Why Say Grace?

When I was growing up, we always said grace before our meals. It wasn’t an afterthought; it wasn’t an affectation. It was just part of the meal. We sat down, said grace, and started eating. Sometimes, Dad did the honors; sometimes, it was Mom. And sometimes, my sister or I were asked to say it. It was usually something simple, though it wasn’t always the same. We would say grace at home, around our own table, and we would say grace at restaurants– wherever and whenever our family was together for a meal.

Today, my husband and I have the same tradition. We don’t have children in the house, but he and I take turns saying grace, and if one of the grandkids happens to visit, they know they may be asked to take a turn, as well. If David and I are eating out, we still take a quiet moment to hold hands, close our eyes, and say grace. Some times, other diners or wait staff will stare (or glare) or comment, but most of the time, they don’t even notice.

So why do we do it? Is it no more than force of habit? Are we just “holier” than other diners? Do we really think it impresses God if we say grace, or that God will be angry if we don’t say it?

No. But we believe saying grace is important. Here are some reasons why:

Grace is about gratitude. In our busy lives, it can be tempting to take things for granted– even things like food and family. We are BLESSED to have food to eat, and family with whom to share it. We are blessed when we go out to eat to have others cook and clean up for us. We are blessed whenever our family or neighbors can share a meal with us. God is a loving and gracious God, and grace is a time to remember our blessings.
Grace slows us down for just a minute to REMEMBER who we are, and who God is! All our blessings– including food and family and time to share them– come from God. Grace reminds us to be humble as well as thankful. It reminds us to see God’s hand at work in even the smallest and most mundane happenings in our lives. And it reminds us that God is faithful in all things, big and small.

Grace also helps us to remember to thank the people involved in our meals– the ability to buy groceries; the work it takes to prepare our food; friends and family who share our meals; neighbors who have given or traded with us for food; the cooks and wait staff that serve us at restaurants. Saying grace helps us SEE how we are interconnected; how we depend on God and on others in every area of our lives.
Grace gives us the opportunity to lift up our immediate worries and give them to God, instead of holding on to them. Grace is more than just a quick word about food. It is a time for us as a couple (or a family) to pray together about worries that are on our minds. Then, instead of being stressed as we eat, we can stay “in the moment” with each other, and enjoy mealtime together! It’s also a great way to share our thoughts, feelings, and concerns in a safe and informal environment. How much better mealtime is when stress and frustration are diminished, and joy and peace are given a seat at the table, instead!

Saying grace is much more than just a quaint habit from a bygone era. It is a vital part of our growth as individual Christians, and as a Christian couple. I believe it is a simple and quiet witness to others. I believe it has benefits for our digestion, our attitudes, and our emotions, as well.

Grace– not just the mealtime prayer, but the concept of Grace– is not loud or showy. It is, however, consistent, lovely, and powerful. May we say grace; may we show grace; may we live in the power of Grace today!

May 17, 2024 0

Surprise!

Have you ever been the “victim” of a surprise party? Maybe you sensed that something was “up”, but you were still shocked and elated to see old friends or family all wanting to wish you well on (or near) your birthday, anniversary, wedding, retirement, or even “just because”. Even if you “catch on” or if someone “spoils” the surprise, it can be a wonderful celebration. (Or, on occasion, a disaster.)

Have you ever been on the planning side of a surprise party? Several years ago, we threw a surprise birthday/retirement party for my father. It required several months of planning. We invited cousins from out of town, co-workers, neighbors, and old friends. We gathered old pictures and mementos to display, ordered cake and balloons, and tried to keep the excitement under wraps, lest my father guess our intentions. All the details fell together, except we couldn’t figure out how to get him to the party without guessing. Dad was a genius at “sussing out” secrets and surprises, and also at setting them up. We wanted to turn the tables and give him the best surprise of his life.

Then, less than a week before the party, my aunt (my mom’s sister) died in a car accident. The funeral was arranged for the same day as Dad’s celebration. We suddenly had to wrestle with a decision– to cancel or to forge ahead. With so many coming from out of town, we decided to stick with the original plan. It would be difficult– my aunt’s funeral was scheduled earlier in the day, and there would be about an hour to drive from one event to the other. Dad was certainly surprised–already dressed in his best suit, he drove from a funeral in one town to a party in his honor 20 miles away. From flowers and tears to laughter and cake…it was a day unlike any other. The first several minutes were surreal and jarring. But it was also cathartic. As difficult as the day was, we honored both my father and my aunt. Being surrounded by family and friends, some of whom joined us for both events, became a healing and encouraging experience.
It was not the surprise we expected–certainly not the surprise we had planned.

chocolate cupcake with white and red toppings

Several years later, (in fact, after my father had passed away) we planned another surprise party– this time for my mother. Mom had, of course, been part of the planning (as well as the trauma) of the first event. As with the first party, we invited family from out of town, ordered cake and balloons, gathered photos and memorabilia, and wondered how to get her to the event without suspicion. All went as planned, and we had a wonderful time. Mom was delightfully surprised, and even more so for having been through the experience of the prior party.

What does any of this have to do with prayer?
Well…we prayed for both parties. We prayed that all would go well, that Dad and Mom in their turn would be surprised, that guests would arrive safely, and that the parties would both please and honor the recipient. God answered both prayers. His ways are not our ways– but He is eternally good. He gave us strength for each day in its turn, in the midst of surprises– pleasant, painful, and both together!

But, far more, the two parties offer an illustration of God’s grace in the area of knowledge and foreknowledge. “If I had only known…” is a common phrase, and one that we could readily apply to the Dad’s party. But if we had known the end from the beginning, would we have changed our plans? When we say that we want to know the future, we’re generally asking to know a specific outcome of a specific event– without considering the greater consequences and impact of that outcome. When we pray, we generally pray for a specific outcome, again without knowing the full consequences. What seems like a disastrous outcome to us may be God’s way of preparing us for an unexpected blessing. God doesn’t send bad gifts– disasters come (and God allows them in His sovereignty)–but He doesn’t send disaster and pain to mock us or ruin our lives. Instead, in the midst of tragedy, He gives us unexpected strength, comfort, and sometimes, even joy.

If we had known that Dad’s party would be shadowed; that my aunt would die so suddenly, we might have given in to despair and bitterness. And though the party brought unexpected comfort, it did nothing to erase the overall grief of my aunt’s passing. But we learned so many things that day. We were reminded that our time with Dad was precious– that life itself is precious– in a solemn and powerful way. We were able to receive comfort from unexpected sources. We would not have shared our tragedy in such a public way with those who did not even know my aunt. But circumstances forced us to do so, and in the process, we were able to continue to honor her in the celebration.

If we had known all that would happen at Dad’s party, and not seen it through, we might never have risked planning a party for Mom. If we knew in advance all the joys and tragedies we would face, we would never learn how to trust God for the next step in life. Even more, we would live in constant dread of looming tragedies and negate all the joy of discovery and wonder. We might not be driven to take risks if we already knew their outcome, and we might not learn from our mistakes if we already knew their consequences…and because our lives are so short, we might only see the short-term consequences, and never see the ultimate outcome.

God is above and beyond time– He is the creator of all things, including time. He has decreed for us a beginning and an end to life on earth, and He has decreed that we should life our lives with a certain amount of suspense– of not knowing what the future holds. It holds both triumph and tragedy– trial and temptation. Life is filled with surprises– catastrophes, ecstatic joy, and “a-ha” moments–as well as peacefully uneventful moments to reflect and enjoy.

As we pray today, we can be thankful that God’s knowledge is perfect, and that His power is sufficient to hold us in the midst of shock, lift us in the midst of tragedy, and surprise us with joy along the way. And we can ask Him to grant us the wisdom to trust Him fully when we don’t see the end from the beginning– or from the middle–of the storm.

March 22, 2024 0

No More Goodbyes

Today marks 25 years since I said “goodbye” to my father. My mother, sister, and I stood by his bedside at the hospital. The doctors had tried numerous times to re-start his heart. In the process, they had broken his sternum, and each new effort was causing additional pain and putting his lungs in danger of being punctured by bone fragments. His time was running out. We were allowed to come in and say our last words to him, before his worn-out heart finally stopped for good. I held his hand one last time, whispered that I loved him and that I would help take care of Mom. I kissed his forehead, and said a prayer. Mom and my sister did the same.

Earlier this year, I had to say goodbye to Mom as well. My sister and I were with her, and had read her mail aloud to her, as she had fallen into a coma. I was preparing to return home. I said, “goodbye;” I held her hand, kissed her cheek and turned to my sister. When I turned back around, Mom was gone–her oxygen machine was still running, but her heart had stopped beating, and she was peaceful and still. In that moment, I became an orphan.

Death is part of the curse of a fallen world. God is the source of all Life. In a fallen world, we are cut off from our life-source. Our mortal bodies must taste death. It is the consequence of Sin– our sin, and the sins of others. Disease, violence, aging, disasters, grieving, work, abuse– all conspire to drain the life out of our bodies. Life is a gift– we can’t “earn” it, and we can’t “hold on” to it indefinitely. Nor can we hold on to the lives of others–even those we love. Some day, I will lose my sister. Or she will lose me. Some day, I will lose, or be lost to my husband, my brother, my step-children, mother-in-law, grandchildren, cousins, friends, and neighbors.

And, just like leaves on the trees later this month, all of us will grow old, be changed, and fall into decay. Some will fall gently; others will be torn away by the winds of war, or crime, or cancer, or accidents. Some will fall early; others will cling to life until the last moment, but all will eventually die. More goodbyes. More grieving. More death.

But. God is the author of Life, not Death.

Death is not the end for those who have trusted their souls to God. Our bodies must still taste death. We must still say, “Goodbye” to those we love on earth. But our goodbyes are tempered with the promise that the One who conquered Death did so for US. Because Jesus was willing to die and able to rise again, we will also live again. And THIS life will be untainted and eternal. No more goodbyes. No more grieving and separation. No more fear of an unknown future that includes death. No more waiting. No more living without a father. Our Heavenly Father will never leave, never die, never suffer the ravages of age or disease, never fall. In fact, Jesus never said “Goodbye” to His disciples– it wasn’t in His vocabulary! He said that He would “Go to prepare a place…(John 14:2-3)”, and He charged His disciples to “Go into all the world…(Mark 16:15)” But He never said, “Goodbye!”

I had to say, “Goodbye,” to my wonderful parents. And I have the joy of knowing that our “goodbyes” are temporary. That I will see them again, even as I will see my Heavenly Father someday. So, while today holds in it the sadness of watching my Dad suffer in his last minutes of earthly life, it also holds the promise of reunion and restoration. My Dad will never again have to suffer; neither will my Mom. My future probably holds a few more “goodbyes.” But it also holds “Hello!” “Welcome Home!” and “I’m so happy to see you again!”

I thank God for the lives of both my parents– for their testimonies of faith, for their good examples, and for the wisdom, laughter, and love they shared. And I thank God that their deaths were not the end of that love and joy. In fact, it will be even better to share someday what we could never have here on earth–eternal peace and freedom from grief and loss.

Twenty-five years seems like a long time, but it is a drop in the bucket of time, and nothing in light of eternity. That truth brings me great comfort as I face today. I hope you will be encouraged and comforted as well. Heaven is a place with no more “goodbyes.” And that radically changes the way I say “Goodbye” here on earth!

September 1, 2023 0

What We Keep…

I’ve been posting a lot lately about going through my Mom’s “stuff.” Mom was a saver– a pack rat– a hoarder, really. She kept boxes and piles of useless things. But she also kept things that have value to those she left behind. My siblings and I have found old photographs, momentos, letters, documents, etc., that bring the past alive again..not just our past, but our family roots going back generations.

My mother with her mom and younger sister c. 1944

What prompts us to keep such memories; to hold tightly to faded papers, worn objects, shadows of days gone by? Sometimes, it is an unhealthy focus on past memories– good and bad– that keep us in the grip of “glory days” or old and festering wounds. But there IS a value to keeping a record of the past.

When I was young, we had dozens of books around the house, including Bible Story books. The stories of Abraham and Sarah, Isaac, Moses, Samson and Samuel, King David, Queen Esther, Elijah, and then Jesus, his disciples, the Apostle Paul…they were mesmerizing– and very instructive! God didn’t just give us Ten Commandments and a list of rules to follow. He left us with a rich tapestry of stories of real people, and their very real adventures. He has given us Parables, and Psalms, Prophets and Promises– the Bible is a living book that speaks to each new generation with timeless truths. I learned about the Faithfulness of God, His Holiness, and His Mercy in those pages.

The stories and photos that get passed down in families can also be instructive. I now have a baby picture of the grandfather I never got to meet, as well as a photo of him as a young man, and another candid shot of him wearing a milk bucket on his head (He was a dairy farmer)! I can see and sense his humor and love of family in new ways, and appreciate the way his life and early death helped shaped my own dad’s life. I have letters my great-grandparents wrote to each other when they were first married and starting their family. I have some of Mom’s letters when she was struggling as a single mother on a limited income. Many of these items I will keep–not only as a reminder of the past that shaped me, but to pass on to future generations. Other photos, letters, and objects have been given to certain other family members– it is part of the legacy THEY will pass on. Still other items I will let go– they have served their purpose and other items will take their place.

The little country church I attended as a child.

It has been tempting, with the amount of “stuff” that my Mom kept, to just throw everything out. Much of it has to be cleaned off, sorted, identified– and room must be found to keep it! So I also have to look around at what I have been hanging on to, and ask, “Why?” What lessons to I want to pass on? What objects tell an instructive story about my life? What impact will I have on others in the years to come?

One of the most difficult things to go through are the photos and letters my Mother kept. She kept nearly every letter and greeting card she ever received. They meant that much to her. Not the actual cards and paper– the thoughts, the love and connection–the people they represent were her greatest treasures on this earth. And I can’t keep them all. I don’t have space, and many of the people are strangers to me– her elementary classmates, co-workers from years gone by, great-aunts–people long since dead and, with my mom’s passing, forgotten by most. But I will keep some, because they are a testament to Mom’s love of others– her deep and abiding love for everyone who touched her life, and allowed her to touch theirs. I have thrown out, recycled, or given away many of Mom’s clothes and books, and I’m working to give away the thousands of unused greeting cards she had stockpiled but never sent. But most of all, I will keep the stories– stories of God’s faithfulness in her life; stories of how He worked in and through her life to touch hundreds of others; stories of how God’s Love blooms in the simple acts of kindness and baby steps of Faith; in the ordinary joys and tears and minor miracles of daily life.

And I will hold tightly to the stories of my childhood– of Moses and the Burning Bush; of Jesus the Good Shepherd; of David trusting God to face Goliath; of the women finding an empty tomb on the first Easter Morning. One of the pictures I inherited is a print of Jesus on the Road to Emmaus. Two men are walking along, talking to a third man. Such a simple act. Such an ordinary occurrence. But this is no ordinary walk– the man in the middle is the Risen Christ–the One who conquered death to bring eternal life to the two unsuspecting travelers. The print hangs on my wall now. The print itself is not of much material value– but the story! That is worth my life– to keep, to share, to cherish, to proclaim to those yet to come!

July 26, 2023 0

Am I a “Picky” Pray-er?

When I was a child, I was something of a picky eater. I didn’t like peas, or beets, or spinach , I wasn’t fond of lumpy mashed potatoes, and I didn’t like peanut butter sandwiches, or mustard on my hamburger. Of course, my parents were not sympathetic– I had to at least try some of my vegetables or potatoes, and, like it or not, I often found a peanut butter sandwich in my school lunch bag. I didn’t have to add mustard to a hamburger at home, but if it came on my burger at the drive-in, I either had to eat it with mustard, try to scrape it off, or go without! I didn’t have to be enthusiastic about dinner, but I was taught to be grateful for it.

Now that I am an adult, I still am not fond of peas, though I have learned to like beets and spinach. I don’t eat mashed potatoes very often, lumpy or otherwise. I eat the occasional peanut butter sandwich, and I actually love mustard on my hamburgers. I have learned to like foods that I didn’t like as a child, and learned that certain foods (even peas) are good for me, whether I like them or not.

I also learned to pray as a child–we had grace at meals, family prayer time, corporate prayer at church, and bedtime prayers. I learned that sometimes prayer is spontaneous and filled with praise; other times, prayer is dragged out of pain, or anger, pride, or shame. Prayer isn’t always “palatable.” But, like eating, it is necessary and good.

Just as I needed to learn not to be a picky eater, I have to practice prayer in all its aspects. God doesn’t just want the sweet prayers of praise that I am eager to sing out. He doesn’t just want the earnest requests I set before Him. He wants the rotten, stringy, overripe confession that I’ve been hanging on to. He wants the tormented “Why?” when things are falling apart. He wants me to chew on the unanswered requests and unfulfilled longings, and swallow the pride that insists on having its own way. He wants to savor those prayers when I can’t even find the words, but I come to Him anyway, hungry for answers, but even more thirsty for His presence.

Prayer isn’t always easy. It isn’t always “satisfying” in its daily practice. But it gives life and nourishment for the soul.

So I ask myself today: What am I praying about? What do I need to bring to God in prayer? What have I held back? What have I stopped praying for (and why)? Who has been on my heart or mind, but not in my prayers? What have I been trying to do in my own way that I haven’t shared with God in prayer? What does God know about me that I haven’t acknowledged? What praise or thanks have I withheld today? What worries have I borrowed from tomorrow?

What prayer practice do I need to try, or try again? It may take some stretching, but in the end, it’ll be better than peas!

May 29, 2020 0

Fruitful Families

Yesterday was my Grandmother’s birthday. She passed away over 20 years ago, but I still cherish the memories I have of my time with her. She was a woman of quiet dignity, gentle wisdom, and deep love for her family and neighbors.

While I was still in my late teens and early twenties, my Gram started getting me interested in genealogy. She had amazing stories that had been passed down through several generations, but she was unsure how many of them were “true” and how many had devolved into legend and half-truth. Her stories became the first framework I used to research our family’s roots. Over thirty years later, I have books and charts and databases filled with names, dates, stories, photos, mysteries, dead ends, twists and turns, surprises and more. I have traced my own family, my husband’s family, related families, possible connections to famous people in history, and mapped out many of the locations where our families lived over the centuries.

architecture bridge clouds countryside — Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

God created and instituted families, and I’m so grateful for mine. In spite of the many tragedies and skeletons I’ve found along the way, one thing is clear. God’s design for families is good and leads to hope, security, and fruitfulness.

All families are unique, but the design for families– the traditional family model–has been pretty consistent throughout the centuries and even across cultures. It may not always be the “nuclear” family of a mother and father and two or three children in a single household. Sometimes it is made up of multiple generations or nuclear groups sharing a house or living communally, and there have always been blended families, or single-parent households, but there is a consistent expectation of being able to trace one’s mother’s family line and father’s family line through at least two or three generations– knowing their names, where they were born, and when they lived and died.

As technology is advancing to make this kind of genealogical research even easier, society is pulling away from the traditional family model and making it harder and harder to find one’s “roots.” Children live with a series of adults– “aunties” and “dads” who bear no biological relationship and no lifelong commitment to them. Children whose fathers are nameless, faceless DNA donors, or whose parents left them to chase a career, or be with a new lover or a consuming addiction. Grown children rebel and leave their families behind to mix and mingle with other free-floating adults, never desiring to continue a legacy of family ties. Many people look upon this as “progress”– changing the definition of family…ironically, they use the term “relative” when talking about values and definitions, even as they redefine what it means to be a “relative.”

alone blond child cute — Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

God doesn’t love us less if we don’t come from a traditional family– certainly, He is the God of the orphan, the fatherless, and the widow.

Psalm 68: 4-6: (NIV, courtesy of biblegateway.com)

Sing to God, sing in praise of his name,
    extol him who rides on the clouds
    rejoice before him—his name is the Lord.
A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows,
    is God in his holy dwelling.
God sets the lonely in families,
    he leads out the prisoners with singing;
    but the rebellious live in a sun-scorched land.

God wants us in families– He wants us to grow and be fruitful. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” is a phrase often used about family members being alike in their thinking or actions or habits. And so it is with families who grow and live together. We may “fall” away from our birth families, and move miles away, but we will produce a new tree with the same fruit– fruit that nourishes communities and societies and new families.

red apples — Photo by Elizabeth Tr. Armstrong on Pexels.com

However, when we lose the pattern of families as God set them up, we lose a lot of other good things:

A sense of belonging–sure we all belong to the entire human race, and we shouldn’t become exclusive and tribal at the expense of our neighbors and others, but there is a point at which we want to know where we “fit” in the scheme of things.
Support and encouragement–I love my family; and I even like most of them! But I recognize a bond that cannot be broken lightly, and it keeps pulling us together in good times and bad. We are there for baby showers, funerals, weddings, house-warmings, graduations, and reunions. As our family has grown, we can’t always be at every event, but I will never be without anyone. There is a horrible epidemic of people who ARE living and dying alone– no family to visit or be visited; no family to talk to, or argue with, or share memories. This breaks my heart, and it breaks the heart of the God who made us to be “relational.”
History and legacy–My life has a purpose and fits into a plan. I am uniquely “ME”, yet I am also a daughter, sister, wife, step-mom, grandma, aunt, and cousin (and second-cousin once-removed, etc.). I didn’t just appear out of thin air, and I won’t disappear without leaving a trace. The choices I make don’t just impact my life. This is important regardless of my history–I am the one who can change a bad legacy into a great heritage, or ruin a heritage and leave a legacy of pain for those I leave behind.

Role models–Having roles within a family prepares us for having roles at work and in our communities– we learn to speak out, and to listen; we learn to ask for and offer help; we learn to respect others and earn the respect of those around us. We don’t learn these lessons perfectly, because there are no perfect families. But families provide a structure and pattern for teaching life lessons that is time-tested and approved. Busy parents are aided by grandparents, uncles, and older siblings and cousins in modeling good behavior, correcting bad behavior, and answering questions ranging from “the birds and the bees” to how to braid hair or tie a necktie. When that structure is missing, young people fall through the cracks in ways both small and crucial.
Seeing how God’s love works through the ages. God doesn’t just love in spurts and impulses. God’s love is eternal, and meant to be shared from generation to generation and spread from family to family.

I pray today that, just as my grandmother encouraged my love of family, that I will leave a legacy of love and faith for others in my life– those who are family by blood, and those who have become the family of my heart. And I hope that others will pray for our families to stay true and strong and fruitful, too.

man standing beside his wife teaching their child how to ride bicycle — Photo by Agung Pandit Wiguna on Pexels.com

June 27, 2018 0

Tag: parents