H.U.M.B.L.E.

Yep, that’s my new middle name – HUMBLE!

Bestowed upon me as I recently devoured a huge piece of Humble Pie.

Have I mentioned that I’m NOT an athlete? Not in any way, shape or form. Never have been. Most likely never will be.

Kickball served as my greatest nemesis in elementary school. I had the wind knocked out of me while playing Red Rover. And softball? Forget it!

I had to run laps in high school to demonstrate my level of physical fitness. Other girls LAPPED me because I ran so slowly. And that came with my best effort! My only D was in that phys ed class!

(Oh, wait. I also had one in Geometry. But that was math, which I stink at, so that doesn’t really count.)

Fortunately, my current life does not require much athleticism. I converse about the final four. I can watch football, baseball, even soccer with some level of intelligence. And that seems sufficient for those sports nuts around me.

Except for my main squeeze – John Franklin.

He has mentioned several times how much he’d like for me to get interested in biking. I’ve reminded him that biking is his outlet. His personal time for reverie. Why would he want to destroy that with female company that wants always to chat?

But he is a persistent man!

So last Saturday, we borrowed Joy’s bicycle (complete with baby carrier) and headed to the trail.

The sun shone; birds chirped; the breeze blew; temperature hovered around 75. A perfect bicycling day for novices and experts alike.

We headed out; Frank offered small coaching tips and encouragement. But Spencer’s handle on the baby carrier was causing great distress in the area of my derriere!

I tried to describe my level of discomfort to Frank but he just kept nodding and saying, “Uh huh. I can see.” Not the answer I wanted – at all!

He did finally figure out how to move the bar; giving me full use of the seat. And believe me, I needed FULL use of the seat!

After that, the ride actually became rather pleasant. (Please refer back to “sun shining; birds chirping” paragraph.)

We rode on, stopping each time my legs cramped or my bottom demanded. And I started enjoying myself. Frank gave a steady commentary about the trail and even shared stories from past rides he’d taken solo or with John.

I could see myself doing this on a semi-regular basis.

Then, it happened.

I made the mistake of asking how far we had ridden. “Three miles,” he said.

My little calculating mind (never still while I’m in a waking state) began to figure.

If we ride one more mile, that will make the round trip eight miles. Frank’s first bike ride three years ago was ten miles and we cheered like he’d won the Tour de France. Surely I could do eight!

Now, “not athletic” does not mean I’m not competitive!

• One young lady swore to never play a board game with me ever again because of my competitive streak.

• Frank and I almost called off our wedding due to a Monopoly game that went rogue.

• Inability to play volleyball well doesn’t stop me from challenging the opposing team with noisy rhetoric.

Okay, so I have a rather serious character flaw. “Hi, my name is Sheri and I’m competitive…..”

So, back to the ride.

My legs were starting to hurt a bit and I knew that this was only the beginning of the pain I’d be experiencing the next day. I really should give up and turn around now.

But hey, that’s why they invented Tylenol, right? I was going to make eight miles! I was determined!

Frank began to say, “Honey, we’ll turn around any time you’re ready.”

“No, I’m good. Let’s just ride a little farther.” I could smell the joy that would accompany the completion of that eighth mile!

“Must get to mile four before turning around! Can’t quit now! Just……Keep…….Pedaling!”

When we reached the fourth mile, I silently congratulated myself. Please remember, Frank had no idea of the thoughts rambling around in my head.

The trip back seemed to have a decidedly uphill slant; much tougher than the first half.

Not a problem. I was mentally up for the challenge. I kept my focus on the moment that would come when we were all sitting around the dinner table and I would casually point out that my first ride had only been two miles shorter than Dad’s first ride.

It would indeed be a delightful moment. I could hear the congratulatory comments already. The entire family would cheer!

“Must……Keep……..Pedaling!”

One short mile from the finish line……er, uh, from the car……we had the choice of repeating a side trail we’d taken at the beginning.

Frank could see that I was pushing hard, so he suggested that we skip the extra trail.

Skip it? That would keep us from making the eight-mile marker I’d set up in my head.

“NO!”

My response was a bit too emphatic and he glanced over at me. “Well, uh, that was a pretty spot. I’d like to ride back through there again.” The huffing and puffing blurred any edge of competitive inflection.

I can see you shaking your head already. Yep, brace yourself. Ever heard the scripture, “Pride goes before a fall”?

We turned smoothly onto the side trail without even slowing down. Frank complemented my improving skills. I beamed. Victory called from just two short miles away!

Another bicycling couple approached from the opposite direction. I casually lifted my hand to wave a greeting and flashed my best “preacher’s wife smile”.

Casual became careless. And in that instant, all of life went into slow motion.

I didn’t see that Frank had slowed for the curve. My front tire clipped his back tire and the future became immediately clear – I was going DOWN!

SELAH. (Which means: stop and consider.)

My favorite capris will become shorts this summer due to the large tear just below my left knee. The bruises have turned multiple shades of purples and yellows. The Neosporin and bandages I’ve kept on hand for John became MY friends. And things have ached that I never knew I had.

Sure glad we have a good chiropractor!

And that, dear friends, is my confession for the day. Confessing is good. Dealing with a character flaw is even better.

Gotta go change my bandage now.

The Missing Piece

I’m convinced that in each relationship we share, there is a piece of that person’s life that we’re missing.

A key. A missing tidbit of information. A puzzle piece that (if fitted into place) would cause us to back up and say, “Ohhh, well that finally makes sense!”

I have a dear friend I’ve admired for many years. She and I became close when our children were just babies. Jennifer* had two perfect little ones who were truly beautiful; a daughter and a son.

Her son, an extremely bright and curious boy, had a vocabulary that exceeded any child his age. We often roared with laughter as she told stories of encounters with strangers in the grocery store; his latest climbing adventure or other “learning experiences.”

Jennifer definitely had her hands full! But she carried on with the grace and optimism of young motherhood.

Joshua’s precocious ways unnerved a lot of people. And when he came to play with my girls I certainly had to stay on my toes. But his loving and compassionate nature always took center stage, to me.

Just before Joshua turned five, we started to realize that some of his behavior had no explanation. The stories changed from light-hearted to startling. Jennifer began to express genuine concern for Josh’s safety – he seemed to have no fear at all.

Jennifer’s husband worked as a public servant. His job left them open to all sorts of suggestions and criticism regarding Joshua. To the casual observer, Josh looked like any other rambunctious little boy. So the input ranged from practical to absurd:

• “Isn’t there a pill they can give him?”
• “I think a good old fashioned spanking is in order!”
• “Have you checked for food allergies?”
• “If you would just get that kid on a better schedule….”

People seldom gave any thought to the heart of the young mother they so freely scrutinized. I cried with Jennifer over some of the more ruthless comments.

During one of those times she said, “It seems like it would be so much easier if he had a physical handicap. That way, at least people would try to muster some sympathy!”

At long last, Joshua was diagnosed with a form of Autism. And the truth became painfully clear – without Divine intervention, Joshua would continue to struggle and people would most likely never understand.

I watched my precious friend become his champion.

If tests were needed and the insurance company refused, she spent countless hours helping them change their corporate mind.

She wrestled with the school system until he successfully graduated high school.

Jennifer sought out job opportunities that would help her son experience the joy of being gainfully employed.

She helped provide community service hours; letting him follow in Dad’s footsteps.

She refused to allow people to label Joshua. And she prayed like Hannah!

When I see Jennifer in other settings now, I know the pain that resides deep in the heart of this polished, confident woman. I know of the darker puzzle pieces God has fitted into the portrait of her life: disappointment, sorrow, grief, questions without answers.

And I marvel at her.

I often think back on her pondering from long ago, “Wouldn’t it be easier if he had a physical handicap that people could see?”

And I wonder how many people around me are, right now, struggling with issues I know nothing of.

Hearts, broken beyond healing, continue to beat. But they doubt joy will ever come again.

The wife of someone in a public role (like Jennifer) who wants to simply crawl into a hole and wait for the storm to end. But she can’t! Obligations and commitments make no allowance for hidden pain. So she smiles and soldiers on as best she can.

The obnoxious teen-ager who dresses so ridiculously. He’s grappling with life questions that would overwhelm an adult. But he dares not say anything to anyone!

The sullen student who never has her work done. She couldn’t return a report card if her life depended on it. But every evening in her upscale home is one more night of terror.

What kind of compassion would we lavish on these if only we had the missing piece of the puzzle? If only we knew!

The ironic thing is this: we seldom ever have that information. God calls us to offer grace and compassion to others without knowing the whole story.

Only He has the vantage point of seeing the entire picture.

My prayer? “Lord, help me blindly extend the kind of lavish love to others that I would gladly give if I knew their story.”

I keep a puzzle piece in my desk as a reminder of this prayer.

Please, feel free to adopt that visual aid too, dear reader. Truth is, we can all afford to be a little more understanding!

Amen. Amen to that!

Response

You made me cry!

Yes, it was you; I'm certain.

After two long weeks of "blogger's stage fright," I finally pushed the post button on Wednesday evening, just before Bible study. I came back to the office early Thursday and decided to proof the post one more time before someone might get to their office and actually start reading it.

What should greet my discouraged eyes but a "7" in the comment box. Seven gracious, thoughtful, encouraging comments. (That number has risen to eleven.) I honestly felt like someone had left an envelope full of money on my desk blotter.

Frank stepped in to ask a question and found me reaching for the tissues.

"Honey, what's wrong?!" I don't cry a lot first thing in the day.

"There are seven comments on my blog this morning!" The tears made me feel self-conscious. But fortunately, my husband understands how much this endeavor means to me.

He came around the desk, gave me a hug and insisted we read each one again. A couple were first-time responders. And two said they sometimes share these thoughts with friends. Big encouragement to keep at it!

What an amazing time we live in; where friendships form in cyberspace. I always wanted a pen pal story: "Oh, we've written letters back and forth for fifteen years. And this summer she's getting on a plane and we'll actually meet for the first time. But we already know each other because of the letters we've shared!"

Hmmm -guess that's why reading our Bible is so important. Its the record of God's letters to us and it gives us an opportunity to get to know Him. Then one day when we actually meet for the first time, we won't be strangers at all because of the letters.

Thank you so much for taking time to read Embrace the Grace! And thanks to those who commented.

The tears were happy ones I assure you!

Fresh Start

Do you ever experience the "Total Fail" feeling?

You know, that moment when you realize:

• you're up to your ankles in dirty laundry.
  
• you're holding a calendar that can not possibly squeeze in one more element.
  
• you forgot to pick up milk - again.
• every person in your life needs assistance you can't provide.
• your guests are arriving early and dinner is definitely late!

Our under-thirties often call this The Epic Fail!

And that's what I've experienced lately in regards to this blog. I have not written for two full weeks now. That (according to every blogger I've encountered) qualifies as an Epic Fail for sure!

But each time I would attempt to sit down and write, something urgent would take center stage.

I've had several great blog ideas. Timely stories. Humorous occurrences. Powerful illustrations. But here we are, two weeks out and not one has been recorded. Huge SIGH!

I would think of all you kind readers/commentators who actually take time to stop by here and follow my ramblings.

• "Will they think something is wrong?"
  
• "Will they wonder if you've just stopped writing entirely?"
  
• "Will they loose interest?"
  
• The worst of all: "Will anyone know you haven't posted?"
  

AAGGHHH -entirely too must introspection for an extrovert!

For me, blogging is such a great honor. I take it quite seriously when anyone chooses to pull a moment from their limited cache of free time and read or listen to anything I have to say. That person needs to be rewarded with a nugget of truth; a word of encouragement; at the very least, a smile.

But for the past two weeks, I just haven't felt the spark of inspiration. And after starring at my computer, totally devoid of words I deemed valuable enough to record, I got "stage fright". And just. could. not. write.

Silly, I know. But please understand how much I want to offer you something of real value when you stop by "Embrace the Grace".

So it was that in the pre-dawn hours of this very morning, I lay awake praying about this blog. I thought of all the regular comment-leavers and how much they've encouraged me these past two years. I recounted the fact that TWO WEEKS have passed without so much as a word; incredibly rude by Southern standards. I rehearsed the joy of pressing the Publish Post button. I questioned my ability to craft a post worthy of your time.

And ever so quietly, I felt the Father whisper to my heart, "You believe in fresh starts for everyone else.............why not yourself?"

"Well, mostly because I should be able to live up to my commitments," was the harsh response from my condemning heart.

"I'll give you a fresh start, then!" His reply always brings comfort. "Just write something. Anything. Just START!"

And so I have.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart for reading Embrace the Grace! I truly count your partnership (I write. You read. We both benefit.) as a gift in my life.

May yours be blessed beyond measure today! And may you also encounter a fresh start where it's most needed.

Full Circle

I'm well aware that Disney feels they have the corner on understanding the "Circle of Life". But I assure you, they do not.

Over the past thirty-six hours, I've experienced the true circle of life and it is a God-ordained, miraculous thing!

On Sunday, I had the delightful pleasure of holding Jayden Brackett for the first time. Her mom and dad worked with us during their college days and a little beyond. (Nicki served as worship leader for three years and Fred Alex helped with youth.)

They now live in Alabama but their brand new baby girl needed to meet Nicki's family. Fortunately, they live in Orlando. So everyone came to Garden Grove for Sunday service. A marvelous surprise since that also drew our former administrative assistant, Jeremy and his sweet wife Liz. A joyful family reunion!

I got to hold Jayden throughout the opening of service. She dozed contentedly in my arms while we sang and worshiped God together. Of course, Frank had to hold her up for the congregation to see. (Huge Smile Inserted Here.)

All the attention didn't phase her in the least. Tiny fingers, precious nose, sweet lips, gorgeous eyes. Perfection. God's message that the world goes on. And she just slept through it all.

After service, they honored us by asking that Frank do her dedication service sometime in the near future. "You married her mom and dad," Nicki said. "We figured it only natural that you would dedicate her."

That will go on the calendar this week!

Then Monday, we received the call that came as no surprise. Our dear friend, Hilda, was extremely close to Heaven's door. Frank told the family we'd be right over.

As we stepped into the house, we knew Hilda would be going home soon. Her long and painful struggle with Alzheimer's was almost over.

The hospital bed took center stage in the living room. Open windows allowed breezes to play through the room. And the patio fountain she loved, served as soothing background music.

We spoke with the family and with the nurse who has become part of the family during Hilda's illness. Then we stepped to the bed to talk with Hilda. I say "talk" although we expected no response as Hilda had been unresponsive for almost two weeks.

The picture just over her head on the fireplace mantle revealed the beauty Ralph had fallen in love with during high school days. They celebrated 69 wedding anniversaries together! Truly a miracle in today's society.

Another picture showed the dashing fighter pilot and stunning officer's wife attending a military ball. Such a handsome couple! Approaching their 90's left them with very different "exteriors" but their spirits have remained strong and completely alive.

During one of our visits several weeks ago, Hilda lit up like Christmas as Frank and I started singing her favorite hymn. I was so overcome by the sacredness of the moment that I momentarily forgot the words. Her thin lips prompted me with the next line!

Needless to say, stepping to that bedside Monday was bitter sweet for us. Her frail body labored to breathe and there were no signs of the beautiful, vibrant woman she had been. We spoke to her of our love while her daughter-in-law stoked the gaunt brow.

Then Frank began to pray a simple prayer. He thanked God for her life; well-lived, following Christ. She led her two sons to know Him as well. Frank asked that God would grant Hilda peace and that He would draw her close.

Hilda's breathing became less labored.

Frank also prayed that her family would be comforted with the knowledge that we will see her again. Then once again, that peace would be hers.

Suddenly, Hilda flashed a huge smile. (The only response in days.) And as the smile faded, she breathed her last.

We all stood motionless; utterly amazed at what we had just witnessed. Our vantage point put us as close to the doorway of heaven as mortals are allowed. Glorious!

The two brothers composed themselves and went into Ralph's room to wake him with the news. He struggled to her bedside in the wheelchair that now takes the place of the planes he once commanded.

Ralph patted Hilda's arm and quietly said, "Good-bye, Darling. I'll see you in Heaven."

We all swiped at tears escaping our eyes.

Frank and I lingered with the family a while then dashed to Publix to gather dinner items for them. Finally we headed home for our own family dinner.

After eating, I drank in the opportunity to squeeze Spencer. (Carefully avoiding those powerful casts.) We talked, "clapped", read a couple of books. I even felt Abigail Grace move for the first time as I rubbed Joy's pregnant belly.

Yes, life does have a full circle.

But trust me, while Disney may have coined a description - it was God who created the circle! The Circle of Life!

Without

Free Checked Bags!

Great concept. Grateful patrons. Unfortunately, "free checked bags" does not necessarily equal "bags checked free from trouble"!

Frank and I love to travel. We also love to preach. So to be able to travel in order to preach and teach? Well, it just doesn't get any better than that for us.

When you travel, you know you will be without certain things. You'll have to manage:

• without your favorite coffee cup
• without your own bed
  
• without your normal routine
• without your remote control! (Threw that one in for the fellas.)
  

Well the list could go on and on but you get the idea.

This past weekend, we were to speak for a couple's retreat in NC. The added bonus? Our hosts for this event were our dear friends and newly acquired family, Steve and Becky Smith. What Joy!

Of course, our first love is serving as pastors of Garden Grove Church in Winter Haven, FL! This precious congregation is our calling.

But they graciously send us out about once a month to preach other places. And as long as we always find our way home, it works.

So back to the free checked bags.

When you travel frequently, it's best to approach each trip with the savvy of a hurricane preparedness coach.

Frank went so far as to long ago make it a hard and fast rule, "ALWAYS keep your sermon notes in the carry on bag! If it's pertinent to the message, keep it on your person at all times!"

So when we finally reached Norfolk, VA (the closest airport to the Smith's home in Manteo, NC) we didn't panic at the news that our second "free checked bag" had not arrived with us.

Inconvenient, yes. But not insurmountable.

We left the Smith's address with the apologetic attendant and went on our merry way. Fully confident that the wayward bag would be delivered to our door shortly.

That's how it's supposed to work!

We enjoyed the drive to Manteo with the Smiths. We relished every moment of touring their new home, reconnecting with Sarah, laughing together, eating Becky's beautifully prepared meal.

We even learned that the newlyweds Hoggard, (Webb and Amanda) would be at the retreat. Better all the time!

But shortly after dinner, Frank became engaged in the battle to reclaim our lost bag. This included but was not limited to: EIGHT phone calls; TEN different representatives; TWO separate agencies; FIVE hours; and ONE very perturbed pastor!

Each conversation left him with new and more disturbing information about the whereabouts and projected delivery time of our suitcase.

So Steve, Becky and Sarah jumped into action. In the midst of their own packing and preparation for our 9 AM departure time, they scurried around locating extra toiletries, hair brushes and a blow dryer. (That Becky Smith is the Hostess with the Mostest!)

Frank and I collapsed into bed; delighted to find pillows of the non-lumpy variety. And promptly fell asleep.

However, the airline wasn't resting.

At MIDNIGHT our phone rang. Frank fumbled around, found the phone and manged to say hello. An overly cheerful agent announced, "Mr. Hawley, we've located your luggage. We'll be happy to deliver it to you...................the day after tomorrow."

"That's great," he mumbled. "But we'll be back in FL by then so just keep it at the airport!" My first thought? "Thank heavens you can wear jeans several times before they have to be washed."

Here's another travel truth we've learned: The difficulty of the trip is directly proportionate to miracles associated with the ministry time.

So our part is to stay calm! Ride the wave of whatever challenges are thrown our way. And watch for the miracles to come.

Friday morning, we left for the retreat equipped with borrowed toiletries and other essentials of life. No time for frustration, fuming or even fussing. We fully expected an incredible marriage retreat!

Miraculously, our little lost bag found its way to us about an hour later.

And the retreat itself? True to form - amazing! Twenty couples with twenty different life-stories. Twenty couples that went home knowing their marriages are worth fighting for!

Frank and I were able to fly back in to Orlando late Saturday night without any extra baggage of guilt or embarrassment. We had ridden the waves of trouble without yelling, demanding or even belittling the misinformed baggage agents.

And the ministry miracles were waiting, just beyond the difficulty.

Some things it's good to be without!

Daddy Knows

Praise God from whom all blessings flow!

Spencer made it through his first surgery quite well and has even found his precious laugh again.

Last Thursday brought a swirl of emotions that I didn't really know how to navigate. It's been our habit, in times like that, to put our heads down, turn into the wind and press forward. And that's pretty much what we all did.

Frank and I met the little family at Shriner's Hospital just after sunrise. The waiting area was deserted and everyone spoke in soft tones.

Of course, Spencer had no idea what lay ahead. So he greeted each person with his customary enthusiasm. Smiling. Squealing. Clapping. Waving. Giving hugs........

One of the first nurses squeezed his precious arm and sighed, "You knew we needed a happy baby today, didn't you?" They work with sick, frightened children day in and day out. I can't imagine the strain it must be trying to care for the most innocent ones in our world.

John and Joy stayed incredibly calm and that peace transferred directly to Spencer. Everyone was amazed. They didn't even give him the pre-surgery calming medicine that had been planned, he didn't need it.

When it came time, the pre-op nurse came back into the holding room; gave Spencer a big smile; clapped her hands toward him; and he went right to her. Oh the advantages of having a "church baby".

The medical team did an excellent job of keeping John and Joy informed throughout the next four hours of surgery. Frank and I kept them supplied with food, hugs, distractions, blankets, walks, and quiet hand-holding when needed. The rest of our family and friends kept them close in prayer.

At long last, the surgeon came out to report that his part was finished. "They're putting on the casts now," he said casually. "You'll be able to go back when he starts waking up."

Collective Deep Breath.

The casts are rather massive on that little body. His hands are completely encased (like with mittens) and the bright blue mesh reaches up almost to his shoulders.

A slight bend at each elbow prevents him from hitting himself. But it didn't take long for him to "deck" a couple of us. We've quickly learned the best evasive maneuvers for when he starts joyfully swinging those things!

(John completely removed their glass topped coffee table. THAT would have been a story!)

While we sat waiting, I couldn't help but think what a beautiful picture Spencer had painted. Everything was new and unusual. Strangers all around pulling, prodding, probing. But at each juncture he would simply look up at his dad or mom. If they smiled, he smiled.

"It's okay," they kept reassuring him.

And because they said it, that was enough for him. They knew exactly what was coming. They knew this wouldn't be easy. But it was for Spencer's best.

How very like our relationship with Jesus.

Life gets pretty bumpy some days and there's a lot that I don't understand. But if I can just stop long enough to look up into HIS face, He'll remind me that it's okay. The next few steps might not be easy but they haven't caught my "Daddy" off-guard. He's still in control.

Spencer doesn't understand why these huge casts are on both his arms. He can't feed himself. He can't crawl. He can't grasp his toys. And sometimes those big blue eyes look up with questions we can't answer.

But the capstone moment came two days ago when Aunt Kristin watched him lay that tired little head on his daddy's big, capable shoulder. Spencer whimpered ever so quietly. And John patted his back; offering comfort.

"I know. I know. It's gonna be okay, Spence."

Then John whispered in his son's ear, "I'm proud of you, Buddy."

(Brings tears to my eyes, too.)

The child doesn't understand. The child can't see the whole picture. But the daddy knows. He does see the whole picture. The daddy knows this is for the child's best. And he comforts the child in the midst of it all.



Thank you so much for continuing to pray with us for a speedy recovery. With another baby coming the first of July, John and Joy hope to have Spencer's second surgery behind them before that time.

Our Daddy Knows!