Several weeks ago I was fortunate to have picked raspberries before the first heavy frost that fall had to offer. I almost did not make the trip and now, looking back, I am so thrilled that I did because I came home with about four quarts of berries. We delighted in those fresh berries, but most of them made their way into freezer bags to tantalize our taste buds when the snow is flying and piling up during the winter months, giving us a break from the usual purchases of fruit that the stores have to offer.

I was by myself on the morning I chose to pick the berries. The sun was shining but there was a very brisk, sharp breeze in the air making me happy that I chose to wear a sweatshirt with a hood. As I approached the berry plants I was surprised at how many still had fruit hanging from the branches. With my bucket in tow, actually tied about my waist, I began my task. Not too soon into my picking experience I realized that I was beginning to learn some lessons that came in word pictures for me as I worked my way among the ample supply of berries.

1. Picking raspberries is tedious work. My bucket seemed small until I began to notice that it was going to take a bit longer than anticipated to cover the bottom neverless fill it to the brim. Because I can be impatient I began to ponder if I was really enjoying this experience.

2. Some of the best berries were hidden. I had to kneel, bend, squat, and look twice to find some of the best berries which meant taking hold of a thorny branch and turning it over to find sweet, red berries. Doing so often paid off in a handful of wonderful, red fruit plus a prick or two from a thorn. Ouch!

3. I spilled my bucket of berries in the grass–twice. That was no fun. As I attempted to retrieve the fruit of my labor I discovered I was having a difficult time not getting grass and other plant life in my bucket. Argh!

4. Every once in awhile a bee or two buzzed around my shoulders or hands as I worked. I even met a small black spider who was minding his own business as he made his way across a leaf. He had good company from small beetles who were busy chewing holes in the leaves of the plants. I chuckled. A friendly sign in the shed warned me that the bees were busy at work, as well as other creatures of nature. Smile!

5. Before too long my bucket was full and my back was sore. So were my legs. My cheeks were chilled from the air and my resolve to go home with ample berries was satisfied.

During the time it took me to pick my berries I could not help but think of how they were teaching me about God and my relationship with Him.

1. Spending time with God is sacrificial. I show up ’empty’ like my little bucket, but soon, as I spend time in His Word, I am ‘filled’, sometimes to overflowing. If I don’t rush through my time with Him, I find treasures galore.

2. Some of God’s treasures are hidden. Like the best berries, in order to find and claim God’s gems for me I have to dig deep into His Word. I can’t be satisfied to read on the surface; I need to dive in feet and all.

3. I don’t always hold onto God’s promises. I have a tendency to walk through days that stretch into weeks of neglecting to remind myself of who I am in Christ…His child who was chosen, set apart, forgiven, made holy and blameless. The list is exhaustive. These are some of my favorites.

4. Like the thorns from the berry bushes that prick skin and cause irritation, sin creeps into my life, sometimes quite subtly. I need to remind myself every day to be on guard and gird myself with the Word of God and dress myself in the Armor of God knowing that no weapon formed against me shall prosper.

5. Spending time reading God’s Word and talking to Him has benefits beyond description. Doing so isn’t a checkmark on a “to do” list that later gets an announcement to friends and family “hey, look what I did–I spent time with God!” On the contrary, it’s rewarding time whose benefits naturally overflow into the lives others and my family as we live in our relationships.

I like raspberries but I love God. I like a full bucket of berries but I long for the fullness of God. I want to be fast when it comes to picking berries. I want God to take His time as He continues to mold me to His perfection. I can tolerate bees, beetles and spiders. I am ashamed when sin enters my life.

My four quarts of berries in the freezer will not last a long time as we begin to enjoy them this winter. My portions with God cannot be contained. In fact, they cause my spiritual bucket to tip over….and this time when I scoop up the treasures there are no ‘weeds’ to contend with as I refill my bucket.

We reached another milestone as parents on April 27. Our son Daniel graduated from Eastern Michigan University with his bachelor’s degree, majoring in Marketing. While we celebrate and continue to bask in the glory of his successes, it seems like yesterday that he got on the school bus and began his public school education. All too clearly I can remember the stubborn difficulties he presented at kindergarten round-up declaring “I don’t have any” when asked to name his body parts. And, being slightly scolded at his first parent-teacher conference in kindergarten that ‘Dan doesn’t color in the lines’. He also liked to run in the school hallways rather than walk and as he grew and maneuvered through those succeeding years he continued to challenge his teachers and us.

No, Dan didn’t color in the lines but he did like to draw. Not sharing the names of his body parts gave way to his becoming a modest young man, one who has often kept his thoughts and feelings private except in the face of fierce competition or deep loss. He also used his ‘speed’ to his advantage as an accomplished athlete from the time he could join organized sports teams. Football was his favorite and as a family we never tired from watching him. Admittedly, I miss those days and often secretly wish he could have played at college level.

Dan is also very loyal and we marvel at the many close friendships he still maintains with young men and women that were in school with him. He has chosen solid relationships well and continues to live an adventurous life surrounded by some pretty neat individuals. One of his best buddies Michael is serving in the United States Air Force, has lived in several states and Dan has been able to take the time and energy to visit. He’s very proud of his friend’s own accomplishments with his military career.

Dan’s degree is in Marketing. Several weeks before his graduation commencement was approaching he was home for an overnight visit and I asked him his plans career-wise. His response was “I’d like a sales position. Mom, I can talk a cat off a salmon truck”. How I laughed and secretly smiled on the inside. He’s so much like his grandpa, my dad. Quiet. Reserved. Witty. All at proper timing too I might add.

The characteristic that I most admire about Dan is his love for family and a caring, sensitive spirit in great times of need. I have several most memorable moments of him exhibiting deep compassion whether in his body language or a few well spoken words. I won’t be sharing those in this blog; those are matters of the heart for me and out of respect for his humility and not enjoying ‘public revelation’ they will remain in the vault of the place I call “a mother’s heart”.

Yes, my youngest child has reached a major milestone in his life. He is now the holder of a college degree, one in which he made all the decisions to pursue, relying on his own searchings and mentoring advice along the way. He worked hard, stayed the course, and never complained except when questioning the validity of several required courses. I’m glad he never ‘colored in the lines’ or ‘always ran versus walking’ because doing so showed me that my son isn’t afraid to be an individual, then or now. I’m proud that he respects proper authority, yet isn’t afraid to question those above him. After all, isn’t that how we learn?

So, Dan’s milestone marker is positioned and solidly in place–April 2014–College Graduate. It’s situated along the path of his life, waiting for his footsteps to make more impressions as he continues the journey of his life. Similar to the years that he played football, I will be on the sidelines cheering him on to victory and encouraging him on the days that defeat or setbacks weave themselves into his circumstances. Most importantly, I will be praying for the next milestone to come into view as he navigates the next part of his road.

He will not be afraid of evil tidings; His heart is steadfast, trusting in the Lord. (Psalms 112:7 NKJV)

What is a steadfast heart? It is the person who endures patiently, who is reliable, faithful and true to the end, who exhibits perseverance.

The old woman lay in her bed in the nursing home that had become her final residence while suffering with cancer. She missed her home which had been built for her and her husband as a gift from their children. Years of hardship and oftentimes poverty stricken days were no longer a permanent influence in her life. Those challenges were always met with a heart of gratitude and a voice crying out to The Lord her provider.

In her final weeks, days, and hours this side of Heaven her heart did not change, and her voice though weak from the illness dwelling deep in her bones had no effect on her steadfastness and trust in The Lord. Always one to be concerned with others over her own needs, she listened to the cries and moaning from other residents in nearby rooms. As a nurse would enter the woman’s room to care for her needs her quiet admonition was “I’m all right, take care of the others first.” And she would ask, “Do they know Jesus? I’m praying for them.”

That woman was my Grandmother Jewell. She died when I was 14 years old. I didn’t spend a lot of alone time with grandma because when we visited on Sunday afternoons there were at least half a dozen other grandchildren present biding for her love and attention which we did receive, yet there weren’t a lot of opportunities to crawl up on her lap or cuddle next to her in a chair. Nonetheless, we knew of her deep faith by her example and by the legacy of stories shared by her children.

To have a steadfastness in The Lord that is described as enduring with patience, is reliable and true to the end is an ample description of my grandma. It is an old woman, ridden with cancer, praying while in the confines of a bed making use of the precious time granted to her by a loving Father.

I wonder. How many souls from that nursing home are in Heaven because of my grandmother? The answer lies within the pages of the Lamb’s Book of Life.

* * *
Father, may I learn to have a heart that is steadfast and grow in faith that trusts You completely in all matters. Teach me not to fear. Teach me to fully rely on You when hard times fall upon me and evil lurks in my midst. Remind me that You are always with me. Amen

John 6: 12-13 …”Gather the pieces that are left over. Let nothing be wasted.”

Have you ever become ‘undone’ or ‘fell in a heap’? Can you count the number of times when you have felt as though your entire life has crumbled before your very eyes and hope for reconstruction is far from your concept of reality? Or, maybe you feel trapped in circumstances spinning out of control and a plan to escape defies the odds of being able to do so without causing a lot of anguish, pain, hurt, and an uncertain future.

I’d like to tell you a story. It’s a story about a young woman who had dreams to be a writer, an author of great books that many would enjoy. Upon entering business school after graduating from high school, she though her love for writing would land her a position in an advertising firm where her persuasive words and light heartedness for life would entice people to be lured towards whatever it was she was ‘promoting’. She also wanted to be different than her mother; she wanted more than being wife, mother, homemaker–she wanted ‘things’, she was in pursuit of material wealth and set her sights on how to achieve that goal. She surmised that in order to have more than her parents had, she’d have to find someone who could help her obtain a life of comfort and wealth. She met a promising young man in high school who had dreams and goals of his own to be successful and wealthy, a perfect match for such a time in their lives. They married, settled into the final stretch of his college education and began the journey towards success. It wasn’t long before trouble entered through the door of their home and strife became a welcomed guest at the table of their dreams. The young woman began to question her decisions in life and retreated to a place of isolation and despair. Dreams were becoming a faint memory and self confidence was replaced with feelings of unworthiness and being unloved. All that she had known as solid truth was replaced by lies, anger, and deep disappointments. Wealth was being obtained, but it came with a price–there was no frivolous fun, no exciting adventures to places unseen, no meaningful relationships outside of family. God, who had been an important part of the young woman’s life until these difficult years, was ignored–until the young woman ‘came undone’ , closed the door in the face of despair and opened the looming door called ‘fresh start’. 

She found herself at the altar of God, not literally, but spiritually. Four long years had divided her attention and focus on God, but she soon realized that He had never forgotten her and nothing she had chosen during those years was a surprise to Him or a hindrance from HIs ability to forgive, renew, restore, and encourage her to begin making choices and decisions with Him at the center. When she came to Him, she was broken, deeply saddened, emotionally wounded, ashamed, rejected, lonely, afraid…..she brought these seven ‘things’ to Him and He gave thanks and broke them from her and off her….and  then He gathered up the pieces and put them in His basket labeled “Future Purpose”.

As the young woman reveled in her restored relationship with God, He gave her a new life, new dreams, new joy, new purpose, and many opportunities to love Him and serve others. Earthly love came again, this time with someone who shared similar dreams, who was kind, endearing, loyal, funny, determined, and made her feel like a princess. God was at the center of their lives and throughout the hardships has remained where He belongs in their hearts and minds. The brokenness of the young woman’s past  was far removed as a stinging weapon meant to heap guilt or shame. The healing balm of God’s love has been applied to those broken pieces, now being used to minister healing to others who find themselves ‘undone’ and in their ‘own pile’. She has permission and commanded purpose to freely reach into the “Future Purpose” basket grabbing hold of a “healed piece from her past”  in order to minister the same restorative power to others. She does so with humility and drivenness to see captives set free, to bind up the brokenhearted, to set right what Satan has distorted. 

The young woman isn’t quite so young anymore. She’s beyond her middle years, entering a new season tipping the edge of golden years. Some of her childhood dreams still flood her mind. Writing has become a reality although the subject matter has changed. She’s had to admit that she did want to be like her mother–wife, mom, homemaker. She has obtained wealth by tapping into the “riches and glory of God”. She is no longer ‘undone’ or a ‘piled heap’ in a corner of despair and loneliness. She can be seen holding her “Future Basket” in one hand and in the other God’s promise not to waste any of her past hurts or mistakes. The ashes of her selfish and broken earlier years have been made beautiful in God’s sight and she’d like to believe have become key ingredients each time He prepares and mixes a new batch of ‘healing balm’ as He waits to minister redemption to another prodigal.

I was that prodigal. Hello, my name is Susan, and I’m a grateful believer in Jesus Christ.

Ash Wednesday holds great significance for me.  I came Home.   I had been distant from God for four years, yet in His tender mercy He kept wooing me.  I got pretty good at ignoring Him but He was diligent in pursuing me.  After the running was over and my life in shambles I connected with Him for the first real time on Ash Wednesday 1979.   I was a sinner in need of a Saviour; I was a broken woman in need of a healer.  I found both during that unforgettable return to church.   

My marriage of four years was over and although my part in the failure is acknowledged there lay within me a lot of woundedness and shame that God would take years to heal, using  many good teachers of the Word to facilitate the healing. He was faithful and gentle, yet relentless showing me when and how to truly accept the changes he was making in me. He did this by creating a hunger and thirst to know Him. Overnight I had a deep desire to listen to Christian radio and qualified ministers.  I felt like I was going crazy because all I could think about was Jesus.  Upon my conversion I was totally unaware that I had also been given an ‘extreme makeover’. When I went into work on Thursday morning one of the executives asked ‘what have you done differently with your makeup today?’ to which I replied ‘nothing’. ‘Ah’, he said, ‘but something is different’. It wasn’t until I had gained an understanding of 2 Corinthians 5:17 which says “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!” that indeed God’s working power was evident in my life, shining forth in my face.

My most precious memory of my 1979 Ash Wednesday is a conversation that took place between my mother and me. Let me set the background and the scene. Mom was a prayer warrior. Her passion was knowing that everyone–but most importantly–her children have a saving relationship with Christ. So you can imagine and sense her sorrow knowing her daughter had drifted from God for four years. We’d even had several unpleasant conversations regarding my prodigal status. Visualize the prodigal daughter has moved back to her parent’s home and is now sleeping in her old bedroom. The work of the Ash Wednesday service is over in the natural, but very much active in the heart and mind of a scared 24 year old woman as she retires to bed for the night. In comes her mother who isn’t sure what to do or say to a child living with a decision to divorce, yet is so happy that her child was in church for the first time in four long years. She quietly sits on the bed next to her child, not seeing a grown woman, but the face of her baby and she gently pushes aside a strand of hair and whispers ‘is it good to be home?’ I’m certain  she meant to be physically back home in the safety of the walls that had protected me for 21 years. I answer ‘yes’ but really being expressed was that I was ‘Home’….in a rightful relationship with God. Now, these 35 years later, I realize I was actually in ‘two places at one time’–it can be accomplished! …..home and Home. 

If you are like me, and I know that many of you are, you enter and camp out in dry places on occasion. It’s not that I intentionally go looking for a wilderness experience that takes me away from my relationship with Christ, but rather I allow business and laziness to gain a foothold in my day to day activities. And, when I reset my thoughts and intentions, it is then that I return to my favorite devotional book and find a renewed spirit of willingness to spend some time quieting myself by reading and digging into scripture. This morning is one of those days and I am grateful that the devotion writer took me to Psalm 37:4 which is one of my favorite verses from the Psalms. Not content to merely read the verse and call it ‘good’ I decided to do some digging into the meaning of the word “delight”.

I found a site that gave me the Hebrew definition for “delight”. I found out it is a command (hmmm…..not a suggestion) and it translates as “exquisite delicacy”. (I admit I suddenly visualized a box of chocolates….not your ‘dime store’ version either). Seeing as I have a sweet tooth my ability to relate to the meaning was one of sheer delight! Yet, the command isn’t merely to have a good time with The Lord. It’s meant to be a celebration of the PRESENCE of The Lord. In the midst of our ‘celebrating’ He then gives us the desires of our heart. So, I guess this means that I have a responsibility in my hope of God granting me His gifts.

Taking a closer look at the verses before and after the words in Verse 4 I found this: Verse 3 tells us to “Trust”. Verse 4 tells us to “Delight”. Verse 5 tells us to “Commit”. Then in Verse 6 the writer changes direction assuring us that when we have completed those actions “God will bring forth righteousness in ME (US)”……then Verse 7 tells us to “Rest” and Verse 8 tells us to “Cease…(from anger).

I confess that I don’t always ‘trust’ God. I’m pretty good at suggesting to Him how He should answer my prayers. And I’m not always consistent with  ‘committing’ each day to Him. Resting and Ceasing aren’t welcome traits either. Yet, even in those shortcomings, God is patient. He is kind and He is gracious and I like to believe that He is ‘delighted’ when I lay aside the inadequacies of my flesh and return to His presence.

Do I always ‘delight in the Lord’? Do I always ‘taste and see that The Lord is good’? Sadly, the human answer is ‘no’.  But God’s answer is ‘yes’ because in Romans 8:1 Paul writes “There is then no condemnation to those in Christ Jesus”.

The gift I received this morning was a renewed hunger to be in God’s presence. I was thrilled and content to be quiet with only the sound of my living room clock ticking down the minutes of a cold morning warmed by precious time in God’s Word. I thought about writing a list of ‘heart desires’ in my journal but I didn’t because something tells me my Heavenly Father already knows what concerns me so I will exercise a step of ‘Trust’….I will continue to pursue an attitude of  ‘Committing’ and most importantly–I will ‘Rest’ and ‘Cease’. I will  ‘celebrate’ His presence.

Have you ever felt like you were living in a tangled mess? I know that I have and even though I’d like to say it’s all because of other people and things, it’s really not the case. I’m pretty good at creating my own messes. I’m very adept at getting caught up in distractions and worthless activities. I’m a pretty good bum. I enjoy being lazy and I relish not having a pressing “to do” list. I don’t like deadlines, yet when faced with one I can rise to the occasion and finish strong. 

With that in mind, enter the time of Advent which is one of my favorite seasons of the church calendar. Our tree has been decorated for several weeks now and my cute little snowmen collection adorns a table and hutch. Several batches of cookies have been baked and presents have been purchased. Stocking stuffer gifts are safely tucked away until their needed appearance on Christmas Eve. Missing from this Advent and for several years is the Advent Calendar. My children have grown and moved to their own homes. It is bittersweet to think the Advent calendar’s reminders that usher in Christmas have been put on hold so-to-speak. Hopefully, one day it will be used again when grandchildren are added into the mix of Christmas. I know that I could still use the calendar with the absence of children in our home. What caused me to keep it on the shelf? It must be my preconceived notion that Advent calendars need children. I will have to rethink that one.

During the last few days we received a good measure of snow which always puts me in a wonderful Christmas mood. I can’t explain why snow transforms my mind and spirit. There is something quite magical about watching the snowflakes fall and accumulate. I can sit by a open window during a gentle falling snow and be mesmerized for hours. Maybe it’s because during those times of being quiet I am transported back to my childhood memories of building snowmen, shoveling walks, ice skating, and making snowballs. Those years were kind and good years, treasured moments of being greeted by mom with hot chocolate and help getting out of snow covered play clothes, feeling her warm hands on my chilled face and hands.

So often during the days and weeks leading up to Christmas, I have heard friends say ‘I’ve got so much to do for Christmas’ or I’ve been asked ‘Are you ready for Christmas?’ I’ve always been puzzled by these two mindsets. If truth would be made known, I think we create our own ‘buziness’ and ‘stress’. Before you say ‘hey!’ you’ve done the same thing! my response is ‘yes, yes, I have’. …in years past. My truth to share with you is that I gave up creating Norman Rockwell Christmases a long time ago. I no longer run around trying to buy the perfect gifts. I stopped baking dozens of cookies years ago (I only prepare a few favorites and have even used store bought dough) and I no longer search recipe books for elegant sit down meals. Instead, I purchase gifts that I think my kids will need or enjoy whether at the store or on-line. Money that used to purchase expensive gifts is now being dropped in Salvation Army kettles and given to other worthy needs.  Big meals have been replaced with various trays of cheese, crackers and Chex Mix (a favorite traditional snack made by Jim & Sarah)…..and a few cookies.

By letting go of false expectations for the celebration of Christmas, I have gained a renewed love for the Truth of the season. Even though the Advent calendar is ‘on hold’ my love for anticipating God’s gift of the Christ Child has become more dear and precious to me. I’ve been reading an Advent devotion each morning from the Bible. Today’s writer lovingly cautioned ‘not to become a tangled mess during the Christmas’ season. These simple words reminded me of what I have ‘let go’ and what I have ’embraced’ as being more important. 

I don’t want to be lazy in my relationship with God. I don’t want to put off doing the important things that make Him smile. Like sitting by an open window enjoying a beautiful snowfall, I am developing being a bum on the couch reading my Bible and talking with my Heavenly Father. You know what? I did that today. I’m still in my jammies. The lights on lit on the tree and the snowmen. No snow is falling, but my Bible has been opened and my tangled messes have been delivered to the throne where I know they are being unraveled and straightened out by the work of His hands.

This past week we attended the funeral of a dear pastor from our ‘home’ church in Saginaw. What do I mean by ‘home church’? My ‘home church’ is that part of my memory bank where a lot of significant spiritual birth and growth began. My ‘home church’ is St. John Lutheran (2nd & Federal) in Saginaw, Michigan. For the time we lived in Saginaw it’s all I really knew. The church was established in 1852 (by a group of Germans) and eventually became the congregation that my mother’s parents joined upon their arrival to Saginaw from Europe in the early 1900’s. It’s the church that mom and her siblings were born into and educated in their small school through the 8th grade. It’s the church that mom and dad were married in and had us three kids baptized in as we came into this world. It’s the church where I met Jesus Christ as my personal savior and where I was married. It is the church where my own children were baptized as infants. It is the church where I sang my first solo…….and if confession is good for the soul…..stole a kiss from a boy when no one was looking. So, sitting in the pew for Doug’s funeral brought back a flood of  poignant memories accompanied by bittersweet tears. May I share some of those with you?

Above all, I cherish the many years that I would have attended and sat in the large sanctuary of St. John. We usually sat in the back of the church but as years passed mom and dad made their way to the front pews where they were joined by their closest friends.

When I reached junior high school age, I joined the youth choir. Later, I found myself in the Senior Choir, learning more difficult music and enjoying the ability to continue singing. It was here, under the direction of Verne Frede, that a shy 20 something year old was convinced over an hour lunch break to lay down fear and give solo work a chance. I am forever grateful for that leap of faith and Verne’s insistent challenge. Anyone who knew Verne knew how persuasive he could be when he had a goal in mind.

As I waited for the service to begin, I realized how all my senses were taking in the beauty of the sanctuary. There were the stained glass windows, the seasonal banners hanging from the chancel and the support beams of the ceiling. The piano and then the organ were spilling out familiar hymns and songs. As I listened to the music and gazed about the room my eyes came to rest on the Advent Wreath so beautifully displayed. A new rush of tears welled in my eyes as I realized that the walnut stained stand supporting the wreath was the one my dad had built in years past. Another remembrance for me of dad using his talents for The Lord. Dad served in many capacities over the years of being a part of St. John. I could see his face on the chancel as an assisting minister to read scripture, assuming his spot in the choir loft, or helping to make repairs to the building on a Trustees work day. Mom was more shy. She preferred to take a quiet role serving the church. She found a home in the prayer ministry and was a self-appointed encourager to younger folks. She also became a very proud grandma who was very patient tending to little Sarah while mom and dad were in the choir loft.

Perhaps the most difficult realization to grasp was an awareness of knowing that a large decline in attendance has taken place in the current season of St. John. A once packed sanctuary has given way to but less than 100 dedicated members gathering on Sunday morning for worship. It’s not hard for me to reach back into my youthful childhood memories and recall Christmas and Easter overflow of families causing the ushers to open the balcony. On Monday, an honest statement  “we dusted the balcony just in case” was shared. Sadly, the balcony wasn’t needed adding another dose of emptiness to a growing reality factor.

These are memories and some are mere things. Above all, in the midst of everything that I have described were the people that I saw and can still remember. I saw parents of kids that were in the youth group that I helped teach. I saw folks who sang in the choir with me. I saw folks who are old, worn, torn, but still loving and serving God. I saw a dear friend who was called into full-time ministry. And I saw dear, dear friends–even one who I call a sister. I saw one of the two pastors who taught me God’s Word during my catechism years. 

Can you go back ‘home’? While I cannot return to my family home other than to drive by now, I can go back to my ‘home church’ as long as the doors are open, take a seat in a familiar spot and open my mind and my heart to allow God’s Spirit to remind me of all that was good and beneficial to who I am today. If I close my eyes I can see the many Candlelight Services of Christmases past, the blanketed cross representative of Good Friday and Easter, the poinsettias or white lilies adorning the chancel and altar. I can hear the resonance of the organ and the call to worship by the ringing of the bells. Yes, I believe but for a moment one can ‘go back home’ and capture all that God has done, is doing, and will do in the season of growth for one of His children.