This is the message you have heard from the beginning: We should love one another. [1 John 3:11 (NLT)]
Last week, I delivered the eulogy for my 102-year-old mother-in-law at the celebration of her life. The word “mother-in-law” does not adequately describe our relationship. Although my mother died when I was fifteen, at the age of twenty God blessed me with another mother when I got married. Along with a husband, I gained his wonderful parents. My mother-in-law opened both her arms and heart to me and loved me well. It was from her that I learned how to be a woman, wife, mother, grandmother, mother-in-law, and friend. I never had a problem calling her Mom; indeed, I loved her as if she had been my very own birth mother.
Four years ago, I wrote a Mother’s Day devotion about Ruth and Naomi titled “Mothers-in-law.” While considering what an amazing woman Naomi must have been to inspire such love, I kept thinking of my mother-in-law and how I was a Ruth to her Naomi. Since my mother-in-law was approaching her 99th birthday that year, I suspected that I would probably use that comparison in a eulogy at her Celebration of Life in the not too distant future. When I delivered my father-in-law’s eulogy nearly fifteen years ago, I had glowing words to say about him; sadly, as happens with eulogies, he never heard them.
Although anyone who would be in attendance at my mother-in-law’s eventual funeral would certainly know from my words how much I loved this beautiful woman, I wondered if she knew it. People say actions speak louder than words and my actions were always kind, loving, respectful and considerate. Yet, in spite of my behavior, I wondered whether my mother-in-law knew that, even in difficult circumstances such as those encountered by Ruth and Naomi, I gladly would say, “Don’t ask me to leave you and turn back. Wherever you go, I will go; wherever you live, I will live. Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God. Wherever you die, I will die, and there I will be buried.” [Ruth 1:16-17 (NLT)] Sometimes, words need to be spoken and it occurred to me that I should share my thoughts with my mother-in-law while she was alive rather than wait to say them to those who mourned her when she’d passed. And so, along with Mother’s Day candy, flowers, and card, I gave her a letter comparing us to Ruth and Naomi and expressing my devotion, admiration and love for her.
When the Apostle Paul told us that eloquent words and generous actions without love were worthless, he wasn’t telling us not to express ourselves but rather to use our words and actions authentically. We often assume that the people we love know it, but do they? The time to express our love is now, when our words and actions can be appreciated, rather than later, when they can’t!
I would rather have a single rose
From the garden of a friend,
Than to have the choicest flowers
When my stay on earth must end.
I would rather have the kindest words
Which may now be said to me
Than flattered when my heart is still
And this life has ceased to be.
I would rather have a loving smile
From the friends I know are true,
Than tears shed ’round my casket
When this world I’ve bade adieu.
Bring me all your flowers,
Whether pink, or white, or red,
I’d rather have one blossom now
Than a truckload when I’m dead. R.D. Richards
Yesterday, I wrote about archeological support for the story of Balaam; his is but one of many Old Testament stories with evidence provided by archeology. When reading about King Belshazzar giving a feast for 1,000 in his Babylonian palace, it’s easy to think there must have been exaggeration as to the size of his party. Archaeologists, however, have excavated a large hall in Babylon that was 55 feet wide and 165 feet long, a room sufficient to host a gathering of that size. The Bible mentions writing that appeared on the room’s plaster walls and archeologists found that this ancient room had plaster walls!
A pastor friend shared a story about a woman at a previous church who had an odd habit. Whenever the pastor announced a change of some kind, more often than not, she would say to him, “I’m so thankful. I’ve been praying you would decide to do that.” When curiosity overcame him, he asked “Instead of using God as a middle man, why don’t you just tell me what you’re thinking or want changed?” Revealing that she was a preacher’s kid, the woman told of the officious interference, meddling, criticism and complaint her father had endured during his ministry. In fact, the often unchristian fault-finding behavior of his parishioners nearly turned her away from the church. She vowed that, unless asked, she’d never tell a pastor what she thought he should do. Instead, she’d simply pray about it and, “if it is God’s will, then He will reveal it to the pastor.” Apparently, as she discerned, God makes an excellent “middle man!”
After a brief stay at hospital, we’d brought Gert, my 102-year old mother-in-law, home to die. Although she was a woman of faith, she seemed frightened of the journey that lay ahead of her and kept calling for her mother and father (who’ve been gone for more than half a century). When I shared this with the Hospice nurse, she asked if I’d told her that it was all right to leave. Since Gert was in a state of semi-consciousness, I questioned whether she would understand but the nurse assured me that hearing is the last sense to go.
St. Valentine may (or may not) have been the Catholic bishop of Terni, a priest who helped persecuted Christians during the reign of Claudius II, one who suffered in Africa, one who secretly married couples when marriage was forbidden, or one who converted the family of a jailer named Asterius and restored sight to his blind daughter. It was a common name and whether there was only priest named Valentine who did all of these things or as many as three, supposedly he or they were beheaded by the Emperor Claudius II on February 14 around the end of the third century. The confusion about Valentine’s identity led the Roman Catholic Church to drop his saint day from their official calendar of feasts in 1969.
We were window shopping and celebrating our anniversary. Wanting to get me a gift, my husband spotted a dress he liked in the window of a little boutique and insisted we go inside. The owner greeted us, said the dress in the window wouldn’t fit and showed me a different dress. It was so unlike anything I’d ever worn that I immediately said it wouldn’t look right on me—wrong color, wrong style, wrong material, and wrong fit. ”Don’t you tell me what it will look like,” she said indignantly. “I created this dress and know exactly who it will fit. It will be beautiful on you.” Chastened, but still sure it would look terrible, I reluctantly tried it on. The designer, however, was right. As the creator of the dress, she knew what she had in mind when making it and that it would be right for me.
Devotions of the Heart 