Remembrances

"I thank my God every time I remember you." Philippians 1:3

I slipped a pussy willow sprig from her funeral basket and whispered my plans in our granddaughter's ear. "We'll plant it soon, in remembrance of Mammie."

So, I set that brown twig with soft-as-a-kitten buds in a bottle of water near a sunny kitchen window and prayed it grow roots. Buds continued erupting from the base of that brown stick to the top as it simply sat and drank.

Every time our granddaughter visited over the next few weeks we talked about that pussy willow branch - touched the soft buds, looked for roots, and remembered Mammie in heaven. And, every day I washed the dishes it caught my eye and I'd remember Mammie - giving thanks for the godly daughter she raised for my son and the times we celebrated our grandchildren together.

Soon, all the buds dropped and scattered across the kitchen counter leaving a lifeless looking branch. But, I still hoped and let it sit and soak - scheming to buy one at the garden store if this poor branch never rooted because I promised we'd plant our Mammie bush.

Roots appeared just in time for Mother's Day!

 

 We planted them in fertile soil...

 

...poured living water all around...

 

...and remembered Mammie.

Just like this branch, when we sit and soak and drink in God's presence - our Living Water - we grow and bear much fruit.

“But blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord,
    whose confidence is in him.
 They will be like a tree planted by the water
    that sends out its roots by the stream.
It does not fear when heat comes;
    its leaves are always green.
It has no worries in a year of drought
    and never fails to bear fruit.”

Jeremiah 17:7-8 NIV

Mammie planted her feet deep near the stream of Living Water, Jesus Christ. She never feared the heat or drought and the standing-room-only attendance at her memorial service testified to her fruit bearing life.

Now as summer approaches and the grandchildren we shared play in the shadow of this bush, we'll stop and give thanks for every remembrance of her.

What are some ways you help your children or grandchildren remember loved ones who've passed?

(Please stop by Christian Children's Authors blog today).

My Sweet Spot Restored

“I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten..."

Joel 2:25

We share an unspoken bond, a connection like no other I've known since I sat in my own mother's lap decades ago. It's almost like our hearts are rhythmically connected. We enjoy one another's silence and participate in encouraging gab fests--either way, these precious moments speak volumes.

When we're together my mind eclipses back to childhood memories of working alongside my own mother. With six and nine years between my older sisters and I, I enjoyed hours of solitary time with Mom while they attended school. Whatever she did, I wanted to do, even the menial tasks like ironing, vacuuming and grocery shopping. It didn't matter what she did, her presence comforted me. But, my sweet spot with Mom was when I curled up on her lap, my ear pressed up against her chest and listened to the rhythm of her heartbeat and the echo of her every breath.

I was nine years old when my parents divorced. When my father walked out one hot day in August, my mother and I switched roles. She needed my support, my strength, my emotional stability and comfort. I haven't felt her comfort since and there are moments I still grieve that loss, wishing I could still curl up on her lap and press my ear against her chest and listen to her rhythmic heartbeat and fall asleep to the echoes of her breath.

Thursday I received a desperate plea from my daughter-in-law to babysit my four-year-old granddaughter overnight who was reversing all the vacation packing. Of course, I was delighted to spend another day with my granddaughter before they flew off across country for a week!

During the Maundy Thursday service my granddaughter curled up on my lap, ear pressed up against my chest and I gently rocked her back and forth in my seat while the piano prelude filled the sanctuary. Then out of nowhere she looked up at me with her big, baby-blues and said, "I love listening to your heart, Grams." Our own little sweet spot!

God reminded me right then of a word a friend received on my behalf earlier this year:

"Dawn, God will restore all the years the locusts have eaten. He will do this through your granddaughter."

And He is! Our heart-bond is no coincidence. Rather, it is a beautiful gift--restorative art, woven together by the hands of our loving God, just for us. Never do I take for granted the moments we share because I know each day is a heart-made gift. 

Is there a place in your heart that needs God's restorative art? Is there someone or someplace God's given you to restore the years the locusts have eaten? Are you that restorative gift God's using in someones life, today?

Father God, no words can properly express my thankfulness for the restorative work of art you are creating by your own hand in my life through this special relationship. But, I am grateful, ever grateful. May you do the same for any reading this today who mourn loss in their lives. Restore them, Father. May they recognize the Giver as well as the gift and give you praise. Amen.