How weird is this?!  I woke up this morning and opened my phone to see it randomly on the screen with the song “I’d Rather Have Jesus.”  I pushed “play” and listened to this song while remembering a special time in my life and a unique story.  Back in college I used to sing this song for Sunday schools and other groups.  I sang it with an interpreter to an entire church in Tokyo, Japan on a missions trip.  After the song, a sweet little Japanese lady came up to me and told me she had trusted Christ during the song.  Apparently, friends had been telling her about Christianity and Jesus for a long time, and the song is what God used to finally capture her heart.  Anyway, I have no idea why this was on the screen on my phone this morning, but I listened and it reminded me of this special event in my life.  More importantly, it reminded me what a treasure Jesus is.  I really would rather have Jesus than anything, but it isn’t because I’m so good, but because he is.

A few years ago a dear friend sent me a card with this inscription on it: “A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart and sings it back to you when you forget the words.”

This soul sister of mine was telling me that I am that kind of friend for her. The truth is that I am rich with friends of that kind. Think about it - to have someone know the song in your heart. Wow. Someone who sees you and knows you, someone who “gets” you deep down, and who loves to listen to the song your life sings. To even have one friend of that caliber in a lifetime would be a blessing that many do not experience. And I can say I have been blessed with a handful.

One of them sang the song back to me today, when I had forgotten the words. I woke up to a full day ahead, and I was already weary from a long week. As I went to check my email, I found one from a kindred spirit from my college days. She reminded me of a Psalm I had shared with her years ago. Within Psalm 46 is a lovely, warm, sweet, and powerful verse, which had spoken deeply to me many years earlier in my story. During that time, though I do not even remember this, I had shared with this friend the meaningfulness of this Psalm, and I had sung a song to her by the same title.

Verse 4 says, “There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy place where the Most High dwells.” Oh, how glorious - there really is a river. That river is Jesus. He makes us glad. This friend reminded me of these beautiful verses today, but more importantly, she reminded me of the song in my own heart, the song that had spoken that Psalm to her years ago. Here are some of her words to me:

I'll never forget one time when you were telling me about the meaning
of Psalm 46 and sang the song....
it was so precious, so real, so comforting and yet, powerful too.
I want to say you were a flight attendant at that time? Anyway, I
just remember that I felt God's presence in such a sweet way and that
song and Psalm will always be powerful and sweet mixed together:)
So, all that to say.... Psalm 46 and you go together... thank you for
being a refreshment ... a blessing.. to so many.... and for a being a
dear friend.

It was a reminder of the song God has placed in me. And today I felt like anything but a “blessing” or “refreshment to others.” So, this friend remembered the words of that song and she sang them back to me. And the refreshment was mine.

What about you? Do you remember the song in your heart? Do you have friends that sing it back to you when you forget? If not, that would be a great thing to ask for.

I so wish I could play part of the song for you, but it is too old to be available on MP3. (You can check out the old 1992 album called Coram Deo here - the song is called “There is a River.”) And I pray for you today that you will have a friend who remembers the song in your heart and sings it back to you when you forget the words.

“Grapes will sour before they make sweet wine. . . and everything will be just fine.”

These are some words of a song by Mo Leverett called “Sparks.”  For me, it is one of those songs that sneaks up and encourages me here and there when I begin to feel discouraged over my own progress (or lack thereof) in the faith. 

So here it came again the other day.  I had been told that some of my blog posts seem angry, and I’ve no doubt that is true.  I didn’t even try to deny it, though I did try to say that I think there is freedom for honest expression in the Christian community, hence the Psalms. 

But the conversation did set me to thinking.  And you know, I don’t want to be an angry person, reacting over wrongs I think others have done.  I do not want to be bitter and unforgiving.  I do not want to get hung up on injustices.  The song came again: 

See love flow where once there was tears,  Change through the years and see the anger and fear turn kind.

“See the anger and fear turn kind.”  Wow, now that is hope.  You know, at our core, all of us have a good deal of anger and fear, whether or not we are aware of it.  And there is very little any of us can do to change those core attitudes and beliefs, apart from Love Divine.

The sun will come soon to light a new day.  And Love Divine will show us a better way,   and everything will be OK.

So, God is good to remind me.  He is faithful to show me.  Again.  That no matter how angry my heart can be at times, no matter how much fear tries to grab a hold of me, that Love Divine will make everything OK, and part of that everything is me.  “Grapes will sour before they make sweet wine, and everything will be just fine.”

Thanks for the reminder, Mo, and thank YOU, dear Holy Spirit of God for always knowing how to give me hope.  Dear Winemaker, I love you.

The time has come to write about my dear son.  Ahhhh - Jonathan.  Where to begin?  His name means “God’s gracious gift,” and he has been that to us in a multitude of ways, some very unexpected.  Jonathan is a 7 1/2 year old boy loaded with energy and adventure.  He is cute as a button and has a snaggled-tooth smile full of sunshine and a laugh full of joy.  He has an amazing imagination and ability to create new inventions and tell exciting stories.  He has a razor sharp memory and remembers everything you ever read to or tell him, which is great - usually. 

He is also challenged with a couple of difficulties both for him and for our family. He has severe anxiety in the form of obsessive compulsive disorder, and he also has dyslexia.  The OCD exhibited itself early on as fears at nighttime and being extremely particular about things, and we chalked it up to normal childhood fears and his being a strong-willed personality.  Later, it began to show itself in the form of intrusive thoughts, such as fears that he or someone he loved would die.  This began to affect his ability to get through the day without major meltdowns or just bouts of severe sadness.  Let me tell you, it is excruciating to watch your young child deal with such adult problems.   

If you are reading this, and you’re wondering if OCD is really a childhood disorder, believe me it is.  I wouldn’t have believed until I lived it.  And if you’re reading this, and you can relate to anything I’m saying, it is my desire that this gives you encouragement that there is hope.  He is facing his fears daily, and he is learning the thinking skills to deal with unwanted thoughts and to begin to keep his frustrations in check. If you need more information about OCD, it might be helpful to read about it at the Obsessive Compulsive Foundation.

Some other resources that have been helpful for us are the following books:  What to do When your Child Has Obsessive Compulsive Disorder by Dr. Aureen Wagner, The Explosive Child by Ross Greene, Up and Down Worry Hill by Dr. Wagner, and What to Do When You Worry Too Much  by Dawn Huebner. The latter two are children’s books, which give the kids the understanding that they are not alone and also help build useful skills into their lives for dealing with their troubling thoughts.

Jonathan is such a remarkable child, and we have grown in ways as parents, as a family, and as individuals, that we never would have without these struggles.  Still, it is something no one would ever choose for someone they love. 

We have homeschooled this year, because the dyslexia triggered such anxieties that the classroom was and impossible learning environment for him.   He is growing daily in his ability to read and overcome this weakness.  We’re also able to do such interesting supplemental activities and enrichment activities that keep his smart mind occupied.  I don’t know too many first grade classes that have studied ancient Egypt thoroughly and have read the Greek myths, while also doing weekly science experiments such as how electricity works and what causes weather changes, and who have gotten to visit the water treatment plant and the Channel 19 weather station and talk to meteorologist James Paul Dice (Thanks Jana B. toyour sweet hubby). 

I wouldn’t have chosen to homeschool Jonathan with his specific challenges.  I wouldn’t have.  But it is best.  Best for him and for everyone in our family.  It has been and continues to be a challenging walk to walk, and yet we are beginning to come to a new definition and experience of normalcy for our family.  And Jonathan is a brave young man.  Words cannot describe the deep and fierce love I have for my gracious gift.  And I have faith that all of this is part of his story, and he will become a more amazing, compassionate, and gifted person because of these struggles

He’s the one who taught me to climb the tree in the vacant lot behind our first house in Utah.  He’s the one who camped out with me in the back of our family’s station wagon.  He’s the one who called me names and picked on me, while I asked for it (more than) half the time.  He helped me built forts under the pine trees, build a stove with bricks and wire, and cook hotdogs there for our lunch.  His favorite name for me growing up was “Turkey.”  He never talked much and still doesn’t gab for hours to this day.  A man of few words, as they say, always was even as a kid.  But, boy, he got mad if anyone else was mean to me, and protective when the guys started coming around.

He’s the one who has dealt with different sicknesses all his life.  He’s the one who had colitis and chron’s disease as a young teenager, and my parents were told he wouldn’t live beyond his twenties.  He’s the one who developed sclerosis of the liver and was in a life-threatening condition in his twenties right after his first child was born.  The doctor’s said he would need a liver transplant one day.  Then, when he was 31, he’s the one whose immune system went wild and attacked his heart and caused it to enlarge to twice its size and half its strength.  He was told he would die without a heart transplant.  He’s the one who couldn’t work that whole year and endured strong medicines and an open heart surgery, to live without a heart transplant.

And now he’s the one who is sick again.  Very sick.  And tired.  Very tired.  My heart cries out,  “Why, Lord?”  And “How long?” 

So, home from the hospital after a week, nauseous from the new meds, wondering what the future will hold, my brother is the one trying to get his heart back in rhythm and to rid his body of blood clots forming.  He’s also the one, still not complaining, still having the courage to get up each day and be kind and hopeful.   My big brother is the one who is my hero.