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).

Take It

 “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done.” Luke 22:42

I offer my cup, hold it out, offer it up for others to take and sip. But it remains mine to drink. And why should I expect anything different?

Jesus begged the same question that night in Gethsemane, "Take this cup."

Facing cross-shaped pain and death, Jesus offered up his cup. If obedience came in any other form, if any other payment could be offered, Jesus wanted a trade. But the cup remained his to drink.

My lips rest on cup's rim before I tip. The strong aroma of blood-red wine overwhelms me and I hesitate, asking one more time, "May I trade this cup for a sweeter white?" And when my cup remains, no trades allowed, I have a choice: refuse the blood-red cup and walk away or accept it and drink.

Before Jesus tipped his cup he surrendered all - his will for the Father's perfect redemptive plan. And when I first read this, I think of course he did, he was God's son. But the white spaces between the cup and his obedience reveal his torment.

"An angel from heaven appeared to him and strengthened him. And being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground."

Luke 22:43-44

He didn't want to drink this blood-red wine. Dismayed, Jesus begged and pleaded for a sweeter white until his humanity perspired, weakened and slumped. Could Jesus, fully-God, fully-man not see resurrection joy ahead? I don't know.

"The discipline of dismay," says Oswald Chambers, "is an essential lesson which a disciple must learn. The danger is that we tend to look back on our times of obedience and on our past sacrifices to God in an effort to keep our enthusiasm for Him strong. But when the darkness of dismay comes, endure it until it is over, because out of it will come the ability to follow Jesus truly, which brings inexpressibly wonderful joy" (My Utmost for His Highest, Discovery House, 1992).

Knowing the hour, God sent Jesus his strength-ministering angel so that He might endure the drink until the full cup of blood-red wine emptied at Calvary. And Calvary held no joy. No, for that was the saddest day when Jesus fully surrendered his will, endured the cross and took on sin. That death-consuming day the earth grew dark and shook at the weight of all He bore.

Joy came after the dying.

And still does.

Lips pressed against my communion cup, I drink. I do so in remembrance of Jesus' obedient sacrifice - his laying down and dying - for me, for us all. And I empty myself right there, in the memory of the cross, knowing that whatever transformation takes place after the laying down, I'm assured joy follows. For part of remembrance is the empty tomb - the joy of transformed resurrected life.