Three grand-babies up in Heaven - none down here to hold.
To those around me I'm just being silly when I call myself "Oma". But very few know the reality -
I am Grandma...with no Grandchild to spoil.
To everyone's naked eye I am Mother of three - deep down in my heart I treasure being Mother of four.
Like so many of you, I've lost my Mother, my child, my grand-babies.
Some losses are big and visible to those around us. They bring encouraging words, comforting hugs, flowers, many cards written in love.
Some losses are big and hidden inside our hearts, hard to explain, hard to voice - no flowers, no cards, no memorials...
God knows all our losses, public and hidden; His words of comfort and encouragement reach deep inside our soul - deep inside where our treasures are hidden.
2 Corinthians 1:3-4
Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.
Desse Nacht schiend sich mol wada endloos hea to tratje. Etj dreihd mie von eene Sied noh dee aundre, oba dee Weehdoag enn miene Schullre en dee Allboages piesakte mie soo seea, daut uck dee groote Portioon von Ibuprofen en dee vele Schmerzpflausta nich holpe! Aun Schlop we eenfach nich to dentje! Aus etj dan verrem Sonnenopgang schliesslich enn eenem korten Schlop foll, tjlinjad de Watja. Etj schratjd, aus eene Besopne opp. Noch haulf em Schlop stratjd etj miene Haunt ut, omm dee Portioon Pelle, dee etj jieden Morje jeajen den hogen Blootdruck, de Schilddruese en aundre Krankheite ennehme mott, to schlucke. Doch aus etj daut Glaus Wota nauhm, omm de Pelle leichta nunja to tjrieje - floch mie daut ute Haunt, wiels dee mol wada ennjeschlope we. Etj flehtjd enne Jedanke, stehnd en tjweld mie, miene stiewe Jlieda utem Bad rut to tjrieje, omm mie to dee Oabeit reed to moake. Etj feehld mie soo, aus wan eene Kooh de gaunze Nacht lang opp mie rommjekaut haud en schliesslich utspejd, wiels ahr disse oole Kost em Moage nich vedaue kunn. Een Blitj ennem Spejel verod mie, daut etj kratjt soo utleet, aus etj mie feehld: Unjre Oge lage dunkle, meist schwoate Schautes, de Tronesatj haude soo to saje noch de tweede Sautz Tronesatj jetjreaje, de Kraujefeet were noch deepa jeworde en miene Mulwintjel honge noh Unje, aus bie eine Bulldogge, ewre Backe trocke sich lange Tjnettafolde, de Jesechtsfoaw kunn maun mett eenem eensjen Wot beschriewe - auschgrau!
Etj vesocht mett vel Spachtel en Foaw miene vom langsamen Vefaul jezeichnete Fassade een bet aunseehnlicha to moake, doamett etj mie weinichstens unjre Mensche tjitje lote kunn. Etj vesocht soo to saje rade waut noch to rade jintj. Oba woo heet it doch soo scheen em Voltjsmul? Ne oole Kebes blifft eene oole Kebes, uck wan du dee noch soo straum aunkaultjst! Etj musst mie mett dem Erjewnis von miene Buoabeide toofred jewe en mie porre to dee Oabeit to kome, wiels etj we aul lot draun.
Aus eschtet hol etj ve jeweehnlich de Zeitunge vonnem Zeitungsveloag auf, doamett etj daut wichtijste doa rutkopiere en dem Chef per E-Mail schetje
kaun. Etj we lot draun en doaweajen porrd etj mie ziemlich. Aus etj derchem Staudtzentrum jinjt, moatjd etj, daut eene Grupp Buoabeida vonne Sied opp mie tookaum. Etj regestried dens kort mett eenem Og en porrd mie wieda to kome. Opp eemol hed etj hinja mie een leiset Piepre. Em eschte Moment schentjd etj dem noch tjeene Oppmoatjsaumtjeit, doch aus etj dan een tweedet Piepre en nohdem fots een mett Aufsecht jetjweldet Hooste hed - huschd een leichtet Jrinse ewa miene Leppe. Daut erinnad mie to seea aun mienen Maun. Onnbewusst fankt hee naemlich uck emma aun to piepre, wan hee eene straume Fru hinjaraunglotzt.
Neuzheli piepe dee mie hinjahea? Lat it mie doch noch nich soo vetjneddat, aus etj mie veakaum? Etj spead, woo mien Ridje sich noh hinje derchboch en utstratjd, dee Kopp onnbewusst noh hinje schloch, en dee Gang fadernda en leichta wort. Dee Mana jinje emma noch hinja mie hea en hede nich opp to piepre en to hooste. Etj jintj opprecht, ohne mie ommtodreihe, wieda. Juhuu, etj sie noch nich oolt! - jubeld etj bennalich! Dreih die bloos nich omm, - fuhr it mie derchem Kopp, - doamett dee nich seehne, woo oolt du wertjlich best. Mie kaum ennem Kopp, woo mien Sehn opp miene Froag "Woo etj vondoag utlot" netjsch auntwode deed: - Von hinje noch gaunz straum.
Mien tweeda Jedanke we: "Diss korta Rock en dee hoge Tufli sent mol wertjlich eene jelungene Jeldaunloag jewese! Jo, maun kaun saje, fe daut Wunda, daut dee scheene to vebrinje - we daut doatoo soogoa noch een Schnaeptje! Endlich, bie onsem Kentooa aunjekome, dreihd etj mie mett eenem sarkastischen Schmustre oppe Leppe haustich omm. Aus etj enne vedutzte Manajesechta tjitjd - zwintjad etj dens kokett too, schmeet dem Kopp noh hinje en veschwunk mett eenem lostjen Tjichre hinjre Dea. Dee Oabeit jinjt mie den gaunzen Dach ewa bloos soo vonne Henj, etj feehld mie opp eemol nich meea oolt en utjemoltje, miene Jelentje deede uck nich meea soo weeh - etj spead, daut etj soogoa, wan it senne mott, enne Loag we, soo aus enne junge Joahre, dee gaunze Nacht derchtodaunze! Wott, waut een tjraftja Schuss von Adrenalin moakt, docht etj, aus etj jeajen Owent emma noch schmerzfrie vonna Oabeit noh Hus jinj. - Vleicht sull etj, aunstaut dee vele Pelle to schlucke, leewa jieden Morje bie eene Busted vebie gohne, omm mie fots aum Dachaunfank miene Porz Wundamedizin to hole? - Sennd etj noh. Daut ess bestemmt vel jesunda, aus dee vele Pelle, dee etj jieden Dach schlucke doo en doavon woat maun bestemmt nich Tabletensechtich. - Ooada doch? - mald sich dee tjliena skeptischa Ploagjeist, dee sich faust enn mienem Jehirn ennjenast haft. Aul vele Joahre vesetj etj daut Beest vejewlich ut mien Jehirn ruttotjrieje. - Waut ess, wan daut Velange noh bewunderndem Piepre vonne Buoabeida fe die to ne Sucht woat, en du nich meea ohne dissem Piepre lewe kaunst? Du woascht je schliesslich, woo du daut secha selwst jieda Dach bemoatjst, nich jinja - jrinsd mien Ploagjeist mie haemisch aun. - Woomeajlich mottst du dan soogoa noch eene Suchttherapie moake? Miene Schullre sackde noh unje en fonge furchtboa aun weeh to doone, de Feet vesajde, daut Hoat pompd lud aus eene oole Daumpmeschien, de Blootdruck stech jefearlich hoch, etj schnaupd noh Loft en sackd aus een Sack Edschke oppem Divan toop... Een Dievelstjreis... Een Joah lota... Enn onse Gauss en enne Nohbaschgausse woare dee Wotaleitinje en dee Weaj nie jemoakt. Von dem jespoaden Jelt fe nich jekoffte Pelle hab etj mie een niejet straumet Tjleet en Tufli mett seea hoge Aufsata (high heels) jekofft. Eene kloke Jeldaunloag! Soo lang it enn Dietschlaunt Bustede jefft, bruck etj mie omm miene Jesundheit tjeene Sorje moake!
I took his hand and held it gently. He didn't say a word, he just stared at me with a very discouraged look.
Suddenly he said with a weak voice, "I am close to dying."
I asked "Really? How do you know?"
He replied "It is time. I'm dying. There is nothing you or anyone can do."
Tears rolled down his face as he spoke ever so softly.
This was a different Dad. Not the Dad I knew. The Dad I knew was tough and strong, and in his illness often aggressive. This Dad was weak, fragile, and spoke far too softly.
He let me hold his hand a little bit longer than usual.
The first words he spoke when we got there that day kept being repeated.
After a while he started to become a little anxious. He asked, "Why are you not going? They're waiting for you."
"Who's waiting, Papa?" I asked.
"The nurses and doctors. There's a lot of work to be done. They're going to operate."
"Who are they going to operate on?"
"Me. They have to operate NOW. You need to go. They're waiting."
I hadn't heard Dad speak so many sentences in actual connection to each other in a long time.
After he wiped a few more tears and urged us to go a few more times, we did say bye to him and left. Our time was up according to the clock (man, how I hated that clock), and it was obvious, which ever way he expressed it, he'd rather be alone that day.
Dad had a big wound on his forehead above his left eye and another one right on his nose. He was scratching his head, feeling over the wounds, wondering why there was mending tape on his face.
"Are you in pain, Papa?"
"Yes."
"Does your head hurt?"
"Yes."
"Does anything else hurt?"
"No."
It is best to ask questions that require a yes or no answer. Otherwise we might not get any answer at all.
I asked Dad's wife and the nurse what had happened.
At the time an old classmate of mine was on shift, and I knew from being there a lot that he checked on Dad frequently. Even when he was fast asleep. Between two of those frequent checks Dad must have gotten up from his bed and fallen to the floor. There was blood on the floor and on his sheets, they said. Poor Dad. He must have been dreaming.
He kept feeling over his wounds, trying to figure out what was going on. I asked him "Did you fall, Papa?" He said "I don't know."
There was a little bit of blood left on his arm. He saw it and asked "What happened?" - "Who died?"
"Nobody died, Papa. You hurt yourself."
"Oh."
"Do you remember?"
"No."
There wasn't much conversation after that. It was quite visible that Dad was in pain and I hated it. As if he didn't have enough to deal with.
As usual his wife was there, holding his hand from time to time, telling him it would be okay. He trusted her and seemed relieved each time she said it.
Meanwhile Dad was already holding the guampa (cup) in his hands. He handed it back to his wife. She held it for a bit, then gave it back to him.
After trying a few times, he sipped it empty and handed it back to her.
The Terere made its rounds, and sometimes Dad would drink his, sometimes he would give it back untouched.
He would eat the snacks his wife handed him with great pleasure. She gives him snacks not only for reasons of food intake, but also that he will get thirsty and drink. Otherwise he refuses to drink.
We had been there about 20 min. when Dad turned to my sister and said quite excitedly: "Synthia wants to come."
I couldn't help but smile. I don't know why, but I find that even in the state he's in, Dad is kind of cute. Childlike, at times, if you will.
My sister: "Yes, in fact she is already here."
Dad: "She is?"
Sister: "Yes. She's sitting right next to you."
Me: "Hi, Papa." smiling at him.
He turns to me: "Hi!"
Right then I could see it in his eyes that yes, my Papa knew I was there. My heart skipped a beat as I held back tears of joy. For just a moment I saw MY Papa.
The so called conversation went all over the place, sometimes it made sense to us, sometimes only to him. But he seemed content that day. It was a good day.
A different day, a different Dad. Almost every day a different Dad.
We went to have terere (cold tea) with him. We took him out of his room to give him a change of scenery. We all sat in a circle. Dad seemed incomprehensive that day, but I still went, took his hand, made eye contact and introduced myself. He didn't seem to care except for a faint "Hello".
However, as soon as his wife showed up, his eyes lit up. I got up to let her sit beside him. She grabbed his hand, he turned to her, and it seemed as though everything was right with the world again.
At least for that moment.
It didn't last long at all, and he wondered off in his world again, the world of dementia, the world we can't enter because it exists only in his mind. We became strangers yet again and again his words made no sense. At least not to us.
It wasn't spoken of at the time, but some eyes were fighting back tears. Eyes who had seen so different from what they had hoped.
But hope itself was not gone. We refuse to let that go. We hold on. We keep on keeping on, for that one moment, even a glimpse of a moment, when I will see in my Father's eyes the reassurance that - yes, he knows who I am and he knows I am here.
My sister (sitting down in front of my Dad, making eye contact with him): "Hello, Papa."
Dad: "Hello."
Sister: "I brought someone with me." - "Synthia is here."
Sister is moving so I can sit down in front of Dad. I take his hand, make eye contact with him and say: "Hello, Papa. I'm here."
Dad, staring at me, then turning to my sister: "It doesn't look like Synthia."
Pause. Dad looking at me again.
Me: "I changed my hair, Papa. Do you recognize my voice?"
Silence. Dad staring at me, pulling his hand out of mine.
I move from the chair to let my daughter sit down in front of her Opa. They make eye contact and I say: "Naomi is here, too, Papa. Do you recognize her?"
Naomi: "Hello, Opa!"
Silence. Staring.
Me: "Remember we call her Putchenut?" (Pʊt-tʃə-nʊt)
Dad: "Well, if you say it THAT way, then I know."
His first whole sentence in a while. He doesn't finish sentences anymore. Only very rarely.
The smile on my daughter's face - priceless.
She moves to give room to my husband.
I say: "Sieghart is here as well."
Sieg: "Hello, Papa."
Dad: "Hello."
Me: "It's Sieg. - Sieghart."
Dad: "Mhm."
Staring. Wondering. Scratching his head. Too many people in the room, perhaps.
We move back a little to give Dad some space.
At this point we're not sure if he recognized me or not. I hoped and prayed. I was told he most likely would not recognize me anymore. At the time it didn't matter. I still knew who he was. He was my Papa.
"...the promise of a better day. We are not there yet. Let it come, let it come in. Love is here and love is coming..." Gungor filled our car with his amazing music as we set out on our journey to downtown Vancouver.
Drop-off by car at the Surrey Central Skytrain station and off we went, Naomi and I. It was going to be a beatiful day out on the town, just the two of us plus the company of a lovely new friend.
The ride to downtown went without a hitch, Naomi being a little nervous about the exam she was about to write at the UBC office, but all in all excited about going shopping and having coffee....the weather was perfect, if a little humid.
Upon arrival we sought out the office, found it right away, and went for lunch as we had enough time to do so. Lunch was great and we looked around which stores we were going to hit first after her exam.
Back at the office, all checked-in, I left to meet a friend. She was held up on the road - so much traffic - it didn't bother me. I took pictures, sat on the stairs at the Vancouver Art Gallery, watching the fountain and the variety of people passing by, thinking 'God loves every one of you.'
Different groups of people meeting on the stairs - business men and women having their lunch; after lunch different groups of smokers gathering. I was on the other side. Some people were drawn to me as I was sitting there for quite some time all by myself, not eating lunch, not smoking...just enjoying the fountain. As I started to smoke weed right along with them (second hand, of course), conversations were started with me, about random things. I did not know these people, but I knew God does, and I knew He loves them, so I was not bothered by being talked to by any of them.
My friend showed up and as we left I noticed I had not talked to them yet about how much God loves them, yet they were sad to see me go. "By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another." (John 13:35) Could it be?
I had a lovely, fun time with my friend. She bought me coffee, we shared some good over-the-top stories of adventures we had been on, had a lot of laughs....Naomi was done early with her exam and joined us, and off we went shopping.
We had a great time shopping, topped it off with the most delicious cupcakes from the Cupcake Ladies and parted ways with our friend to head home.
It would be a smooth ride home; just as smooth as the ride in. Or would it?
As we were relaxing on the train, talking about all sorts of life things, we suddenly heard the name for the next station - Sapperton. "Where's Sapperton?" Naomi asks. I don't know. We both quickly read the map on top of the train - we're on the wrong train. We took the Millennium train instead of the Expo train. "There are two different trains?" "I guess so." We get off at the next station, quickly cross over and take the train back to Columbia station, where we will then take the Expo line.
Being all confident yet feeling a little bit creeped out by the empty wagon in front of ours which doors would not open, we stop in the middle of "nowhere", with all passengers looking at each other "Why are we stopping?" "This is not a station." etc. After a while, with no announcements of happenings, we keep going.
Having notified our ride home from the last station we happily get off at Columbia station and very happily enter the next train, the Expo line to our destination. Doors closed we are told "This is the Millennium Line." "What!?" At this time we felt like we were stuck in some time loop.
Getting out at Sapperton this time we yet AGAIN endeavour on our way to Columbia station. This time it HAD to be the right train. It just HAD to be. With our ride waiting for us at destination station we felt quit NOT-so-streetsmart.
At Columbia station we pretty much asaulted other passengers "PLEASE, please tell us is THIS the Expo line!?" "Yes, it is." "Are you sure? Are you absolutely positive?" almost shaking them for re-assurance. "Does the train go to King George station?" "Yes, it does." "Thank you! God bless you! All of you!"
As we board the train a man calls out "Pretty lady, you can always tell which line is coming by the red sign on the top at the station." he says smiling. "There's a sing?! that tells us this?" I am just as grateful as I am ashamed. Where has my public transit knowledge gone? I used to do this with three small children all the time.
Relieved is not a strong enough word to describe when we heard the announcement of the next station. This is OUR route. We are going in the right direction and yes, we WILL get there.
With my husband waiting at the end station, we bolted off back to our home town - exhausted, mixed feelings about the day (not everything is included in this story as it is too personal), 7 minutes late for our 7 o'clock meeting, but not the last ones to be there, we did it. We arrived. We were there. We were home.
The yoke seems too heavy to carry,
the giant you face lives right inside of you
standing up ten feet tall at the most unexpected time.
The sunrise seems to never come,
darkness appears to be all there is,
load piles up upon load in seemingly endless despair.
Among all the chaos around you
the walls appear to be closing in,
loneliness while amidst friends and family creeps up like a prowling lion,
devouring you bit by bit.
The pieces of your heart are too many to assemble
them back together,
the wounds seem too deep to ever heal.
You're drowning in the storm around you and within.
You've stopped reaching, you've stopped trying,
it's just too much, there's no denying.
The pit seems too deep, the distance too far.
You feel like you've tried your last try.
Love lives out there, not inside with the giant.
Treasures of grand for all but you.
You and your giant will do just fine,
as long as you hold your ground.
How much more will it take?
You don't have the answer.
Just you and your giant, you'll weather the storm.
The walls close in tighter,
the storm turns worse,
the weight keeps on growing, along with the fear.
At one moment in time,
out of nowhere it seems,
the giant stands up and with his feet
crushes you to the ground.
You are surprised.
You didn't expect it.
You weren't prepared.
What can you do?
You see the debris the giant left behind
and in great dispair realize
that he not only crushed you,
but your loved ones around you.
You want to declare defeat
like so many times before,
yet you reach out.
You reach out to the sling and stone
a helping hand is giving you.
You hear yourself say a prayer
and with all the strength left in you,
you swing that sling, you release the stone,
you hit your giant straight on the head.
In disbelief you see him fall,
all ten ugly feet of him,
flat to ground with a great big thump,
breathing his last nasty breath.
You stand there, broken and trembling,
in awe of what just happened.
It seems so quiet, so peaceful at last,
yet the storm around you has not stopped.
You look at all the ones around you,
crushed by the giant within you,
broken and hurt in so many ways
that you panic out of fear that you lost them.
You hear a voice "Come, child, come."
and you look up at a familiar face.
You know this face from years ago
when you used to do life together.
You thought that He had long forgotten you,
that you had gone too far,
that He would never come to your aid again
no matter how loud you cried.
You then look into His loving eyes
and see His answer there,
"My child, I do not work that way. Come let me hold you thight."
"For so many years I have called on you,
but the giant spoke too loud -
you didn't hear my voice.
I reached out to you
but the giant had bound your hands.
I showed myself to you in those surrounding you,
but the giant had blinded your eyes to see."
After all those years
you fall on your knees
weeping a stream of tears.
"I'm sorry, Father," you cry out,
"for leaving your side! Have mercy, Father, I need you back into my life."
You grab His stretched out arm
and finally again reach soul hands with the One who is Love,
the Only One who can calm the storm.
You sit by His side as He calms the storm,
as He picks up all the tiny pieces
of your heart and the hearts of your loved ones,
and puts them gently back together;
as He heals all your wounds and wipes all the tears.
You wonder, why did I wait so long?
How did I let the giant grow so tall inside of me?
When love is so much greater and joy is so much brighter.
Dwell not, my David,
for you slayed the giant.
Your Father will provide the rest.
Take His hand and the hands of your loved ones
and walk together from hereon out.
There are many treasures to be opened
on the road ahead.
Don't look back and enjoy every one of them,
for He so freely gives.
"When you carry the Bible, Satan gets a headache. When you open it, he collapses. When he sees you reading it, he faints. When he sees that you are living what you read, he flees. When you are about to re- post this, he will try and discourage you... I just defeated him!! Copy and re-post if you can, even if many of your "friends" laugh and make fun of you.....Any takers?"
This status has been flooding newsfeeds all over Facebook. And while this all may sound nice and fuzzy and easy, it is also a big fat lie. A lie from the Father of lies.
When you carry the Bible, satan will try to convince you to put it down. "You don't need it."
When you open your Bible, he works on getting you to close it again and lose interest. This is no time for him to collapse.
When satan sees you reading the Bible, he does NOT faint. he will try to distract you with everything he has.
When you live out God's Word, satan will spend all his time getting in your way.
The only way to make little satan flee is by TELLING him to get away from you IN THE NAME OF JESUS. There's no way he's going to run as long as you don't tell him to do so.
It is our calling to live out God's Word and glorify HIM, and satan might "crinch" at that and stomp his feet and pull his hair out and what not, but he will STILL try to distract you and come up with ways (especially busyness) to get you off God's path.
USING God's Word VOCALLY, using it to TELL satan to take a hike, now THAT will make him run.
satan can't read your thoughts. he's only a fallen angel. Only your MAKER, your CREATOR, knows what you're thinking. We do not THINK or simply LIVE satan away. We TELL him to run, and we ONLY tell him in the precious NAME OF JESUS. This does not mean we can live as we please. By all means NO. This means James 4:7: "Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you."
According to Clarke's Commentary on the Bible this means:
Submit - to God - Continue to bow to all His decisions, and to all His dispensations.
Resist the devil - He cannot conquer you if you continue to resist. Strong as he is, God never permits him to conquer the man who continues to resist him; he cannot force the human will. He who, in the name of Jesus, opposes even the devil himself, is sure to have a speedy and glorious conquest. He flees from that NAME, and from HIS conquering BLOOD.
Don't underestimate the hidden schemes of our enemy, even in fuzzy looking statuses and sweet sounding phrases.
We are not in Kingdom Club Med. We are warriors in a battle not seen with human eyes. We are conquerors for The Most High God. We WILL NOT defeat satan without using God's Word and the power of the blood of Jesus.
And don't EVER underestimate the POWER of God's Word SPOKEN. We have been given the awesome privilege of God's Word. The same God that spoke the World into being resides in us, His children.
"The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth." John 1:14
Hebrews 4:12 For the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and atittudes of the heart.
It is time we stop thinking we can do it without saying a word, and start USING the power of HIS WORD.
It is time to send satan trembling and squealing the ONLY way that works, in the sweet NAME OF JESUS.
Greater is He who is in us than he who is in this world.
Only through BOTH - Submission to God AND Resistance to the devil, will we live lives free from satan's influence.
Prayer: Father, I give my life to your will and I rebuke satan. Thank you for making me a victor over him. Amen
"Joy to the world, the LORD is come! Let earth receive her King."
We sing with joyous, loud voices, followed possibly by
"Close your eyes and share the dream
That everyone on Earth believe
A Child was born the stars shown bright
And love came down at Christmas time."
Every year we sing and read about this wonderful, innocent, beautiful, heavenly child that was born in Bethlehem, and we celebrate its birth over and over and over again with great joy and anticipation. But do we give any more thought to "love came down", "the LORD is come", "let earth receive her King", or even "Jesus Christ is born"?
Sure, we get those warm and fuzzy feelings when we sit by the fire with our loved ones opening gift after gift, beautiful Christmas music playing in the background. We may even go to a Christmas Eve service, where we most likely see the Christmas story performed, with cute little ones dressed as angels, shepherds, and Mary and Joseph. In the manger a cute little doll wrapped in cloth; or even more creative, we see a real couple dressed as Mary and Joseph holding a real baby. (My personal favorite.)
We might even add to the Bible reading a few more verses, like John 1:14 (NKJV):"And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth."To that we might want to tie John 1:1 (NIV): "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God."
What does it really mean "the LORD is come"? Oh, I get so excited when I read or hear about this. It gives me goosebumps. Let me tell you why.
THE LORD IS COME!!!
That's why. :-)
Think about this for a few moments. I mean really think about it, till you can taste it on your tongue. What does it mean "And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory....full of grace and truth"? God Himself is the Word. He has always been and will always be. "Who is and was and is to come." Our Heavenly Father, our Prince of Peace, our Everlasting Father, our Mighty God - our Hero of alltime, wrapped His Highness, His Holiness in human flesh and skin for us to touch, and came from the Holiest of Holies to live among us, the sinners, the lost, the scum of the earth. God Himself wrapped up all His glory into a human body, and not just any human body. A very fragile, helpless, needy human body. A body which fully depended on HUMANS to take care of it.
His Holiness, the Glory of God, in a form of a tiny baby, growing up the same way we all do, here on earth among sickness and disease and sin. Who would do such a thing? And not just that, but - Who would make that decision voluntarily; go willingly from the greatest comfort, the cleanest home, the greatest party in all history of parties, the safest place imaginable, and come down to the filth of sin, the smell of disease?
GOD, that's who. God and God alone did that. The God-head three-in-one decided to sacrifice the most precious thing of Heaven above, to come down and live like humans live, so we may live forever. The Glory of God came down from Heaven to save us all. How can we say NO to an enormous gift like that? How?
I am a Mother of three, have been homeschooling for 16 years and am starting a new chapter in my life. Reminiscing about old adventures and looking forward to new ones.
I am loving my LORD.
