Keith had to have some fairly serious surgery last year and since he is 90% deaf, the doctor arranged for me to be in his hospital room as his caregiver 24/7.  He does read lips fairly well, but lip reading is not the perfect solution to the problem.  He must “fill in the blanks,” so to speak, as his mind tries to interpret the sounds his ears miss, which is most of them.  It takes a lot of concentration, and when he is tired or does not feel well, he simply cannot hear at all.  But over the years I have learned how to communicate in all the various ways, from hand signals to pantomime to pointing at people or things to carefully wording without overdoing the mouth movements or using too many words. 

            So for six days we were both away from home and wouldn’t you know it, it was the height of garden season.  When we came home I had to do it all because he couldn’t even lift more than 10 pounds for two months, let alone bend over to pick vegetables or drag hoses.  That first week was the worst.  I picked every morning, sprayed the whole garden twice, (we’re talking an 80 x 80 garden here), pulled cucumber vines covered with blight, chopped out and hauled away the old corn stalks, placed folded newspapers under 50 cantaloupes so they wouldn’t rot on the ground (a very thin-skinned variety), cleaned out weed-choked flower beds, put up both dill and red cinnamon pickles, and picked and tossed 8 five gallon buckets of squash and cucumbers that did not have the grace to stop growing while we were in the hospital!

            Of course we all know that is not going to happen.  The plants continue to grow, the blossoms continue to set, and the fruit grows far larger than you ever imagined it could.  The back field looked like a marching band had gone through throwing out big yellow saxophones as they passed.

            It works that way with children too.  I can think of dozens of things we planned to do with our boys when they were little—things we never got to.  Sometimes it was a case of no money, but sometimes we just let life get in the way.  I wrack my brain trying to remember if there was anything we planned that we actually accomplished at all!  But just like gardens, children keep on growing.  They don’t stop to wait until you have more time to spend with them, or more resources to spend on them.  They won’t wait till you get a bigger house or an easier job or a raise.  They won’t wait until your life is exactly like you want it.  If that’s what you are waiting for, it will never happen.  You have to set your own priorities and make it happen.

            Every summer I made my boys a chore list.  I am sure they remember it fondly!  No, probably not, but on that list was this:  “Play a game with mom.”  Guess which “chore” they never skipped?  Sometimes it was checkers, sometimes it was monopoly, sometimes it was even pinochle, a game they learned with some of their dad’s commentaries set up on the table to hide their hands because they were too small to hold all the cards at once.  Sometimes it was one of the board games I made to help them with their Bible knowledge.  And every day we had Bible study of some kind, whether just talking about things between the bean rows as we picked together or a formal sit down study. 

            These are just some ideas to help you along.  We have all heard the old poem “Children Don’t Wait.”  It’s true, and last summer I thought about that even more as I looked out over the overgrown garden.  Maybe my grandsons will reap a little from the repeat of a lesson that is never taught enough.

And he said unto them, Set your heart unto all the words which I testify unto you this day, which you shall command your children to observe to do, even all the words of this law. For it is no vain thing for you; because it is your life...Deut 32:46-47.

Dene Ward

Silas and Judah stayed with us for nearly a week this past month, and boy, do I have some tales to tell—and their ultimate lessons to share.

            The first morning we gathered up swimsuits, towels and water toys for a trip to their great-grandmother’s (“Gran-Gran”) in a subdivision with a pool at the community center.  We nabbed the pool pass off her wall and headed down the shady lane with mounting excitement only to find a sign posted on the gate to the pool:  “The pool is temporarily closed due to health concerns.”

            They did as well as they could, for a five-year-old and a two-year-old, at hiding their disappointment, but on the trip home Keith and I were desperately trying to come up with a solution.  Finally we hit upon one.  Our neighbor owns a veterinary supply business.  Many of his products come in bright blue plastic barrels slightly larger than 55 gallon drums, which he empties as he fills smaller bottles for his customers.  He often gives us the empties which we wash out and use for all sorts of things.  We happened to have two that were cut down to about two feet deep.

            Granddad rolled those tubs out to the yard in the shade of the huge live oaks on the west side of the house and filled them with water.  Then we divvied up plastic cups and water guns and plopped a little boy in each tub along with all the paraphernalia.  As children will, especially kids as bright as these, they soon had a good game or two going, and we grandparents managed to stay out of the way of most of the water, if not all of it, especially those extra long squirts from the water guns.

            Then Silas, the older boy, came up with the best game, the one that splashed the most water and got him the wettest.  He stood up as tall as he could, and to the cry of “Cowabunga!” lifted both feet in a big jump and landed on his seat in the tub.  The water displacement alone was awesome, especially for such a skinny little boy.  He usually wound up with his head barely above the water, even choking on it occasionally.  Good thing those tubs were well-washed.

            Judah adores his big brother.  If Silas does it, he does it.  If Silas says it, he says it too.  Or at least tries.  But he is not without at least some measure of caution.  I watched as he considered his brother’s maniacal call and monumental splash.  He seemed to weigh things for a moment and then finally came to a decision.  “Cowabunda!” he cried, which was a little easier to say, then jumped up in the air, landing on his feet and squatting carefully in his own little blue tub.  Even being several inches shorter, more of him stayed out of the water and the splash was much less.  He may have imitated his brother’s actions, but he had not made the same commitment.

            And that is often where our Christianity stops.  We make a good show of it, but the heart isn’t there.  When the time of sacrifice comes, when we might end up floundering in deep water, it’s asking too much.  Which is exactly what the Lord does ask for—everything.

            In those classic commitment passages of Luke 9 and 14, he makes it plain that nothing can be more important to you than he is.  Not comfort and convenience (9:57,58); not family (9:59,60; 14:20); not business (14:18); not possessions (14:19); nothing can get in the way.  Then we have one that I had a hard time figuring out.

            Yet another said, “I will follow you, Lord, but let me first say farewell to those at my home.”  Luke 9:61.  We already have several references to family relationships, especially when you add “Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me,” and the like.  Then I remembered the call of Elisha.  He too asked Elijah if he could go home and kiss his parents goodbye, and yes, Elijah allowed him to not only do that, but to prepare a feast with the very oxen he had been plowing with at his call (1 Kgs 19:19-21).  Surely Jesus was referring to this well-known bit of Jewish history when he said, “No, you cannot go home and say goodbye.”

            So perhaps it means, “I am even more important than a great prophet like Elijah,” the one most Jews considered the greatest prophet of all.  To make such an assertion was astounding, and to follow Jesus as he required meant one accepted that claim too.  Yes, Jesus asked for it all, even placing your social and religious life on the line by accepting his teaching and claims.

            You can’t dip your toes in the water and claim to be his disciple.  You have to take the plunge, even if it means landing hard and choking on the water when you do.  If you’re scared of making waves in your little blue tub of a world, chances are you have never made the commitment you should have.

And he said to all, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it.  For what does it profit a man if he gains the whole world and loses or forfeits himself? For whoever is ashamed of me and of my words, of him will the Son of Man be ashamed when he comes in his glory and the glory of the Father and of the holy angels, Luke 9:23-26.

Dene Ward

            We stayed with our young grandsons a couple of months back, and one evening two year old Judah found three small bins, about the size of the largest coffee cans these days, and summarily emptied them one by one.  Small figurines, farm animals, blocks and other toys covered the family room floor.  He stood there looking around with obvious satisfaction, lifted his hands in the air and, with a big grin on his face, proclaimed, “I made a mess!”

            Then, surprising us both, he began to pick up each and every tiny toy and place them in the back of his dump truck, the big one he can sit on and push with his feet, until every toy was off the floor.

            “What a good boy!” I exclaimed.  Naively, as it turned out because he immediately knelt before the truck and began tossing the toys over his shoulders with both hands until once again they were scattered everywhere.  Again he looked on his work with satisfaction, then began picking them up and starting over.   This must have occurred five or six times before it began to bore him, but for a while there, “Making a Mess” was the game of the hour and he was quite good at it.

            Do you know any mess makers in the church?  You know, the ones who ask questions in class that are deliberately designed to foil the teacher’s carefully laid out lesson and confuse the newcomers; the ones who enjoy starting a discussion they know will end in arguments; the ones who delight in pulling people aside, especially teachers and preachers, and “setting them straight” about some detail that doesn’t even matter; the ones who pride themselves on taking the opposing view, not because it is the right one, but because they enjoy a stir.  They might as well stand in the middle of the room with my two year old grandson and proclaim, “I made a mess.”

            What does Paul say about them?  They “quarrel about words to no profit.”  They participate in “irreverent babble.”  They engage in “foolish and ignorant controversies.”  They have “an unhealthy craving for controversy”—indeed they can hardly control themselves when they see certain subjects coming up.  That lack of self-control comes because they are “depraved in mind.”  In short, these people thrive on making messes.  They live to cause trouble.  They even brag about their tendency to do these things. 

            And why is it so bad?  Their actions “subvert souls.”  They “lead people to more and more ungodliness.”  Their foolishness “eats like a gangrene.”  It “genders strife.”  It serves only to “produce envy, dissension, slander, suspicion…and constant friction.”  It troubles the new Christians and “unsettles minds.”

            At least my two year old grandson’s activity did not hurt anyone.  It was entirely appropriate for a child his age.  What excuse does a middle-aged mess-maker have?  He might as well go play with the babies.

 

But avoid foolish controversies, genealogies, dissensions, and quarrels about the law, for they are unprofitable and worthless. As for a person who stirs up division, after warning him once and then twice, have nothing more to do with him, knowing that such a person is warped and sinful; he is self-condemned.  Titus 3:9-11

(Passages quoted in the body of the article:  1 Tim 6:4,5; 2 Tim 2:14,16,23; Acts 15:25.)

 

Dene Ward

Recently someone asked me how I keep from being depressed in my situation.  I was so shocked I stumbled a bit in my answer, finally saying, “Well it certainly wouldn’t help things, so why would I want to do that?”  I got a strange look.  I suppose most people think of “depressed” as something you are, not something you do, but that never has made sense to me.  All those books, TV shows, and movies revolving around people who fall apart after some sort of shocking revelation, never have made sense to me. So a bad thing has happened.  You know what?  The laundry still needs washing, the bills still need paying, and the dog still has an appointment at the vet for her rabies shot.  I guess I am just a little too practical.

But I remember once, many years ago, when I was unable to keep a tear from leaking out in front of my little boy.  We were preparing to move, and after several days of packing and cleaning, and saying good-bye to yet another good friend, it just got away from me.  He asked what was wrong.  

I never tried to hide things from my children.  I told them what I thought they could understand at the time they asked.  He would not have understood about the other problems of a move, but he had little friends himself that I knew he would miss, so I said, “It’s just sad to leave your friends.”

He put his arms around my neck and patted my back.  “It’s all right, mama.  You will always have Jesus.”

That nearly undid me for good, but I managed to smile and say, “You are right.  And so will you.”  Then we went on with the task of packing, and managed a laugh or two before long.

As I think back on that now, I believe he had the answer I should have given this friend.  Somehow a four year old understood that no matter what happens, we are never alone.  What he did not say, but which struck me right between the eyes when I thought about it, was that when we allow ourselves to be depressed over this life, we are being singularly ungrateful to Christ for what He did for us.  If this life were all there was, then we ought to be depressed.  "If we have only hoped in Christ in this life, we are of all men most pitiable" 1 Cor 15:19.  But He gave up a lot so we could have hope for the next life.  I will not slap Him in the face by acting like anything in this life is important enough to take away the joy I have in a relationship with Him.

That does not mean that some days are not difficult, especially when the pain is worse or the vision is obviously less.  But I do not wallow like a pig in the muddy misery.  I choose not to, in part because a four year old reminded me not to.

From now on, when someone asks, I think I will just use my little boy’s answer—which I hope he has not forgotten either.  How can I be depressed when I have a Savior who loves me?

For it became him, for whom are all things, and through whom are all things, in bringing many sons unto glory, to make the author of their salvation perfect through sufferings. For both he that sanctifies and they that are sanctified are all of one: for which cause he is not ashamed to call them brethren, Heb 2:10,11.

Dene Ward