COMFORTING

Within a few days of my husband's death this summer, a close friend was at my door with some unusual tokens of comfort: a framed saying and a little glass vial. “These are on loan for a few months,” she said, knowing I was feeling overwhelmed by “too much stuff” in the aftermath of a loved one's death. But they revealed her compassion toward how I'd travel my grief journey.

One “loaner” was this framed saying about the Author of my life. As one who's written books, I understood the comparison. How I needed the reminder that this event was so big that I desperately needed to listen to the Author of life through His book, the Bible. The little ribboned corked glass container referred to an ancient Jewish custom of saving one's tears (in a vial) as proof of the depth of grief. The custom was even mentioned in a psalm:

You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book. Psalm 56:8

Of course, that custom is not part of my culture. But reading about grief and the need to weep reminded me that God sees my tears and it's okay to let them flow when needed. Death is a deep, life-changing loss.

One week at church I was sitting next to another recent widow. One of the worship songs hit both of us in the tender parts of our loss. She started wiping tears first and asked if I had a tissue. (I didn't—just a crumpled handkerchief that I passed over with a look of apology.) But her tears started mine coming. People behind and on the side of us, who know us, understood.

This same widow, upon my loss, started mailing or handing me 3x5 cards on which she had written encouraging scriptures or quotes. My communication strength is “written words,” so that was right up the road to my heart. I posted them on a clip under my computer screen. How often had I read the same scriptures? But now they revisited—via the hand of a caring friend—to comfort and renew again.

Know someone who's grieving? Send notes—even after the first few weeks of loss when the cards fill the mailbox. Keep them simple. Visit briefly. Share their tears. Be sensitive to any saying or token that will remind them of God's care . Like these. Or a Bible bookmark. If a “larger decor” item, clarify you're loaning it for a certain period of time so that they aren't burdened with later getting rid of it.

Embarrassed by my lack of clean tear-soakers that Sunday, I went to the dollar store and got some of those mini-packs of tissues. I'll give one to her, and show her (with a peek into the cave of my purse) that next time I will be prepared. Bring on those heart-tugging hymns and choruses. It's good when worship music reaches our hearts and leaks out through the tear glands. God understands. When loss hurts so bad, it's how He reaches His arms around us (sometimes through another “real” person) to let us know He cares. More than we can comprehend.

FILL MY CUP

A monthly feature on a hymn of the faith.

A couple scheduled for pre-marital counseling was late for their appointment with Rev. Richard C. Blanchard Sr., at his church in Coral Gables, Florida. Wanting to make better use of his time, the Methodist pastor told his secretary that he'd be in a nearby Sunday school room that had a piano. Within six minutes of sitting at the piano, he'd composed words to a hymn based on Jesus' encounter with the Samaritan woman at a well (John 4), Twenty minutes later, he had a tune to it. And that's how “Fill My Cup, Lord” came to be, in 1953. He later said of that song: “It came from God. There is no other way to explain it.” The song would reach a larger audience through the ministry of his friend who was a musician and evangelist.

Born in China in 1925 to Methodist missionary parents, he grew up in Indiana and North Carolina. His mother taught him piano and he learned to play trombone in school band. He also earned to play anything by ear, including music of the Big Band era, and had a beautiful tenor voice. Blanchard attended college one year and then enlisted in the U.S. Navy. But lung problems (after two surgeries, he'd eventually be reduced to one-third of his lung capacity) led to his medical discharge. Finishing college, he married and had three children, and after a degree in theology was ordained to what would be 40 years of ministry in the Methodist Church, mostly in Florida.

Despite his health challenges, he was a man of many interests: boating, dining by the water, traveling (he visited more than 75 countries), fine art and art museums, sports, word games like Scrabble ®, stamp- and coin-collecting. He also wrote many Gospel songs, a musical titled “Francis of Assisi” performed before 600, a weekly regional church paper column, and a story published in the popular “Ideals” magazine. He also wrote the official biography of a Methodist bishop, John Branscomb, for whom he was an assistant minister in the 4,000-member First Methodist Church in Orlando, Florida.

Blanchard's family also faced challenges. Two children would precede him in death: a son left a quadriplegic after an accident at age 17, and one of his two daughters. Those experiences led him to value hospital visitation. In retirement and declining health after 2000, he found a new ministry from his bed through telephoning members of former churches. He died at age 79 in North Carolina.

Sing along with this video:

FillMy Cup, Lord - YouTube

BYOODE-FUL

I'm blessed to be a grandma of four, three boys (my son's) and one girl (my daughter's). The grandboys are in town, so often visit. But the granddaughter, Eleanor, lives four hours' drive away and I don't see her often. Yet she touches my Nana's heart with her drawings and first-grade-prose. Yes, I like hydrangeas, too, Eleanor. I agree: they are a "byoode." I carried a freshly picked hydrangea pompom as a simple, homemade bridal bouquet at my wedding.

Because my husband died just weeks short of our 42^nd anniversary, the wedding memories are especially tender. We were older—34 and 36—and never-married-before when our wedding day came. It was a simple, small ceremony, right down to a home-sewn dress, garden-picked flowers and a potluck reception. A year or so ago, Eleanor's mom posed her holding a “bouquet” of hydrangeas, and I have that photo posted by my kitchen sink. Her recent drawing (with its original spelling—how precious) lifted my heart as I realized this little detail was revived to comfort me. The same for the hydrangea bouquet they left on my table before returning to their home on the other side of the state.

Often when I look at this drawing, now prominently posted in the kitchen, I recall a contemporary Christian song that has come to widespread recognition through singer Twila Paris. She defines “how beautiful” through remembering the earthly ministry of Jesus Christ, and how that has translated through the centuries through those who now call themselves “Christian”--followers of Jesus.

The song's rhymes are simple, but profound. Sacrifice. He paid the price. The singer reminds us of Jesus' tender eyes, hands that healed, and a heart that bled. My prose doesn't do justice to the song. It's best just listened to, maybe sung along in the heart in a quiet and tender time.

Will there be “byoode-ful” hydrangeas in God's Perfect Place, Heaven? Why not? Or why not something even more amazing in the eternal place God is preparing for those who followed Jesus?

Here are two videos (of many on the internet). In the “YouTube” one, the background is a sunset on the sea. In the other (“Bing”), images of an actor playing the role of Christ, serving, and dying on the cross. Keep a tissue handy and consider watching both.

Howbeautiful by Twila Paris (Lyrics) – YouTube

Howbeautiful by Twila Paris (with lyrics) - Bing video

HIGHFALUTIN V. SIMPLE

Well, how would YOU illustrate
"highfalutin"? This fun figure
 humorously illustrates its opposite.

Back to school time!  And though that's in my distant past, I still remember the dread and agony of jumping through college admissions exams like the Scholastic Aptitude Test (SAT).  I had a “Top Ten” GPA in high school (my B's were in my nemesis, P.E.) so didn't think those standardized tests for college admissions would be too worrisome. Until I opened the test booklet. Math! Why had I avoided advanced calculus! I guessed. And guessed again! Not surprising, my math scores were more Death Valley than Mount Everest. Vocabulary! Were those test words ones that people actually used? Or were they borrowed from some tribal language?

Just for fun, I recently started a list of highfalutin words (oops, there's one) that  aren't part of ordinary language. Okay: “highfalutin” denotes “pompous, pretentious or overly complicated.” It's typical of people who flaunt (“to display ostentatiously on impudently, to parade”) with allegedly “highfalutin” diction (even invented negative words) to project a bogus superior image. And speaking of speaking styles, some highly-educated folks are apt to fulminate (“express vehement protest”) against some teenage slang (“like, uh, hey, yo!”). In doing so, they fustigate (“beat with a club, or punish or criticize severely”) when clear and proper language disintegrates into cliches or idioms. (Am I really using these hundred-dollar-words correctly?)

Sometimes we make simple things too complicated. The Gospel, for example. In 1962 renowned Bible teacher Karl Barth was on a lecture tour of the U.S., speaking at a chapel at the University of Chicago. When a student asked Barth if he could summarize his life's work in a sentence, Barth replied, yes, then quoted a song he learned as a child: “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.”(1)

Another life-skill needing simplification is showing that Jesus loves us and those around us, even those tied in knots over confusion of what it means to love like Him. The aged apostle John, despite all the teaching he heard and preached himself, wonderfully distilled the Christian life to this simple yet profound command:

Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth. (1 John 3:18).

There it is—the Bible's SAT: Simple Actions & Truth.

(1) Did Karl Barth Really Say “Jesus Loves Me, This I Know….?” | Roger E. Olson (patheos.com)