The familiar knock came on the bedroom door. Someone neeeded to talk. The teary voice of our youngest answered our query.
When he entered and came to our bedside, we knew big things were on his mind. He has always thought deeply and asked so many out -of the-blue questions about life and philosophy.
"I just think I need to be saved'. There it was out.
My husband and I both had the same thoughts , I knew.
This child is ...just a child.
I know there are many differing ideas about when a child is ready and they all tumbled through my head. He was not the first to come at the this age ,nor was this the first time he had come.
The first time was several months ago. We talked and determined that he was worried by the sermon and just wanted assurance that he would go to heaven. We prayed with him, told him to keep listening to God and he went merrily on his way.
Should we do the same tonight?
We talked. He was very knowledgable about the whole process , who God is and who he is without God.
He told us he had been doing a lot of thinking and reading. He mentioned that overhearing a conversation by older siblings about their concern for his behavior had bothered him. He mentioned the "Ten Commandment" plaque on the wall.
But after talking awhile my husband still felt some hesitation. He agreed to prayer and thinking it over.
His prayer was simple and sweet. "God, I want to hear You and know it's You and I want to know how to go all the way with You."
My husband and I talked seriously after he left. After eight other children you would think this decision would be easier to truly know how best to lead them through but somehow as always with child-training they each one throw their particular little curve into it.
We rolled over to sleep trusting ourselves and our child to the wisdom of the Holy Spirit's direction and voice.
.....A knock at the door...
"You know, I just really think I need to take care of it now."
There was no denying that certainty.
He added, "It was a weird thing when I was waiting in the hall and coming into the room, I kept hearing the word, 'someday', 'someday'......I think it was the devil...."
Ah, yes, even a child can know.
Again his prayer was simple , though longer than before. He started " Thank you....God, I pray to be a good soldier for you......I'm sorry.....I pray that I can go all the way with you and never give up......"
Yes, Lord!!!
finding orchids in the laundry....
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Friday, June 15, 2012
The "Home-making" Father
Women are known as the homemakers and I think rightly so, but what about all the "home making" that the dad's do? I thought of that as I was thinking of the normal "mom post' and Father's day. Home would not be home, Mom would not have a home to make a home ,truly a home, without Dad. I know , of course, there are instances when one spouse has to carry on alone but home in God's plan is Mom and Dad.
I was thinking of the two father's in my life.
My Pop has always been ...well...just "Pop"! He was never a Dad , he was never a Father. He disliked both of those terms and for some reason neither really suits him. He was and is just "Pop"! For those that know him that explains him!
In fact growing up his own children were not the only ones that called him "Pop". Most of the other young people in the church did , also. I thought perhaps it was because we were a small church and everyone knew each other so well. But as we grew older and had friends visit from out of state and meet him for the first time, soon they all called him Pop too! When several years ago he moved from that church to a new area, everyone again, very quickly just called him ..."Pop"!
He is a one-of-a-kind person! If you ever meet him you'll never forget him.
He worked hard for his family. He worked in the woods most of my growing up years. It was hard , tiring work with hardly ever enough money to stretch far enough, but we made it!
I remember surprises in his lunch pail brought home to show us kids. I remember long winter nights of "Authors", "Aggravation", Probe"and building "Lincoln Log" houses. And stories,...always stories.
He believed in firm discipline and hard work. Many were the times as a child I thought he overdid both!
But I'm thankful for the things he taught me.
Today it is just him and Mom left in their home and Pop truly is the homemaker. Mom is bedfast with ALS brought on by Lyme's disease. Pop lovingly cares for her every need! Some one of the family is alwasy there to help but Pop is really the one who does all Mom's care.I thank God for Pop!
I think of my own husband, the Father of our 9 children. Without him our home would not be a home the way it is.
He is the steadying. He is the anchor.
He is the one who works tirelessly to provide food and clothing and a roof over our heads. He is the one who fixes the leaky faucets, the screeching vaccuum sweeper, and the door that sticks. He is the one who gets up to check on the bumps in the night.
He is the fun-loving one ; always ready to show the kids something or play with them.
He's a friend to all the kids. He's the hugger and soother for the little ones and the counsellor for the older ones.
He is the one where "the buck stops" . He is the go to man for everyone.
He is the one who leads the family prayer. He is the one who answers their questions about God.
My man, my husband, my children's Dad, is the one behind this "home-maker"! He is the one who holds me up and gets me through the day.
He's the one who encourages me when things are tough and assures me that we'll get through it.
I grocery shop. I feed him. I wash his clothes .(sometimes he even does that! ) I pick up his dirty socks. I keep the house clean. I listen when he needs to talk and I give input. I "mother" the kids.
But.....
It's the man of the house. It's him. It's the father here who provides, the food , the house ,the vehicle, the clothes,even the wash machine!
It's the Father who provides what Mom needs, materially, physically , emotionally and spiritually and to be a homemaker.
It's the Father who is the REAL homemaker!!
Thank you, heavenly Father, for a godly man!
This post is linked at Homemakers by Choice
http://www.homemakerbychoice.net/2012/06/friday-homemaking-link-up_14.html
I was thinking of the two father's in my life.
My Pop has always been ...well...just "Pop"! He was never a Dad , he was never a Father. He disliked both of those terms and for some reason neither really suits him. He was and is just "Pop"! For those that know him that explains him!
In fact growing up his own children were not the only ones that called him "Pop". Most of the other young people in the church did , also. I thought perhaps it was because we were a small church and everyone knew each other so well. But as we grew older and had friends visit from out of state and meet him for the first time, soon they all called him Pop too! When several years ago he moved from that church to a new area, everyone again, very quickly just called him ..."Pop"!
He is a one-of-a-kind person! If you ever meet him you'll never forget him.
He worked hard for his family. He worked in the woods most of my growing up years. It was hard , tiring work with hardly ever enough money to stretch far enough, but we made it!
I remember surprises in his lunch pail brought home to show us kids. I remember long winter nights of "Authors", "Aggravation", Probe"and building "Lincoln Log" houses. And stories,...always stories.
He believed in firm discipline and hard work. Many were the times as a child I thought he overdid both!
But I'm thankful for the things he taught me. Today it is just him and Mom left in their home and Pop truly is the homemaker. Mom is bedfast with ALS brought on by Lyme's disease. Pop lovingly cares for her every need! Some one of the family is alwasy there to help but Pop is really the one who does all Mom's care.I thank God for Pop!
I think of my own husband, the Father of our 9 children. Without him our home would not be a home the way it is.
He is the steadying. He is the anchor.
He is the one who works tirelessly to provide food and clothing and a roof over our heads. He is the one who fixes the leaky faucets, the screeching vaccuum sweeper, and the door that sticks. He is the one who gets up to check on the bumps in the night.
He is the fun-loving one ; always ready to show the kids something or play with them.
He's a friend to all the kids. He's the hugger and soother for the little ones and the counsellor for the older ones.
He is the one where "the buck stops" . He is the go to man for everyone.
He is the one who leads the family prayer. He is the one who answers their questions about God.
My man, my husband, my children's Dad, is the one behind this "home-maker"! He is the one who holds me up and gets me through the day.
He's the one who encourages me when things are tough and assures me that we'll get through it.
I grocery shop. I feed him. I wash his clothes .(sometimes he even does that! ) I pick up his dirty socks. I keep the house clean. I listen when he needs to talk and I give input. I "mother" the kids.
But.....
It's the man of the house. It's him. It's the father here who provides, the food , the house ,the vehicle, the clothes,even the wash machine!
It's the Father who provides what Mom needs, materially, physically , emotionally and spiritually and to be a homemaker.
It's the Father who is the REAL homemaker!!
Thank you, heavenly Father, for a godly man!
This post is linked at Homemakers by Choice
http://www.homemakerbychoice.net/2012/06/friday-homemaking-link-up_14.html
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
The Emmaus Road
Luke 24:13-35 "...two of them went...to a village called Emmaus...And they talked together of all the things which had happened....while they communed together...Jesus himself drew near and went with them...."
This is probably my favorite painting. The particular one pictured here is even more special to me because it was my Grandpa's. As a very young child I remember looking deep into it's shady quietness as it hung over my Grandpa's desk. That desk and the corner where it stood was "Grandpa's Space". As a child, that picture drew me in, not only for it's meaning, but also for the glimpse into Grandpa's heart. Why did he choose that picture for over his desk? Grandpa's been gone now for nearly 20 years. I never did ask him and I wish I would have. ...So because of Grandpa it is special to me.
It's appeal for me goes deeper than just Grandpa, though. I have always been intrigued with the story recorded in Luke and I love this depiction of it.
Last night I was looking at this again. It really made think about it in light of the timing of just celebrating the Resurrection. How must it have felt for those men, saddened and bewildered, to talk with Christ? They give us a little glimpse when they say, "Did not our hearts burn within us?" Then immediately they wanted to tell others. Walking and talking with Christ was different than the ordinary walk.
I have also pondered the question of Jesus, "What things?". A young friend made that question even more real to me, when she said that has been a comfort to her. When she is perplexed by all of life's 'things', she likes to imagine Christ asking her that question and inviting her to tell him every little thing, and putting them all into perspective.
It also brings to mind the day my , then 6 yrld, son came to me and wanted me to hear a poem he had made up. His words struck my heart because he had a difficult time with some of his speech, R's in particular, and was often teased because of it. This is what he softly said to me that day-
"On the Damascus road, that was never mowed,
I met God, and He was not odd.
We talked and talked, and I was not mocked,
On the Damascus road, that was never mowed.
His road was the "Damascus"...the men's in Luke was the "Emmaus"..we may be on just any road..and still it is the same. When He comes we do not feel Him strange and He does not make us feel uncomfortable. He just gently says, "Child,tell me about it".......When He comes, wherever we are, let's just tell Him about it... and let Him take it from there......
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Through a Window
It is finally Spring! Or...at least Spring-y enough to let me pretend it will last.
We were able to work outside today. As I was working with all the kidlins and hubby, I was reminded of a Spring-time memory that I had recorded a few years ago on my xanga. I want to share it with you!
I named it then "Through a Window". Kinda reminds me of one of my favorite book names "A Window in Thrums" by J.M. Barrie. I like the book but not really as much as I like the name. yeh, I know I'm kinda weird like that. I like Paint color names , too! :)
Anyhow let's take a peek through my window that Spring ....
I chanced to glance out the window, across the tiny stream, to the children's play area under the arbor of plum trees. An old bench sits under the lilac bush.The swing set is bedecked with a red sheet across the support bars of the seesaw. From under the sheet small bare feet and the hemline of a yellow jumper is showing. The sheet trembles......
Wait....I am looking through the window into a grand old hall, the high overhead beams of a towering cathedral ceiling frame a rich wine tapestry sweeping the marble floor of the stage. The curtain trembles....
...then is thrown aside with a dramatic flourish. Poised , there she is.... in a shimmering yellow gown of the finest taffeta with matching slippers. From my vantage point, even outside the window, I can hear the gasp of the audience. She tips her head , smiles, steps out from the curtain, down the step and bows in a dainty curtsy.
Stepping softly, she begins a slow pirouette across the stage. She is speaking now, though I can't catch all the words, I know it is an old tender ballad spoken in tones clear and low. The audience leans in to hear her every word. She is the favorite, the one whom they all have waited to see and hear.
She continues across center stage and seats herself gracefully on a tufted settee under the hanging draperies. Now the sweet low tones of the poetry give way to a song of tinkling bell-like notes. She is singing. Again the people hang on every note....she finishes the song with one last flutelike note....
The spell is broken.... my small barefoot daughter rises from the bench, all make-believe gone and slowly crosses the old bridge across the little stream toward the house. I let out my breath and sigh... then smile..
Oh, for the imagination of a child once again.... for the ability to turn the ordinary in to the extra ordinary....to take a swing, an old sheet , a grassy spot.....and turn it into a place of beauty and grandeur.....fit for royalty!!!
... Or to take a mop, a tea towel, a livingroom carpet.... and turn it into a place of beauty and peace fit for royalty ... my husband, my children.....
... Oh, for the faith to see that I must take my sin stained heart....my weary spirit... my unworthy soul and give it to the One that can turn it into ROYALTY!!!
Lord, give me the heart of a child , able always to see the beauty in the ordinary and imagine the impossible....
We were able to work outside today. As I was working with all the kidlins and hubby, I was reminded of a Spring-time memory that I had recorded a few years ago on my xanga. I want to share it with you!
I named it then "Through a Window". Kinda reminds me of one of my favorite book names "A Window in Thrums" by J.M. Barrie. I like the book but not really as much as I like the name. yeh, I know I'm kinda weird like that. I like Paint color names , too! :)
Anyhow let's take a peek through my window that Spring ....
Wait....I am looking through the window into a grand old hall, the high overhead beams of a towering cathedral ceiling frame a rich wine tapestry sweeping the marble floor of the stage. The curtain trembles....
...then is thrown aside with a dramatic flourish. Poised , there she is.... in a shimmering yellow gown of the finest taffeta with matching slippers. From my vantage point, even outside the window, I can hear the gasp of the audience. She tips her head , smiles, steps out from the curtain, down the step and bows in a dainty curtsy.
Stepping softly, she begins a slow pirouette across the stage. She is speaking now, though I can't catch all the words, I know it is an old tender ballad spoken in tones clear and low. The audience leans in to hear her every word. She is the favorite, the one whom they all have waited to see and hear.
She continues across center stage and seats herself gracefully on a tufted settee under the hanging draperies. Now the sweet low tones of the poetry give way to a song of tinkling bell-like notes. She is singing. Again the people hang on every note....she finishes the song with one last flutelike note....
The spell is broken.... my small barefoot daughter rises from the bench, all make-believe gone and slowly crosses the old bridge across the little stream toward the house. I let out my breath and sigh... then smile..
Oh, for the imagination of a child once again.... for the ability to turn the ordinary in to the extra ordinary....to take a swing, an old sheet , a grassy spot.....and turn it into a place of beauty and grandeur.....fit for royalty!!!
... Or to take a mop, a tea towel, a livingroom carpet.... and turn it into a place of beauty and peace fit for royalty ... my husband, my children.....
... Oh, for the faith to see that I must take my sin stained heart....my weary spirit... my unworthy soul and give it to the One that can turn it into ROYALTY!!!
Lord, give me the heart of a child , able always to see the beauty in the ordinary and imagine the impossible....
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
"Special" Date Night :)
Yesterday afternoon when my husband and I returned home from town, our 13 yrld daughter said she and her two younger siblings wanted to make and serve supper for us.
As she worked in the kitchen, her younger siblings whispered down the hall. At the "appointed time" she told us all was ready and we should wait at the top of the stairway to the basement.
Our young waiter , in black pants, white shirt and tie , appeared and with an elaborate gesture motioned us to follow him down the stairs and into the library.
There we found an alcove formed around the library table with tablecloths and curtains. Behind the curtain was a beautifully set table with silver candlesticks and flowers. Goblets of ice water, placecards and a molded chocolate rose were at both settings. We were seated and after assuring us dinner would be served shortly, he disappeared.
Music began to play in the back ground and a pretty waitress in white ruffled cocktail apron appeared. Pointing to two small bowls , she told us to start with our appetizer and she would be back. The appetizer was apple slices and honey peanutbutter.
The kitchen overhead was full of hurried footsteps and quiet voices. Occasionally footsteps came part way down the stairs, paused and hurried back with a whispered observation.
Soon the waitress appeared with our full plates. Dinner was served. It was delicious; perfectly seasoned pork strips with green pepper and onions served over a bed of fluffy mashed potatoes and topped with a fried egg. (I'm sure this was a spinoff of a recipe older brother brought back from Thailand, usually served over rice) :)
Our waiter appeared to refill our glasses and ask if we would be wanting coffee.
We ate in privacy except for a quick "duck-in" from the waiter who smiled and said to me, "The cook wants to know if you're on a diet." (A little late for that. The plate in front of me was heaped! I assured him I was setting aside any dieting for the evening and to tell the cook the meal was delicious.)
Soon the waiter appeared to take our plates , quickly followed by the waitress with coffee.
They reappeared with Chocolate,Vanilla Ice Cream garnished with chopped peanutbutter cups , piled high in sundae glasses.
After awhile the waiter returned to take our plates .Then the cook with the waiter and waitress all came to our table while the waiter as elaborately as possible around his dancing dimple, told us "We hope you enjoyed your meal and do you have any words for the cook." :) After profusely thanking them,they prepared to leave us. The cook whispered behind her hand,to the waitress "curtsey!" She daintily obeyed and they left our alcove.
Silence ...then the waiter reappeared and told us "You can go upstairs whenever you want to". :)
We left them all a tip and exited our romantic restaurant.
Sometimes you know it's all worth it! :)
This post is linked at Raising Mighty Arrows
As she worked in the kitchen, her younger siblings whispered down the hall. At the "appointed time" she told us all was ready and we should wait at the top of the stairway to the basement.
Our young waiter , in black pants, white shirt and tie , appeared and with an elaborate gesture motioned us to follow him down the stairs and into the library.
There we found an alcove formed around the library table with tablecloths and curtains. Behind the curtain was a beautifully set table with silver candlesticks and flowers. Goblets of ice water, placecards and a molded chocolate rose were at both settings. We were seated and after assuring us dinner would be served shortly, he disappeared.
Music began to play in the back ground and a pretty waitress in white ruffled cocktail apron appeared. Pointing to two small bowls , she told us to start with our appetizer and she would be back. The appetizer was apple slices and honey peanutbutter.
The kitchen overhead was full of hurried footsteps and quiet voices. Occasionally footsteps came part way down the stairs, paused and hurried back with a whispered observation.
Soon the waitress appeared with our full plates. Dinner was served. It was delicious; perfectly seasoned pork strips with green pepper and onions served over a bed of fluffy mashed potatoes and topped with a fried egg. (I'm sure this was a spinoff of a recipe older brother brought back from Thailand, usually served over rice) :)
Our waiter appeared to refill our glasses and ask if we would be wanting coffee.
We ate in privacy except for a quick "duck-in" from the waiter who smiled and said to me, "The cook wants to know if you're on a diet." (A little late for that. The plate in front of me was heaped! I assured him I was setting aside any dieting for the evening and to tell the cook the meal was delicious.)
Soon the waiter appeared to take our plates , quickly followed by the waitress with coffee.
They reappeared with Chocolate,Vanilla Ice Cream garnished with chopped peanutbutter cups , piled high in sundae glasses.
After awhile the waiter returned to take our plates .Then the cook with the waiter and waitress all came to our table while the waiter as elaborately as possible around his dancing dimple, told us "We hope you enjoyed your meal and do you have any words for the cook." :) After profusely thanking them,they prepared to leave us. The cook whispered behind her hand,to the waitress "curtsey!" She daintily obeyed and they left our alcove.
Silence ...then the waiter reappeared and told us "You can go upstairs whenever you want to". :)
We left them all a tip and exited our romantic restaurant.
Sometimes you know it's all worth it! :)
This post is linked at Raising Mighty Arrows
Thursday, March 15, 2012
The Health Nut???
Coming from a background of great cooking and baking, delectable treats and meals from the kitchen were a requirement for any good little housewife. We were taught at a very young age to take pride in our pies and cookies. We oohed and aahed over the array at a church potluck and exchanged recipes. Every church had their "best cook". Huge, gooey, cinnamon rolls, golden crusted, pies, and perfectly browned, chocolate chip, cookies, were in our DNA. Mounds of perfectly mashed potatoes, creamy corn swimming in butter,or airy melt in your mouth pancakes were what set the "best cook" apart from the rest. This cook was known for her "to-die-for" chicken and that one for her always perfect donuts.
And then ...occasionally...there was the health nut. You could pick out their contribution to the potluck. It was that bowl of dried apples, that plate of dry mounded looking things called cookies, or that crockpot of some unidentifiable vegetable soup.
That's what "healthy" cooking was.
O, yeh , sure we all tried to fix a balanced meal: meat, starch, vegetable, fruit and...sweet! We were good cooks, you know. We take care of our families with well rounded meals three times a day.
And then...somewhere, sometime, something begins to happen. For the truly wise woman, she begins to really think about what health means and that maybe, just maybe, it is different than she always supposed. Maybe, just maybe, she shouldn't be so quick to scorn those dried up little mounds passed off as cookies!
Somewhere along the line that happened to me and I started to change our family's eating style. I started to rethink the cups and cups of white sugar in my favorite cookie recipe, the white flour in that perfect loaf of bread, the airy "nothingness" of that beautifully fried donut and the loaded carbs in those "best of the best" mashed potatoes.
BUT...I refused to believe I had to settle for dried apples and cookies that tasted like cardboard! So the process has been a loooonng one!
Recently, I've renewed the effort to provide my family with truly healthy foods and treats which also satisfy my "DNA"! :)
Articles like this one fuel the effort http://wemustknow.net/2012/03/world-renown-heart-surgeon-speaks-out-on-what-really-causes-heart-disease/
And, I'm proud to link to my daughter's new blog who is on her own journey for perfectly, delicious, good for you, cooking and baking!!!
http://mysliceofsky.blogspot.com/
Here's to happy baking and cooking to a new breed of "health nuts"!
And then ...occasionally...there was the health nut. You could pick out their contribution to the potluck. It was that bowl of dried apples, that plate of dry mounded looking things called cookies, or that crockpot of some unidentifiable vegetable soup.
That's what "healthy" cooking was.
O, yeh , sure we all tried to fix a balanced meal: meat, starch, vegetable, fruit and...sweet! We were good cooks, you know. We take care of our families with well rounded meals three times a day.
And then...somewhere, sometime, something begins to happen. For the truly wise woman, she begins to really think about what health means and that maybe, just maybe, it is different than she always supposed. Maybe, just maybe, she shouldn't be so quick to scorn those dried up little mounds passed off as cookies!
Somewhere along the line that happened to me and I started to change our family's eating style. I started to rethink the cups and cups of white sugar in my favorite cookie recipe, the white flour in that perfect loaf of bread, the airy "nothingness" of that beautifully fried donut and the loaded carbs in those "best of the best" mashed potatoes.
BUT...I refused to believe I had to settle for dried apples and cookies that tasted like cardboard! So the process has been a loooonng one!
Recently, I've renewed the effort to provide my family with truly healthy foods and treats which also satisfy my "DNA"! :)
Articles like this one fuel the effort http://wemustknow.net/2012/03/world-renown-heart-surgeon-speaks-out-on-what-really-causes-heart-disease/
And, I'm proud to link to my daughter's new blog who is on her own journey for perfectly, delicious, good for you, cooking and baking!!!
http://mysliceofsky.blogspot.com/
Here's to happy baking and cooking to a new breed of "health nuts"!
Monday, March 5, 2012
My Jesus Knows Just What I Need
My sister related a precious story to me that happened Saturday evening at my Mom's.
My Mom was "diagnosed" over 6 yrs ago with an incurable, terminal, motor neuron problem of undetermined cause or name. Within the last year we have come to understand that it was most likely Lyme disease left untreated. They began to call it Lou Gehrigs a year ago.
About 3 yrs ago she lost her ability to communicate verbally and this past summer became unable to type or write or eat.
She has been bedridden for the last few months.
In the Spring of 2011 Drs. told us to expect her to be gone by Fall '11, then changed it to Christmas, then said she could not make it to her 70th birthday Feb 20, 2012.
The process has been long, drawn out, and full of challenges, difficulties and emotions. One of the hardest to deal with has been the difficulty of communciation, expecially because it is evident that her mind and ability to comprehend has been largely unaffected.
She is no longer able to make any signs except occasionally to wiggle her toe in answer to a question.
My Dad does most of her care. Hospice nurses and we, children and grandchildren take up the extra. Someone of the family is there all the time.
This past weekend 5 of my siblings, and several of the in-laws and grandchildren were there. My niece who lives about 450 miles away wanted to show Grandma her new baby and the others had various other reasons.
Saturday evening as they sat and visited around Mom's bed , she became increasingly agitated , trying to communicate something to them. They tried and tried but were unable to determine what it was. My dad finally gave up in weariness as my sisters still struggled to understand.
It was then that my 13yrld nephew stepped over quietly to his Mom and asked if he could sing a song for Grandma. When he was told to go ahead, he slipped from the room to where the shelf where Mom's hymnals are kept and returned with it open to his selection. He stepped to the side of Grandma's bed and began to sing...
My Jesus knows when I am Lonely
He knows each pain, He sees each tear
He understands each lonely heartache
He understands because He cares
Chorus:
My Jesus knows just what I need
Oh yes! He knows just what I need
He satisfies and every need supplies
Yes, He knows just what I need
My Jesus knows when I am burdened
He knows how much my heart can bear
He lifts me up when I am sinking
And brings me joy beyond compare
When other friends seem to forget me
When skies are dark, when hope is gone
By faith I feel His arms around me
And hear Him say, "You're not alone"
Chorus:
My Jesus knows just what I need
Oh yes! He knows just what I need
He satisfies and every need supplies
Yes, He knows just what I need
He satisfies and every need supplies
Yes, He knows just what I need
When he began to sing, Mom quieted and long before he finished all stanzas, every adult in the room was in tears.
Yes, My Jesus knows just what I need , what anyone needs, even when know one else can understand.
A little child shall lead them.
My Mom was "diagnosed" over 6 yrs ago with an incurable, terminal, motor neuron problem of undetermined cause or name. Within the last year we have come to understand that it was most likely Lyme disease left untreated. They began to call it Lou Gehrigs a year ago.
About 3 yrs ago she lost her ability to communicate verbally and this past summer became unable to type or write or eat.
She has been bedridden for the last few months.
In the Spring of 2011 Drs. told us to expect her to be gone by Fall '11, then changed it to Christmas, then said she could not make it to her 70th birthday Feb 20, 2012.
The process has been long, drawn out, and full of challenges, difficulties and emotions. One of the hardest to deal with has been the difficulty of communciation, expecially because it is evident that her mind and ability to comprehend has been largely unaffected.
She is no longer able to make any signs except occasionally to wiggle her toe in answer to a question.
My Dad does most of her care. Hospice nurses and we, children and grandchildren take up the extra. Someone of the family is there all the time.
This past weekend 5 of my siblings, and several of the in-laws and grandchildren were there. My niece who lives about 450 miles away wanted to show Grandma her new baby and the others had various other reasons.
Saturday evening as they sat and visited around Mom's bed , she became increasingly agitated , trying to communicate something to them. They tried and tried but were unable to determine what it was. My dad finally gave up in weariness as my sisters still struggled to understand.
It was then that my 13yrld nephew stepped over quietly to his Mom and asked if he could sing a song for Grandma. When he was told to go ahead, he slipped from the room to where the shelf where Mom's hymnals are kept and returned with it open to his selection. He stepped to the side of Grandma's bed and began to sing...
My Jesus knows when I am Lonely He knows each pain, He sees each tear
He understands each lonely heartache
He understands because He cares
Chorus:
My Jesus knows just what I need
Oh yes! He knows just what I need
He satisfies and every need supplies
Yes, He knows just what I need
My Jesus knows when I am burdened
He knows how much my heart can bear
He lifts me up when I am sinking
And brings me joy beyond compare
When other friends seem to forget me
When skies are dark, when hope is gone
By faith I feel His arms around me
And hear Him say, "You're not alone"
Chorus:
My Jesus knows just what I need
Oh yes! He knows just what I need
He satisfies and every need supplies
Yes, He knows just what I need
He satisfies and every need supplies
Yes, He knows just what I need
When he began to sing, Mom quieted and long before he finished all stanzas, every adult in the room was in tears.
Yes, My Jesus knows just what I need , what anyone needs, even when know one else can understand.
A little child shall lead them.
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