Thursday, August 30, 2012

Tiny Dancer


For those of us who  donned layers of tulle--back then we just called it net--and who delighted in the whirr of momma's machine stitching those costumes or the arrival of the recital regalia in a box, there surely is a knowing smile in seeing the photo above. We can imagine so much associated with this pic of the tiny dancer and her beautifully posed leg.

This dancer has a name and a story I'd like to share. Her daughter found the pic yesterday and thought it was her big sister, or perhaps herself, only to discover it is a photo of her mom. Mothers and daughters can be like that: distinct and separate,  yet inextricably linked by a powerful bond and sometimes by physical features as these two share in many ways.

I lovingly offer an update on Cindy's story, previously shared here.  Her Caring Bridge is the site of my writings these days in loving service and prayer.

Hers is the most grace-filled, courageous, unselfish life story in the face of tremendous pain and loss that I have observed. She has taught me much that I must absorb and emulate when I, too, encounter hardship and unimagined difficulty. Too many specifics to share, and I'm not sure I can even express in words...but I am still learning how to reflect this life of profound faith and trusting in God's provision.

I have seen it done.

I know nothing is impossible.

I don't mean miraculous turn-arounds and quick healing as we have longed; I mean living into those  impossible fears and declaring what we can and cannot do in life. We can do hard things. We live faithfully, day in and out, trusting the only one who can support our steps when we falter.





Snapshots of a precious pair whose hearts are forever intertwined offer a glimpse of faces to go with the story.  God bless them both. Dance on!

"Praise him with the tambourine and dancing; praise him with strings and flutes!"
Psalm 150:4

Mercy Me's "I Can Only Imagine" is the desired soundtrack for this right now. It is playing in my head, but I don't want to run afoul of copyright laws. Maybe I can post the lyrics anyway....

I can only imagine
What it will be like
When I walk
By Your side

I can only imagine
What my eyes will see
When Your face
Is before me

I can only imagine
I can only imagine

[Chorus:]
Surrounded by Your glory, what will my heart feel
Will I dance for You Jesus or in awe of you be still
Will I stand in Your presence or to my knees will I
fall
Will I sing hallelujah, will I be able to speak at all

I can only imagine
I can only imagine

I can only imagine
When that day comes
And I find myself
Standing in the sun

I can only imagine
When all I will do
Is forever
Forever worship You

I can only imagine
I can only imagine

Surrounded by Your glory, what will my heart feel
Will I dance for You Jesus or in awe of You be still
Will I stand in Your presence or to my knees will I
fall
Will I sing hallelujah, will I be able to speak at all

I can only imagine
I can only imagine

[- From: http://www.elyrics.net/read/m/mercyme-lyrics/i-can-only-imagine-lyrics.html -]

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Panting for God?


As the deer pants for flowing streams, so pants my soul for you, O God.
Psalm 42:1


This was the favorite scripture of a courageous young man who died at age 23 from a relentless brain tumor. I watched this journey up close as his body began to fail him, but his faith was resolute--even growing. In my early twenties myself, I had much to learn about facing such limitations as the inability to walk, then later, to speak. But his eyes--as long as they could see-- fairly glistened with with a life-energy and joy in the midst of intense suffering. 

I had never seen anything like it. I still think of his profound influence.

While hearing and vision remained, he desired to hear from the Scriptures. Yes, at twenty three. A young man, yet his Bible was dog-eared and marked like that of an old sage. Even the Old Testament, I remember. So I'd read through the Psalms, always starting with 42:

As a deer pants for flowing streams,
so pants my soul for you, O God.
2 My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.

And I believed it was true. Yearning for the Presence of God, intensely.
I'd continue...
When shall I come and appear before God?
3 My tears have been my food day and night,
while they say to me all the day long,
“Where is your God?”
These things I remember,
as I pour out my soul:
how I would go with the throng
and lead them in procession to the house of God
with glad shouts and songs of praise,
a multitude keeping festival.
5 Why are you cast down, O my soul,
and why are you in turmoil within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,
my salvation and my God.
My soul is cast down within me;
therefore I remember you
from the land of Jordan and of Hermon,
from Mount Mizar.
Deep calls to deep
at the roar of your waterfalls;
all your breakers and your waves have gone over me.
By day the Lord commands his steadfast love,
and at night his song is with me,
a prayer to the God of my life.
I say to God, my rock:
“Why have you forgotten me?
Why do I go mourning because of the oppression of the enemy?”
10 As with a deadly wound in my bones,
my adversaries taunt me,
while they say to me all the day long,
“Where is your God?”
11 Why are you cast down, O my soul,
and why are you in turmoil within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,
my salvation and my God.

His was not a faith of posturing, of seeming to pray without ceasing so as to appease God into miraculous healing of this inoperable brain tumor. He was not making a deal with God, not pretending to be worthy while pleading for a cure. He was living out his months and weeks with whatever life and breath was left and uttered praise when physically possible.

Nope, never seen anything like this before.

While the wisdom of Scripture was paramount,  the wisdom from another source was a favorite second. Dr. Seuss's The Sneetches was a favorite book, and in it the author brought to light the human condition in a way I have always loved myself. He gave me his copy, and I have kept it quite visible in the decades since. It acts as a prompt to a remember the things and people who matter and to seek after things that will last.

This young friend died 21 years ago this month, but a legacy of faithfulness in the face of great pain and loss survives. 

May we, too, leave something worth remembering.


With thanks to friend Carla Parris for sharing photo above from The Great Smoky Mountains this summer.