Articles by Kelly Breece at Heartlight

Letters from My Sisters

KellyBreece@aol.com (Kelly Breece) — Sat, 15 Jan 2005 00:00:00 -0600

"Would anyone like more coffee?" Our gracious host for the evening asked as we sat around the dining room, quite contented from our meal. After a bowl of home cooked soup and a sampling of each of the scrumptious casseroles and salads, a steaming hot cup of coffee seemed to be the only thing left to do before our devotion began.

Later, with a kitchen chair under my arm, I followed the rest of the ladies to the cozy fire-lit family room. A soft verse of "Jesus Is Lord" seemed to soothe away the stresses and worries of the day as we settled in. Our speaker for the evening had prepared a lesson centered on the importance of Christian relationships among women.

After her heartfelt lesson, she stood up and began to hand out pieces of paper, face down, to a few of us women. With a puzzled look, we took them, and one by one, we turned them over to read to the other ladies as she asked us to do. The first letter was from a lady in our congregation who had suffered the loss of a child. She wrote about her experience and the sadness that often fills her heart. At the end, however, her letter was about inspiration and about the love she feels from her Christian sisters. That love, along with the knowledge that she'll someday be reunited with her son, comforts her.

Another lady in our circle had written a letter about the loss of her husband a few years back. She talked about the support and sustenance that her sisters gave her. There was a letter from my Mother thanking her dear friend for lovingly lifting her spirits when she went through a frightening medical scare last year. Yet another lady told of how the love and support of her church family helped her place things into a whole new perspective while she was struggling with difficulties inside her family. We listened intently to emotional outpourings of gratitude and thankfulness these women felt because of their church family, and more importantly, their Christian sisters. For a moment, the emotion of each experience was almost as real as it was when it first happened. A few sniffles could be heard underneath the reading of each letter.

As we circled the room, we came upon the last letter of the evening. The tear that I'd been trying to stifle rolled down my cheek when I saw who had written the letter; it was our host for the ladies fellowship. In her home throughout the evening, I had seen walls filled with pictures and other remembrances of her husband, whom she recently lost. I knew this letter was going to get me.

She began by recounting all the times that people brought by food, sent warm wishes, made phone calls, and came by just to visit. Just as everyone's eyes filled up with tears, the person reading the letter stopped and said ... "And then there was the time, last summer, when I fell off the chair, while hanging wallpaper, and broke my arm. People helped me around the house and brought many hot meals over. And for that I just want to say thanks to all of the women ... well ... except for one ... the one who pushed me out of the chair!"

The expression on her best friend's face, who was there hanging wallpaper with her, was priceless. In the midst of tears, our group of ladies broke out in much-needed laughter. I couldn't help but think about how that so often describes our experiences in life. Just when we feel that we're reaching our emotional limit with the sorrows in life, God rescues us with a bit of good ol' laughter ... and so often through our sisters.

"Sweet is the voice of a sister in the season of sorrow." (Benjamin Disraeli)

And again they wept together, and Orpah kissed her mother-in-law good-bye. But Ruth insisted on staying with Naomi. "See," Naomi said to her, "your sister-in-law has gone back to her people and to her gods. You should do the same."
But Ruth replied, "Don't ask me to leave you and turn back. I will go wherever you go and live wherever you live. Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God. I will die where you die and will be buried there. May the LORD punish me severely if I allow anything but death to separate us!" So when Naomi saw that Ruth had made up her mind to go with her, she stopped urging her.
So the two of them continued on their journey. (Ruth 1:14-19)

Kelly lives in Tennessee with her husband, Michael, and their young son, Shane. She is the author of "Morning Cup", a weekly Christian women's devotional. The messages are inspired by true life experiences in womanhood and in motherhood.

It Never Left

KellyBreece@aol.com (Kelly Breece) — Thu, 02 Dec 2004 00:00:00 -0600

"How'd ya like that movie, Shane?" I asked my sleepy little guy as we walked toward our car.

"Moon, Mama. There's the moon. See?" he exclaimed with sudden energy.

"No, the movie ..." I quickly saw that something much grander had captured his attention. It was full and bright, and though I'm sure he'd seen it the night before, Shane greeted the moon like a long-lost friend. As I carried him toward the car, he twisted and turned in every direction, never losing sight of his enchantment. "Yes, I see the moon." I said. After tucking him into the car and pulling away, I heard him begin to cry.

"Where did moon go?" Shane asked.

Trying to comfort him, I drove the car around the parking lot, hoping to position us properly for another glimpse. However, even when I was sure he could see it, the roof of the car still blocked his view. In a tired, defeated whimper, he said, "Good night moon." In and out of sleep, he softly cried.

Throughout the drive home, I scanned outside all of our windows and stretched forward peering through the windshield, trying to spot the moon again for Shane to see. Even though it was a chilly November night, I even opened the sunroof for a couple of seconds, hoping to see the moon just above our heads. No luck. We simply couldn't see it from inside our car.

Once we arrived home, I pulled him from his car seat, and quietly pointed up toward the star-filled sky. He raised his sleepy head, opened his eyes wide and said, "Ah-w-w, there it is."

"It never left, honey; we just couldn't see it. The moon's always there even though you might not be able to see it. Do you feel better?"

"Yeah ..." he answered half-heartedly as he lowered his head to my shoulder.

There was a familiarity in the words I used to teach my son something new that night. There was a familiarity in Shane's despair when he thought the moon was gone. I realized this wasn't as much a teaching moment for Shane, as it was a teaching moment for me.

Christ, our light in the darkness, is always, always there. If I'm in the comfort of my home or in the uncertainty of a far-away land, He's there shining down on me. If a cloud of despair separates me from Him, He's right there awaiting its dissipation. Even when, through my self-proclaimed self-sufficiency, I interrupt His light and cause a total lunar eclipse, He still waits for me, patiently, in His steadfast position.

Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?

If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn,

if I settle on the far side of the sea,
even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast. (Psalm 139:7-10)

Trailing Me

KellyBreece@aol.com (Kelly Breece) — Sat, 27 Nov 2004 00:00:00 -0600

We had about an hour before the sun went down. That was just enough time for Shane and me to meet up with my Dad and hit the city greenway on our bikes.

Strapped in tightly in his seat on the back of PaPa's bicycle is the best place to be for an afternoon ride down the cool, wooded bike path. The popular greenway meanders through our small town and intersects city streets in three different places. Dad, Shane, and I rode nearly to the end, but stopped short to head back home, knowing that nightfall was coming fast.

As we approached an intersection, the oncoming car stopped. The man inside rolled down his window and motioned for our attention. He was winded and spoke with a bit of panic in his voice. He asked if we'd seen a woman and two young girls on the greenway; then he explained that his son had been taken to the hospital following an asthma attack and he was trying to find his wife and two daughters to let them know.

With his detailed description, Dad and I realized that we had indeed passed them, though we weren't sure if we'd seen them before or after we turned around. We wanted to help, but we couldn't tell the man with certainty which direction they were heading. I assured the man that we would keep an eye out for them and would let them know he was looking for them.

The moment we returned to the front entrance of the trail, we passed the woman and her daughters. Trying not to upset them, I slowly explained the situation to her. Knowing that by this time her husband was on the other end of town, I decided to call my brother and ask him to come over and drive them to where he was.

In the meantime, Dad volunteered to head back down the trail on his bike to look for the man in case they weren't able to catch him. Dad knew this family needed help, so off he went. Shane and I waited behind as Dad could ride much faster without us. Making good time was essential because by now it was nearly dark and there were no lights on the trail.

Twenty minutes passed ... then forty ... and my brother returned after having successfully reunited the family. Unfortunately, there was still no sign of Dad.

"Did you see Dad on the other side of the trail?" I asked my brother.

"No, I thought sure he'd be back here with you guys by now. He must still be looking for the man."

"Well, we have to go find him. What if something's happened to him in the dark? He should've been back by now." I said, beginning to feel very unnerved.

I had told him that Shane and I would stay right there and wait for him, but I couldn't wait. I put Shane in his car seat and my brother quickly tried finagling the bicycle into the back of my Jeep. "It's not gonna fit. The back wheel is hanging out."

"Don't worry. I'll sit in the back seat and hold onto it!" I told him.

I jumped in and we drove away as I held a death grip on the cold metal frame. As we approached the other end of town, my phone rang.

"Well, he just pulled up on his bike. Come on back home." Mom said.

When I walked in the door, Dad asked me with a grin, "Were you two the ones I saw pulling out of the parking lot with the bicycle hanging out the back?"

"Yep." It turns out that after all that waiting, Dad was about thirty seconds behind us.

Such is life!

Our bike trail adventure made me think of all the times in life that God's perfect plan is trailing our plan by thirty seconds. If we would only stop and listen, we could hear the sound of his tires rolling up.

Lady and Champ

KellyBreece@aol.com (Kelly Breece) — Wed, 10 Nov 2004 00:00:00 -0600

Our first house was a haven of glorious, mature, maple trees. We were just outside of Nashville, but when you drove down our street, you felt as though you had entered the Smokey Mountains of East Tennessee. In the middle of the day, all you could hear out on the front porch was the rustling of leaves and the occasional barking of one of the neighborhood dogs. There were several, but two little hound dogs, named Lady and Champ, stole my heart the day we moved in.

Lady and Champ were like a couple that had been married for years. You would never see one without the other trailing closely behind. Even though they belonged to Ronnie and Patty, our next-door neighbors, they spent many cold winter nights curled up together in our basement on a warm blanket. We considered them a part of our family. You would have thought they had been with us for years the way they would come running when they saw us pulling into the driveway.

Champ would drop to the ground at our feet and roll his plump self over for anyone who might want to scratch a sweet auburn-haired beagle's tummy. They never missed a chance for affection and they never missed a cookout. When we moved, I cried. I had to leave those beautiful trees and I had to leave Lady and Champ asleep on the front porch with no idea that we weren't coming back.

We've been in our new house for over three years now. Just the other day, Mike walked in and said, "Ronnie and Patty moved. Did you know that?"

"No I didn't," I replied. When I thought about what he had said, I envisioned the house being empty. If Ronnie and Patty had moved, then that meant that Lady and Champ were gone, too. Suddenly I felt so sad. They were gone. I would never see those little hound dogs again. My heart sunk.

I thought about them all that day. As afternoon came around, Shane came bounding down the stairs and asked if we could go outside and play. When we did, I looked around at all the trees that we have planted and how they are really beginning to blossom. I waved at my neighbor across the yard -- someone who has become a dear, dear friend. And out of nowhere, came Cowboy, the rambunctious, but gentle German Shepherd from next door. Cowboy and Shane have become the best of buddies.

As I stood in my yard watching my son play, I realized something very important. I left my last home with the comfort that I could always go back and visit the things I missed most. I had every intention to go back often and see Lady and Champ. When I learned that they were gone, I felt the loss of that comfort ... then realized that I hadn't had enjoyed that comfort for a long time. Everything that we knew about home had changed -- not necessarily a change for the better or for the worse, it had just changed. Three years had gone by, and not once had I found the time to go back. Though leaving my two little buddies was sad, it proved to have been a part of God's plan for our lives. Lady and Champ will always hold a special place in my heart. I know they're romping around a new place somewhere else with someone else to love them. We had found a new set of friends, we were growing new trees, and the three of us now enjoyed a new adopted pet friend.

Sometimes God chooses to change our paths in much more profound ways. In order to do that, our lives sometimes have to come to a screeching halt so that we don't miss an important turn in our path. With every change, however, He provides new insights, new goals, new visions, and a newfound strength to let go of our past. He teaches us that joy sometimes comes through pain. He reminds us to trust in Him and to believe that His plan is His perfect way of bringing us, ultimately, back to Him.

And wisdom and knowledge shall be the stability of thy times, and strength of salvation: the fear of the LORD is his treasure. (Isaiah 33:6)

Christ and Christophers

KellyBreece@aol.com (Kelly Breece) — Wed, 27 Oct 2004 00:00:00 -0500

"Do you wanna go to the playground?"

"Yea-a-a-a-h" It began as his stock answer to my questions, but with his two-year-old southern drawl, he elaborated as the question sunk in. "Sw-w-wing ... sl-l-lide?" He asked.

"Yep." I answered.

We walked into the enclosed city playground, a wonderland of wood and metal, with bars to climb, secret passages to explore, and swings in which he could fly high as a bird. Shane ran straight to the first slide and jumped on it. Seeing that there was a little boy at the top waiting to go down, I snatched Shane up and redirected him towards the back of the slide.

"I'll help him up," said the boy at the top. "He can go down in front of me." With that he jumped off the ladder and waited for Shane's slow and unsteady climb up to the top. They descended the slide, one after the other, over and over until they were both nearly dizzy. With the boy's suggestion, they bounded over to the swinging bridge where he jumped up and down on one end making Shane spring across, belly laughing all the while.

"His name is Shane. What's your name?" I asked as I guided Shane across.

"Christopher ... and that's my Dad." He said in one breath. I looked over to acknowledge the person he was speaking of and to say, "Hello." When I did, my eyes met with a middle-aged man sitting on the park bench. He stared back at me, but did not offer a response. He was dirty, with torn clothes, and he looked tired and weary. Quickly, I turned back to Christopher and resumed our conversation.

"How old are you?"

"I'm 4, well my birthday's next week." He replied.

"Oh really, well happy birthday. Will you have a big party?"

"I don't know ... maybe. Nobody will come. Nobody came last year." He turned his head from me and looked at his Father. Not knowing how to react, I changed the subject and the boys kept playing. Everything that Christopher did, Shane would attempt to imitate. He laughed hysterically when Christopher ran and dove headfirst onto a swing and went sailing through the air. The two short years that separated them was a lifetime in Shane's eyes. He watched his every move.

As they rounded the corner to head down the slide again, we heard his father's voice, "Come on son ... we gotta go." Christopher jumped down from the ladder, ran towards the man, and never looked back. I watched as the young boy followed closely behind his father across the long parking lot towards their car. I wondered what kind of "grown-up" worries that little guy must have.

Suddenly Shane came whishing down the slide, grinning ear-to-ear, eager to find his friend for one more trip. He soon realized that Christopher was gone.

"Where Chis-to-per, mama?"

"He had to leave with his Daddy, honey." I pointed towards the pair in the parking lot. I watched as Shane faintly, almost sadly, waved his hand in the air towards his friend. He looked down at the sand and his bottom lip began to slightly protrude. This newfound friendship was special to Shane, but now he was gone. I found the look in his eyes strangely familiar, though this was the first time he'd ever experienced this. In his eyes, I saw myself and the times when someone has walked out of my life with them not fully knowing how special I thought they were to me.

That afternoon, I said a prayer ... that God would teach me to convey my true feelings and never let a Christopher walk from my life without knowing what he means to me. I had no idea just how fully God intended to answer that prayer.

About two weeks after the day at the playground, my brother and I said the words, "I love you," for the very first time in our lives. My brother ... Chris ... and I have always had a tough time communicating.

Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for He who promised is faithful. (Hebrews 10:23)

Ahead of My Time

KellyBreece@aol.com (Kelly Breece) — Wed, 22 Sep 2004 00:00:00 -0500

After the last button was fastened on my cardigan, I grabbed my perfume bottle for a hurried mist, and, while glancing at the clock, raked things from the counter into the drawer. As always, I gave myself one hour to get to the other side of town. With three minutes to spare, I decided to go back for one more kiss from Shane, who had crawled into bed with Daddy after getting his first cup of milk.

"Boy, I took longer than I thought!" I said to myself as I climbed into the car. It was already fifteen minutes after the hour and beginning to rain; but I knew that if traffic wasn't bad, then I could still make it to work with a one or two minutes left. With every commute to work comes a decision: I can choose to take the interstate and risk being tied up behind a wreck, or I can choose to take the side roads and risk hitting every red light from here to town. Two minutes after making my choice, I suddenly wished I had made the other. As the red brake lights multiplied rapidly up ahead, I heard on the radio that a four-car crash had just been reported.

"Just two seconds ... if I'd heard that just two seconds earlier I would be sailing down the side roads right now."

My heavily perspiring palms nearly slipped off the wheel when I found my first chance to change lanes and exit the interstate. A momentary sigh of relief came as I broke free from the sluggish traffic and whisked onto the side road. I knew just which way to go; unfortunately everyone else had already ingeniously decided to do the same thing. Everyone coming into town from the north was now sitting still. I thought to myself ... if I had only planned better ... if I hadn't gone back in ... if only I had given myself an hour and ten minutes. There's no way I'll make it on time now. This will surely effect the whole day. This is going to be a long ...

Before I could finish my thought, it was drowned out by the escalating rain shower. After what seemed like two hours, I pulled into the parking lot. The clock on the dash said 8:10. I pulled underneath an awning and swallowed hard as the producer of the project walked over to my car.

"I am so sorry for being late. The traffic was horrendous. I'm just so sor ..." I smattered.

"You're not late. It is five minutes before eight. You're the first person here. And besides, our client's plane was delayed because of all the rain. You might want to check your clock."

I looked down and remembered that I had intentionally set my car clock for fifteen minutes fast so that I would never feel anxious going to work!

That afternoon, after a good day at work, I walked in the door, grabbed a cold glass of ice tea, and plopped down on the couch with the most confident intention of taking a relaxing, cozy nap. For the first time in months, I gave myself permission to let go and simply "spend time." It was wonderful.

I awoke to my surprise with my toddler standing in front of me, nose to nose. He wasn't sure what to think of Mom not rushing around the house in the afternoon.

"What'cha doin', Mama?"

"Just restin', honey." I quickly realized what he'd been doing when I raised up and found his tennis shoe Velcro-ed to my hair. Hands to his face, he giggled, "I gotchoo."

That day God got me too. I was reminded just how much we need Him in every little thing that we do and just how much He does guide us despite ourselves. We try to depend on our ability to "beat the clock" and "beat the system." In the process, we just "beat ourselves up." Where would we be without him?

Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? (Matthew 6:26-27)

Have It His Way!

KellyBreece@aol.com (Kelly Breece) — Wed, 15 Sep 2004 00:00:00 -0500

"What can I get for you this morning, darlin'?" She asked in her sweet southern drawl over the intercom.

"I'll have an egg and cheese biscuit and a small cup of coffee, please."

"All right, sweetheart, anything else ... just pull around to the first window please, Hun."

Every morning that I go to work I stop off at the fast food restaurant just before hopping onto the interstate. And every morning the lady at the window greets me. This greeting is not the kind that someone was asked to do by the manager because it's in the employee guidelines. She greets me as if I was a member of her family who had just walked into her kitchen to sit down and have breakfast. The moment I see her, no matter how the morning started out, I catch her contagious smile. I feel happier and more eager to begin another day.

One particular morning as I sat and waited in line for my turn to move forward, I watched the hustle and hurry of this typical morning commute. Behind me in line was a middle-aged man in a suit and tie frequently checking his wristwatch. Behind him was a mom pressing her luck, hoping to get a quick cup of coffee and a kid's meal before dropping her child off at school and getting to work herself. There were sounds of sirens as cars and trucks zoomed by on the highway. In all of this, I also watched up ahead of me as the lady greeted a young man on his way to work with her warm smile and his steaming cup of coffee.

"How are you doing this beautiful morning?" she asked him.

I began to wonder just how many people sitting in this line, morning after morning, have already been touched and changed by her simple yet unwavering kindness and her genuine, spirit-filled heart. It's unlikely that her job will bring her wealth, fame, or prestige. I don't believe that's why she chose it. I believe that she knows that God has a special purpose for her. She's allowing Him to reach His children through her one "Good mornin'!" at a time.

In fact, I believe that this special lady was placed at this stop along my journey to remind me of the wonderful ways that God can use all of us to broaden the realm of Christianity. No matter where we find ourselves, we can rest assured that God came there before us. He had already decided that it would be the perfect place for us to fulfill His plan. Then he helped place us there.

"I sure hope you have a wonderful day, okay honey."

"Ma'am, I hope you do too."

I myself have gained much joy and comfort from your love ... because your kindness has so often refreshed the hearts of God's people.

(Philemon 1:7 NLT)

"We make a living by what we get. We make a life by what we give." (Winston Churchill)

Surprise!

KellyBreece@aol.com (Kelly Breece) — Sat, 28 Aug 2004 00:00:00 -0500

I tell you, many will come from east and west and will eat with Abraham and Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven ... (Matthew 8:11)

"We'll see you there at 6:15." I heard my husband say before he hung up the phone. We had traveled back from a business trip earlier that afternoon and had been home only a couple of hours. Speaking through a yawn I raised up from my nap to ask who he was talking to.

"Jeff. We're going to dinner with Michelle and him." Still a bit groggy, I slid out of bed after glancing at the time on the clock. It seemed strange that he wanted to go out for dinner after having driven for several hours, but I didn't question him. I did ask, however, if he had made reservations and when he told me that he hadn't, I decided to call ahead and make some for us. When the hostess answered the phone, I gave her my last name.

"Are you with the large party tonight?" she asked.

"No, there will just be four of us in our party." I answered without hesitation.

Later on, when we walked into the restaurant, I turned to Mike and explained that I had called ahead and gotten us a reservation. I was sure he would be greatly relieved since the parking lot was packed with cars. He just nodded to me and quickly turned to the hostess. She grinned back.

"Right this way, please." She said as she motioned for us to follow. She led us down the hall to a room in the back of the restaurant. I could see through the glass that there were at least fifty people standing in the room. When she slowly opened the French doors, I looked in and saw, of all people, my Dad, standing inside the door.

"Daddy? What are you doing here?" I stammered.

Immediately, I saw that standing next to him was my friend from our first home; from her I learned just how much you can love a friend when, at seven, I had to move away. Behind her was my cousin and two of my co-workers; there were people with whom I spend holidays and people with whom I spend weekdays all standing together in that room. I felt as if I had entered a dream. Everywhere I turned I saw face after face from my whole life. Mike guided me, dumbfounded, through the crowd. Friends from college were there with their children; they were sharing tables with friends from church as if they'd always known each other. It took the entire evening to make my way around the room and thank everyone who rearranged plans and made a special effort to make this a wonderful surprise party. The only bad part about it was that it ended much too soon.

I'm thankful for that night. I was reminded of the blessing of family and of friendship, but there was something else that'll stay with me forever. In the surrealism of the first few moments of the party, I kept thinking to myself that must be what it's like to enter heaven, when everywhere we look there are loving, familiar faces smiling back at us. Every soul who has ever touched our life will be waiting there to welcome us. We will know one another like we never dreamed possible on earth. We'll spend endless time reminiscing with those with whom we only briefly encountered while here on earth. We'll finally get to sit and talk again with grandparents ... and the grandparents of their grandparents. Oh what a surprise party it is going to be!

For the Lord himself will come down from heaven with a commanding shout, with the call of the archangel, and with the trumpet call of God. First, all the Christians who have died will rise from their graves. Then, together with them, we who are still alive and remain on the earth will be caught up in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air and remain with him forever. (1 Thessalonians 4:16-17)

Those who live in the Lord never see each other the last time. German Proverb

Leap of Faith

KellyBreece@aol.com (Kelly Breece) — Wed, 11 Aug 2004 00:00:00 -0500

It was by faith that Abraham obeyed when God called him to leave home and go to another land that God would give him as his inheritance. He went without knowing where he was going. (Hebrews 11:8)

"Look around and decide what you want to have, because I'm only taking a few things with me wherever I go," my Grandmother announced to all us as we sat around the dinner table.

As the family discussed her plans, I looked around at the house. Granddaddy had transformed the dining room, where we were sitting, from a garage back in the sixties. Throughout the years, scores of wonderful home-cooked meals crowned this dining table. Looking into the living room, I saw Granddaddy's favorite chair. I imagined him reading the morning newspaper there like he did for so many years. Unlike our family, each room, with solid-wood pieces of history, had managed to resist the changes brought by time. Outside the window on that spring evening, I stared at my grandmother's magnificent azaleas, still in bloom. I wondered if they could sense that their loving caretaker, who had called this place home for over sixty years, was about to change her life.

Tangible things ... her majestic dogwoods in the front yard, her mother's dishes, and this spacious home ... had brought her years of joy. Now, after having raised and nurtured her family, having organized countless holiday celebrations, and having maintained this home meticulously, she looked forward to simplicity. The very things that had defined her life were now confining her. The home that had brought her security and stability for so long, presented vulnerability that she didn't feel before Granddaddy passed away. She had spent her fair share of days weeding the garden, cleaning the floors, and sweeping the porch. It was time for her to find another piece of solid ground ... in another place.

What wasn't distributed among the family was sold. The house was sold. I wasn't there the day she walked out the door for the very last time, but I can only imagine what must have been going through her mind. Sixty years of her life were inside those walls. She quietly tucked away her past and walked, with faith, to an unknown place. We moved her living room suite and one bed into her new one-room apartment.

Nowadays, my grandmother doesn't cook. I'm delighted to say that we "do lunch" in the elegant dining room downstairs. Yes, she gave up her garden, but she enjoys the professionally arranged flowers on every floor of "Park Place" on a table that she doesn't have to dust. She doesn't have the large porch on which to sit and drink morning and afternoon coffee; her days usually begin with morning aerobics classes and often wind down with a good game of bridge with her new friends. There are so many new friends that I have to concentrate on remembering all of their names, in fact.

Though she never showed it, I know that it was one of the hardest things she's ever done. Even though I'm sure she has a day here and there where she still misses the old house, I think she'd tell you that it turned out to be the best thing she ever did. There was a renewed spirit and a new zest for life in her. She took her leap of faith. And again, she found solid ground ... even if it is on the second floor.

... but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint. (Isaiah 40:31)

Night Night Moon

KellyBreece@aol.com (Kelly Breece) — Wed, 04 Aug 2004 00:00:00 -0500

Pull the weeds out of the flower garden. Wash the car. Wash the windows. Etc.

Each item on my "to do" list for the following day had its own number and time frame in which to do it. Since our son, Shane, came along, it had become necessary to schedule certain things during his nap time. The moment I knew he was asleep in the safety of his playpen, I could grab his baby monitor, race outside, and do what I needed to do outside. If nothing disturbed him, I was sure to have an hour to finish one thing and maybe even knock out the next item on the list.

Late the next afternoon, just after Shane dozed off, I tiptoed past his playpen towards the backdoor. I was within two feet of the backdoor when the floor creaked.

"Mama. Out!" With his hands in the air, he grinned and repeated his request over and over until I reached down and picked him up. "Walk," he said as he grabbed my hand and pulled me across the room. With one chubby finger, while still holding hands with the other, he matter-of-factly pointed to the floor. "Right there," he commanded with a grin. I sat in the floor and watched as he demonstrated. On all fours, he hopped as best he could, and then pointed at me to do the same.

"Rid-it, rid-it ..." (Shane-ese for "ribbit"). The next thing I know, I'm on the floor hopping around the living room like a frog. I never did get around to those weeds that day. Instead Shane went to the front door and asked to "walk." There was a summer shower heading our way, but I figured we still had a few minutes. The sky, though steel blue, felt calm and serene. There was a fresh, sweet scent in the air and a gentle breeze picking up. As we walked down the driveway, Shane looked up and saw the moon peaking in and out of the rain clouds.

"Night night moon," he said as he waved high above his head. As we walked along, we said "night-night" to the birdies, then to his favorite doggie, to the clouds, and finally to a tiny little bug by his shoe.

Suddenly, I felt the raindrops so we walked quickly back towards the house. As I stepped up on the front porch, the shower unleashed.

"Come on Shaner, we gotta get in quickly or we'll get all wet." I turned around to grab his hand and saw that he had stopped in the middle of the yard. He was staring straight up into the sky, soaking wet by now, gathering raindrops in his tiny outstretched arms and laughing hysterically.

"Oh boy ... rain ... rain!" He shouted.

There is no sweeter picture than a two year old little boy truly feeling a wonderful summer rain shower for the first time. And I can't think of a sweeter reminder from God to stop ... and soak up all of this beauty around us.

Because I have a son, I have to have a set schedule. Because I have a son, I sometimes have to throw that schedule right out the window ... yeah, the window with fingerprints all over it.

One day some parents brought their children to Jesus so he could touch them and bless them, but the disciples told them not to bother him. But when Jesus saw what was happening, he was very displeased with his disciples. He said to them, "Let the children come to me. Don't stop them! For the Kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I assure you, anyone who doesn't have their kind of faith will never get into the Kingdom of God." Then he took the children into his arms and placed his hands on their heads and blessed them. (Mark 10:13-16)