When You Feel Like You're Just Hanging On

It had been hanging by a thread for a while.

Silver filament too flimsy for such a pendulous weight. Mark had even warned me.

"Jen, are you sure this chain is strong enough?"

"It's fine," I said, sliding the round silver Courage pendant onto the silver chain.

This morning in the dark hours before full wakefulness, I had flipped and turned. Thoughts of our upcoming Vow Renewal flashed happy in my mind and I mentally made a list: tea light candles, a miniature amplifier to boost volume in my parents' backyard.

Wide awake but trying not to be, I had switched to my stomach, stretching chest smooth and tall against the bed, and swinging right hand under my neck to sweep long hair up across the pillow.

And then just like that, my courage had fallen off and slipped away.

Mark stirred beside me.

"Mark, my necklace broke!"

"Oh no," he murmured, voice husky and drowsy.

My courage had slipped away and fallen from sight, and the irony is not lost on me. My sweet silver-haired Dad on hospice has recently been coughing and breathing in shallower breaths, and thoughts of him inhaling and exhaling, and looking all grey and ashen are never far from my mind this week.

And did he lose weight in his face since I saw him two days ago? His temples gape empty and I pressed my fingers in them wonderingly yesterday, gently caressing his stubbly face.

"Je t'aime, Papa," I had murmured then, brushing my fingers across his cheek and short hair, and leaning in for another hug.

I had kissed my mom goodbye as well, and driven home in a daze in evening rush hour. The sun sank orange and crimson behind Interstate 35, cars moving in stop and go patterns. A crashed car stacked up the left lane for miles, and a caravan of cars snaked careful through crushed glass and I prayed heavy for the people and police on the side on the road as I passed.

And then this morning in dark pale light, I swiped hair aside and tore the last filament of Courage from my neck. I find myself reaching unconsciously up to slide my finger in the silver ring's center, ready to brush fingertips across the burnished edges and fading Courage font, and then stop when my neck is naked.

And perhaps it's best this reminder now of where my courage lies. It's not in a faded pendulous pendant on too flimsy filament.

And I hear it in my mind, and scramble to find the full verse and reference. "For the eyes of the Lord range throughout the earth to strengthen those whose hearts are committed to him," and I grab it and trace the empty neck, and for today, this is enough.


Welcome! I've missed being here with you. Sorry. My Monday night college-level class that I'm teaching takes up much of my time, besides loving being a mom, wife, home schooling mom, and daughter to my dear family members. I think of you though, and am glad to be popping back in here today to greet you. How are you? How can I pray for you this week? (Feel free to comment here.) 

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Suburban Ninjas and a Peach Pie

The doorbell rang. Before we could get to the door, there was a clatter, the sound of running feet, and a car door slamming. Descending our flight of stairs and opening the front door, we could only perceive blurry details of some people and a car disappearing out of sight. On the wooden porch step lay a pie. 

Microsoft clip art for all photos in this post.

It had been a hard Sunday to be at church earlier that day. Sunshine poured down that spring day six or seven years ago, but ministry life felt discouraging that week. Our efforts seemed to be fruitless, and our time accomplishing nothing.  Youth pastor husband and I had sang and smiled sincerely, but then hurried home. A Sunday afternoon nap, some desultory conversation, and time in God’s word was needed to cure this discouragement. 

That afternoon, suburban teen ninjas slipped a peach pie onto our front steps. It came just when we were talking to God, and he was answering back, “Do not grow weary of doing good for at the proper time you will reap a harvest, if you will not give up.” Knowing we needed tangible encouragement that day, though, he sent a peach pie through mysterious ninja humans. 

We now refer back to that time as God giving us a peach pie, and it is but one example to us of God’s loving gifts and faithfulness. He speaks his love to us in daily gifts-- life, breath, family, His presence, and joy – and every once in a while when we silently need encouragement, he sends a "peach pie."

This story sprang to my mind this week as I was finishing up the book of Jeremiah. God plays such a huge, powerful role in this book, but it was a quiet tender scene that grabbed my attention actually. The prophet Jeremiah had been the bearer of bad news too often and ticked off the authorities. Thrown into a cistern, he was sitting in mud and abandoned in the elements to die. Securing his release, a godly Egyptian man by the name of Ebed-Melech took extra care in pulling the old prophet out of the well by affixing padded cloths to the arm harness of the ropes (Jer. 28).

I love that God sees this and remembers it. In the next chapter we hear God actually speaking out a message for Ebed personally and by name. Tell Ebed that (I saw him and that) I will rescue him from the coming danger in this besieged city at war. 

Our God is watching. He saw a kind Egyptian gentleman pad ropes to lift out an old man of God from a well in the middle of a besieged, war-torn city. It is easy to think of God as being more occupied with the front lines of world conflicts and national leaders, but it blows me away to hear him recording instances of individuals being tender and considerate, simply affixing torn rags to a rope harness for an old man in a well. 

God saw that and addressed Ebed by name. That same God saw suburban ninja teens slip a peach pie onto our steps one summer day years ago, and he knows them by name. That God is watching now, and sees our actions today. In God’s wonderful radical economy, she who refreshes others will be refreshed, and our loving acts towards others are quiet worship to Him. 

Want some joy today? Whisperingly confer with God, and be a suburban ninja with a peach pie, or old rags on a rope harness. 

What about you? What random acts of kindness have you seen done, or have you been excited to be part of? What do you like to do with your kids?