Love
Your God/Hug Your Kids
I’m hearing it so often lately, it sounds like somebody’s
prayer mantra.
"The world has gone crazy."
Yes, it has.
There’s nothing sane about murderous Mujahadin flying
loaded passenger planes into 110-story matching glass candlesticks. There’s
no comfort to be found in the raging paranoia over potential biological,
chemical or nuclear attacks. There’s nothing reasonable about any religion
that urges its one billion adherents to crucify, maim and terrorize its
enemies.
Seven thousand people die within minutes. A horrified world
watches their cremation as devilish images flash forth from the fire.
I don’t know about you…but I still go through crying
jags.
Part of me wants to embrace the national pain but it’s way
too big and far too fresh for me to wrap my heart around for longer than a
minute or two.
A portion of me wants to erect blast walls of denial around
my fragile psyche and hide away inside an emotional bomb shelter.
"The world has gone crazy."
But it hadn’t touched me…personally.
Not until this week.
Then, my mother had two heart attacks. The doctors all
prepared me to measure her remaining life expectancy in terms of days or
even hours. Bertha Beezley fought poet John Donne's good
fight …raging against the dying of the light.
She lost that fight, this morning.
Mom was ready to go, of course. More than ready. At age 91,
my mother had been praying for release from her frail, crippled physical
shell. Now, she has spread her wings and become the newest and most
breathtaking butterfly in God’s heavenly garden.
Two nights ago, as I sat beside her hospital bed, this godly
woman I love told me, "I see the flowers. They’re so beautiful."
She then saw someone she did not know handing her a robe to
put on. I suspect it was Jesus.
At least I had the luxury to see her everyday at the nursing
home for the past three months. We laughed, cried and prayed together in
preparation for this day. I had a chance to give her multiple hugs, ask her
forgiveness for my many failings…and most importantly, I was granted the
precious opportunity to say, "Goodbye."
When those seven thousand victims at the World Trade Center
and the Pentagon left their families behind, heading for work on the morning
of September 11th, they never foresaw the sudden, vile, violent
severing of earthly bonds that awaited them.
It was supposed to be just another day at the office.
Just another day.
How is it we can take each gift of time and its gracious
Giver for granted?
Let’s cut to the chase.
We all need to stop doing that.
Would you live life differently if you knew this would be
your last day on planet Earth? Would you spend more time talking to your
Creator, reading his Word and trying to do what pleases Him? Would you give
your spouse and kids an extra-long hug and kiss at the door? Would you be
disproportionately kind to the "bit players" crossing each stage
of your life, simply because you recognize that God loves them, Jesus died
for them and you’ve been given a chance to share that marvelous,
miraculous love with them?
Would you allow yourself the indulgence of sunning your
spirit in the majesty of a flaming sunset, imbibing the aromatic nectar of a
freshly cut rose, capturing resounding peals of laughter from an
irrepressible seven-year-old?
What would you do differently?
So many questions. So little time.
And such a crazy world.
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