Sleeping Peacefully

I will lie down in peace and sleep, for you alone oh Lord will keep me safe.
Psalms 4:8

Not long ago there was a movie out with Al Pacino, (one of my favorite actors) titled Insomnia. I was intrigued, but refused to see it...sorry Al. There was no way I was about to risk exacerbating a problem I’ve been battling for years. You know what I’m talking about? When you see an enactment of a difficulty you’re currently facing; it really doesn’t make the problem go away but instead focuses more energy on the issue.
Since I was thirteen years of age, I literally have been plagued with an inability to fall asleep. Imagine my frustration at a teenage sleepover when all the other girls were cutting z’s and I was still up at 4AM watching the latest rerun of ‘I Love Lucy.’
Now don’t get me wrong, there are times when I’m perfectly normal and I nod off without a struggle. I feel excited that the problem has abated and I’m somehow free from the imprisonment. But, if a stressful situation arises, or I’m anxious about my children, finances or work-related activities my eyes won’t close for days. I’ve literally gone for seven days straight without sleep. I know that’s hard to believe but it’s the absolute truth.
I’ve read every book about sleep disorders I can get my hot, little hands on (my body temperature seems to rise when I’ve had no sleep). I’ve also researched every holistic method of treatment available. I just love how all these self-help books give wonderful ideals of the perfect solution to my on-going problem. Guess what I discovered? Bananas promote sleepiness. Why didn’t I think of that? Apparently the tryptophan in this luscious fruit has an amino acid that’s linked to healthy slumber. Eating jasmine rice four hours before bedtime is suppose to be a miracle in a grain. Have you ever heard of jasmine rice? Me neither.
Some of them offer a certain amount of relief but no absolute answer has come from any of the sources. Sleeping pills give me a few hours but leave me feeling like a zombie the next day.
And yes, I’ve prayed a lot about it, had others pray for me too and researched every verse pertaining to sleep that I can find. I’ve exhausted the Strong’s Exhaustive Concordance! I feel like I don’t have enough faith in this particular area of my life.
Don’t you find that it’s so easy to have faith for someone else’s issue, but so much more difficult to believe for your own? Why would God care about my sleep patterns? He surely has far bigger problems to solve. World hunger or a cure for cancer would certainly take a much higher priority. I feel ridiculous asking the Almighty to help me lay my weary head to rest.
The thing that really gets my goat is how easily my husband can go to sleep. He can sleep anywhere. If he sits down on the couch he can pass out in five minutes- his head cast to one side, his snores coming in a rhythmic tempo of relaxation. I just watch him in amazement. How does he do that? It doesn’t matter what’s going on his life. Wall Street could be crumbling in a twisted heap, a hurricane could be ripping through our city, and the house could be on fire. None of it would matter. Jim would still be sleeping. I really resent him for that. Or maybe I’m just jealous. Either way- it irritates me.
I have to tell you, a short temper is a constant nagging trait of the insomniac. If my son asks me too many questions on a day after several nights of minimal rest I’ll take his head off with a quick slice of the verbal sword. I can hardly believe what comes out of my mouth when I’m sleep deprived. Jordan just looks at me like I’ve lost my mind and should make a very serious attempt to find it. My husband is a smart man and makes a point to steer a wide path around me on those days when he’s heard me wandering the house at all hours of the night. Yes, he wakes up, hears me tripping over furniture in the dark and promptly falls back to sleep.
The side-effects of long term sleep deprivation is something I’m extremely familiar with. Besides the obvious foul temper and the shaky hands, there is also a loss of equilibrium and verbal acuity. But the worst part of it is the forgetfulness. Why am I writing this article?
It’s a good day today- I slept six hours last night. Nearly a record. I’m up for Olympic Gold in the ‘Forty-Winks’ competition. My mind is a little less foggy; my speech isn’t laced with the wrong verb tense and the incorrect adjectives. I’m not slicing heads off with my verbal sword and I’m fairly pleasant. I’d probably remember your name if I met you. God be praised. I’m always so thankful on those days when the night before has awarded me rest.
I’m learning to find peace regardless of my physical struggle, or current situation. Like Paul says in Philippians 4:11-13 I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed, or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want, and whether or not I get any sleep. (I added that last little sentence to the scripture. I’m sure the Lord won’t mind. )
How do I find peace? I choose to be thankful. And in my thankfulness there is rest, whether I’m fully awake or dying for a lack of sleep. Either way, I have a deep sense of calm and contentment that this life and all its painful struggles can never take away from me. God inhabits the praises of His people and when I’m praising Him, I’m choosing to be appreciative of all His blessings. My mind doesn’t dwell on the negatives, and worry takes a back seat to serenity. That one choice of my sleep-deprived will, can make all the difference on how I get through the day- or the night.

Peaceful in Spite of What we See

I’m leaving you with a gift, peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give isn’t like the peace the world gives, so don’t be troubled or afraid. John 14:26-28

I remember the day I first noticed the patchy, red, scaly raised area on my lower left shin. It was about the size of a dime. I had just read an article in the local newspaper about skin cancer, and was more than a little alarmed over this new discovery. I booked an appointment with my dermatologist for the next day and made a quick journey to his office for a diagnosis. Dr. Kane studied the area with intensity and told me with absolute certainty that the spot was not cancer, but a far less frightening proposition- psoriasis. Relieved that I would live and not require an invasive surgical procedure, I purchased the prescription for a topical steroid at my local pharmacy and put the intrusion out of my mind. Little did I know this quiet invader would become a constant and deliberate stalker over the years; one that would steal peace and erode confidence.
It’s almost funny how something that begins so innocuously can over time evolve into an overwhelming and pre-occupying tyrant. Since the birth of my daughter nearly 22 years ago, I’ve been plagued with psoriasis and have observed its gradual victory over my once clear and unblemished skin. Stress brings out the worst in the monster and since the last few years have been inordinately stressful to put it mildly, I’m beginning to feel like Job in the Old Testament Bible story- covered from head to toe in unsightly red itchy, painful sores. Long- sleeved blouses and long pants are anything but comfortable in the humidity and heat of Florida. But, we girls are experts at hiding the unsightly, aren’t we?
Since psoriasis has become my constant and undesirable companion, I find myself looking on other women with jealousy. I see their smooth, clear skin exposed under flirty dresses that skim the knee with beauty and elegance and I imagine the horrified looks on the faces of those who happen to catch sight of my condition. On occasion, I have been caught without the proper coverage and on those unfortunate instances come to the painful realization that it’s better to hide than answer the questions of curious onlookers. People are frightened by what they don’t understand. I’ve become an anomaly-something I never expected to deal with in my life. In our society beauty is defined by exacting criteria and I’ve spent my life in front of cameras, working on television and on the public stage. Now that my definition of beauty has been drastically altered, I’ve been forced to look inward to discover the essence of a splendor not defined by human criteria. This is a journey I didn’t want, or expect to take.
The truth, and I hate to admit it, is that I’ve been deeply depressed over the necessary changes in my life. There are days when I can occupy my mind with more worthy thoughts. There are other days when I simply want to hide in the corner of my closet and wallow in self -pity. I’m fully aware which of these is the more virtuous. To heck with virtue! I just want to be normal again.
I’ve asked God on many occasions over the years to take the psoriasis away, and to relieve me of this unfortunate ailment. I’ve seen God heal people of far more serious disorders. But as Paul said in Second Corinthians chapter 12 in the New Testament, “I was given a thorn in my flesh…and three different times I begged the Lord to take it away. Each time he said, ‘My gracious favor is all you need. My power works best in your weakness.’ And so, what doesn’t kill me makes me stronger and certainly more compassionate, not to mention humble.
Maybe that’s the point. Perhaps God desires to teach me humility and the heart of compassion. Both attributes I really felt I possessed. I now know with absolute certainly that I was lacking in both departments. Having never walked in the shoes of those plagued with such maladies, how could I have a genuine and deep- seated compassion for their pain? I couldn’t. I had merely a dismissing and superficial sympathy, rather than genuine empathy birthed from personal experience. I now know the embarrassment and the feelings of shame associated with physical problems that are beyond my control.
I know this sounds completely nuts and I’m shaking my head as I write it, but I’m actually thankful for this challenge. I’m learning to see others the way God sees them, to look on their hearts rather than outward appearances. I’m learning to accept what I can’t change and to be grateful for the things I can. I’m learning to appreciate the beauty in life that supersedes worldly viewpoints of magnificence- and I’m discovering things about myself I would never have known had I not been forced to endure this hardship.
God has really interesting ways of developing our character. When we journey to a place of true intimacy with Him, He sometimes takes us down roads that are extremely uncomfortable. He shakes our definitions of faith and stretches our boundaries. In these times we question who we really are in Christ, and what holds us to our faith. Is it mere tradition and religious expectation? Do we live the Word, or do we simply know it by learned rhetoric and rote memorization?
Psoriasis is teaching me what it means to walk in peace and to trust God on a very personal level. I’ve read this particular passage over a thousand times and applied it to the various trials I’ve endured over the years. But never has it been as poignant to me as it is at this juncture in my life. Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. If you do this, you will experience God’s peace, which is far more wonderful than the human mind can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:6&7
You know what? It’s true. His peace does keep us in the midst of the storm. His contentment is our comfort and our constant. It defies human reason and explanation. I haven’t given up hope that I will one day be healed, but in the meantime I’m gleaning new insights in my spiritual journey and learning to walk the path of serenity in the presence and mercy of the Lord.

Peacefully Parenting

Don’t worry about anything. Instead pray about everything. Tell God what you need and thank Him for all He has done. If you do this, you will experience God’s peace, which is far more wonderful than the human mind can understand. Philippians 4:6

Of all the people I’ve loved in life and all the individuals I’ve cared for, I’ve never known greater love for any living thing than I do for my children. When my daughter was born I changed so completely, it took me by surprise. I went from a self-involved workaholic to a doting, over-protective mother. As any parent is aware- that need to safeguard and shield a child never leaves us. Mother was still trying to take care of me at the age of eighty-five! Now I understand the saying, “once a parent, always a parent.”
Meagan has been a particularly stimulating child even from the day she took her first step. Her body clock was wound tightly, and her engine never seemed to need a rest. She could doze for a fifteen minute nap and hit the floor running for the next four to five hours. A human Energizer Bunny!
When she was five she decided to hide in the local Target store, and Jim and I were absolutely frantic. After fifteen minutes, we had the front doors closed and locked and brought in the security guards and numerous personnel to find our wayward daughter. Thoughts of abduction flooded my mind with fear as we searched every nook and cranny in that huge mega facility. After a full thirty minutes and many hysterical tears, she leaped from one of the overly crowded rounders in the women’s clothing department and gleefully shouted, “Mommy, Mommy, you can’t find me!” This was a precursor of things to come…
Meg’s idea of fun is to push every button and to crash through barriers. She is a dare-devil in every sense of the word, completely fearless about things that would normally frighten ordinary people. She loves to drive fast and has several speeding tickets to prove it. Our day in court before the judge was very sobering…at least for me. I believe Meg thought of it as just another adventure!
Selling her car, taking away the computer and shutting down her cell phone have been necessary disciplinary measures for my adventurous child. And even then- she seems to find ways around what she views as mere inconveniences. I’ve never met anyone more resourceful. I have every confidence that one day she will somehow channel all that wily ingenuity, and there’s simply no telling what she will accomplish.
During those sleepless nights when I’m tossing and turning, waiting to hear her key in the door- I remind myself of all the amazing things God has done for my audacious and daring child. Like the time she flipped the new four-wheeler at her Uncle Richard’s farm and it landed full weight on top of her. She walked away without a scratch. Or, the time
she developed a systemic kidney infection, due to the fact that she pushed herself to the point of exhaustion. She had a temperature that escalated to 107 degrees, and the infection was so wide-spread we thought we might lose her. I sat by her bed in the emergency room for hours, holding her hot and fevered hand until she once again became coherent. Thankfully, God intervened on her behalf. Of course, there were bike crashes and car accidents- all which could have left her seriously impaired. But, God was always there to look out for her when I couldn’t.
The boyfriends I haven’t been comfortable with, the parties she doesn’t think I know about, and the endless array of other worldly concerns mothers share, keep me on my knees before God as my daughter travels this unhurried road to maturity.
Meagan is my steady lesson in maintaining peace. There have been times that I’ve been absolutely despondent over her choices and I’ve felt it had to be some flaw in me, some shortcoming in my parenting skills that caused her deliberate behavior. I’ve wanted to go back in time and do things differently- to offer more comfort, more of my time, less of my criticism, more of my compassion. I think parents often blame themselves for the perilous roads their children choose to travel. No doubt, I have made mistakes and I wish I could rectify them. But time is not a gift that can be recaptured. All we have is this moment. And in this moment, I choose to be thankful for those beautiful gifts I recognize in my amazing child.
From the time she was talking, she’d stop me from stepping on a tiny ant on the sidewalk- feeling sympathy for its lowly estate and right to life. Her contagious laughter brings a smile to the face of anyone who hears it. Her zest for life makes the dreariest day come alive and sparkle. She can kick a soccer ball with such intensity and drive; it makes me want to shout at the top of my lungs. Her loyalty toward the friends in her life is something truly admirable, and it offers me great peace to know these gifts are resident within her, an endowment from the hand and heart of God.
I know I have trained her up in the reliable and constant ways of the Lord. So when I hear that little voice in the Target store calling out to my heart, “Mommy, Mommy, you can’t find me!”, I have immeasurable peace in the knowledge that God always knows exactly where my beautiful Meagan is, and He will always be there to guide her toward the right path, one step at a time.

Peaceful in the MIdst of the Storm

“O lord, no one but you can help the powerless against the mighty! Help us Oh Lord our God, for we trust in you alone.” Second Chronicles 14:11


It is most difficult to write when I’m suffering through great adversity, but I find often the writing is then the most candid and accurate. I’m facing many trials and difficulties at this juncture in my journey, but I realize I’m not the only one looking for peace in the midst of the storm.
I think financial problems are one of the worst trials we face, because they affect the core of our desire and our need. Women have a special longing to feel safe- to know their homes are not threatened, to know that their children have what they require. We also want our men to feel the contentment associated with the knowledge that they are good providers.
Single women have other fears. How do they pay their rent or their mortgage? How do they cover their medical bills? What about the car payment?
When even one of these areas, or God forbid, all of these areas are in jeopardy, women have an innate pressure to solve the problem or to help repair the damage. I call it the Florence Nightingale syndrome. I’ve met few women who don’t make every effort to rise to the occasion when life’s complications occur. It’s simply a nurturing instinct- to protect and preserve.
But sometimes we can’t fix things. Sometimes the problems are beyond our ability to repair, or even to relieve. That’s when we feel most desperate, and those are the times we hate the most.
I am smack dab in the middle of one of those times. Due to a change in the economy my husband has to make changes in the way he handles business. I’ve taken on an extra job in order to facilitate monthly financial commitments and all of these monetary stresses take a toll on us, physically, spiritually and emotionally.
Usually my brilliant husband can come up with a suitable game plan to relieve our financial burden. He always has in the past, and frankly, I haven’t had to worry too much about our money issues. But, I can tell by his furrowed brow, distracted demeanor, and the way he tosses and turns through the night, that the financial issues are pressing. Money worries take a serious toll on a marriage. They divide and often times conquer. I know we aren’t alone in this sorrow. There are many others who share our worries and concerns and who are trying to keep their homes and families together in spite of challenging odds.
Where am I going with all this? To the Word. To the Lord. To the foot of the cross and to the faith I know will get me through these complex times. I’ve been through them before, perhaps not to this particular magnitude, but I’ve been through very hard times in the past and the Lord has never failed me. Not once. He’s always made a way in the wilderness, rivers in the desert, a door where there was no door.
One of my favorite scriptures that I read over and over again in times like these is found in the book of Philippians; Don’t worry about anything, instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. If you do this, you will experience God’s peace, which is far more wonderful than the human mind can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus. 4:6
And this is the key to peace- we must think of all those things we have to be thankful for, especially in trying times. Our health, our loved ones, dear friends, a good meal, a blue-sky day, laughter, a walk in the park, a hug from our children, the loyalty of a pet, gas in the car, a good cup of coffee. The list of gratitude’s is endless if we take the time to evaluate all that we have to be appreciative of. If we tell God how grateful we are for our blessings, he is willing to hear our petitions and to answer them. Don’t we want to do all we can for the child who is grateful? It’s no different with our Heavenly Father and all the more in these pressing times when trouble is so close at hand. Nothing takes Him by surprise- and he is fully aware of our dilemma.
It’s in these times of great anxiety that we discover the difference between faith and trust. I believe faith is a choice to envision with spiritual eyes what our natural eyes don’t yet see. While trust is the absolute confidence that all will be well- that God will unquestionably meet the need, in His way and time. Without these challenging periods, we would never learn the depth of our walk with God, or the level of maturity we still need possess. He allows the thorny patches in our road so that in our pain and suffering, we turn to our Lord to help us endure the hardship. The more we trust in Him, the greater the depth and intimacy of our spiritual relationship.
And so, to Him I go once again- with a thankful heart for all He’s done, and with my petitions for the pressing needs at hand. I don’t know what tomorrow holds, but I know who holds tomorrow. I trust the Lord to keep me stepping peacefully, as my mind is fixed on him.

The Perfect Place to Find Affirmation

How precious are your thoughts about me oh God. They are innumerable. I can’t even count them; they outnumber the grains of sand. When I wake up in the morning, you are still with me. Psalms 139:17&18

I believe our journey in life is a process of discovery. Some of us are born with huge amounts of confidence and move through life without self-doubt and insecurities, while others seem to be plagued from day one.
In spite of the talents God has given me, I’ve never felt completely comfortable to express those gifts. Fear has often consumed me when I’ve attempted to sing or play the piano- even though I have worked very hard to bring those gifts to a place of excellence, even perfection. Mother started my piano lessons at the age of six, and I continued my studies for the next 23 years. You’d think all that practice would make perfect! When I’m at home, singing or playing to an imaginary audience, I’m fine- no stage fright or nausea, But, get me in front of a crowd, regardless of the size- and I’m a wreck. Even thinking about a performance will make my palms perspire and my stomach do flips.
There have been many times of triumph, where I have successfully performed the music without mistakes or concern, but more times when I have fallen short of the mark, disappointing myself and those in the audience of listeners.
Those inconsistencies wreak havoc with the self esteem. Oh how I admire those talented individuals who, time after time, stand before the crowd without an ounce of self-doubt and deliver their offering with such grace and composure. I envy their assurance and self-possession.
Why is it some of us suffer from a lack of self-esteem? I had a doting father who was quick to affirm me in every way possible. He thought everything I did was ridiculously spectacular. From homework to piano recitals- I could do no wrong in his eyes. Mother on the other hand, was far less complimentary. Her favorite saying was always ‘pretty is as pretty does.’ It wasn’t until I was a mature woman with children and responsibilities, feeling fat, frumpy and haggard, that my mother told me I looked lovely.
The most severe onslaught to my self-esteem took place during my 25 years of marriage. My husband didn’t grow up with kindness and encouraging words- and consequently was clueless as to the art of their delivery. After years of living with a man who was unable to compliment or confirm, I felt inadequate, unattractive and incapable. The fragility of our self-esteem is often made the more vulnerable by our environment and the people who are in our lives.
I’ve meet a countless array of women who have offered up the same complaint. They have allowed their self-esteem to be compromised by the people closest to them. The God-given talents and abilities are over-shadowed by the contempt, jealousy and need to control demonstrated by those nearest. It’s the one’s who are dearest to our hearts that have the ability to deliver the most fatal blows.
I’m sorry to say, that I have looked for confirmation, affirmation and love in the wrong places from time to time. And I’m sure many of you have too. These unsuitable paths have offered a temporary fix to my lagging sense of worth, but certainly no permanent answer. The end result is dire uncertainty and a dark dismal road with no end or destination. When we look to individuals to build our confidence, we will be constantly disappointed. Over the years, I’ve made that predictable mistake, and have always found it to be true. We can not develop our self-esteem by depending on the accolades of others. This is a foundation that is sure to crumble. There are simply too many variables in the character of men or women, to base our importance or rest our confidence on the words of human wisdom.
We must know who we are in Christ Jesus. This is the beginning of our journey toward discovering our self-esteem and it is also the destination. In Christ alone do we find the purpose of our lives, the use of our talents and the will to continue the passage in spite of self-doubt. Our Creator is the only one who knew us before we came into existence. You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother’s womb. Psalm 139:13 He endowed us with our abilities and foresaw the ways in which we would utilize our gifting. God has given gifts to each of you from His great variety of Spiritual gifts. Manage them well so that God’s generosity can flow through you. 1 Peter4:10 And most importantly, He loves us even when we don’t live up to the gifting or make the most excellent choices. Do we find that to be true of the people in our lives?
I now know that regardless of my musical performances or the directions I may choose in my pursuit of contentment, the Lord is my only constant. I’ve learned to ask myself this question; ‘who am I going to lift up today?’ I find when I choose to exalt the Lord, rather than self, and make my choices about Him, rather than me, the deep seated fulfillment I attain offers the greatest increase to my self-worth.
He’s the rock I stand on, the lifter of my head, the healer of my distress and the comfort of my spirit. He is the author and finisher of my faith. He is the lover of my soul. There is no other place I can go to find authenticity. There is no other path for my feet, or road to travel. I belong to Him and He, to me.
Jesus is the gentle protector of my self-esteem. He defines who I am in every way that bears importance. The words of others pale in comparison to His words over me.
How precious are your thoughts about me oh God. They are innumerable. I can’t even count them; they outnumber the grains of sand. When I wake up in the morning you are still with me. Psalms 139: 17&18

Our Self Esteem is God's Design

“I knew you before I formed you in your mother’s womb. Before you were born I set you apart and appointed you as my spoke man to the world.” Jeremiah 1:5


Recently my beloved mother passed away. She was a delightful 85 years old, and would have turned 86 on June fifteenth. I had her for 47 years, but 47 years was not nearly enough. Neither for me, nor for any of us who knew and loved her.
Her funeral was a cornucopia of people from all walks of life, various faiths, ethnicities and socio-economic backgrounds. There was one resounding quality in mother’s life that brought all these people together in a tiny, overcrowded and uncomfortably warm room. They all wanted to give back a little bit of what she’d always given to them- love, acceptance and encouragement.
When I was a small child, my parents owned a nursing home called Hampton Manor. It was located on a narrow winding street, on the north end of town, surrounded by big gnarly trees with canopies of lovely green leaves, offering their shade to anyone passing by. There were beautiful flowers planted out front- all pinks and reds, because these were Mother’s favorite colors. Their fragrance welcomed every visitor who entered Hampton Manor.
“How in the world are you today, Mr. Pulley? You must be fine, because how could anyone be anything but fine on a day like today!” Mother’s positive demeanor and uplifting cheerfulness had a way of setting the mood for all the visitors who entered that home. Her beautiful smile could light up a room.
She knew every patient- all one hundred and fifty by first and last name, their personalities, like and dislikes, their family’s names, what they preferred for dinner and certainly what they didn’t. No matter how cantankerous some of those folks could be, Mother always knew precisely the right thing to say to quiet the troubled soul.
My summers were spent as a teen working in the nursing home, feeding patients, changing bed sheets, wheeling people down the hall in their wheelchairs and basically learning the art of the nurse’s aide. I found out then, just how hard my mother worked. I discovered how taxing people could be when not feeling well, or when they realized they were in the twilight of their lives.
Mother was always thinking up something to keep people in touch with the present, not allowing them to live only in the memories of their past. She’d organize picnics outside on the grounds and have visitors bring their pets to the event- a hilarious blend of critters and patients, all co-mingled together in giggling heaps, surrounded by metal walkers, wheel chairs and IV bags. It was quite a sight.
We celebrated every fall by the return of the Geese traveling south for the winter and the patients would make arts and crafts to commemorate the return of the winged wonders. There was a little pond close by the nursing home property and the geese knew exactly where to go. Every year, curious faces of all ages were pressed against windows in silent awe as the beautiful creatures made their graceful descent. It was a time of curiosity and fun at the nursing home as the wandering geese returned home. Mother encouraged a sense of exploration and mental stimulation for those in her care, as she was by nature a fun-loving and inquisitive person.
After hours in that place, walking endless miles from the north, south, east and west of the building, she’d still find time to come home and make the most amazing meals. My personal favorite was fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, and her special home-made rolls. The smell of that food made everyone’s mouth water and we would dig in greedily with no thought about anyone else. Mom would always get stuck with a wing, or some other unfavorable piece. She’d just smile and say, “Oh honey, don’t you know the wing’s the tastiest of all?” Who was she kidding?
As I grew older and had a family of my own, I came to realize just how amazing my mother was. She handled both a wonderful career and a family with great finesse, and I never heard a word of complaint. She was grateful for all God’s great gifts and the wonders of life, her family and her ministry to those less fortunate.
My mother’s self-esteem, her confidence, came from the knowledge that she was doing exactly what God had called her to do. She was fulfilling her purpose and carrying out the mission appointed to her. She was making a difference in the world- one life at a time. My mother’s greatest gift was the ability to look beyond her own anguish and see the suffering of others.
I find myself getting so caught up in my own world- the struggles and battles of my existence. I often forget that there is a world of people who are at the same moment dealing with pain and heartache.
Watching her example, I understood that all of us have been given gifts and talents- unique abilities to make a difference in the lives of those around us. It may not be as considerable as caring for one hundred and fifty needy patients in a nursing home. It may be as simple as considering the requests of a neighbor, or reaching out to a friend. But our self esteem is surely bolstered to new heights when we take the time to extend a helping hand to those in need and find a way to use our God given endowments to produce a positive change in the world around us -one opportunity at a time.
Before you were born I set you apart and appointed you as my spokesman to the world. Jeremiah 1:5

We Are Extremely Valuable to the Heart of God

And because you have become His children, God has sent the spirit of His son into your hearts, and now you can call God your dear Father. Now you are no longer a slave ( to sin and to the law) but God’s own child, everything He has belongs to you. Galatians 4:6&7


My son Jordan turned thirteen this past October and he felt it was time to purge his closet of the “little boy” toys he had accumulated over the years. I watched, my heart aching and a knot in my throat, as he carefully took the large plastic containers from the closet shelves and began to go through every Lego, Bionacle, Hot Wheels car, book, and Beanie Baby. He tossed them in the large, white plastic garbage bag as though they were worthless junk, while all those toys had a story and a particular memory for me- each more valuable than gold.
While he was sorting out the toys, deciding which would go to Goodwill and which to trash, I was working my way through his closet, taking down the shirts, shorts and pants that he had outgrown over the past year. I glanced over at my son, who when standing, was eye to eye with me, and wondered how we got here so fast.
I remember the day he was born. I can still hear his first piercing cry and how his father comforted him in the birthing room by singing ‘Jesus Loves Me.’ Jim sang that song to Jordan every day he was growing in my womb. In clear recognition, Jordan stopped crying and lay peacefully on the warming table, his tiny hand gripping Jim’s finger.
Jordan’s manly voice interrupted my stroll down memory lane.
“Mom, what do you want to do with this? Throw it out?” I glanced over my shoulder as Jordan held up a small, azure blue shirt, with painted angels on the front- the eyes made of those little plastic disks with the movable black center. My son created that work of art in his kindergarten class and kept it as a sleep shirt over the years. It was so big on him when he first fashioned it, that it reached past his knees, and now he couldn’t get it over his chest.
“Put it in the shirt pile, babe. I’ll figure out what to do with it later.” I knew that little, blue angel shirt was a keepsake. I planned to tuck it away in my drawer and never part with it, but for now, my hands were full of clothes that needed to be boxed up and taken to Goodwill.
In the middle of the mayhem, the doorbell rang. It was the air conditioning repair man there to work on our failing AC system. I left Jordan to himself to finish the purging.
Returning a few hours later, I found my son triumphant, surrounded by big white trash bags overflowing with items to be taken to charity. I swooped up the bags and headed to the nearest drop center placing the plastic bags in a bin filled with discarded treasures. I wondered if other mothers had felt the same sadness in parting with a piece of their offspring’s childhood. A deep sense of loss settled over me as I drove away from Goodwill that day, knowing my son had reached a milestone in his life, one I wasn’t ready for, but one I had to face. Jordan was becoming a man.
I went up to his room that evening to give him a kiss good night, when I remembered the blue angel shirt and frantically glanced over at the corner where I’d seen Jordan place it. All gone. Everything was gone…including that wonderful little shirt. Tears welled up in my eyes and I thought my heart would break as I stood helpless in his bedroom. There was no keepsake to hold onto, just an empty closet with only a few books remaining in those big plastic bins that once held the wonders of childhood.
“Mom, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Jordan asked, absolutely bewildered at my tears.
“Oh, Jordie, I was really hoping to keep that angel shirt you made in Kindergarten. I wanted to add it to the things I kept of your sister’s to help me remember you both as babies.”
“Oh man, Mom….I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you wanted that shirt. I was so busy cleaning out the things I didn’t need anymore, I just threw it in with the other stuff in the plastic bags.” I could see the painful look on his face as he realized how much my heart was breaking. I lay down in his bunk bed with him, put my arms around him and wept. I wasn’t crying so much for the loss of the shirt, but for the passing of Jordan’s childhood. He was my last, and there wouldn’t be another. Mothers have a hard time letting go.
As I was lying there, I imagined trying to describe that angel shirt to the ladies at Goodwill, as I dug through mountains of discarded clothing. Suddenly, Jordan sat straight up in the bed, a look of hope in his eyes.
“Mom, I put one bag of trash downstairs in the garage container. Why don’t you go and see if the shirt is in it?
With a half-hearted effort, I made my way down the stairs and pulled out the white plastic bag with broken toys, all the things that were unfit to give away. I dug, and pulled and rummaged through that bag with very little hope of finding the angel shirt. When I finished, I retied the knot and reached up to place the bag back in the garbage bin. A tiny reflection of azure blue shone through the bottom tip of the translucent white bag. Not stopping to untie it, I tore into the bag with gusto and watched with amazement as little plastic angel eyes looked up at me. It was there! Jordan’s little boy shirt. Not another piece of clothing was in that bag.
I sat on the cold concrete floor of my garage and laughed and cried and held that shirt to my heart. There wasn’t a thing in this world that could have possibly meant more to me.
I began to thank God for allowing me to find Jordan’s shirt, and in that moment I gained new insight and understanding about the depth and height of the love of God for His children.
The Word says He knew us before we took our first breath- even before we were conceived in our mother’s womb. God loved us when we were just a thought- a plan in His heart. He’s always known the number of days we would live, how many hairs on our heads, how many times our heart would beat, where we would go, what we would do, and all the decisions we would make, both for good and for evil.
He knew I’d be sitting on the garage floor, holding Jordan’s tiny blue angel shirt at that moment in time. The overwhelming love I felt and will always feel for my son and daughter is a reflection of the immeasurable love God has for all of us. Jordan’s worth, his value to me knows no boundaries or limitations and neither does our Heavenly Father’s. What a revelation of our significance.
And because you have become His children, God has sent the spirit of His son into your hearts, and now you can call God your dear Father. Now you are no longer a slave to sin and to the law, but God’s own child, everything He has belongs to you.