Happy Weekend

We wanted to take Jeremy camping on the Blue Ridge Parkway this weekend. He's so sweet to never complain about how dull life must be for him here with his friends far away, and we thought it would be fun. But Chuck and I simply ran out of steam and time and couldn't do it. Seem like we used to be able to do anything we set our minds to do.

A rousing game of Rummikub last evening kept us up past our usual elderly bedtime. When we finally quit, I was the not-so-gracious loser and Jeremy was closing in on the "basement" spot. It really was fun. Today I look forward to baking a made-from-scratch lemon meringue pie--Jeremy's favorite. And staying in town means we get to go to our Sunday school class tomorrow.

--------------------------
A few years ago, a teenaged missionary kid wrote about her dad's cancer. She has given permission for me to share the piece with you.
So Much in Just SIX LETTERS (by Hannah Guhr, 16 years old. She is now married.)
I smile sometimes when I'm introduced as the "artist." Those six little letters have the power to raise eyebrows and evoke "OHs" f rom perfect strangers who react as if they already know me. I smile and imagine them imagining me barefoot, splashed with paint and gnawing on a chunk of tofu. I smile because the image they conceive is so far from the truth. Actually I think of myself as an artist last, a Christian first, and a daughter, sister and friend somewhere in between. But most people don't get that far. Most people only see the first six letters.

My father smiles because he also has a six letter title attached to his name. An even more potent word with the power to make strangers of friends and friends of strangers. Those six letters are cancer. But my father only smiles, and few can fathom why. They see cancer as a dark shadow that eclipses life, a disease that harms, robs and kills. But to my father, those six letters spell nothing less than a gift. A gift given by the One who will not give stones for bread.
My father has a father that smiles. A heavenly father. And to Him, six letters are a lot. For Him, a word was enough to communicate Himself perfectly to men. And that Word was His Son, sent to bear the six letter title that no one else could bear on our behalf ... guilty. And when He wore it on the cross, that word was enough to buy life for any one who would receive Him. And the Father smiled. The blood of the innocent had paid, once for all, the ransom of the guilty. Jesus, in obedience had fulfilled his father's will.

One day my father, my Savior and I will exchange our six letter titles for better ones. I will exchange artist for saint. And when my Savior returns for his saints He will exchange guilty for glorified...His title by right. And my father? Like the Savior, he will never be a victim. He will willingly offer up the life he owes. And one day he will cash in cancer for crowns, and will have the joy, in turn, to place those crowns back at the feet of the Savior... the Savior that gave me the gift of art, and him the gift of suffering and both of us the gift of eternal life. (Thanks, Hannah.)
---------------

Have a blessed weekend.

Love,
Carol