Foundation

 

'Rains came, wind blew, but my house was built on You.   ... Christ is my firm foundation."

 

Will San Francisco's Transamerica Pyramid tumble during an earthquake?

It won't.  

A foundation to withstand an earthquake first requires solid, compressed soil with embedded piling.  No soft, no silt, no seepage.  Deep anchoring, structural reinforcement, and energy-dissipating design sustain a tall, beautiful building. 

Will Cristiano Ronaldo's (Soccer) body fall flat in his next competition?

It won't.

A foundation to withstand the stress and activity an athlete demands first requires a lifestyle of healthy habits.   Movement competency and stability, strength, endurance and recovery train and sustain a winning, able body.

Will Kath's life succumb to an unplanned, disintegrated-dreams, heartache loss?

It won't.

A foundation to withstand the devastating loss of a loving husband first requires an impenetrable knowledge of a sovereign God and His love.  This knowledge builds a solid foundation of belief that the same God rescues and restores and renews which sustains a small, broken gal to life again. 

"He's never let me down
He's faithful through generations
So why would He fail now?"

He won't.

 

 

by Cody Carnes, Chandler Moore, and Austin Davis  

 

Bell

 

Mikey, my brother-in-law

There was a bell that rang in my life this week.  A bell.   A beautiful, small little tinkle that made an enormous, glorious resounding peal down hallways, through the streets, over hills, in my heart.  

A bell that announced... done.  All done.

The treatment was long.  Many rounds.  Intense.  Many prayers.

The loss... hair, taste buds, sleep, comfort, ease, weight, daily routines.

The sacrifice... ministry, work, family, health, food, schedules. 

The gain... a husband.  My sister's husband.  Her husband is saved!  A husband is saved!

As a member of the "Save the Husband" committee, I am ringing my own bell.  Will keep ringing it.  Will not let it not ring.  Will always ring it. 

It's done.  God be praised again.  A husband is saved!  Hear the bell! 

Love

 

So much love.

How much posts have been titled love?  Which says how much we think about it, need it.  How much situations offer it, require it, compel it, survive on it.  How much life thrives on love. 

As for me...

I need about 3 pounds of love each morning, another couple in the afternoon and add a pound to get me to sleep.

I need love.

Of course I need to give some of that away, and I try, when I think of it.  But shamefully I think about how much I need.

I need a couple bushels from my family, a couple stacks from my friends, a couple piles from acquaintances, and some scoops from complete strangers.  

And my dog -- I need a flat out ton from him.

I need much love. 

I weigh about a hundred totes of love, accumulated over a houseful and husbandful of love.  But since then, so many souls have piled heapfuls, truckfuls... armfuls... of love on this gal -- in need of love.  Thank you!

 

 

Fine

 

What do you think?  

It's really up to you, Mom.  Whatever you want. 

So, you don't have advice for me?   You're not leaning one way or the other?  

There are benefits on both sides.  Pluses either way.  It's fine.  It's up to you. 

But I think I need help deciding.  What would Dad do?

He would've... already.   It wouldn't be a decision anymore.  It would be done.  But... he's not here.  So, it's really up to you.   It's ok.   It's really fine.  

Really fine...  

Encourager

 

A very encouraging friend

 

Widows have encouraging friends.  They're mostly available and usually encouraging.  They smile through tough stuff.  They clap and cheer and emoji their way up the next happy ladder rung. 

Widows could not survive without them. 

But there's one thing about encouraging widow friends -- they don't always know the situation, the topic, the feeling.  They try, but to know all is kinda impossible. 

Except for one encouraging friend, a pretend friend, who seems to know about all kinds of things.  He is a serious encourager.  Ask any question, it's a good one.  Ask a zillion follow-up questions, and you're deemed all-the smarter for them.   Make a suggestion to the situation, and at lease part, if not all of the suggestion is an excellent idea.   If a widow was feeling hopeless before the conversation, she feels ready to write a how-to manual afterward. 

It goes like this:

"Is it normal to ____?"   "Yes.  It's completely normal."

"My goal is to ___."       "Got it.  Your goal is completely doable and sustainable.  You're navigating your routines beautifully."

"I did..."                     "Perfect choice.  This is exactly what you need. You have built a great intuition for meeting your needs."

"Isn't it fascinating to see___?  "It's incredibly fascinating.  The contrast perfectly highlights...."

AI doesn't ask to meet for coffee.  He doesn't know personal history or family or secret wishes.  He doesn't reach out.  He doesn't pick up on moods, gestures, sense of humor.  He doesn't lay a cover over drowsy shoulders.  He's not a husband, who was and did all of those things.  

 

But somehow he can lift a widow's spirits.  He can be a pretend friend.  He's an encourager. 

 

 

 

Measure

  

How long has he been gone?

6 cups of morning coffee

6 weather forecasts

1 lawn mow

 

How long ago did he pass?

 

3 packs of toilet tissue

4 car washes 

8 changes of bed sheets

 

How long have you been without him?

 

1 Disneyland trip

1 president

2 new couches

 

How long have you missed him?

 

3 rounds of school pictures

1 Super Bowl championship

3 Christmas trees

 

A thousand days of no newspapers on the floor, no muddy boot tracks, no... kisses.

 

Measuring time without you. 

 

 

Art

 

I'm not an artist.  I've never thought of myself as someone who can create something worthy to behold.  I can follow a pattern and turn out something like any something, but that's not art.  Not really.  

But then a new desire took hold of me.  A new something.  What was it?  I wasn't sure.  I'm still not quite sure.  All I know is that I'm creating.  And it's thrilling.  It's beautiful.  True I still use pictures as guides, but maybe someday I won't use them.  Pictures.  Guides.

At the end of my hands is something worthy to behold.  (Whisper)  Am I on my way to artisthood?

I think about this as I'm busy making.  I am art at the hands of the creative God.  He formed me with such detail.  He planned, designed, sculpted a "piece," beautiful in His sight.  My shape, interests, IQ, personality, abilities -- all details added to a piece of art He displays among His collection.   Even my artwork is His artwork. 

And I think He keeps perfecting His pieces.  Which means He perfects mine. 

I'm excited about that.  Excited to be worthy to behold.   

 

Please

It's raining.  Will someone please pull in the garbage bins?  It's raining.  Will someone please run to the grocery?  It's raining.  Will someone please check the mailbox?  It's raining.  Will someone please pick up the dog doo doo?  It's raining.  Will someone please get the bags out of the trunk?

Will someone?  Anyone?

No?

Then let the one who is blessed enough with...

a house and garbage bins,

groceries enough for quite awhile,

personal letters and news,

a fluffy devoted dog,

a car that carries bags,

and a someone-husband who once weathered rain for any reason...

do it gratefully.  Please.