"Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints." ~Psalm 116:15

That passage of Scripture has been going through my head a lot the past few days.  It first came to mind yesterday when I received an email that said that doctors had exhausted all resources, and my friend would soon die.  It again came to mind later that morning as I stood with members of her physical and spiritual families in her hospital room, and joined with them in singing hymns to her.  She knew what was happening, and although she could not speak, she smiled.  And again, that verse from Psalm 116 crossed my mind once more when I received word a few hours later that she had passed from this life.  Precious, indeed.

I never called her anything except Sister Glover, but she emailed me frequently, and would always end her emails with "Love, Mrs. G."  I first met her in the Spring of 1984 when I traveled to Florida College on my high school spring break to visit my friend who was a student there.  My friend had failed to tell her I was coming, and Sister Glover gave me a stern once over, but graciously allowed me to stay with my friend in her dorm room for the week - Sister Glover was the dorm mother there, and was greatly loved by "her girls".

Years later, when we moved to the Tyler area, I again encountered Sister Glover.  She was now living in Tyler, and was a member of the Rice Road church, where we placed our membership.  She quickly endeared herself to our family.  I never saw Sister Glover without a smile on her face.  She always seemed genuinely glad to see me, and would always hold my hand as we visited - always.

Sister Glover was a "there you are" type of person - always interested in YOU, and what was going on in your life.  She loved my children, and had a "tea party" for the preteen girls one time that my girls greatly enjoyed.  She would also write and mail them letters once every few weeks, which she titled "letters from Grandmother."  They were words of wisdom, exhorting and encouraging my daughters to follow after God in their youth.  It touched me that she would take the time to do that, and it also impressed me that she sent those letters to my girls individually - - so often they would get lumped together as one entity called "the twins," but Sister Glover never did that.  She was also quite fond of Caleb, and would often make me laugh in recent years as she would tell me she saw this or that which Caleb had posted on Facebook - she would usually say something like, "I saw Caleb's post - but, honey, I just didn't understand it!"  Smiling all the while.

Her life was not easy.  She shared with me some difficult trials she faced as a young girl - things which would have caused many young women to give up.  But not Sister Glover.  During her middle-aged years, she suffered the tragic loss of her husband and one of her sons in a car accident, in which she was severely injured - an injury that affected her for the rest of her life.  But, again, she worked through her loss, and found ways to lovingly serve and give to others, with a heart full of joy.

Personally, Sister Glover encouraged me as a wife and mother to stay devoted to those tasks.  She encouraged me to take an active role in teaching the younger women, and she would tell me, "Honey, you can relate better to them than I can, because you are closer to their age."  Every year on my birthday, she would tell me that her mother had also been born on that day, and that made my birthday even more special, she would say.

I was special to Sister Glover.  She told me so often.  I can still see and hear her, as she would hold my hand and in her smiling, sweet, quiet demeanor say, "You're special to me, and I love you!"  But, I'm not the only one.  You see, Sister Glover had the unique ability to make everyone she encountered feel loved and special.  She even created a Facebook group called "Special" - I looked at it earlier today, and she had added 70 people to that group.  People were special to her, especially God's people.

The last conversation I had with her was about this blog.  Last week she came to me and said, "Honey, I didn't know you had a blog until just the other day!  Why didn't you tell me?"  And then she went on to ask me why I didn't write more often, and said she would be waiting for my next entry.  She didn't know (nor did I) that I would feel compelled to write about her in that entry, and she certainly didn't know she wouldn't be here to read it.  But, that's ok, because she's in a much better place right now.

I'm convinced that yesterday afternoon, the angels carried the precious soul of Chris Glover to Abraham's bosom as they did the beggar in Luke 16.  Sister Glover embodied the life of a woman wholly dedicated to serving God.  As I think of her, I think of such passages as Proverbs 31:30 - "Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the Lord shall be praised."  I also think of Titus 2:3-5, which states, "the older women likewise, that they be reverent in behavior, not slanderers, not given to much wine, teachers of good things—  that they admonish the young women to love their husbands, to love their children,  to be discreet, chaste, homemakers, good, obedient to their own husbands, that the word of God may not be blasphemed."  Sister Glover was that, and did that.  And I also think of Acts 9:36-43, where the disciples were grieving the death of Dorcas who "was always doing good, and helping the poor."  We, too, grieve for ourselves, who will miss our dear, sweet, sister in Christ.  Our "Dorcas," who never quit loving, serving, and doing good.

But thankfully, because of God's grace, we won't have to miss her forever.  "But I do not want you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning those who have fallen asleep, lest you sorrow as others who have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so God will bring with Him those who sleep in Jesus"  (1 Thess. 4:13-14).  I'll see her again.  And it makes me smile to think she'll greet me again one day with that sweet smile, as she takes my hand, and says, "Oh, honey, it's so good to see you here!"

“Don't judge a man until you have walked two moons in his moccasins.” ~Sharon Creech, Walk Two Moons

As our children were growing up, we read books out loud to them every night at bedtime.  We covered a wide range of works, from the Little House series, to the Chronicles of Narnia, and other classics like Winnie the Pooh, and Charlotte's Web.  I always enjoyed these readings, especially the underlying life messages in these books that are often lost on children.

One of the books we read which had the greatest impact on me was "Walk Two Moons" by Sharon Creech.  I've recently begun to re-read this Newberry Medal winner.  Several quotes occur in the novel which have profound meaning - things like, "Everyone has their own agenda;"  "In the course of a lifetime, what does it matter?"  "You can't keep the birds of sadness from flying over your head, but you can keep them from nesting in your hair;"  and "We never know the worth of water until the well is dry."  But perhaps the most important quote in the book is its title:

"Never judge a man until you have walked two moons in his moccasins."

While reading the book through the first time with our girls, I did just that with one of the main characters - I judged.  Even while reading that phrase repeatedly in the book, I was quite certain I would NEVER do what Sal's mother had done.  Then I got to the end of the book, and realized that I had judged wrongly.  Why?  Because I didn't have ALL of the facts.  I didn't know the details.  I had not walked in her moccasins.  And all of that led me to view Sal's mother in a way that was wrong, and a great injustice to her.

I've been thinking about this a lot lately, and I recently saw this video in a friend's Facebook post which further reinforces the problem which I believe we all struggle with to some degree:

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

We see others, and we judge.  We might look at the way they handle a trial in their lives - something we've never gone through ourselves - and we think of all kinds of reasons why WE think they aren't handling it well.  We can list the things they should do to deal with it better - and we don't understand why they do (or don't do) certain things they way they do.  We might even offer advice, thinking we are "helping" them.  Even though we've never "walked in their moccasins."

We are also sometimes quick to judge the attitudes and motives of others, even when we don't know what is going on in their lives.  Like the video shows, everyone is dealing with something.  Maybe that clerk in the store was rude to me because they have just lost someone close to them.  Or maybe the quiet person who we view as "unfriendly" is dealing with a disease we know nothing about - they may not be "snobbish" at all.  In fact, they might just need someone to reach out to them in a loving way.

I think we've all probably been on both ends of this spectrum - Perhaps you are dealing with something difficult, and no one really understands because they haven't been where you are.  Or maybe you are looking at someone else and assigning motives that simply aren't accurate, because you don't know the details of their heartache.  In both cases, we need to be patient and understanding.

Henri Nouwen wrote, "When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand.  The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares."

I hope you have you have a friend like that.  I am blessed with several.  But more importantly, I hope we can all strive a little harder to BE a friend like that.  And I hope today that we will make it our goal to be a little kinder, a little sweeter, and a little more gentle with others whose pain we might not understand or even know.  

"Between the innocence of babyhood and the dignity of manhood, we find a delightful creature of a boy." ~Author unknown

February 5, 1993 was a cloudy, cold day, which began quite early for me.  I had to be to Presbyterian Hospital in Dallas at 7 a.m. to get prepped for my C-section.  Jeff and I made our way there, leaving my mother with our two-year-old twins.  I still vividly remember all of the feelings I had that morning on the way to the hospital - excitement (would this baby be a boy or a girl?), trepidation (how am I going to take care of a newborn with two-year old twins?), and overwhelming thankfulness (God is so good!).  At 9:53 a.m., Dr. Weinstein held up a pudgy, black-haired, 8 lb 1 oz. baby, and exclaimed, "It's a boy!!"  And our lives haven't been the same since!

From his earliest days, Caleb was an extrovert born into a family of introverts.  He never met a stranger.  Ever.  This was quite a change for me from his sisters who were timid and scared of everyone.  He would talk to people in the library, in the grocery store, and would even try to engage the men serving the Lord's supper in conversation as they passed us the trays.  When his sisters were in first grade, he would go with me to pick them up from school in the afternoons - he quickly formed friendships with the aides who helped the car riders each day.  He called Mrs. Powers "My Lady," and Mrs. Richards, "My Friend."  And the remarkable thing about Caleb is that he maintained those friendships - he still keeps in touch with both of these ladies today.  

In a diary I kept of Caleb's childhood, I often noted how polite and thoughtful he was as a youngster.  For example, one day he told his preschool teacher, "You look beautiful today," followed by, "Where did you get that dress?"  I also recorded how at the age of 4, he would often pull out chairs at the supper table for his sisters.  

Caleb also had a vivid imagination as a youngster.  He had all kinds of imaginary friends - the most memorable was his imaginary grandfather who had red hair and a red beard, and lived in the mountains with Caleb's 25 brothers.  Once we asked him if his "grandfather" had a wife, and he said he used to, but she was eaten by a camel.  

In everything, Caleb has always enjoyed life to the fullest.

That "delightful creature of a boy" - my boy - gets one step closer to manhood today as he turns 21.  I am overwhelmed by the privilege and blessing that is mine to be the one that he calls "Mom."  In some ways I miss that wiggly, loud, cute little boy who used to try to put his little arm around me in church, who would cup my face with his hands and give me slobbery kisses, and who called me "Mommy."  That little boy who stood in the back of my grocery cart and loudly sang the "10 plagues song," and who, when he couldn't sleep at night would call me into his room, and when asked what was wrong would simply reply with a very animated, "Somepin!"  Yes, I miss that boy.

But what I have in place of that boy is a bigger, more mature version of the same.  That little Caleb that loved people, and was thoughtful and sensitive to the needs of others is now my Eagle Scout, Communication major, son of God, who still never meets a stranger, loves people, and makes friends wherever he goes.  That imaginative youngster who enjoyed life to the fullest is now my guitar playing, wood-burning, photography-loving, sky-diving hopeful young man, who gets great joy from going to Bucee's, building fires, and taking pictures on Kyle Field during Texas A&M football games. 

Is he perfect?  No, he's not - and he'll be the first to tell you that.  But more than anything, Caleb has a heart for service to God, and a heart that has always been tender to correction and instruction.  "I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth" (3 John 4).  My greatest joy as Caleb's mother is seeing him growing into a man of God.  The most humbling thought I have ever entertained as a mother is that these 3 precious souls who entered this world as a result of the choices their father and I made, will live eternally.  How thankful I am that all 3 have chosen to serve the Lord.

Happy Birthday, Buddy Boy!  Thank you for bringing such joy and fun to our family - we would be a pretty boring bunch without you!  I can't wait to see what you do with the rest of your life as you continue to serve others with God as your center and focus.  "I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living my baby you'll be."