“A letter always seemed to me like immortality because it is the mind alone without corporeal friend.” ~Emily Dickinson

My father passed away 10 years ago, and out of all the things of his I now have in my possession, the ones I treasure most are the few that contain his handwritten words.  I have one short letter he wrote to me in 1993, and I ran across it the other day.  He wrote it to include with some magazines I had asked to borrow as I prepared to teach a class.  He ended it with the words, "I am proud of you....  Love, Pop."

My daddy often told me throughout my life that he was proud of me, so it's not like this was the only confirmation I ever had of that fact.  But it is special to me, because while he is no longer here to say those words, this handwritten note reminds me.  It's a part of him, and a part of us - father and daughter.  Additionally, I am blessed to have some letters my daddy wrote to his parents while he was in college, and even a note he wrote to his grandparents when he was only 7 years old, telling them how much fun he had with them the previous day on a trip to Mineola, and how good the peas and corn were - he signed it with simple print as "Bobby Meadows." I love those glimpses I have into his life before me, as written by his own hand. 

It's not just letters.  I also have a book I gave to my daddy a few years before he died, in which he wrote an inscription that stated he wanted me to someday have that book.  I have his study Bible, which he used to teach Bible classes.  It includes copious handwritten notes.  When I'm preparing to teach a class, or whenever I'm doing some study on my own, I always go to Daddy's notes - it's the next best thing to asking him what he thought about a particular passage.  

After finding Daddy's notes, I also found several letters from my Granny.  Most of Granny's letters were about the weather, or about happenings with different relatives - nothing very deep.  But I treasure them, because they give me a piece of her, even though she's gone now.  And those letters remind me of the special grandmother/granddaughter relationship we shared, as they are all signed, "Love, Granny."  She wrote out a couple of recipes to me by hand - I also treasure these more than anything that she might have copied or printed for me.  Why?  Because they are in her own, unique handwriting.  

In 1927, my granny's older sister, Ruth, died in childbirth at the young age of 19.  Granny was only 10 years old at the time, but they had two brothers who were older than Ruth - Bryan and Edgar.  I have a handwritten letter that someone named Viola wrote to the brothers expressing her sorrow and sympathy.  It is three pages long, and contains such phrases as, "I know gladness seems impossible, but the One who took Ruth from you can also heal your broken hearts."  "Just try vision Ruth in her heavenly happiness.  I seem to see her, and I only pray that the rest of us, when our time comes, will meet it as readily and as bravely as Ruth..."  She ends the letter with, "Hoping that the depths of sorrow will soon be banished, I send my love to all."  While we might be good about picking up a Hallmark sympathy card and signing it to send to a bereaved friend, few of us would be able to pen such a rich, comforting letter. 

While I greatly treasure those writings from my family who are no longer here, I also have other letters from those who still share in my life.  I have a box full of letters that Jeff and I wrote to each other during our dating years, and other boxes full of letters from dear friends.  I never throw a handwritten letter away.  And as I perused those boxes earlier this week, I was able to relive many wonderful memories, all of them shared in familiar handwriting by some of the people I love most in this world.  A little piece of them.  A reminder of "us" - of the unique relationships I have with each of them.  I love that.

There's something special about going to the mailbox, and finding a hand-addressed envelope, and opening that to reveal a hand-written letter.  Everyone's script is as unique as their voice.  Some pages might be marked by a coffee stain, or the characteristic smudge of a lefty script.  Some will have misspelled words, or unique phrases used only by the writer.  Phyllis Theroux wrote, "To send a letter is a good way to go somewhere without moving anything but your heart," and in the handwritten letter of a friend, you can see, hold, and feel a piece of their heart - not just once, but as often as you pick it back up and read it again. Unfortunately, with the technological advances in our society today, people just don't write letters as much.  We have email, text messages, phone calls, and Skype - who needs (or has time) to write a letter?  And stamps are so expensive!

After finding and re-reading the letters I have mentioned here, I am sad for our generation as well as future ones who won't have those bits and pieces of their loved ones.  As for me, I am armed with a new box of stationery, and will do my part to bring back handwritten letters - my goal is to write at least one each week this year.  I hope you'll join me - I guarantee you it will make someone smile!

"We will open the book. Its pages are blank. We are going to put words on them ourselves. The book is called Opportunity and its first chapter is New Year's Day." ~Edith Lovejoy Pierce

We've just come through my favorite time of year - Thanksgiving through New Year's.  It's a time filled with family, friends, nostalgia, tradition, lots of food, and the chance to reconnect with far-away friends we seldom hear from through Christmas cards that arrive in our mailboxes.

In November, many people are more mindful of God's blessings.  As a result, we get to enjoy "30 days of thankfulness" posts on Facebook.  We make a focused effort to be more thankful for the little things. We think about it more  - - interestingly, our word THANK comes from the same etymological root as THINK.  Makes sense, doesn't it?  If we take time to THINK, we will be THANKFUL, and the opposite of that is true as well.  Those who are thankless just don't think!

As November moves into December, we begin preparing for Christmas.  We buy or make gifts for those we love most, and we find ways to show our appreciation to those who are important in our lives.  We participate in long-held family traditions, which strengthen bonds and keep us close.  We remember traditions that perhaps were a part of our childhood, and as a result, we think about those who have passed on more vividly during the holiday time.  We make new memories, share more hugs, and just generally feel more cheerful.  People are nicer, and more helpful.  We hear of more random acts of kindness, and people tend to do and give in more charitable ways during December.  I was the recipient of a random act of kindness at the grocery store one day a few weeks ago.  With my cart full of a week's supply of groceries, the lady in front of me prepaid the store clerk $10 toward my groceries.   She left the store before I even knew about it.  That made an impression on me, and made me feel good the rest of the day.

The holiday time has officially passed - today is January 2.  What now?  Norman Wesley Brooks wrote:  "Christmas is forever, not just for one day; for loving, sharing, giving, are not to put away like bells and lights and tinsel, in some box upon a shelf.  The good you do for others is good you do yourself."  What if we could keep the attitude of thankfulness that pervades November throughout the entire year?  And what if we could maintain the fervor of December giving - our love, time, and service to others - through the next 12 months?

This morning I opened up my brand new planner with 2014 stamped on the front.  It's pages are crisp and unwritten on; and the year, likewise, stands before me yet unused and unsullied by last year's crinkles and smudges.  This year, I will work on keeping the holiday spirit throughout my year, which really is a Biblical concept...

I will give THANKS each day for God, and for what He has done, and continues to do for me...
"Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good.  For His steadfast love endures forever." ~Psalm 136:1

I will give THANKS for the blessing of each new day...
"This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it."  ~Psalm 118:24

I will THANK God for every good thing that comes my way in 2014...
"Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights..." ~James 1:17

And likewise, I will THANK Him for every circumstance of life, even if it doesn't necessarily seem "good" to me...
"Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you."  ~1 Thess. 5:18

I will also be prayerfully THANKFUL each day for the people in my life...
"I do not cease to give thanks for you, remembering you in my prayers..."  ~Ephesians 1:16

I will do everything I can to serve and love and give to others...
"In all things I have shown you that by working hard in this way we must help the weak and remember the words of the Lord Jesus, how he himself said, ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive.’” ~Acts 20:35

"For you were called to freedom, brothers. Only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another. For the whole law is fulfilled in one word: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” ~Galatians 5:13-14

"When he had washed their feet and put on his outer garments and resumed his place, he said to them, “Do you understand what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord, and you are right, for so I am. If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet."  ~John 13:12-13

"So if there is any encouragement in Christ, any comfort from love, any participation in the Spirit, any affection and sympathy, complete my joy by being of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. Do nothing from rivalry or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others." ~Phillipians 2:1-11

All of which can pretty much be summed up by this...
"Let love be genuine. Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good. Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor. Do not be slothful in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints and seek to show hospitality."  ~Romans 12:9-13

If you know me, I hope you will hold me to it . . . and maybe even join me.  Let's keep this "holiday" spirit going the whole year through!

“Old as she was, she still missed her daddy sometimes.” ~Gloria Naylor

2003 was quite a year.  The space shuttle Columbia crashed in February of that year upon re-entry, with pieces of debris scattered all over East Texas.  In March, the US launched war on Iraq.  SARS ravaged 32 countries around the world, and in August a major blackout affected New York City for 29 hours.  Elizabeth Smart was found alive - 9 months after she was kidnapped, American Idol was the most popular TV show, and John Ritter died suddenly at the age of 54. 

While all of those are events that the world remembers, one major event occurred in my life in October of that year which impacted me personally more than any of those things …

For me, October 6, 2003 was a day much like any other.  It was a Monday, and I spent the day cleaning house, and doing laundry.  We were having a gospel meeting that week, so my focus was on making sure I was organized enough to facilitate evening meals, the kids’ homework schedules, getting us ready and to services on time, and getting the kids to bed at a reasonable hour.  The girls were in 7^th grade, had just turned 13, and were heavily involved in school activities and band.  Caleb was 10, in 5^th grade, and loving life in Mrs. Letsinger’s class.  It was just a typical Monday of a gospel meeting week, or at least that’s what I thought…

We attended the meeting that evening, and returned home to find several messages on our answering machine from my brother, asking me to call him as soon as possible.  I immediately returned his call, and I will never forget that conversation.  He told me that our father had been in an accident.  I asked what happened, and he told me that Daddy had apparently fallen out of his deer stand.  Thinking that he was probably injured, I next asked if he was at home, or in one of the local hospitals.  The answer I received was totally unexpected . . .   My brother’s word-for-word answer to that question is forever burned into my memory.  Todd simply said, “He’s apparently been dead for quite some time.”

The plans of my week took a sudden change with those words.  I spent the week at my mother’s house, and instead of school, meal prep, homework help, and gospel meeting attendance, my time was filled with funeral planning, choosing a casket, picking out burial clothes, speaking with a coroner, and receiving endless hugs of comfort.  I can still vividly remember the events of each day of that week, and the feelings associated with them.  It was to date the worst week of my life.

A lot has happened in the ensuing 10 years.  Our kids are grown, the girls have graduated from college, and Sarah is married.  We’ve added on to our house, drive a different vehicle, and have taken several family vacations.  Others in my life have joined my Daddy in that home of the soul, including his mother, his cousin, and several of his friends.  My mother has remarried, and the tiny camellia bush given to us in my Dad’s memory has grown quite large in our backyard.  All of these things signify how life goes on. 

I have found over the past 10 years that time is a wonderful healer.  Yes, I still miss my daddy, but I remember him more often with smiles now than with tears.  I miss talking to him and seeking his wisdom and advice.  I miss his laugh, his hugs, and the special and unique love that a father has for his only daughter.  Those things are irreplaceable, and the void will always be felt.  I have missed him most profoundly at those life changing times, like when Caleb was baptized, when my Granny (his mother) passed away, or when any of my children have accomplished something significant in their young lives.  I especially miss the way he loved my children.  I thought about him a lot this past summer, when his granddaughters received degrees from Texas A&M University – he would’ve been so proud.  He was also silently tucked, but prominent in my thoughts at Sarah’s wedding.  Her ring bearer carried Daddy’s Bible – no notice was taken of that by most of the people who were there, but those of us who knew and loved my Daddy noticed – and remembered him, wishing he could’ve been there. 

Shortly after Daddy’s death, a dear friend pointed out to me that my deep grief was really a blessing – she told me that the reason I hurt so much was because I had loved so much, which spoke to the strength of our relationship.  She was right.   I am forever thankful for the blessing I had to have such a wonderful daddy for 37 years.  He shaped my life.  He taught me to love God.  Because of that, I have the hope of seeing him again in a place where there will be no more parting or sorrow.  What more could a daughter ask for in a daddy? 

And so this week, I think about him more than most weeks.  And I also think about death, which is good for all of us to do.  My daddy had no knowledge when he awoke perfectly healthy on the morning of October 6, 2003 that he would be dead before noon.  Think about that.  Could you be dead before noon today?  Could I?  We tend to shrug at the thought of that, don’t we?  Sure, we could, but we probably won’t, so what do we do?  We live each day like we have the promise of tomorrow, when  in reality we don’t even have the promise of the next minute. 

“Now listen, you who say, ‘Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.’  You do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.  Instead, you ought to say, ‘If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that.’  As it is, you boast in your arrogant schemes. All such boasting is evil.  If anyone, then, knows the good they ought to do and doesn’t do it, it is sin for them.”  (James 4:13-17)  Wouldn’t the world be a better place if we all lived every single day with the attitude that we might be dead before noon?  What better honor could I give to my Daddy – and to my Heavenly Father – than to do just that. 

“I have his cup, my Daddy’s cup, cracked and worn across the rim.  His favorite book – the Book of books, whose pages now are dim.  You could not buy them from me with all the world’s most precious gems; But I would gladly give them all for one more day with him.” ~D. Morgan

"All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another." ~Anatole France

Change.  A little word that is defined as: "to make the form, nature, content, future course, etc., of something different from what it is or from what it would be if left alone."  Back in the 1600's, a French philosopher rightly judged that "the only thing constant is change."

This week I have watched and listened as many parents prepared for the change that always comes in late August with the beginning of a new school year.  Like most parents, when our children began school and embarked upon that great journey that starts with Kindergarten, I felt a wistful sadness.  I remember taking our girls to school that first day, and how I cried as I left them there.  I expected that.  But what surprised me was the way I felt EVERY first day of school for the years that followed - even this week as my youngest began  his Junior year of college - that wistful sadness is still there.  No, it's not with the same fervor or anxiety that I felt that first time way back in 1996, but it's still there . . . . Why?  Because it is a tangible reminder of change.  A solid marker on the timeline of my life that time is marching on, and my children are growing up.

When our kids have reached those major mile markers of growth and change in their lives, I have tried to prepare myself.  Everyone tells you of the difficulties that come to your heart when you send them to school for the first time, let them go to their first sleepover, leave them for the first time at camp, watch them get behind the wheel of a car and drive themselves somewhere, celebrate their graduation from high school, and leave them at college.  And while all of that is true, and each of those events gives a palpable reminder of their growth away from us, one thing was always certain.  They would always be back.  Even with the college experience, this was home.  Their bedrooms always waited, unchanged.  Even if it was only summertime or winter break, the dirty dishes, piles of laundry, and late night laughter was a certainty.  A touchstone.  A constant in the midst of change.

Two months ago, our oldest changed her name, changed her life path, and forever changed her address.  Yes, that change is good, and we celebrated as she joined herself to a good man in marriage.  We gained a son whom we dearly love.  I did not cry at the wedding.  What was there to cry about?  My child was happy, and she was marrying someone who will help her go to heaven.  What more could a mother want?  But something hit me the week after the wedding when I went into her empty bedroom.  With all of the changes I had mentally and emotionally prepared myself for throughout this journey of parenthood, the hardest slap of reality came that day, when I realized that she's never coming "home" again.  You know, the change of address part.  Permanent.  Yes, she'll come back, in fact, she already has!  But she'll never live here again.  Her room here will no longer house her characteristic messiness, and summer mornings will never again consistently find her sitting in her pajamas at our kitchen table, sipping coffee and reading her Spanish Bible.

Tomorrow that slap of reality will hit me again when Daughter #2 begins her new stage of life in a different city, with a new permanent address, a big girl job, and a life on her own.  We are currently in the midst of shopping, list making, packing, etc., as we prepare for tomorrow's big move.  It is a good change for her; she will be using that Texas A&M degree in a job she has already tasted through last spring's internship, and one that she loves.  She will be in her element - helping children and their parents improve their lives.  She will make a difference in this world.  And yes, she will be back.  But never in the same way.  Her change of address will be permanent as well.  No longer will we sit down to dinner every evening to hear her ask, "Is anyone else cold?" or see her wrapped in a blanket in the living room on a summer day when the outside temperature is 105.  It's the daily interaction, her hilarious sarcasm, the goodnight kisses, and the "what's for supper?" questions I will miss the most.

But with the melancholy that comes as our two oldest leave the nest for good, there is also a deep joy and thankfulness.  So many parents today are grieved by their children's choices - something I have never experienced.  These two (actually, all three) first and foremost have their own faith, and their own individual relationships with our Heavenly Father.  They are godly young ladies who have much to offer this world, and what a blessing that they are forging out on their own, in new places, to be an influence and make an impact for good - and for God.  So next week as I set two plates at our dinner table, and that melancholy begins to set in, I will remember that.  And I will look forward to those times when I can joyfully set six plates at the table and our home is filled with their laughter and enthusiasm once again when they all come home to visit.

Elizabeth Stone once wrote, "Making the decision to have a child - it is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body."  Beginning tomorrow, my heart will be walking around in Dallas, Houston, and College Station simultaneously.  If you happen to bump into it in one of those places, be kind and gentle with it.  It might could even use a hug.

"The eskimos had fifty-two names for snow because it was important to them: there ought to be as many for love." ~Margaret Atwood

The post below is something I wrote last February, and found it in my drafts folder this morning.  I'm not sure why I didn't post it then.  It was a good reminder for me as I re-read it today, and I thought it was worth sharing . . . 

On Thursday I stopped by a local pharmacy to pick up a few items we needed before I headed to the grocery store.  As I pulled into the CVS parking lot, I was surprised by the noticeable crowd of cars on an unremarkable Thursday morning.  What could be drawing that many people to CVS on a sunny mid-February day?  When I walked into the store, the answer to my question became apparent as I saw a line of people at the check-out.  Each one had red and pink greeting cards, boxes of candy, flowers, balloons, or stuffed animals in hand.  It was Valentine's Day, and the people waiting in line to pay for their purchases had waited until the last minute to buy tokens of their affection.  I finished at CVS and moved on to Brookshire's, where I witnessed the same thing.  Not only were people inside the store snatching up chocolate and flowers, but Brookshire's even had a huge tent set up outside in the parking lot to make the last-minute purchases more convenient.

As I stood in check-out lines at these two different stores behind people making their Valentine's Day purchases, I wondered what their stories were.  Each of them cared enough about someone in their life to go to the store, make a decision, and spend their money.  Some were no doubt happy to part with their cash, and looked forward to seeing the look of thanksgiving on the face of their beloved when their love token was received later that day.  Others may have simply been making a purchase out of a feeling of obligation.  And as I stood there, I wondered - do these people here making purchases to express their love on this holiday show their love in other ways every other day of the year?  I sure hope so.

Later in the afternoon, I drove to a neighboring town to attend a funeral.  The mother of one of my dearest friends passed away on Monday afternoon following a long, difficult battle with cancer.  No mention was made of the fact that it was Valentine's Day, but plenty of love was remembered and shown.  The son-in-law of the deceased spoke of his love for his mother-in-law.  He read Proverbs 31, spoke of how her life exemplified those qualities found there, and how she actively loved her family every single day.  Her four grown daughters, who all live in different states, exemplified their love, honor, and dedication to their mother in the last four years (yes, I said YEARS), as they rotated visits to make sure their mother was cared for continually.  I witnessed grandchildren who wept, knowing that a major influence in their lives was now gone.  And, I observed and shared in hugs given to express comfort and love that can not be adequately conveyed in any other way.

As I drove home, I thought about how superficial Valentine's Day can be in contrast to what I had just experienced.  Many years ago, the writer of Ecclesiastes said, "It is better to go to the house of mourning than to the house of feasting, for this is the end of all mankind, and the living will lay it to heart."  No truer words were ever spoken.  When my body is lying in a casket at the front of a chapel, and my family and friends gather to remember my life, I doubt any mention will be made of what I did or didn't do on Valentine's Day.  Instead, I hope they will remember that I actively loved them every single day of every single year - a love that grew out of my love and relationship with the Author of love, who showed us the ultimate act of agape in giving His Son on a cross.

"So now faith, hope and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love."  ~1 Corinthians 13:13

“Children are not casual guests in our home. They have been loaned to us temporarily for the purpose of loving them and instilling a foundation of values on which their future lives will be built.” Dr. James C. Dobson

While doing my daily Bible reading last week, I perused 1 Kings chapter 1, where we have the account of David's failing health, and the beginning of Solomon's rule.  But before Solomon began to rule, his brother Adonijah attempted a coup, and set himself up as king.  His "rule" didn't last long - once Bathsheba and Nathan got wind of what was going on, they informed King David, and he quickly took care of the matter.  Adonijah initially received mercy from Solomon by submitting to him, but that reprieve was short-lived.  In Chapter 2, Adonijah requested to be given Abishag as a wife.  Solomon viewed this as a conspiratorial move, and he had Adonijah executed.

As I read this inspired historical narrative, 1 Kings 1:6 jumped off the page at me, where the writer inserted a parenthetical statement about Adonijah that reads:  "His father had never interfered with him by asking, 'Why do you behave as you do?'"  Other versions say his father never "rebuked" or "displeased" him.  The inspired word basically tells us that throughout Adonijah's life, David never took an opportunity to correct, discipline, or train him when he saw something amiss.  I think David must have initially had good intentions of raising Adonijah according to the will of God, as evidenced by the name he gave to him - Adonijah literally means, "Yahweh is my Master."  But at some point, David became lax in his instruction, and according to this verse under consideration, it must have been early in his son's life, since it states David "never" interfered...

Throughout the Bible, we are reminded of how important it is for parents to teach their children to serve and honor God.  As Moses was giving final instructions to the Israelites as they prepared to cross into the Promised Land, he tells them in Deuteronomy 6 to remember the words he had given them and to "teach them diligently to your children ... when you sit in your house, when you walk by the way, when you lie down, and when you rise up."  Somewhere along the way, David failed in that.  Not only David, but before him, a whole generation of Israelites.  By the time we get to Judges 2, we read, "And there arose a generation after them who did not know the Lord or the work that He had done for Israel."  Why?  Because parents failed to teach their children.  The remainder of the Old Testament shows us what happened to God's people as a result.  And it was tragic.

We have a similar instruction given to us in the New Testament.  Paul wrote to the Ephesians that fathers are to bring up their children in the training and admonition of the Lord.  So how are we doing as God's people in this generation in fulfilling our responsibilities before God as parents?  Are we raising a "generation that does not know the Lord?"

As I look around today, I see many Christian parents who are working hard, day in and day out, to teach their children about God.  They prayerfully and diligently strive to impart a love for God, and a knowledge of His word in the hearts of their little ones.  Their primary focus in life is to make sure they equip their children to serve God.  They fulfill the command that Moses gave the Israelites so long ago, as they use every opportunity throughout each day to incorporate teaching about God and His word into the fabric of their children's lives.  When faced with tough choices over the things of the world or spiritual things, they strive to keep their priorities according to God's will, and they always put the spiritual first.  What an encouraging thing to see!

However, I also see some parents who are not doing this.  In the younger Bible classes, their children come to class without any preparation.  Those same children sometimes appear bored in class, and seem more interested in discussing the latest video game than in learning about the crucified Christ.  They are given every material advantage in life, and their parents make sure they attend most of the Bible classes each week, but the emphasis in their homes is obviously on the material.  These are the children who often miss Bible class or the worship assembly because they have something more "important" to do, such as play baseball, attend a concert, or go to a sleepover.  And while parents might tell their children that God comes first, actions always speak louder than words.  I've seen it firsthand, and it scares me.  These children grow to their teenage years, and enter a high school Bible class unable to do simple tasks such as look up an Old Testament passage without using their index.  And while that may seem to some to be a minor thing, it speaks to the place God and His word have had in their lives and in their homes.  I dare say that these same young folks who cannot look up a passage of Scripture, much less quote one, are able to quote lyrics to their favorite popular songs, list the most recent baseball stats, or tell you details of their favorite celebrity's life without hesitation.  Parents, what are we doing?  What are we thinking?  What are we allowing Satan to do in our homes?

Last week, we went to a visitation at the funeral home for a 20 year old young man who died on Mother's Day of a drug overdose.  When we first hear things like that, we immediately tend to think the worst - he had a bad home life, perhaps his father was not there, or he had no parental guidance.  None of those things were true of this young man.  We had known him and his family since he was 5 years old.  He had two loving parents, who were involved in his life.  They participated in Boy Scouts, soccer, basketball, and band.  When this boy first got in with the "wrong crowd" in high school, his parents did everything they could to get help for him.  He seemed to be doing better, but on the Saturday night prior to Mother's Day, he was faced with a situation to use drugs again, and he made the wrong choice.  It cost him his life.  The saddest thing to me about the entire situation was that when we went into the funeral home that evening, rock music was playing.  His mother told me that they were having a simple graveside service the next day, and they had asked a former high school teacher of their son's to say a few words, because they "didn't really know a preacher."  He and his parents had visited in one of our worship assemblies on a Sunday evening several years ago, but spiritual things were just not important to them.  With all of the love this young man had received in his life, and the involvement of two very committed parents, the ingredient that was missing in his life was God.  How tragic.

Yes, there will be children who grow up in homes where God is honored, and where He is always put first in everything, who will choose to serve self, and will rebel against God.  And there will be a few people who grow up in homes where God is not honored, who will become humble, dedicated Christians as adults.  But those are the exceptions.

What do you want for your children?  Do you want them to have every advantage in this life, or do you want them to spend eternity in heaven with God?  Sometimes the choices will be tough.  And sometimes we will make mistakes.  But may it never be said of you or me as a parent what is recorded of David in 1 Kings 1:6.  Let's strive with every fiber of our being to raise a generation who serves the Lord with fervor.  Let's learn from the mistakes of the Israelites, and of David, so that it will not be said of our children that they are a generation "who knows not God."

"I am first and foremost me, but right after that, I am a mother. The best thing that I can ever be, is me. But the best gift that I will ever have, is being a mother.” ~C. JoyBell C.

This weekend Jeff and I will travel to College Station to attend graduation at Texas A&M University, as we watch our girls cross the stage to receive Bachelor of Science degrees - Sarah in Bilingual Elementary Education, and Becca in Community Health Education.  I'm trying to figure out where the past four years have gone . . . or where the past twenty-two years have gone, for that matter!

We embarked on this new college journey nearly four years ago, and I still vividly remember how I felt as Jeff, Caleb and I descended the stairs at the girls' new apartment that hot August afternoon in 2009, got into our car, and headed back home without them - empty.  I kept telling myself they were ready, that this was the way it is supposed to be, and that it was good that they had each other.  But I still couldn't help but feel a certain sadness.  I knew this would begin a new chapter in our lives, and that the last chapter entitled, "Our Girls' Life Under Our Roof" was forever ended.  And just like the yet un-turned pages in any book, this new chapter of "Mother of College Students" was full of unknowns.  I heard comments from well-meaning friends, who said things like, "It will never be the same," or "They will never come home again."  And while there is some truth in both of those statements, overall I tend to disagree.  It's not the same, but it's not any worse - it's just different.  And even though they don't come home every day, they DO come home, and we enjoy those times immensely.

As I look back over the chapters of the past four years, I see things that I fully expected did indeed come to fruition - like BIG tuition bills, new friendships, spiritual growth, emotional maturity, and that continued "fraying" of the kite string that I wrote about in 2009.  But I also see those unexpected plot twists I didn't quite anticipate - things such as car accidents (one involving a pedestrian - if you haven't heard that story, ask Becca sometime - it's quite a memory!), sickness (some quite serious), broken hearts, a summer for Sarah spent in Costa Rica, middle-of-the-night phone calls, a duck blocking the front door (ask Sarah about that one), and the girls living in different cities during their last semester of college due to Becca's internship.  

I could write volumes about each of our girls (and our boy as well), all of the wonderful attributes they possess, as well as their quirks and weaknesses.  I could also write forever about all of the things I have experienced as their mother these past four years - it would make for quite a novel!  But, I can sum it all up in a few sentences without going into great detail.  What I have learned during these college years is something that Sarah Strohmeyer succinctly wrote when she said, “A mother is a mother from the moment her baby is first placed in her arms until eternity. It didn't matter if her child were three, thirteen, or thirty.”  This mothering thing doesn't ever end - it just changes.  When our girls were babies, I remember thinking that it would be so much easier to be a mom when they were grown, but experience has taught me otherwise.  In a lot of ways, it becomes more difficult.  But one thing's for sure - I would not trade my role as Mother of Sarah, Rebecca and Caleb for anything in this world.  Although I am admittedly biased, they are three of the finest Christian young people I have ever known.  They are not perfect, but they love the Lord, have each developed their own faith and their own individual relationships with Him, and they are a blessing to all who are privileged to know them.  And because of them, I am blessed with having other young Christians in my life - friends of my children - who also have a passion for serving our God.  What an encouragement!  

Back in 2009 when I wrote about the girls' impending departure to College Station, I ended that with a quote from Erma Bombeck.  About raising children she wrote, " “You spend a lifetime trying to get them off the ground. You run with them until you're both breathless. They crash. They hit the rooftop. You patch and comfort, adjust and teach them. Finally they are airborne... They need more string and you keep letting it out. But with each twist of the ball of twine, there is a sadness that goes with joy. The kite becomes more distant, and you know it won't be long before that beautiful creature will snap the lifeline that binds you two together and will soar as it is meant to soar, free and alone. Only then do you know that you did your job."  Four years ago I wrote that they weren't ready to snap the lifeline; however, the fraying process had begun.  But now, that lifeline is about  to snap.  They are ready.  I have no doubt they will indeed soar.  And while the "College Life" chapter for them is about to end, my reality of being the mother of a college student will continue for a few more years, thanks to our boy - that makes me smile! 

And so, we look to the future, where the story of the lives of our girls will take on more individual volumes, as Sarah will soon become Mrs. Renz, move to Houston, become a teacher, and begin her next chapter there.  Likewise, Rebecca's story will take her fully into the adult world as a health educator in as yet an undetermined location, where she will have a lasting influence in improving the lives of children.  Such new and exciting times for both of them!  But, even with all of the changes, one thing is certain - I will always be their mother, their greatest fan, and their fiercest advocate.  As long as God gives me breath, I will be there at a moment's notice when they need me, and will always be just a phone call away for both of them.  And I will always feel the way I have felt since the early morning hours of September 21, 1990, when I held them for the first time - - overwhelmingly unworthy, but so grateful to God for the blessings they are in my life, as well as awe-struck and humbled that I was chosen to be their mother.  God truly gave me the best.