The glories of pregnancy
Pregnancy glow-schmow! More like glare. I get especially oily, shiny, and greasy when I’m pregnant. For all of you who can relate…word up!
One of my favorite hymns
The Battle hymn of the Republic by Julia Ward Howe
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord; he is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored; he hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword; His truth is marching on.
I have seen him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps; they have builded him an altar in the evening dews and damps; I can read his righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps; his day is marching on.
He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never sound retreat; he is sifting out the hearts of men before his judgement seat; oh, be swift, my soul, to answer him, be jubilant my feet; our God is marching on!
In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, with a glory in his bossom that transfigures you and me; as he died to make men holy let us live to make men free, while God is marching on.
Glory Glory Hallelujah; Glory Glory Hallelujah; Glory Glory Hallelujah; our God is marching on!
The story of Joseph Scriven
“In 1842, an Irishman named Joseph Scriven graduated from Trinity College, Dublin, and promptly fell head over heels in love with a girl from his hometown. They got engaged and, with great excitement, planned their wedding and began dreaming about their future together as husband and wife.
The eve of their wedding arrived at last, and Joseph’s fiancee saddled a horse to go and see him. Tragically, it was one of the last things she would ever do. A little later, Joseph saw his bride-to-be riding toward him, and he grinned. But suddenly, just as she was crossing the bridge over the river, her horse buckled and threw her like a rag-doll down into the river below. In blind panic, Joseph ran to the river, calling out her name. He plunged into the icy waters, but it was too late. His bride was already dead.
Heartbroken, Joseph emigrated to Canada, where eventually he fell in love again. In 1854, Joseph was due to marry Eliza Roche, but she fell ill and grew progressively worse. The wedding was repeatedly postponed until, three years later, Eliza died. Joseph Scriven would never again give his heart to another.
Back home in Ireland, Joseph’s mother was deeply concerned for her heartbroken son, and he in turn was concerned for her. One night, Joseph penned a poem to comfort her, little knowing that it would become one of the best-loved songs of all time. Several years later, a friend found it in a drawer at Joseph’s house and was deeply moved. ‘The Lord and I wrote it together,’ Joseph explained.” –Peter Greig
What a friend we have in Jesus, all our sins and griefs to bear! What a priviledge to carry everything to God in prayer! O what peace we often forfeit, o what needless pain we bear, all because we do not carry everything to God in prayer. Have we trials and temptations? Is there trouble anywhere? We should never be discouraged, take it to the Lord in prayer. Can we find a friend so faithful, who will all our sorrows share? Jesus knows our every weakness, take it to the Lord in prayer. –Joseph Scriven
Discovery
In the process of making a new friend I have discovered how deeply redemptive it can be if our hurts can be harnessed for the care of others.
Dare we admit it?
A good laugh
My son Daniel has repeatedly insisted that when he grows up he is going to be a baby. And I have repeatedly insisted that when he grows up he will be a man, like his Papa. He hasn’t figured out the cycle of life yet. Give him a break…he’s only two. Don’t we all miss the good old days when everything was so much easier and everything was done for you.
“No. When I grow up, I’m going to be a baby,” he refutes.
Well, secretly, I am going to do everything in my power to prevent this from happening!
Thoughts on prayer
From the Magician’s Nephew by C.S. Lewis comes the story of a boy named Digory whose mother is dying. When he first meets Aslan, the great lion, he musters the courage to ask, “May I–please, will you give me some magic fruit of this country to make mother well?” Aslan’s response appears puzzling at first…
“He had been desperately hoping that the Lion would say ‘Yes’; he had been horribly afraid it might say ‘No.’ But he was taken aback when it did neither.”
Ever experience the silence of God in response to a desperate prayer? Sometimes a clear yes or no would be easier to swallow than silence.
“He thought of his mother, and he thought of the great hopes he had, and how they were all dying away, and a lump came in his throat and tears in his eyes, and he blurted out: ‘But please, please won’t you–can’t you give me something that will cure mother?’ Up till then he had been looking at the Lion’s great feet and the huge claws on them; now, in despair, he looked up at its face. What he saw surprised him as much as anything in his whole life. For the tawny face was bent down near his own and (wonder of wonders) great shining tears stood in the Lion’s eyes. They were such big, bright tears compared with Digory’s own that for a moment he felt as if the Lion must really be sorrier about his mother than he was himself.”
Though Digory never received an answer to his request, he was changed. He knew and believed the Lion cared.
