more as the last few years have progressed. My “friends” and community members have called me names – well, not me personally, but in general, along with anyone who has my political view. And I create my own stones on my stack, as well, having zero understanding of those who view the political issues from a different perspective. It’s all so heavy. And I become weary.

This COVID thing is just plain weighty in this pile of rocks. The COVID rocks keep appearing in various sizes and weights upon the stack: Isolation. Sickness. Death. Fear. Hate. Divisiveness. Anger. Exhaustion. Loneliness. Separation. Anxiety. Suicide. Grief. Poverty. Judgment. Depression. This is not a bag of rocks. It’s a truck full of boulders that have become ever present month after month, enveloping our birthdays, anniversaries, celebrations, travel plans, elections, and now our holidays. We boldly and bravely knock one COVID rock off our pile; another related rock appears. We’ve all become weary from it.

Here’s the thing:

On the other side of my weariness is Jesus. He’s waiting just like always. He whispers,

Kathi, I will refresh your weary soul and replenish you when you are weak. I will give you pleasant sleep. My Word sustains you. Keep it fresh in your mind. Come to me. I will give you rest.

So today, in my weariness, I go to Jesus, the one who came to give me abundant life. I turn my burdens over to Him. We know He doesn’t bring any of the burdens that are making me weary. But He gladly takes them and brings the victory – some that I see today – some that is yet unseen but promised. Either way, I have the promised rest,

What about you? For all of these things we have Jesus. If you’re a Christ follower, go to Him. Place each burden, big or small, light or heavy, on Him. Until your weariness is gone. If you’re yet uncertain if you have Jesus, turn to Him. We needn’t remain weary!

Click here to learn more about following Christ.

Dear Mother (in purple crayon)

I almost tossed it away – it looked so insignificant, written with a purple crayon, personalized with my favorite drawings: a tree on the front and a swing set on the back. But evidently it was not insignificant to her, as she had written on the back, “Had been away over the weekend when Kathy made this,” then tucked it away in the cedar chest, along with Valentines, newspaper clippings, and report cards.

I’m wondering where she had gone that weekend, as I don’t remember my mother ever being away from home!

She often baked macaroni and cheese – using those big chunks of colby and large elbow macaroni. Homemade bread. Sunbeam Rolls. Beef Roasts with potatoes. Warm custard when I was sick.

She laundered my clothes.

She tucked me in at night with hugs.

She held me and sang soft sweet songs like “Go Tell Aunt Tabby”and “Bye Baby Bunting.”

I knew her unconditional love. I never questioned it. I was enveloped in comfort and security.

It’s no wonder I missed her, wherever she had gone that weekend.

And it’s no wonder I miss her now.

I wish it was just for the weekend, but now it’s been eight long years. I miss the macaroni and cheese, her soft hugs, the sound of her voice, and a thousand other things.

Since that note to my mother so long ago, I’ve changed the spelling of my first name, and now I always use a blue, medium point pen instead of a crayon. I never draw trees on my notes or letters any longer, and I prefer writing on lined paper. But I might just write another purple crayon message on plain white paper, fold it, and on the front, write, “To Mother.” The message will be simple. Only a few words will change:

Dear Mama,
I will be glad to see you again. I am lonesome for you.
From,
Kathi

Then I’ll tuck it in the same cedar chest and hope that miraculously she’ll receive it up in heaven.

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November 11, 2020November 10, 2020

Papa, can I lie in your bed?

He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart:

I put her to bed, as usual. Well, really, with a bit more tenderness, a bit more time–reading, laying, singing, snuggling. But she is still quite unsettled when I leave her bedside, and shortly after, I hear her behind me in the living room.

Quietly.

“Nana, can I lie in your bed?”

“Sure, honey.”

I follow her down the hall. She steps up onto the little white stepping stool and up up up on to the big, soft mattress. And then I see the tears.

“I miss my mommy.”

I wipe her tears.

I lie beside her, cherishing her soft hair rubbing my cheek, breathing in its sweet, innocent scent.

Later, after she is sound asleep, Papa carries Kaylee back to her own bed.

I awaken in the night. My heart aches. I miss her mommy too. And I know a bit of the pain my precious daughter is going through. She shared it with me months ago, shortly after the arrest. Now I know that tonight, she lies on her cot, in her cell, cold and lonely. My throat makes a foreign noise. I try to hold back the sob, knowing that when it starts, it doesn’t stop for a long time. I pray for her in a whisper – a whisper I know my Papa hears.

Months ago, after the arrest, on the 9th day, we brought her home–from that cell, from that cot–for one night before recovery began. She wanted her own bed– her old bed. The comfort of home.

Now I want the comfort of my Papa’s bed. I want that comfort for my daughter, and for her daughter, Kaylee. I want that comfort for all of us and for all others who are hurting.

I find it. I find it in the Word that is near me!

He gently tends me like a shepherd tends his flock. He gathers me in his arms and carries me close to his heart.

I might be unsettled for awhile, but I know that as I rest in his arms, close to His heart, I’ll find that comfort.

Further Reading: Isaiah 40:11; Psalm 91:1; Matthew 11:28; Romans 10:8

As you read the above post, you might connect. Some of you have or are presently raising your grandchildren. Some of you have or have had a son or daughter incarcerated. Some of you agonize, watching your own little ones unsettled and distressed, often unable to sleep. Take a verse or two and personalize it for yourself. Speak it over and over and over . . . His Word is powerful. And it’s near you.

If you’d like to read my story about facing our daughter’s addiction and her subsequent arrest, you can order When Life Roars, Jesus Whispers by clicking here.

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November 8, 2020November 5, 2020

I Remember Mama

Thursday

Yesterday was a tough day.

Last night was agonizing.

I can’t imagine facing a day of my life without her . . .
or a day without sobbing.

This evening is sad – seeing her, my Mama – lifeless and still upon pink satin lining the silver box . I don’t want to see her like this.

I close my eyes and remember her in the kitchen, making her yellow rolls; I remember her tucking me into bed at night; and I remember her dancing down “Main Street” on our first trip to Disney World!

Then I open my eyes and look around the large room of this funeral home, a place I don’t want to be, facing what I don’t want to face, where earlier, alone, I couldn’t stop crying.

Now the room has taken on a different countenance. Instead of the parlor of death, it has become a playroom, filled with my young grandchildren. Their voices, full of animation, and their healthy little bodies, full of life, make me realize that Mama lives on in me, in my children, and in my grandchildren. As I reflect upon it, I realize that life is truly amazing. My friend, Connie, told me that today. “Life is amazing,” she said, “and we are a part of it.”

And I am a part of it because of my precious Mama. And now I will pass on the tradition of baking the yellow rolls and I will tuck my little ones into bed, and I will dance down Main Street.”

Tomorrow I must say goodbye – I know it’s just her body – that her soul is in heaven and that she will receive a new, vibrant, healthy body, but it’s her old body and her touch and her voice that I will miss. It’s the smell of Ponds Cold Cream and of yellow rolls baking in her oven.