My Mother...My Hero

My Mother … My Hero

On July 31, 1935, Miriam Chatmon (nee Alspaugh) was born. She was one of ten, but the unique thing about her birth was that she had two sisters who were born on the same day, Mary who was 6 years older and Rebekah was 12 years older.  Miriam grew up during the latter years of the great depression. She was frequently referred to as “Daddy’s boy” since she helped him with chickens and especially with the weekly cleaning of the coops. The family attended the small Alliance Church in the city, and Miriam came to full assurance of her salvation at Youth for Christ rally.  She intended to become a missionary nurse with her denomination, and began to pursue that path.  When she had, the physical required to become a nurse, the attending physician scoffed, “Your heart is too damaged … too enlarged. You will never meet the rigors of nursing.”  Yet, she did.  As for becoming a missionary, the Lord had other plans.  As she was finishing her training and beginning her career, two things happened. First, her older brother’s health began to deteriorate from advanced Crohns and other issues, and she was needed at home. Second, a young single man appeared on the scene and ultimately, they started dating. This dating/courtship led to marriage … his proposal was simple and direct, “Do you love me enough to marry me?”  She said, “Yes.” Questions and eyebrows were raised in the wake of this development, but it demonstrates a simple truth—Never question the leading of God in a person’s life who is committed to following Him.”

Mom and Dad continued following Jesus and pursuing God’s plan for their lives. They attended the small church where Mom had grown up.  I might add for clarification that Daddy had come to faith in Christ at a different Youth for Christ meeting, several years before Mom did.  Their passion was to serve those in ministry and to reach children who did not know Jesus. It was in this environment that I was reared.  Missionaries and other ministry leaders were constantly in our home, and my life is richer for it.  Amid this service mindset, mom’s body continued to weaken. Yet she loved her Savior, her family, her church and her friends. When her heart condition claimed her life or as I prefer to think of it released her to Heaven, my own heart was shattered.  Yet there are take aways from her life that have become my legacy. First, God oversees when we leave planet earth, not the doctors, not disease – but God.  Her life testifies to this as she had many times of critical illness when we knew the end had come, but God was in charge. Second, pain and limitations do not define us. If we have trusted Christ as Savior, then our identity is firmly in his care and control. Mom lived and worked with pain and exhaustion, but it was for God’s glory and in his strength.  Third, Mom loved completely and unselfishly. My goal and desire is to be half the woman of God that she was.  Fourth, I am more grateful then ever for the home of Heaven. Until then, I pursue life in Jesus and the knowledge of the Father and His will.  God is truly good all the time.

Moving Day...A Sort of Memoir

This was written, June 2014 and updated today as I contemplate Daddy's home going on May 12, 2012. 

Moving Day

Moving Day … the phrase conjures up a plethora of emotions… excitement … happiness … a bit of melancholy and yes overt sadness.  I experienced my first moving day when I was 18 months old; it really wasn’t all that traumatic. I wasn’t that shaken by it. All that mattered is that Mommy and Daddy were going as well. We were moving from a tiny house at the end of a boulevard to a more developing neighborhood with children and the neighborhood school – standard of the late 1950’s and early 1960’s.  We remained in that house until issues with my health necessitated another move; so moving day came at the end of my first grade year. The plan was to sell and build. We sold, but then needed a place to live until our house was complete. In the ensuing months we moved traveling light – we lived in a basement apartment, in a house vacated by friends who were passing the summer in Canada, and ultimately with my maternal grandparents.  According to my paternal grandmother this move took its toll on my six year old emotions despite the fact the fact I was with mommy and daddy every step of the way. She reports that on one overnight visit with her, I drew a picture of a bluebird singing “Sweet Cathy Wants a Home.”  We were nicely settled in our home, but five years later in the providence of God it was time for another move.  I was not happy even though I would have my parents, but I was resistant to the change and upheaval in my life that I knew would result.  With this moving day I began to wall my heart closed.  When we finally got into the house, we passed a miserable winter. My mom began to show signs of her congenital heart disease.  My dad was miserable and somewhat fearful not only of her heath, but also of his own.  I had bought into lies about my relationship with God and was slowly imploding spiritually and emotionally. We blamed the house – erroneous thinking, but hurting people frequently need a scapegoat.  In all of the pain, God had a plan.  Our church had just taken on a second staff member and wanted a place for him and his family. Our property backed up to the church property. Would we consider selling our house and land to the church? We discussed it as a family – another moving day was in our future.  We lived in a trailer while we renovated a barn. That was home for the next for the next 30 years.  For my mom it was a few less – for she stepped straight into Heaven from her bedroom – now that was some moving day.  Three years  after her home going we sold our house to the church with an ever expanding staff. Packing up the memories … loading our stuff. Coming to a condo. Then Daddy  had his moving day from ICU and Palliative care – I know he was glad to leave that baggage behind.  Now I’ve downsized again. Perhaps today was one of the most painful of all.  I’m letting go of stuff that has a lifetime of memories attached to it. I don’t have Mommy and Daddy to go through this with me, but I have someone better. Someone eternal. Anything I’ve left or lost in previous moves is transient – temporal and earthbound. My heart and eyes must be set on that ultimate move --- with no strings keeping me here.
It is now 2017 and the longings and missings are just as keen as ever.  I can not ... I will not dissolve into endless grief.  I promised that I would not.  I want to honor their memory by living a life that glorifies God,  so that when we are reunited in the presence in Heaven, I can face Jesus, Mommy, and Daddy unashamed and with great joy.

My NF Declaration

My NF Declaration

Yesterday I posted a picture on my Facebook wall commemorating the fact  that May is NF awareness month. I have what is known  as NF 1.   NF1 is an abbreviation for neurofibromatosis 1, a genetic disorder that occurs when there is an abnormality on chromosome 17.  There are other variations of neurofibromatosis. This link gives a brief description of each one: https://nfcenter.wustl.edu/what-is-nf//.   I have battled symptoms of this for most of my life. I have detailed   some of these in other places. One of the greatest challenges I face is chronic pain and balance issues. My parents were a tremendous support in all of this, but they are in Heaven now. I am learning that God is enough.  Last week while reading James 1: 9-12, the Lord impressed on me to write my declaration of perseverance, as a nod to Calvin’s belief in the perseverance of the saints, which is far more than a term related to eternal salvation.  It also is a means of pressing on to the glory of God in the face of pain and adversity.

My declaration begins with four declarative statements:

1.     I will keep going in the face of chronic pain.

2.     I will refuse to dwell on thoughts of bailing on life.

3.     I will not allow self-pity to overtake me.

4.     I will walk through life with the assurance that He is enough.

It continues with a statement of resolution:  Resolved, I will not cave on days when chronic pain is my companion. I will not commiserate, seek sympathy or otherwise undermine what God is doing in my life. I will not seek healing, because I know that God is doing something bigger in my life, and that Heaven and wholeness await me. I will not allow self-pity to dominate my thoughts.  I will not dwell on the fact that Mom and Dad are in Heaven and not by my side. As I walk through life, I will bear with the pain; I will allow the body of Christ to come alongside of me to embrace and assist me. Yet, I will not become a demanding leech.  I will look to my Savior for comfort; I will dwell in His Word; I will trust; I will revel in the thought that God is enough, and that He is my constant companion. I will rest when my capacity to function mentally and physically is marred and diminished by pain. I will trust, because God knit me together in my mother’s womb. He knew that my chromosomes would go awry, and He chose to glorify Himself despite that malfunction.  In the words of Thomas Kelly,

                   “Keep us Lord, O keep us cleaving

                     To Thyself and still believing

                     Till the hour of our receiving

                     Promised joys from Thee”  (Praise the Savior: hymnary,org).

Easter Musings

[1]

Easter Musings

This week the thoughts of the Christian church have turned to the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus Christ.  I have examined those events anew in my personal devotional time, but this morning I was drawn to the seven statements spoken by our Lord as He hung on the cross. Two of them, in particular, resonated with me.

First, was the cry of abandonment when He cried, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” (Mark 15:34) As Jesus bore the sin of a sinful humanity, the Father turned His back on His Son and the world was shrouded in darkness. Jesus faced that abandonment so that I would never have to face it.  Psalm 27:10 states, “For my father and mother have forsaken me but the Lord will take me in” (ESV).  I lived most of my life with the fear that my parents would die, and it eventually happened.  I was overwhelmed with loneliness and despair. I have written of those days in another blogpost.  The word “forsake” in Psalm 27:10 can mean “to go on before” or it can mean the outright leaving of another person (Logos Bible Software). The result is the same – a person is left alone, and that was the sense that I had.   As He hung on the cross, Jesus was praying the words of Psalm 22:1.  A careful comparison of the word forsake in Psalm 22:1 and 27:10 demonstrates that it is a derivative of the same word. There on the cross, Jesus faced abandonment by the Father so that I could claim His presence in the darkest hours of my loneliness, pain, and uncertainty. 

Second, I noted the cry of hope when in the concluding moments of His life, Jesus prayed, “Father, into Your hands I commit my Spirit” (Luke 23:46). In the Transformation Study Bible, Wiersbe comments that tradition holds that this was a prayer uttered by Jewish children at bedtime.  It would somewhat analogous to our “Now I lay me down to sleep…” I never liked the singsongy prayer, but it holds a word, of truth for the child of God. He can be trusted to take those who trust Him safely home to Heaven. In the closing moments of His life, Jesus reflected a hope and confidence in the Father as that prayer became a sigh even a cry of victory.

With Sunday morning, would come the resurrection of Christ – God’s “Amen” to the work and prayers of Christ on the cross.  His resurrection gives me hope, companionship, and assurance no matter what I face and I lift my voice in the cry of victory ….” He is risen…He is risen indeed.”

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[1] Logos Bible Software. Exegetical Guides.