Holes With A Purpose

Todays blog is dedicated to my precious niece, Allison, and her darling daughter, Ruby Lynn. Alli's husband, Drew, went ahead of Allison and Ruby to check out their mansion in the sky. While we will have to wait to get there to find out why The Lord took him sooner than we wanted, we trust that He has great plans for Drews' girls as they cling to their Hope in Him. And we're pretty sure Drew has already painted their mansion orange and blue.

Dear Allison,

I recently attended a conference where the main theme for the weekend was The Power of a Story. Several people shared powerful stories. A neuroscientist, Curt Thompson, led the weekend as he connected the brain activity that occurs when hearing others stories and telling ours.

One of the "storytellers", Marvel DeWitt, shared her family's journey through the months and years of grief and heartache following their 26 year old son's sudden death caused by a drunk driver.

As friends ministered to her with words of encouragement, some of them mentioned the hole in her life due to her son's absence. How would God fill this hole? Those of us who know that God is in the redemptive business readily assume that God would fill the void with something of great value and purpose.

Several years following her son's death, as she was still waiting for the hole in her heart to be filled, the Lord revealed to her that sometimes there are holes in our lives that remain for a purpose.

Before the accident, Marvel had been listening to a radio program where the speaker talked about wanting to be a sieve for the Lord. Someone who would sift out the good from the bad. She thought to herself that she would prefer to be a colander.  Someone who would allow thankfulness and love and joy and peace and the other fruit of the Spirit to flow freely from her life.

Holes can bring great beauty to our lives. Not only do they serve to allow the healing and freeing attributes and characteristics of Christ to splash out onto those we come in contact with, but they also provide a way for Light to shine through. Matthew 5.14 says, "You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden." Holes can illuminate His light and cast out darkness.

My prayer for you is that in the days and years to come you will see a small glimpse of the beauty of your holes. Holes do not signify incompleteness. Rather, they are great deliverers of the goodness that God longs to pour out on others through your story.

Love you,

Aunt Chelie

                                                Alli and Ruby Lynn    

                                           (photograph "borrowed" from Keva Davis:)

Where Are You From?

It shouldn't be that difficult of a question.
I was in a store in South Walton County a few weeks ago when a friendly lady working there asked me where I was from. I hope she couldn't tell how confused I felt trying to answer that simple question. After a few seconds I replied, "I'm from Ft. Walton Beach". I thought the chances of her knowing where that was were much better than her knowing where Shalimar was. Shalimar is a small town close to Ft. Walton but if you're not familiar with the area, chances are, you won't know where Shalimar is. Even after my answer, though, I was still confused. While I currently live in Shalimar, I'm not really from here. I'm really from Valparaiso. Valparaiso is an even smaller town close by. It's the town I consider home as I lived there for 7 years, from 4th grade to 11th grade, the longest I've lived anywhere. My parents still live in Valparaiso and I love that tiny little town on Tom's Bayou.

My formative years were spent at First Baptist, Valparaiso, at Valp. Elementary, in the gullies playing capture the flag and crawling through drainage pipes. We could ride our bikes to Lincoln Park and swim the day away. Especially in the summer, we could often be found down at the Purcell's house on the bayou, catching crabs and jumping on the trampoline. We formed clubs where you had to know the secret codes to get in, and my next door neighbor, Tommie Lou, and I carved our names on a tree where we built our secret fort. (I didn't realize I had this picture of Tommie Lou on my laptop. She died when we were in college. I still miss her.)

Some days we would wander around town and find ourselves down at Stop N Save, enjoying a fountain drink at the counter. And if we had enough change, we might even pop into TG&Y and buy a candy bar.
First Baptist is where I learned of Jesus and saw His love in Bro Walker and so many others. To this day I remember lessons learned from my teachers, youth leaders, choir director and friends.
I lived a whole life during those 7 years and Valp will always remain my "home".
However, I'm not sure I'm technically "from there", either. I was actually born at Hill AFB, Utah. But, I only lived there for 6 weeks.
So... you may have a better understanding now why this question can seem so difficult.
Which brings me to another question. Does it really matter where we've come from?
While I do believe we need to remember where we've come from for the simple reminder of where God has brought us and so we can remind ourselves of His faithfulness, the real question must be asked, "Where are we headed?"
Reminds me of a popular song, one that my college roommate, Colleen, used to play on the guitar. (I can't remember her playing any other songs but this one)... This world is not my home, I'm just a passin' through, if heaven's not my home, then Lord what will I do...
Forgetting what lies behind, I press on to win the prize for which Christ has called me heavenward. Ph. 3.14