Beauty for ashes

Beauty for ashes - I think that may be a good and appropriate theme for my life. So many fires through the years - infertility, death of parents, financial trouble, health issues and others unmentionable. Sometimes they were one on top of each other, sometimes spaced far apart. But I have a faithful God. Even when I bolt at the first sign of trouble, God has never left me. He has patiently endured my unfaithfulness, waited for me, kept me secure through the worst storms even when I didn't think I wanted to be kept. And then like the Phoenix rising from the ashes, He has caused me to rise up, scarred but stronger; wounded but with new knowledge of who He is.
In this time since my mom's death, there has been intense grief. But He has given be the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit. There have been days when I have wanted to wallow in my sadness but have literally been unable, knowing that God is in complete control. I don't know if I'll ever see my beautiful mom again. But I know that my redeemer lives, and and at the last He will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been thus destroyed, yet in my flesh I shall see God! There is nothing that can separate me from His love. He is able to make me stand and present me blameless before the presence of His glory with great joy. All glory, majesty, dominion and authority is His before all time and now and forever. Amen!

Remembering Mom

Two things defined my mom's life in my opinion: laughter, and love. I've often wondered if her laughter was what attracted my dad to her, since he was the ultimate jokester. They were a perfect pair - the story teller with his funny accents and quick wit, and the woman with the infectious laugh. Sometimes it was a day late, but it was never a dollar short. I couldn't begin to count the number of times I woke up in the middle of the night because I heard her laughing. It could have been because she finally got a joke she heard earlier in the day, or maybe she remembered something funny that happened last week. Sometimes I never knew why she was laughing, but just hearing the sound made me laugh right along.

I was in 5th grade and our school was having Parent's Day. Parents could come in the classrooms and observe, and slip out quietly whenever they wanted. My mom and dad observed for a while, and then stood up to leave. Dad, ever the gentleman, had mom go ahead of him. She made it to the front of the room, walked right by the door, opened the closet door and walked in! She quickly turned around and said, "Lovely closet!" and then walked out the door. My 5th grade self slid as far down in my seat as I could, but I'm sure everyone could still see my glowing red face. Twelve hours later - she woke me up...laughing. She laughed loud and often. She laughed at jokes, situations, and most of all herself.

Communication was always a big source of amusement with mom. She was amazing in how well she could speak and follow along with whatever was going on. My friends all thought I was lucky to have a deaf mom, because they assumed I could get away with stuff, but she never missed a thing! Daddy always said she had a 6th sense about things. When I was a baby, I'd be in my crib, and they'd be watching TV and she'd be knitting. She'd look at my dad and say, "Is the baby crying?" just as I started to cry. It always sounded like a coincidence to me, until when I was older I experienced it firsthand. She'd do the same thing with the phone and the doorbell. If only that 6th sense worked with the Lottery!

The other thing that defined my mom was love. She loved her family. She loved her friends. She loved her husband more than any woman I've ever known. She missed him as much the last day of her life as she did on June 10, 2000. And if she'd lived another 20 years, she would still be wearing her wedding ring, waiting for the day she'd see him again.

She loved me and my sister sacrificially and completely. One of my earliest memories is when my parents were expecting my sister. Dad had explained where babies come from, telling me that in a while he and mom would go to the hospital and they'd pick out a baby. We'd talk about what I'd like, kind of like ordering a Happy Meal. That seemed to satisfy my 6 yr old curiosity just fine. They brought Terri home, and I liked her. For a while. She was a really colicky baby, and her crib was in my room! One night I just couldn't stand the noise anymore. When mom and dad came in to get her, I asked them why we couldn't just take her back to the hospital and trade her in for a different one. Historically Dad was the "Big Question" answerer, but this time, as mom sat on my bed holding my baby sister, she said no, we wouldn't trade her in. When I asked why not, she answered, "Because I like this one."

As great as she was at being a mom, being a grandmother was her real calling. She waited almost 13 years after getting a son-in-law to finally be a grandma. When we were in the adoption process, we explained to all the soon to be grandparents that it was probable that we'd adopt an African American, Chinese or Mexican baby. Everyone was fine with that, since they all knew how much we wanted a baby. On Sept 22, 1998 we got the call that a birthmom had chosen us. I called Dad, and could almost feel mom jiggling with excitement. When I mentioned that the birthmom was Mexican though, she got really quiet. Of course my hackles got up a bit. But I listened as my dad patiently explained that just because the birthmom was Mexican, that didn't mean the baby would only speak Spanish. She had been afraid she wouldn't be able to understand the baby. I'm sure later that night she woke Daddy up...laughing. THe joy on her face when she saw Lizzie for the first time at the airport is something I'll never forget. It's the same joy she had when she saw Matthew, Lauren and Aidan for the first time.

She loved her friends. She loved her family - kids, grandkids, nieces, nephews, sisters, brothers. And she loved to laugh. I will miss her forever.

Thanksgiving

Although I've had this poem on my blog before, it seems even more appropriate this year, with all of the enconomic trouble that we've all felt throughout this past year. I hope that along with Habakkuk, we can all say that no matter what our financial situation is or might become, God is still worthy of all our thanks and praise simply for who He is - the Creator of the universe, the author and perfector of our faith.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Ann

Thanksgiving
Ann Dunlap, May 23, 2004

“Though the fig tree should not blossom
and there be no fruit on the vines,
Though the yield of the olive should fail
and the fields produce no food,
Though the flock should be cut off from the fold
and there be no cattle in the stalls,
Yet I will exult in the Lord,
I will rejoice in the God of my salvation.
The Lord God is my strength,
and He has made my feet like hinds’ feet,
And makes me walk on my high places."
Habakkuk 3:17-19


Not for what You give me, Lord,
Nor what I now may own;
Not for daily circumstance,
Nor blessings yet unknown.
Just for who You are to Me:
Redeemer, Savior, Friend,
May humble thanks flow from my heart ~
And to Your throne ascend.

Where is God in the Book of Esther?

Recently I began a new study of the book of Esther with a younger Christian woman. It's sort of a mentoring relationship, and we're studying it at her request. Esther is a book I've studied, directed a kids' choir musical about, and felt knew pretty well. I've known for years that God is not mentioned in the entire book, not once. And I've known that His hand is evident throughout the book. So what would I possibly learn from studying this book again? Well, at least I'd enjoy the fellowship, and get to enjoy watching a young woman fall in love with the book, as I had years ago.
Despite my reluctantcy, God is faithful. His Word is living and active, and can captivate the heart of the children He loves. I've heard that Scripture is like an onion, with many layers to peel back, and that you never run out of layers. How marvelously true that is. Maybe God Himself is like that, so that in Heaven we'll just keep peeling back the layers and spend eternity discovering who our God really is.
Well, I got to the part about how Esther wasn't allowed to just walk into the throne room whenever she wanted, even though she was the queen. Appearing before Xerxes uninvited brought about a fate equal to death. Xerxes was a pretty powerful dude - king over all the provinces of Persia, which numbered a little over 120. So when he called for you, you went (unless you were Vashti, and we all know how badly that ended!), and if he didn't call for you, you stayed put. Esther took her life into her hands when she appeared before him. And because he loved her, he didn't have her killed.
The Holy Spirit, who is our Teacher and helps us understand all things God, superimposed an image in my mind over this image of the unapproachable throne of Xerxes: me. Unworthy, sinful. And yet because of Christ, able to approach God's marvelous throne of grace, anytime, day or night. No fear. Total acceptance. Because He loves me.
So yes, God is in Esther. His sovereignty, His deliverance, His mercy on His people. But there's a picture of me in Esther as well - coming to my King's throne, finding mercy and grace to help in my every need, finding the love and acceptance of the awesome King of the Universe.
Thank You, Lord, for Scripture. And thank You for the Holy Spirit's teaching, even when I didn't expect it. And forgive me for not expecting it.
Amen.

A New President

This morning I awoke to the news of a new president - Barak Obama. While he was not my choice for the office based on his plans and ideas, I am very excited about his election. Our country has experienced an historic event, electing the first African American as President. Thinking back over history, it was only about 40 years ago that African Americans first were give the legal right to vote. And only about 100 years ago that they were considered "subhuman" by many Americans. As the mother of an African American daughter, I am thrilled to see this wide step across the racial threshold. I want my daughter to know that she has the ability to do anything with her life, and that her race should not ever be a limiting factor. This election is further proof that in America, no matter what your skin color, you can achieve most anything that you put your mind to. Mr. Obama's achievement was the result of education, hard work and character building - something everyone should strive for. I pray that he will be a wonderfully positive role model for young African Americans all over our country to help them realize that no matter what their status or background, they can become anything they want with hard work, character and education. And I pray for Mr. Obama as he steps into his overwhelming new position, that God would be his guide and his shelter.

One Piece at a Time

Another surgery...gallbladder this time. It would seem that over the past 15 years, consisting of 10 surgeries + gallbladder makes 11, God has been bringing me home one piece at a time. And while none of these experiences has been pleasant, they are a kind of picture of what He's doing with me spiritually - spiritual "surgery", so to speak. There's the prideectomy, excisional laziness removal, selfishectomy, minimization of gossip and repeated tongue binding procedures. None of those are pleasant when they are going on, but God's Word tells us that He's working in us to conform us to the image of His Son, Jesus. I think that all of these "procedures" - both physical and spiritual, are the cause of the groaning while we're in this tent ("For in this tent we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling," 2 Cor 5:2). I've been doing more than my share of groaning lately, and long for Heaven. Even if I have to get there one piece at a time...