It never ceases to amaze me that, as I get older, my hat collection is growing. No, I am not talking about physical head coverings. I am reflecting on the different roles I have and how they seem to keep multiplying.
Today was supposed to be about Mothers, I suppose. It is funny how events can cause you to change your hat faster than you would change it yourself, if only you were in control. I had a great Mother's Day. My crew was so sweet and had the appropriate cards and gifts ready to brighten my day. However, on this Sunday, I ended up being much more focused on being a daughter than being a mother, and that was a good thing.
When one of your own is hurting, I think you put on the most relevant hat and run to do what you can. I can only speak from the perspective of a woman, but I know that there are times when I wish I could be better at wearing a lot of hats at the same time. I am just not that great at multi-tasking.
When I say "one of your own," I don't just mean children. I think it goes for any group to which you belong. If you are a member of the military, you are taught to never leave anyone behind. There is not much difference in that philosophy in your church, your home, or anywhere you have living, breathing beings depending at least in part upon you.
Today, my dad continued to struggle with this congestive heart failure problem that has been plaguing him for several weeks now. He was determined to make it to church this morning, and by the hardest, he did. As his doting daughter and the eldest child, I was not sure that it was the smartest thing for him to attempt 2 hours of sitting on a hard pew when he can barely tolerate a few minutes in a Lazyboy with 3 fans blowing air in his face. By sheer will and with great determination, he dressed himself as impeccably as ever and let my little brother who is in from Germany drive him and Mom to services. My crew followed in the next vehicle. Then, with equal fight, he did not walk to the handicap entrance but rather climbed the steep wall of steps that provide the main entrance into the century-old church building.
I remembered that climb from a couple of years ago when fluid overtook my lungs after the birth of my fifth baby. It is not a climb for sissies. It has intimidated more than one weary worshipper. But the bliss on the other side of the doors makes the climb worth every labored breath.
At the front of the building in this little remote country church, brother Gerald took his place to lead us in the singing. Gerald isn't well either, but he never lets that hold him back. He admonished us not to worry what our singing sounded like to men but rather to enthusiastically sing praises to God. With those brief comments, he threw himself into the song service. Brother Gerald leads with his whole body, not just his arm. I honestly did not know if God would end up taking both Gerald and Dad right there, but I think that if He had, we would have all rejoiced that they went like that! What a way to go that would be!
When brother Gerald leads "There is Power in the Blood," (and he did!) no worshipper can leave there doubting otherwise! A few times, I thought he would fall down before he finished all the verses of some of the songs, but he did not falter.
Today was supposed to be about Mothers, I suppose. It is funny how events can cause you to change your hat faster than you would change it yourself, if only you were in control. I had a great Mother's Day. My crew was so sweet and had the appropriate cards and gifts ready to brighten my day. However, on this Sunday, I ended up being much more focused on being a daughter than being a mother, and that was a good thing.
When one of your own is hurting, I think you put on the most relevant hat and run to do what you can. I can only speak from the perspective of a woman, but I know that there are times when I wish I could be better at wearing a lot of hats at the same time. I am just not that great at multi-tasking.
When I say "one of your own," I don't just mean children. I think it goes for any group to which you belong. If you are a member of the military, you are taught to never leave anyone behind. There is not much difference in that philosophy in your church, your home, or anywhere you have living, breathing beings depending at least in part upon you.
Today, my dad continued to struggle with this congestive heart failure problem that has been plaguing him for several weeks now. He was determined to make it to church this morning, and by the hardest, he did. As his doting daughter and the eldest child, I was not sure that it was the smartest thing for him to attempt 2 hours of sitting on a hard pew when he can barely tolerate a few minutes in a Lazyboy with 3 fans blowing air in his face. By sheer will and with great determination, he dressed himself as impeccably as ever and let my little brother who is in from Germany drive him and Mom to services. My crew followed in the next vehicle. Then, with equal fight, he did not walk to the handicap entrance but rather climbed the steep wall of steps that provide the main entrance into the century-old church building.
I remembered that climb from a couple of years ago when fluid overtook my lungs after the birth of my fifth baby. It is not a climb for sissies. It has intimidated more than one weary worshipper. But the bliss on the other side of the doors makes the climb worth every labored breath.
At the front of the building in this little remote country church, brother Gerald took his place to lead us in the singing. Gerald isn't well either, but he never lets that hold him back. He admonished us not to worry what our singing sounded like to men but rather to enthusiastically sing praises to God. With those brief comments, he threw himself into the song service. Brother Gerald leads with his whole body, not just his arm. I honestly did not know if God would end up taking both Gerald and Dad right there, but I think that if He had, we would have all rejoiced that they went like that! What a way to go that would be!
When brother Gerald leads "There is Power in the Blood," (and he did!) no worshipper can leave there doubting otherwise! A few times, I thought he would fall down before he finished all the verses of some of the songs, but he did not falter.
Dad (left) and brother Gerald, when breathing came a lot easier to both of them
My other brother, the preacher, spoke eloquently about prayer and reminded us to continue in it more fervently and not to forget the thanksgiving part of it that is mentioned in so many of the verses that tell us how to pray. It was a very appropriate lesson for those of us who have been beseeching the Lord on Dad's behalf.
Then, brother George, a relatively new Christian, got up and presided at the table for the memorial of the Lord's Supper. He spoke a few words, simple and unrehearsed and so typical of one who is not immersed in years of ritualism. He shed some genuine tears and helped us to remember the One who died to give us life and hope beyond this world.
If I had any doubts about it being good for Dad to be there, they were long gone by the end of worship today.
It is hard to be anything but a mother sometimes. Being a mother often keeps me from having the time with my husband that I would like. It consumes me to the point that I have to remind myself constantly that I am a Daughter, too. I am a Daughter of the King, and I am blessed in ways that I do not fully comprehend. I understand being a daughter, mostly! I am a pretty good daughter, I think. I have lots of room to grow in being a Daughter, though, if you understand where I am coming from. I am one blessed girl to have the earthly father that I have, but I am blessed beyond words to belong to the Heavenly Father.
Yesterday, I stood in the graveyard putting flowers on my grandmother's grave. I miss her so much, and I find myself trying to convey to my kids that they need to absorb every minute of precious time with everyone cherished in their lives. My words fall on deaf ears. As Jesus said, "He that has ears to hear, let him hear." They are not ready to hear it yet. They are at the age where they think everyone lives forever, including themselves. I know that by the time they are my age, if they live that long, mortality will begin to sink in a little for them, too.
I wonder how much we are like that to God. How much of what He says are we just not ready to hear yet? Which hat do we have pulled down over our ears? I hope I am a good wife, mother, friend, and servant to others, etc., but most of all, I hope I am a good Daughter, because I surely don't want to disappoint my Father.
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