Notes from Greenville

Rising early at the hour You wake me is what I want to do--only give me grace to wait on You & to spend time in prayer. Give me wisdom to pray for those things which would make me anxious; for humility for my husband whom You use as well as for strength & wisdom for him & not only for his work as spokesman & pastor, but even more for his work in pastoring the family You have given us. I also would pray for the families You will make of our family. Give me due diligence & wisdom to make these things a matter of prayer & give me wisdom to guide my children in this area, both sons & daughters. In this please make me a good helper to Cal. I would also pray for grace to so order our lives that much time would be given to mature reformed study. Make me & my children as useful as you have made Cal. Give my daughters patience, maturity, & diligence as they serve our family in waiting for their own homes. Please make them pleased to live with us & serve You through our home. Please guide us as we guide our sons into sound education. And I also pray that you would call all three of them into the ministry of the Word. Please help me reorder our home when we return from this conference. Thank You.

Read some of O.P. Robertson's The Final Word in the waiting room of Dr. Delacruz. Especially appreciated the practicality of this statement:

". . . a new appreciation of the wonders of God's working in every day providences will be perceived more clearly. People who are looking for the spectacular or the extraordinary become distracted so that they do not always see how great is the way God orders ordinary processes to meet the needs of his people. . ." (p. 132)

And then I was too tired to read much more. I put the book away and began to pray until weariness & distraction quickly ended that. I did not know what time it had gotten to be, nor what time Cal would be out of his class. But it occurred to me to try and call him at his office on my cell phone to tell him I loved him and goodbye before he went to catch a plane for DC (he attends an ISA reception tomorrow). He answered. He had just called home to say goodbye to me, leaving a message with Kilby. He was just leaving for the airport. He thought by my call that I had just returned home. I explained my situation. After a brief conversation of love I turned off the phone. Then I thought of God's providence and His blessing in putting Cal and me together just now. Father, help me to see ever more clearly your great and infinite kindnesses in all your gracious acts of kindness permeating my life. This indeed should give me a spirit of thanksgiving. It should also give me much reassurance of Your precious presence with me always. Perhaps that is the real point of my pre-Hurricane Wilma dream in which I spent the entire night in dreams of preparing for impending storms, even in spite of fervent prayer during the wakeful periods that God would remove the fearful dreams from me. It is a provident & loving God who gave me those dreams, denying my plea, keeping me safe in spite of my fear during the wee hours of Wilma's approach, causing me to consider the next evening that the dreams had been meant to remind me of His very specific & indulgent (?) providence.

Everywhere, three weeks later, looks like "chastisement" to me. So many very old, "permanent," once-beautiful trees are broken, shattered, ruined. The brush piles are being removed & folks get reimbursed by insurance companies for debris removal. The traffic lights & twisted or non-existent road signs will eventually be replaced. The morning traffic--rather, all traffic, is much worse--a result of an influx of workers to repair the storm's damage. Our internet will come back soon, we hope, we have even prayed. But I believe the signs of God's power, those signs that look like wrath, will be visible for months. But summer & winter, springtime & harvest will go on to remind us of God's faithfulness.

(Internet returned 11-16 p.m.)

April 16 & 17

I need to tell you about the last day before I tell it too many times and it begins to morph.







The kids and I just returned from a delicious cool Florida partly sunny day at Tree Tops Park. We picked up the little Thompson kids and mom and were met by Miss Irene who brought a huge bunch of cold cuts etc. from the grocery store. We played and hiked and goofed off. I took lots of pictures of trees and kids.

I wrote you about Dad's fall on Saturday. I learned in the car this afternoon from Peter that as I left for Home Depot (just before Dad's fall) Michael had called. Peter overheard the conversation and said that he had not heard Grandpa enjoy such a lucid conversation in a long time. I am glad to learn of his last conversation with Mike.

When he fell he was at his bathroom sink wanting to comb his hair. His hand can't even reach to his head to do this task. As Dad wants to do what he wants to do Peter left him a few moments to put some clothes away. Then Dad fell straight backward and landed his head on the corner of the portable feeding table base, cutting it on the metal corner. Kilby heard and called out for Cal who came running to help Peter.

Cal tried to stand Dad up the way they always worked it before. But since the fall he has never been able to put his feet on the ground. As soon as his legs would be straightened out, his feet would cross and it was nearly impossible to get them apart. Finally Cal had to pick him up around the chest and lift his long body off the floor and carry him to the bed. They called me on the cell phone to tell me to bring home butterfly closures. When I arrived I found Dad on his tummy, his face squashed in a puddle of moisture on the sheet under him, Cal standing by his side with an ice pack on top of a gauze patch, applying gentle pressure, to keep the blood from flowing and the goose egg from growing. When we pulled the ice pack and gauze away, the cut was still slowly bleeding and we didn't think we could apply the bandages yet.

I cleaned up some of the streaks of blood from his hair and face. He was alert and, I suppose, miserable; occasionally trying to get at his cut with his hand. Peter was assisting. We finally decided to call hospice nurse to see if they could send some sort of help. We were informed that once a patient falls, the hospice nurse must come out to assess the situation. That was a relief--just having someone else to help. Perhaps she would be able to help me change his pants, too. Now that he was in bed to stay for awhile, but with a head injury, I didn't know how I was going to manage.

I took over the ice pack holding to release Cal to work on the exam he was supposed to be writing for a class he is taking at the seminary, due on Monday. We also had a painter in the house, supposedly completing a painting job he was supposed to have finished a week ago. He ended up leaving the job undone without saying goodbye. Things were a little confused.

We continued watching the videotape of Mom's memorial service with old movies appended while we waited over an hour for the nurse to arrive. I had given Dad a sedative shortly after I had arrived home, along with two tylenol. He was mostly quiet and cooperative. He glanced over at the video from time to time.

When Kim, the emergency-care hospice nurse arrived she quickly cleaned and dressed and closed the wound, agreeing with our decision not to transport Dad to the emergency room. She changed him and helped me get him comfortable after assessing his injuries. She was pretty sure he had not broken anything though he was complaining bitterly of pain in his right thigh. She decided he should have continuous care for at least 24 hours, but offered an in-home x-ray to see if he'd broken anything. She spoke with Michael and he suggested we wait 24 hours and then see what was going on. She ordered him an Rx of tylenol with codeine for pain.

Kim was in the dining room, writing up her reports, and I went up to watch over Dad, relieving Peter of the duty. Dad was trying to get out of bed. So I helped him to help himself. He was not getting very far, but I wasn't stopping him. Kim came up and helped move him to his chair. He was not able to walk and we had to carry him between ourselves. I already wrote you about this and his momentary passing out. Perhaps it was pain.

He stayed in his chair all evening. I took him a supper tray of a turkey/cheese/rice casserole we'd had for dinner. He ate a little, mostly played with his food, shifting it around in different piles on his plate like a toddler who doesn't want to eat. Sometimes falling asleep with his fork in his hand and on the plate. When the first continuous care nurse, Portia Grant, came at 8 p.m. he was still working on it. She tried to feed him a little. Then she tried to transfer him to the bed herself and had to call me back (we were finishing devotions). We worked at it together, but while she was setting him up for changing him in bed, we discovered his mouth was full of food. We cleared it out and eventually he figured out our intent and helped by spitting the rest out into a basin.

I sat with Dad and Portia until about 10:30 when Cal came to invite me to a private viewing of "Shall We Dance" (Japanese movie with English subtitles made in 1996) in our room. We went to bed after midnight. I couldn't sleep. I lay there struggling with thoughts.

One of those that came to me quite suddenly and clearly, and has since been corroborated by things the nurses have said, was that Dad might have fallen because he was dying. Through the evening I had figured that he might now die because of the fall. Perhaps he had a small stroke standing there at the sink. That would explain why he could no longer stand. And the internal bleeding that we later discovered might have been his body breaking down before he even fell. These are God's secrets and we are content with that.

By 2:30 a.m. I felt compelled to visit Dad. Portia looked as if she had just nodded off. But it was clear she'd been busy with him. She reported that she thought he was declining. He was breathing harder and harder, more and more liquidy. His lungs were clear. I wondered if it were the phlegm he constantly has; his weakness keeping him from getting it out. Perhaps he also was coming down with the cold we'd had this past week.

I read Psalm 23. Then Psalm 27. Portia quoted the first verse along with me. I learned that she and her 6 siblings were raised by Bible-believing parents from Jamaica. Verse 12 says "Give me not up to the will of my adversaries; for false witnesses have risen against me, and they breathe out violence." When I finished this wonderful Psalm I suggested to Dad who was walking through the valley of the shadow of death (and rememeber, Dad, it is only the SHADOW of death!) that perhaps his way was lined with adversaries who were standing ready to accuse him of all his sin. So I read to him the glorious chapter of Romans 8. "There is now therefore no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus....Nothing...not death...can separate us from the Love of God."

I read to him Psalm 25. (Please read it.) Verse 20ff: Oh, guard my soul, and deliver me! Let me not be put to shame, for I take refuge in you. May integrity and uprightness preserve me, for I wait for you. Redeem Israel, O God, out of all his troubles. " I told Portia that my father had been known as a man of integrity. "But, Portia, not all his integrity could bring him before our Holy God. Because of his sin." Portia assented. I reminded Dad and Portia that Dad would stand before God in Christ's righteousness and that was his only hope. (And what a Hope!)

After 45 minutes I left to make a cup of tea for myself. I returned to our dark bedroom where Cal was fast asleep and sat in the rocker and sipped the tea and made a case to God out of His character of mercy that He should take Dad home quickly. Not demanding. Not expecting. Just wanting. And submitted to His will.

I climbed back in bed but could not sleep. I played with a star that was slowly moving out of sight between the newly hung blinds in our room. (For those of you who don't know, we began a renovation of the Master suite two weeks ago. Our bed is now in the alcove where Cal's desk used to be and it is SO pleasant there to see the sky and the trees from our bed!) Every so often I would shift quietly in bed. I was sore with tension and cold (we've had deliciously cool weather) and couldn't get comfortable. Eventually I must have slept because though I had those kind of dreams where you think you're still awake, when I finally got up at dawn I realized the dream I'd just come out of was incredibly silly. I had lain awake figuring I would not try to go to church. And Cal agreed when he learned how little I'd slept.

But I seemed energized. So I moved in a direction to go to Sunday school and church with the family. As soon as I'd finished dressing, the nurse knocked on my door. She needed help turning Dad to change him. She told me that she thought he was declining rapidly. Told me about his vomiting dark coffee colored brown, which was a sign of internal bleeding and probably not the chocolate milkshake I supposed. She also showed me that his stomach seemed hard, another sign. Dad was already breathing harder.

Now I didn't know what to do. Stay home or go? I'd wait and see how things developed. I helped the kids get ready for church. Kilby looked awful and told me she would like to stay home from Sunday school for feeling so poorly. Okay. We'd wait and see about going to church later in the second car. She and I stayed home.

Some of us were down in the kitchen and dining room, getting ready for Sunday dinner when the second nurse arrived. Janet Schneider was "ancient" (as Susan mouthed to me when she saw her) and thin, but a more competent, knowledgeable, gentle nurse I have never met. Of course we didn't know Dad was really dying, but she was certainly hand-picked by God for caring for Dad at the end. She began taking notes in a little notebook from what Portia and I told her. As Portia left, I invited her to our Bible study on Friday nights and she was delighted. If she is not on call that night, she hopes to attend. It was clear to me that the Lord moved her as she witnessed our faith. Janet quietly set about to clean Dad's head wound.

Susan was coming out of her bedroom, dressed in Marilee's old navy strawberry skirt and red sweaters and carrying her music, I saw her catch a glimpse of Grandpa laboring in bed. She was visibly upset. I asked her if she would like to say goodbye to him. I didn't know he was going to die, but if there was the possibility, I didn't want her to walk away from him and never talk to him again. Tears sprung to her eyes and she had a short battle with herself about doing it. I could see she wanted to flee, but knew she should go to him. She did, giving him a kiss on his still-handsome forehead. She came out in tears. That prompted me to send AJ and Peter in as well.

When the last of them had walked out the door for Sunday school, I saw Kilby had taken a perch at his bedside and was reading her poem. I went to sit across from her and listen. Janet asked if we'd like her to leave, and we invited her to stay. Both Kilby and I were crying, trying to regain composure. It occurred to me to run for my camera for a photo of this beautiful girl doing this last act of kindness. (I think of the chess game she played with him when he first came to visit us here. I have a wonderful photo of it somewhere.) Then Kilby and I sang to him duets of It Is Well with My Soul, Not What My Hands Have Done, To You, Lord, I Fly, and Abide with Me. God granted us as much composure as we needed to make our way through these wonderful lyrics. I sang them boldly proclaiming the gospel to the demons and the hospice nurse alike. Kilby left to fix her makeup. As I began to read John 14 to Dad, he squeezed my hand. Then Psalm 91. I asked Dad if he wanted anything. Did he want some water? No. Did he want some ice chips? No. What do you want, Dad? You.

After a nice conversation with Janet about homeschooling--she was impressed with the kids and asked all sorts of questions about our lives--we left for church. Kilby drove. She's a very good driver. It was nice to relax in the car. I told her about the movie Cal and I had watched.
She dropped me off at the door and parked the car. We entered as they were singing Praise to the Lord, The Almighty. During the congregational prayer, Pastor Addison Soltau (wheaton class of 49?) prayed for Daddy and us. With two cars, Cal and I drove home separately from the kids, talking about changes ahead, wondering how Dad was doing. The day was like today, cool, breezy, lots of clouds scudding across a blue and sunny sky. The kind of day you live in Florida for.

As we climbed the stairs we could hear a noisy death rattle breathing accompanied by Dad's constant moans. I entered the room and saw Janet beginning to change him by herself, her back brace in place to aide her. She reported that he had been crying out earlier "Please, God, please, God, please God..." I added my hands to Dad's back to hold him up for her. Since I was close to his ear I said clearly: I love you, Dad. That is when he said, clearly enough for me to understand, and certainly demonstrating lucidity: "Keep outta this". It was a blessing from God and Dad to me at the end. It has instantly bloomed into a large and gracious benediction to me, retold with laughter now a dozen times. Actually, I was thankful for the release from the room. The death rattle was horrible to behold and I was too weak to endure it. I had whispered to Janet "I can't stay here and hear this. But I'll be happy to be with him at the end if you'll tell me." She told me she thought it could be any time. I left anyway to write you all. And as I was composing the send off sentence that he might be dying soon, she came to tell me that he had just died. I rewrote the sentence later but at that moment followed her back to his room to see Dad's body without his soul in it. I squeezed his hand. I don't remember, maybe I kissed his forehead. Then I began to cry, deep sobs firstly of grief, then of relief, then of joy. They sounded all the same to the nurse, I'm sure, but I knew the difference. She came over and hugged me. I asked her to get Cal because I could not leave. Cal came. We stayed another couple minutes at his side. I called Michael. Then I called Dave who promised to call the rest of you. Then began the detail work. Dad's body was removed an hour and a half later. The nurse had cleaned him up and put a fresh shirt on him--the Florida shirt I bought him a couple years ago.

Figuring that Dad would have wanted it, we proceeded to have our usual weekly feast, celebrating the rest that God had at the beginning after creation, signifying the rest that we shall have when we have followed Dad. We had a very nice chardonnay to accompany a perfectly roasted-on-the-grill pork loin with rosemary. We had a couple hours of great fun laughing and telling dear Grandpa stories (like the time he came down for devotions with shaving cream on half his face, insisting on staying by answering Cal's question that it would take him two hours to finish shaving. Man! Was that ever a long time ago) until it was time to go back to evening church where we heard a wonderful sermon on humbling ourselves, submitting to God, drawing near to Him, and His drawing near to us.

We called several of you when we got home. We went to bed. It is odd to think of him not here. It is wonderful to think of him with the Lord. We will take the next few weeks as they come, trusting the Lord to continue His wonderful guidance.

1 Praise the LORD , O my soul; all my inmost being, praise his holy name. 2 Praise the LORD , O my soul, and forget not all his benefits- 3 who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases, 4 who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion, 5 who satisfies your desires with good things so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's.









Dear Family--
Kilby wrote the below poem several years ago for Grandpa, and today read it aloud to him before going to church as he lay gurgling on his bed. Then she and I sang a few hymns to him -- Abide with Me being the last. After we all came home from church, Grandpa went to be with the Lord at ten minutes till two.
- - -
Long way down the winding years,
summer droughts have dried
what once had been a laughing stream
rushing down the riverbed.
If we follow where once ran
waters strong and deep,
might we come to a softer place,
not so hard and stony
where, after bends and breaks and falls,
the widened mouth would open
and engulf a seeping flood
from the backwash of the ocean?
Old river, cracked and dry,
does your spirit hover
above the water, like the mists,
drawn by morning sun?
Old hands, now cracked and dry,
worn with tender love,
could you gain some feeble strength
if another held you?
What once was a young stream
tumbling down a chasm,
further down its sandy bed
grew into a river.
But life’s toils and hard’ning fate
dried the water up,
baring depths before concealed –
the heart of that deep river.
Laughter no more rings out loud,
nor do tears more flow,
but a lonely, haunting wight
will moan along the riverbed.
Old river, cracked and dry,
does your spirit hover
above the water, like the mists,
drawn by morning sun?
Old hands, now cracked and dry,
worn with tender love,
could you gain some feeble strength
if another held you?
Winding down along the bed,
Time has wandered sadly,
looking for old memories
and bright hopes now faded,
calling friends now long departed,
finding but despair,
looking to the heav’ns for rain,
finding but the sun.
Wearied, dried, the river’s course
fin’lly sights the ocean
far away, clothed in a fog
eluding its poor seeker.
Old river, cracked and dry,
does your spirit hover
above the water, like the mists,
drawn by morning sun?
Old hands, now cracked and dry,
worn with tender love,
could you gain some feeble strength
if another held you?
See, we now have come upon
a joining at the sea-coast,
runs the path of the riverbed
to the wide, wide waters.
But that ocean can’t refresh
the old and wightish river,
for its moisture only mocks
the panting riverbed.
All along, the pebbles stumble
down the riverbed,
just to stop before the water
that the ocean holds.
Old river, cracked and dry,
does your spirit hover
above the water, like the mists,
drawn by morning sun?
Old hands, now cracked and dry,
worn with tender love,
could you gain some feeble strength
if another held you?

On the mountains, high as heaven,
cold and bright and young,
there’s some water, drifted there
by a chilling wind.
Once lifted from a rushing stream,
and borne into the air,
the child of the riverbed
lies asleep above.
Spring’s fresh warming, waking breeze,
along with the gaze of the sun,
will touch the young, white bridal child
and send it, playing, down.
Old river, cracked and dry,
does your spirit hover
above the water, like the mists,
drawn by morning sun?
Old hands, now cracked and dry,
worn with tender love,
could you gain some feeble strength
if another held you?
Down along the riverbed,
so cracked and dry and withered,
she can sweep the wearied stones,
down toward the ocean.
She can wake the dormant dreams,
and renew sweet mem’ries.
She can bear the jeweled pebbles
to the oceans breast.
She can put to rest that wight
that moans for friends departed.
She can soothe the cracked, dry heart
of her father river.
Old river, young again,
see where your child hovers –
her laughter brings back years gone by,
lightens all your trouble.
Old hands, so cracked and dry,
accept the tender love
the hands you washed and held and kissed
now give you, not unwilling.

Long way down the winding years,
at the river’s end,
a splash of life in the riverbed
eases the river’s passing.
(www.kilbyspoetry.blogspot.com)

Dad fell this afternoon and got a 2" gash and a goose-egg in the back of his head. The cut was superficial and is stitched up with three butterfly closures. He's sitting over a chocolate milkshake in his chair with a bag of ice on his head. He has visited by phone with Sarah, with Dave who called just after it happened and prayed for him, and Laurie. Before the nurse left an hour and a half after she came, he wanted to get up out of bed. We helped him help himself but after all he couldn't stand and we dragged him to his chair. For a moment it was kind of scary cause his eyes got that far away passing out kind of look I've seen in Becky's epilepsy. But after the nurse called his name, he responded a moment, and then passed into a nice hour long nap which was sorely needed. He hadn't slept since this morning and he is sleeping much of the time now.

The nurse has put him on continuous nursing care which means a nurse comes to spend the night in his room and another one takes over tomorrow for the first 24 hours. Then he'll have a night nurse and a day aide until he passes into "he's okay" stage. I assume it will be soon.

I watched part of Mom's memorial service videotape this morning with Dad. Grace and AJ enjoyed seeing the pictures for the first time in their memory. Dad slept through much of it. Oh, he's miserable. I keep reminding him of the glory to come. Not sure he understands. Please pray for me. It is hard to watch him die.

Oh, by the way, several of us have bad throats and sneezy colds. Dad was complaining of his throat hurting this morning and his throat is red. Last night when I said goodnight to him I thought how yellow and gray his skin is looking. I came to bed sobered to think that perhaps I will watch a slow decline/disintegration. That will be hard. I pray God takes him quickly.

Cal's just come with hors d'ouvres and wine someone brought us last night.

Chicken Pox, Part 1

February 20, 2004

Escaped to deliver clothes to Finns & to do the grocery shopping at Doris' Italian Market where I bought myself crab salad & garlic roasted asparagus & a bottle of ginger ale for a lunch. I encountered Heather & her mother walking home from their nearby church with the children--coming from Colleen's dayschool presumably. They made a big deal about how I had escaped. I told them I could handle Grace's dreadful chicken pox & even the glass I found in Grandpa's closet that had evaporated & molding urine crystals--but I couldn't take any more of the children's complaining, disappointed attitudes about being quarantined.


It was nice to get out for "fresh air" after the last two days. Cal & I had a lovely Monday together wandering our way home across western Florida, finding the lovely parkway (19?) coming out of Tallahassee (he finished reading Adam's book on Sonship to me while I drove), coming close enough at lunchtime to the coast at Yankeetown to make a quick excursion to see the Gulf of Mexico, driving at dusk through orange groves of Central Florida, arriving home by 8:10 & supper with the family. Grace was extra clingy & didn't feel like finishing her meal. We stayed up too late & we were so tired!


Then Tuesday, Cal & Susan & David all away, I got back into schoolwork with the kids. But Grace didn't feel well, nor did I, nor did the other children look well. By afternoon class Grace was sleeping on the floor. I think her first pox came out Tuesday night but they were so small & scattered it didn't occur to me that they were chicken pox. Wednesday a.m. there were more & I grew suspicious. Went out for coffee with Pam & by the time I got back she was breaking out more & more. We began oatmeal baths & benadryl. She's maintained a low grade fever. Thursday everything just go worse. And I was physically exhausted. Spend the afternoon with only Grace & Grandpa in the house--Pam took Becky, Peter, & AJ & fed them supper. Nonnie came home & figured out by the notes Pam left me in the kitchen that I stood in the way of help. She finished the laundry & fixed the leftovers supper for us. I ate upstairs with Grace. We went to sleep early last night & slept long. But from 8 am. I was caring for Grace & cleaning, etc. David is gone to Chattanooga for interviews for college scholarship money.

Father, hear the prayer we offer
Not for ease that prayer shall be,
But for strength that we may ever
Live our lives courageously.

Not for ever in green pastures
Do we ask our way to be;
But the steep and rugged pathway
May we tread rejoicingly.

Not for ever by still waters
Would we idly rest and stay;
But would smite the living fountains
From the rocks along our way.

Be our Strength in hours of weakness,
In our wanderings, be our Guide;
Through endeavor, failure, danger,
Father, be thou at our side.

Mrs. L. M. Willis, 1864

Weekend in Tallahassee

February 14, 2004

Scrounging in my purse for a pen I found the brightly colored gel pens that Grace tried to send home with Michael for her cousin, Claire. Life is so busy I haven't cleaned out my purse since his visit weeks ago! And what budding thoughtfulness inspired Grace to send the unneeded gift to Claire. Michael, packed tightly for easy travel handed them back to me after we left the house.

Cal and I are at Tom E's vacation house south of Cairo, Georgia. It was sad to walk in here & see the pictures gone from the walls & most of the books from the shelves. He has the house on the market now--so dreams of retreats here must come to an end. However, this retreat of ours this weekend is wonderfully needed & appreciated! Even with so many amenities missing, the quiet & solitude & natural & man-made beauty of this place blesses us. Oh that Tom would keep such a place as a pastors' retreat. Oh that the Lord would bless us financially to be able to make such a retreat ourselves.

I now understand the necessity of such retreats. And I bless the Lord for giving Cal & me so many small retreats of late: Lago Mar for our 20th anniversary, Ligonier conference in D.C. in October 2003, the weekend up here at this house with the children at the end of August. Time away from the sweet & never-ending responsibilities of life.

We read about sabbath laws this morning...

February 15

A beautiful cool, clear morning. Cal & I dressed for church & just went out for a short walk. The Ralph Vaughan Williams Hymnal CD is filling Tom's house (we figured out how to make the music come to other rooms). It rained all day yesterday. We stayed in but for a short walk late afternoon. Finished a quiet day of reading & resting with fettuccine, wine, & a round of backgammon. Father in heaven, thank You for this retreat & please make me so thankful for all the beauty I come to take for granted.

Cal shared with me the journal pieces he was given last week. What joy & comfort it brings. God our Father who delights to give us good gifts, please lead & guide & bless. For Your glory.

Please, also, I ask that You let us know with all our beings that we are meeting You this morning in Your worship. Please cause us to be still & know that You are God. Please help us to worship you in spirit & in truth. Without Your aid, we remain dull.

Matthew 22:29: Ye do err, not knowing the scriptures nor the power of God.

February 17

What a wonderful Lord's Day we had! From Pastor Hobbs; opening prayer to the end of the day. Yesterday as we relistened to the RVW album I was blessed to know how he'd answered the prayer of this song, on which I meditated as we drove on Meridian Road to church Sunday a.m.

Disposer Supreme, and Judge of the earth,
Who choosest for thine the weak and the poor,
To frail earthen vessels, and things of no worth
Entrusting thy riches which ay shall endure;
Those vessels soon fail, though full of thy light,
And at thy decree are broken and gone;
Then brightly appeareth the aim of thy might;
As through the clouds breaking the lightnings have shone.
Like clouds are they borne to do thy great will,
And swift as the winds about the world go;
All full of thy Godhead, while earth lieth still,
They thunder, they lighten. The waters o'erflow.
O loud be their trump, and stirring the sound,
To rouse us, O Lord, from sin's deadly sleep;
May lights which though kindlest in darkness around
The dull soul awaken her vigils to keep!
All honor and praise, dominion and might,
To thee, Three in One, eternally be,
Who pouring around us thy glorious light,
Dost call us from darkness thy glory to see.

Words: Jean-Baptiste de Santeüil, 1686

Pastor Hobbs' prayer was such a beautiful mixture of the immanent & the transcendent--he spoke in very common language & falteringly & in very informal language, but the reverence & humility into which it led us, and the scripture to which he constantly referred was quite a picture of how God entrusts His riches in failing vessels. I could see six years aging on Pastor Hobbs. Then the power of the Word preached was magnificent. He is not eloquent as some (still, he's a good preacher) but the Holy Spirit is faithful to the preached Word. I'm not saying this well with all the interruptions of the children but how thrilled & thankful I was at hearing the Word & what humility & thanksgiving I believe it produced in the hearers.

He read Exodus 3 where Moses meets God & learns His name. Then Matthew 22:23-33 where Christ confronted by the Sadducees about the resurrection (which they didn't believe in anyhow!) Then Hebrews 12:1- I've ordered the tape to hear it again--there was so much there. But that Christ explained "I AM" (not I was) the God of Abraham, Isaac, & Jacob & all those in Christ are still living. It was a very tender & encouraging sermon by its end I was crying. Later I laughed at this joke I seem to have with God. It seems whenever I have a thought: "Well, I can't imagine crying in worship today--I feel so happy & up & steady," invariably I do cry. Now I could just not have thought at all, but it always comes, almost like a dare. There are days when I feel as if I might cry, and then I do, but so funny that the days I think positively about not crying, I do. There are days when I don't think anything at all--& those days I don't usually cry.

What made me cry most of all was the great encouragement about being with the Lord. I need to reread Cal's notes to remember more. It even encouraged me for & about Grandpa. Speaking of whom I need to go see if he's showering.

Thank you, dear Heavenly Father, for the preached Word today. I sought the Lord, and He heard me, And delivered me from all my fears. How I long to know God, to know His presence. Yet it seems He withholds these sensations from me, or perhaps my sin stands in the way. My mind continues to be plagued by confusion, or confused seasons, regarding the turmoil in the church's session. Last night I got my desire and heard more of the present conflict, but this morning, in the sanctuary, the knowledge of it, coupled with my sense of bereavement was too much. I had prayed to meet the Lord in worship today.l From before the start of worship I wept--wept for weariness, for sorrow, for my own sin---even of self-pity. At one time I even thought I would have to leave. Then after it seemed I got myself under control I turned my face to hear the sermon. And it was as if he took a bow and arrow and shot right at my heart. I hope to get the tape and listen carefully so I know what all I learned. But it was so pointedly for me that by the end of the sermon I knew that I had my answers--that God was indeed present in crafting this sermon for and into my heart. Father, thank you for showing me your tender and merciful lovingkindness. Now help me to live for You.

Susan finished and framed "Godliness with contentment is great gain" for Leigh Ann Duhm & gave it to her today. A thank you gift for all the clothing LA has given her over the past several years. It was a beautiful little piece.

Today was as blessed as last Sunday was a difficult blessing. We had the Greers over along with the Lindleys, Bryan Walter, Renee, Megan Vanderhart, David Rowe; It was a blessing to get to know the Greers a bit. Hearing how the Greers came to reformed faith from a Baptist culture was such an encouragement. Encouraging that God is bringing people to faith and godliness from all over in all sorts of ways. Encouraging that God might bring new people to our church.

It seems good to go ahead and use your book, Susan dear, as my own journal. I got this down just now to do so, it having occurred to me today that it would be helpful to my spiritual life to once again record God's mercies. But when I first sat with it open I closed it again and returned it to the shelf because it seems so much your book as I've begun it. But as I reshelved it, I realized that practically I shall rarely have times to write exclusively of you. It was a bold project I started to keep a journal for each of my children. But when I began it with David's in 1985 I never realized I'd have the seven of you precious children, or how demanding & consuming life would be with all of you in training. So perhaps one day my notes might be of help to you and your siblings, but now I use your book and pray that God will meet me here as I recount His Word and His work in my life.

I saw you today, dear daughter, in your blossoming youthful beauty. And how healthy you look. Standing in the living room telling us something this afternoon, I saw the roses in your cheeks and your perfect skin & beautiful eyes. But far greater blessing is God's touch, no, God's clutch on your life. May you serve Him well. And with things even greater than piano accompaniment and pecan pie and French bread. May He give you a sweet patience toward your siblings. May He save you from an arrogant spirit, puffed up with knowledge.

Today the Lord blessed me with sermons and psalms and hymns and grace. I went to bed last night with apprehensions about today. We'd gained a large dinner table list, including several who have been at odds with us and our other guests. But through the night the relationships worked out in sweetness in my dreams & I woke with expectation. I know the Lord is teaching us to love one another--even while we stand for truth. I think we have an opportunity to be examples of this to some others. I pray the Lord will make it so.

Father. Thank you for your Presence with us. Thank you for the cheer of hearing from Cal twice this evening as he waited in Cincinnati [before we had cell phones]. Thank you for his optimism. Thank you for faith. Thank you for being Faithful. Make us faithful, I pray. Thank you for the cheer of hearing the bustle in the background when I called Summit Ministries to announce Cal's flight plan change; for the cheerfulness in the voice of the operator at Summit. I pray that You would make me cheerful in this week ahead with my children & their grandmother. We watched Cal & Susan's plane until it was out of sight. Talked to an old woman who had had six children. (Nonnie glowed with pride in her 12 grandchildren.) Drove home via Brainerd Rd. Decided against Bojangles or swimming. Made fried rice scrambled eggs for supper. Mother washed up while children & I tidied up & vacuumed. Then we watched the Laurie-Greg wedding video. Grace grabbed the wooden spoon from me stabbing it into the upper part of my eye socket in doing so. Flash of white light but no apparent damage. I used the spoon appropriately. Kilby kneed Nonnie's right hand/wrist/arm in hopping into our bed--by accident. Mother is still carrying her arm gingerly while insisting it is OK. Going to sleep at 9:50 p.m. Tomorrow Nickajack lake with Skogens & Baileys.

Lord, please help me to come to You. I pray that your Holy Spirit would make clear to me how I offend You and then I pray that He would give me the grace of Christ to live in Christ. These hard days for us in your church are teaching us so much. They also reveal to me the unplumbed depths of sin in my own heart that makes me sad to see. Forgive me for my binding desire to please & be accepted by some men. Forgive me for not looking at You alone, to You alone. Forgive me for not listening carefully in my desire to be thought well of. Forgive me, please, for the great lack of love in my own being. Please, I pray for your Holy Spirit to build the love of Christ in me. Forgive me for taking my eyes off You just long enough to see how much You are doing in me for then I struggle with pride. And how foolish, because it is truly none of me, but all of You that is good. Also please forgive me for my scattered brain of late. I feel a growing sloth that confuses me. Help me to be so focused on your calling and so obedient that I might not be so overwhelmed by disorganization & tiredness. Thank You for all the routines & graces You have given us that makes for a life of peace. I see ever more how sinful is the desire to know what is not given to us to know, and how wasteful is life when we strive to find out. Yet please help us to know the things we need to know to serve You well. Wouldn't it have been better to have known about P's involvement in Planned Parenthood to have stayed away from the dedication/celebration as Earl & Selah did? And yet in your providence we did attend. Oh Father, how it grieved some of us to hear our mighty, omnipotent, holy and precious God referred to as the "Big Man Upstairs." Help us to pray faithfully and righteously for the college. Lord, bring about, please, a humble courage in our prayers, our public prayers as well. Help us to please You--it is the desire You have given us.