I'm Not Really Angry At God

In the agonizing days after Lindsay’s death last August, our feelings were raw and battered. Somehow James, Josh, and I functioned well enough to plan her funeral and deal with issues surrounding her death while welcoming friends and loved ones into our home bearing food, hugs, and tears. Maybe that’s what’s referred to as “being in shock” after a traumatic event.

There were questions and comments—and a theme began to emerge: Why did God allow Lindsay to die? The anger expressed was a normal, necessary grief reaction—one I’ve felt many times.

Regardless of how devastated I was, I discovered it is possible to have a crushed heart and still be able to state what I firmly believe: Everyone suffers this side of heaven. Parents sometimes have to bury their children. While the incredible pain of losing our daughter is unique to us, death is not unique in this fallen world. As awful as Lindsay's death was, God is faithful and would carry us.

Even so, I questioned God, cried out to Him, disagreed with His decision to take Lindsay, and begged Him to undo this nightmare. Resentful and hurt? I’d be lying if I claimed I wasn’t.

And even now, I get angry about the whole situation.

But angry at God? Not really.

I’ve thought about how I was able to separate the awfulness of what happened from the goodness and sovereignty of God in the middle of a crisis. The short answer is I was on auto pilot, rotely moving through time and space, and clinging to the faith that had carried me through every valley I'd ever walked through. The underlying truth: It was the power of the Holy Spirit.

In a crisis, the totality of a Christian’s life carries them. Your basic instincts while in shock override everything else. If your mind, heart, and soul are filled with God’s Word, and you’ve experienced His presence in your life, intuitively you reach for Him in a storm. His truth comes out of your mouth. Even when the waves crash around you, you know He’s holding you up.

The other part of this assurance comes through prayer.

 “… pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people” (Ephesians 6:18), and “pray without ceasing” (1 Thessalonians 5:17).

In other words, stay in God’s presence.

In 1 Peter 5:8, we again see the instruction to be alert. Why? Because our enemy, the devil, seeks ways to destroy us. He is proficient in crippling us emotionally and spiritually through our children and loved ones. Being alert means being aware, but it also means being prepared for the battle.

In addition to being equipped for earthly trials through Bible study and prayer, I’m also able to rest in God’s promises. Believe me, physical and emotional rest did not come easy, still doesn’t some days, but that’s when spiritual rest provides respite.

Christ said, “Come to me all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28)

and…

 “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:29-30).

Isn’t it a comfort to know we’re not walking this road alone? Christ is yoked beside us, sharing our burdens, and carrying us through the valleys and over rough, rocky roads.

Every night, I step outside with Lindsay’s dog Sugar before we go to bed. Stars blanket the night sky, and the vastness of the universe envelops me. Lindsay loved star gazing, and in those quiet moments I feel close to her—almost like I could reach out and touch her.

That vast blanket of stars also paints a vivid picture that God’s thinking is higher than mine. I cling to the verse in Genesis 50:20 that what man meant for evil, God will use for good. Because make no mistake about it, Lindsay’s death was the enemy’s evil doing, not God’s. And the day of reckoning will come.

I also must daily choose to “take hold of the hope set before us” so I “may be greatly encouraged. We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, where our forerunner, Jesus, has entered on our behalf” (Hebrews 6:18-20). 

You may not ever face the loss of a child, but you will suffer loss, disappointment, pain, and heartache. You have the choice to face it alone or face it with God.

Pontius Pilate asked a very insightful question on the night Jesus was crucified, “What shall I do then with Jesus, who is called the Messiah?” We all have to answer that at some point.

As for me, I know I’ve faced the worst year of my life, and yet somehow I’ve survived. That “somehow” was Jesus walking with me, at times carrying me, and at other times allowing me to rest while he took my broken heart in his tender hands and held it close. He’s never left my side.

Christ has been my anchor. I can say unequivocally that God’s grace was the only way we got through this year—and it’s His grace that will carry us into the future.

Perhaps you are facing a crisis—something that has altered your world. I’d love to pray for you. Please leave a comment or email me confidential requests. Thank you for lifting my family and me up in prayer through this difficult time. 

Resting in His Grace,

Laura

©Laura Hodges Poole

Photo credits:

Cemetery ©Laura Poole
Other three photos courtesy of Pixabay.com

Death, Grief, and Moving On

Seven months have passed since my daughter Lindsay died. Hard to believe it’s been that long, though even harder to grasp the time’s fleeting compared to the years that lie ahead without her.

In those first weeks after her death, waking up each morning and just breathing hurt. On the nights I slept, Lindsay was still alive. I’d have conversations with her, but she always seemed just beyond my grasp. The more I reached for her, the more elusive she became, until finally I awoke. Then reality crashed down on me, and grief flooded in. She was gone.

My whole life, I’ve heard the verse, “Where, O death, is your sting?” (1 Corinthians 15:55). The meaning is, for Christians, death isn’t an end but a beginning. But it’s only a beginning for the deceased.

The sting is for those left behind. An unrelenting sting that pierces the depths of your soul. Losing a child means part of you has ended—like closing a door never to be re-opened. It’s not so much the legacy most of us reflect on as we reach middle or old age that’s lost. Lindsay’s hopes and dreams that blossomed as she grew from a little girl into a woman—along with our hopes and dreams for her—will never bear the fruit they were meant to.

I appreciate the encouragement of people who’ve continued to reach out to us and include us in their prayers. Isolation in grief is not healthy and leads to depression, but I’ve found most of the time I do best by myself. I don’t have to pretend or engage in conversation. I don’t have to answer the question, “How are you?” I understand people are genuinely concerned, and I love them for it, but it’s a question with an ever-changing answer.

So I usually respond, “I’m okay,” which really means I’m up, functioning, and doing the best I can, which sometimes is fairly good, depending on the day.

But I’m not okay and never will be…and that’s okay.

See, I don’t have to be okay for life to go on. I wake up each day grateful that I’m one step closer to eternity—one step closer to seeing Lindsay again—one step closer to my Savior and living the life I’m supposed to be living. Not the temporary one in this fallen, beat-up world.

Or as the Apostle Paul said, “…to live is Christ and to die is gain (Philippians 1:21).”

This is another verse that became more vivid for me in the wake of Lindsay’s passing. For the first time, I can feel Paul’s angst of being torn between this life on earth—where much is still to be accomplished for God’s glory—and going on to heaven where life is no longer a struggle.

But until He calls me home, I’ll continue to get up each day and seek God’s will for my life, and continue the process of grieving with my family.

Just as we got through the “first” holidays in November and December without Lindsay, other “first” milestones will be marked in the coming months—her birthday and Mother’s Day in May, Father’s Day in June, and then the anniversary of her death in August. To say I dread them is an understatement, but at the same time, her beautiful life should be celebrated. Her birth made me a mother. Likely, I’ll go out to the cemetery on her birthday, sit on the stone bench atop the hill overlooking her grave, reminisce…and cry.

And that’s okay. Tears are God’s provision for managing grief. Tears dredge up your deepest pain and bring it to the surface like dross. You scrape away the pain in those moments and then gather your strength to go on and live another day.

Meanwhile, Lindsay’s backpack sits in her room. Waiting to be unpacked. One day. Occasionally, I go through the clothes in her closet, my fingertips seeking her favorite shirts, or drawing a scarf close to my cheek, closing my eyes and drinking in her scent that lingers…for how much longer? For now, I don’t worry about it…her physical imprint is still here.

Someday, maybe I’ll be able to say my heartbreak has lessened. Today is different than seven months ago, or even two months ago, and it will be different two years from now…but broken hearts never truly mend. Especially when one of the broken pieces is buried.

Life has moved on…and yet it will always be the day we lost her. In a weird sort of way, time stood still. The calendar will always seem to read August 27, because that is the day her laughter stopped and we were left with only memories. 

In our grief, God has shown us compassion, showered us with His mercies, and given us hope to sustain. We continue to walk the path laid before us, and we thank you for your prayers and encouraging thoughts along the way. God has truly blessed us through both.

I remember my affliction and my wandering,
    the bitterness and the gall.
I well remember them,
    and my soul is downcast within me.
Yet this I call to mind
    and therefore I have hope:

Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
    for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
    great is your faithfulness.
I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion;
    therefore I will wait for him.”

The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him,
    to the one who seeks him. Lamentations 3:19-25 

If you’re going through grief or experiencing difficult times, I’d love to pray for you. Please leave a comment or email me confidential requests.

Because of His faithfulness,

Laura

Doing The Rarest Thing In The World

“To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.”― Oscar Wilde

It’s not every day you’ll find me quoting Oscar Wilde, but in this instance, his words make perfect sense.

I’ve blogged before about my approach to life and how growing up in a large family, where perhaps death and tragedy seem more common, has a lot to do with my sense of urgency toward life. I over commit, have trouble telling people no, and loathe wasting time. To merely exist is unacceptable. Is this necessarily a bad thing?

I have six siblings, so my parents’ home overflows when we’re all there at the same time with our children and grandchildren. My dad has fourteen siblings, so an extended Hodges family reunion has well over a hundred people, though empty spots exist from each generation. My aunts and uncles are well into their 70s and 80s (one just turned 90), yet many passed away young, and the trend has remained into my generation.

Cemetery on my return visit in 2011

My earliest childhood memory is trudging through a cemetery in the late 1960s, my little legs straining to keep up with the adults and older children, as infant twins were buried in tiny coffins. I hadn’t even started school, and the enormity and finality of death were thrust upon me. Life is so different now where parents go to extremes to shield their children from the natural process of dying. We’re doing our kids a disservice.

But I digress.

My point is that as I’ve watched the young and old alike pass from this world to the next, I’ve often heard the phrase “life is short.” And it is. Just in the past decade the number we’ve lost in my family is in the double digits, most relatively young, some my age or younger. We treasure our reunions and don’t take a single one for granted. We understand when we hug each other good-bye, it may be for the last time.

My dad and his siblings
(George in background)

My cousin George, a pillar of the Hodges family, and his wife Sabrina have hosted the reunion for years on their sprawling property graced by a beautiful wood home with a porch that wraps around the entire house. It’s a serene environment that bustles with activity for the day and then winds down to a quiet evening for the handful staying overnight. My husband, kids, and I have been in that handful relaxing on the porch, watching the sun set, and eating peanut butter pie. One year, we enjoyed a thunderstorm after sunset. We reveled in the thunderclaps and rain since we were in a severe drought back home in South Carolina.

George talking with Josh
(Sabrina in red shirt in background)

George once spent more than an hour at the end of this long day talking with my son Josh about being a police officer. A couple years later, Josh shared that he’d chosen to become a firefighter instead. George and Sabrina listened with rapt attention and asked questions about his training and future. I’ve encountered very few people who listen like that, especially to kids. They have a passion for kids, evidenced by the fact that George was a school resource officer for years until he retired last year, and Sabrina is a school principal.

Playing a water game in the hot
July weather in Florida

Hodges are headstrong and often set in our ways but passionate about our beliefs and how we treat others. As apparent is the urgency with which we live. So after New Year’s, the family starts anticipating the reunion on Fourth of July weekend in Hilliard, Florida. The family is so extensive and spread out around the country that this year we even have a FB page to make sure no one gets left out. 

The reunion was part of my exchange with George on my birthday almost two weeks ago on Facebook. 

A little more than twelve hours later, George began suffering strokes and was airlifted to a hospital in Jacksonville in critical condition. I was dumbfounded when I heard. This was unfathomable. I couldn’t believe it, yet at the same time, I could. Life is fragile. We fool ourselves on a daily basis by thinking otherwise.

Yet, we know who holds each day in His hand. Nothing dumbfounds God or catches Him by surprise. We simply have to make the most of each day in service to Him, and trust Him for the future.

No one holds the golden ticket to immortality on this earth. Our only hope for living forever into eternity is through the saving grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. 

Each week I ask if you have a prayer request you’d like to share. This week, I’d like you to pray for George and Sabrina, his elderly mother, siblings, and children. Pray specifically for George’s recovery and wisdom for his medical team as they make decisions for his future.

How may I pray for you? Please leave a comment or e-mail me confidential requests.

“Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.” Ephesians 3:20-21

God bless you all,

Laura ✞

©Laura Hodges Poole

Facing Mortality

In those days Hezekiah became ill and was at the point of death. The prophet Isaiah son of Amoz went to him and said, “This is what the Lord says: Put your house in order, because you are going to die; you will not recover.” 2 Kings 20:1

In the middle of the night, I felt Josh’s hand on my shoulder about the same time he said, “Mom.” Even grown children wake Mom when they’re sick.

I learned thirty years ago, when I first became a mother, to rise when summoned. It’s what moms do, right? J

How many times have you been awakened by a 3:00 a.m. phone call, knowing it can’t be good news? Dread fills you even before you become fully conscious. A big deal always ensues during Presidential elections as to what each candidate would do when they receive that infamous 3:00 a.m. phone call of impending disaster.

But what happens when God summons us home? As Christians, we joyfully look forward to that day.

Right?

Yes, but…if we’re honest, as mere humans, sometimes we fear death—or perhaps the moments preceding it.

I read a book a few years ago, "The Last Lecture," by Randy Pausch. It’s not uncommon for professors to give a speech framed by their impending hypothetical death. However, Pausch, a computer science professor, had recently been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer when he was scheduled to speak. He didn’t have to imagine what his final lecture would be because he gave it. Later published, it’s a beautiful book, full of humor and inspiration that he left as a testament for his small children about how to live.

“We cannot change the cards we are dealt, just how we play the hand." --Randy Pausch

So what would our response be if God actually told us how our days were numbered? I’ve heard some terminally ill people characterize it as a gift. Each day takes on more meaning, tastes sweeter, and time is no longer wasted on the trivial. Let’s take a look at Hezekiah’s response.

Hezekiah turned his face to the wall and prayed to the Lord, “Remember, Lord, how I have walked before you faithfully and with wholehearted devotion and have done what is good in your eyes.” And Hezekiah wept bitterly. 2 Kings 20:2-3

That sounds more like what my response might be. J I’d like to think I’d be noble, but in all honesty, I can’t swear on a stack of Bibles I would.

Don’t ever be afraid to go to the throne of God boldly, even weeping bitterly, over a seemingly insurmountable problem. God can handle our human frailties. After all, He made us. He always reaches out and touches us with His comfort and mercy. And sometimes He honors the request for healing and longevity. Other times, He takes people to heaven to heal them. 

So, how did life turn out for Hezekiah?

Before Isaiah had left the middle court, the word of the Lord came to him: “Go back and tell Hezekiah, the ruler of my people, ‘This is what the Lord, the God of your father David, says: I have heard your prayer and seen your tears; I will heal you. On the third day from now you will go up to the temple of the Lord. I will add fifteen years to your life. And I will deliver you and this city from the hand of the king of Assyria. I will defend this city for my sake and for the sake of my servant David.’” Then Isaiah said, “Prepare a poultice of figs.” They did so and applied it to the boil, and he recovered. 2 Kings 20:4-7

Your needs might be serious, maybe even like Hezekiah or Pausch faced. Or they might seem minor, like Josh’s illness, yet they’re dragging you down. No matter the problem, God cares. I care. If you’d like prayer, please leave a comment or e-mail me confidential requests. Would you take a moment while you’re here to lift up those folks on the prayer list at the top of the blog? Several are battling cancer or facing family crises.

I recently joined a blog with 25 other writers called Stitches Thru Time (Whether it's a conversation with a friend, a word that is penned, or a craft that is made, everything we do leaves a stitch in the fabric of time. Join us as we investigate the stitches of the past and present...). I’ll be posting there once a month. Click here to read my devotion posted on Monday and then take a few moments to look through the other posts. You’ll enjoy devotions, craft lessons, historical posts, giveaways, author interviews, and more. There’s a little bit of something for everyone. I’ll be posting there once a month. Thanks! J

God bless,

Laura ✞

©Laura Hodges Poole

Facing Death

“Here is the test to find whether your mission on Earth is finished: if you're alive, it isn't.” Richard Bach, author

We’re often confronted with the reality that life is short for some folks. God’s plans are not ordered by our human thoughts, and so, while early death is a reality, it remains a mystery to humans.

The Psalmist said, “All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.” Ps. 139:16. So whether or not you embrace Richard Bach’s philosophy, we have to trust God’s plan for our life. 

No one knows this better than my friend, guest blogger, and cancer survivor Venita McCart. Today, she shares the moment when she confronted the reality of death.

Thoughts We Remember To Forget

By Venita McCart

“He has set eternity in the hearts of men.” Ecclesiastes 3:11 NLT

Here’s the thought: I want to live forever. Here’s the other thought: That’s not going to happen. Here’s the other-other thought…

I’m a writer; a thought-keeper. I journal, make lists, scribble on sticky notes, and paper scraps. I shall not forget anything profound. (Or more likely, slightly sensible.) I may need these thoughts for an article, devotion, or best seller. Okay, so I’m an optimist, too.

Do I want all my thoughts? No. When I changed doctors recently the little girl in scrubs said, “Be sure to list your medical history on these forms, especially details about your cancer.” I would rather just forget all the cancer stuff and I never really want to write it down. But I must.

I would rather forget other things too, like death. I once was an expert at forgetting it. Then the diagnosis came and death was in my face, but I ached so to live. My conflict within brought other thoughts I didn’t want: Aren’t you supposed to be a Christian? Shouldn’t you be okay with this? I am a Christian. But I had never been a dying Christian before. I was afraid. 

I called out to God, the best prayer ever: “Help me!”

Then I remembered Jesus spent much time and many tears in a garden praying, facing death he knew was coming. His soul was crushed with grief, like mine. He pleaded for life, like me. He anguished for release, like I did.

In prayer, with eternity in his heart, He found peace about dying…and the keys to peace for me. Jesus Christ went to the dreaded cross to give me the eternal life I crave.

Here’s the thought: I want to live forever. Here’s the other thought: That’s not going to happen. Here’s the other-other thought: Oh, yes it is!

Jesus knows your dilemma. If you are struggling with the fear of death because of cancer, remember the Creator and Saver of your eternity. Ask Him for His thoughts, for they are eternal, and they are for you. If you call, He will answer.

Venita McCart and the group she founded, Faith Force Cancer Support Ministries, has ministered to hundreds of patients since 2005 through group meetings, personal contacts, writing, and speaking. She is currently working on materials to comfort and encourage cancer patients, their loved ones, and to help others create support ministries. She and her husband live in central Illinois. Venita may be reached at venitamccart@yahoo.com.

If you have a prayer need, please share in the comments section or email me with confidential requests. Would you also take a moment to pray for other requests? 

Our prayer list for today includes several battling cancer. Please pray for comfort, healing, and strength. While you’re at it, pray for their families, as well.

·       Courtney, young mother with brain tumor

·       Emily, 12-year-old with bone cancer. Her body has responded well to the initial phase of treatment.  She still has a long road ahead.

·       Sally, who continues a 12-year battle against breast cancer

·       Lori, my cousin’s wife, with metastatic cancer

·       TC’s father-in-law, not doing well

Also:

Please lift up Karen Redding’s husband and children as they are grieving her death.

U.S. soldier Jesse McCart whose information is on a separate page above. Please visit that page for updates including contact info for him and other GIs recovering and rehabbing in the same military hospital in Texas. It would mean a great deal to these servicemen to receive encouragement. Pre-stamped postcards from the post office are a great method to do so on a regular basis.

Jesse McCart and men from his unit

I selected our worship song today as a tribute to our armed forces who have paid the ultimate sacrifice so we may enjoy the freedoms we have. "Finally Home," by MercyMe.

 

 God bless,
Laura

© Laura Hodges Poole

Lift Your Eyes

Look to the heavens.

As a little girl, I believed my father could do anything. When my mother, siblings, and I returned from a visit to Miami to see my grandparents, we found our German Shepherd dog Beatles dead. (It was the late 1960s, hence the name J). 

Devastated, I clung to my mom, crying and begging her not to let my older brother David bury the dog. Daddy would be home in a few hours, and he would fix Beatles. My mother tried to explain Daddy couldn’t bring an animal back to life. Inconsolable, I insisted otherwise. Mom finally loaded us into the car and took us to town for ice cream while David buried Beatles.

Ever since I was a child, I’ve tried to imagine what God looks like. Is He a man like you and me? After all, He came down and walked in the Garden of Eden with Adam and Eve. The Bible says we were formed in His image. As the Old Testament progresses, it becomes apparent God is more. Moses wasn’t even allowed to look at God as His glory passed by because of His magnificence and holiness.

As an adult, I realize God encompasses so much, trying to assign a physical label to Him is impossible. 

Do you not know? Have you not heard? Has it not been told you from the beginning? Have you not understood since the earth was founded? He sits enthroned above the circle of the earth, and its people are like grasshoppers. He stretches out the heavens like a canopy, and spreads them out like a tent to live in. Isaiah 40:21-22

My earthly father has limitations I didn’t see as a child. He couldn’t bring Beatles back, and I eventually got over my hurt feelings. The dog’s passing served its purpose to teach me an early lesson about the finality and grief of death. 

Though our heavenly father has no limitations, we feel since He is capable of doing all things, He should do all we ask. Right? Whatever lessons might be involved in a “no” answer, we’re not interested. The fact that He might have a better alternative to our demands doesn’t matter when we’re staring down a problem. 

“To Whom will you compare me? Or who is my equal?” says the Holy one.

Lift your eyes and look to the heavens: Who created all these? He who brings out the starry host one by one, and calls them each by name, Because of his great power and mighty strength, not one of them is missing. Isaiah 40:25-26

I encourage you to turn loose of the worry encompassing you today. Give it to God and trust Him with the answer.

Will you join me in prayer for those who are hurting and walking through trials?

·       Karen Redding in hospice care

·       A friend whose unemployment benefits ran out has now found a minimum wage job at a gas station/store. She praises God for that and all your prayers from last week! I’m requesting you continue to pray for her employment situation—that something in her career field will become available.

·       Several people requesting prayer for health problems such as cancer, Alzheimer’s, and mental illness, as well as employment issues.

If you have a prayer request, please leave it in the comment section or email me confidentially. My contact info is above. 

I’d also love to hear how God is working in your lives, so please share your praise reports, as well. 

I first heard this song, "Starry Night" by Chris August a few years ago while attending a fall leaf festival in the North Carolina mountains. It reminds me that God is everywhere in creation. You only have to look around to see this is so. Every aspect of your life matters to Him. 

God bless,

Laura

© Laura Hodges Poole

A Fireman's Life

Anderson County lost a volunteer firefighter as he responded to a call yesterday. He had served five decades as a volunteer, starting when he was a teenager. He also served 21 years as chief and two terms as county sheriff. This is a tribute to him and the men and women like him across our nation who give selflessly of their time and talent to protect and serve. Please read all the way to the end to get the full scope of firefighters' sacrifices.

A Fireman's Life

A fireman's life is one big surprise,

Usually he laughs, sometimes he cries.

There's always stress, toil and strife,

Hoping he's good enough to save just one life.

His wife (or mom) understands, when he misses dinner,

If he runs out of church, don't think he's a sinner.

Answering a call, is tops on his list,

Regretting each one he's ever missed.

He tries and tries, but can't make us see,

The happiest men, still work for free.

Jumping from bed, fighting the cold,

Knowing what to do, without being told.

He rushes to the station, jumps on a truck.

Depending on skill, never on luck.

Putting his life on the line, for an unknown friend,

Hoping and praying, it won't be the end.

"The Bravest Men in the World", the title is fitting,

They all do their best, never come close to quitting.

Next time you see them, all their lights blinking,

Take just a minute, to think what they're thinking.

It's a hard job, so show them you care,

And help them out, with a little prayer.

-- by Daniel S. Driscoll –

There were 1,148,850 firefighters in the United States in 2008. Of these, 321,700 (28%) were career and 827,150 (72%) were volunteer. Chances are good if you are in a fire or a car accident, the men and women of the fire department who respond have volunteered their time to do so. These emergency responders have made a conscious and weighted decision to serve, despite the fact they are not paid to do so.

Facts & figures

·         Most of the career firefighters (74%) are in communities that protect 25,000 or more people.

·         Most of the volunteer firefighters (94%) are in departments that protect fewer than 25,000 people, and more than half are located in small, rural departments protecting fewer than 2,500 people.

·         In 2008, a total of 104 firefighters were fatally injured while on duty. Of these, 42 were career, 54 were volunteer, and 8 were no-municipal (those not employed by local, public fire departments).

·         In 2008, 79,700 firefighters were injured in the line of duty. 36,595 of these injuries occurred on the fireground.

·         There were an estimated 14,950 collisions involving fire department emergency vehicles while responding to or returning from incidents. These collisions resulted in 670 firefighter injuries.

(Statistical Data compiled from: http://www.nfpa.org)

Chasing Dreams

Isaiah 6:8 “Also I heard the voice of the Lord, saying, Whom shall I send, and who will go for us? Then said I, Here am I; send me.”

Many times I’ve felt the Lord’s presence in my life, guiding me, and speaking to my heart about my decisions. Specific prayers have received specific answers. Usually, when I pray, wrestle with a problem, and then come to the end of myself and say, “What now, Lord?” He answers me the mightiest.

A friend commented this week, she believed it was the devil’s tool to crowd our mind. I couldn’t agree more. Recently I’ve begun to see the craziness in busyness. I’ve never been one to while away my time without guilt. The more productive I am, the better.  The apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.

If I didn’t know better, I’d say my father wrote the verse that appears in Proverbs 6:10-11 and 24:33-34, “A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest—and poverty will come on you like a bandit and scarcity like an armed man.” When my father enjoys leisure time, he’s still doing something. He rests after he has exhausted himself with work or fun. He’s the only person I know who can accidentally take a 20-mile bike ride. But that’s a story for another day.

Each day is a gift—not to be wasted in worry, regrets, grudges, past grievances, or score-settling. You can do nothing to change the past and tomorrow isn’t promised. The time you’re in right now—the present—is the only thing truly tangible.

Apple founder, Steve Jobs, died yesterday. He will go down in history as a giant in the technological  age of the 20^th and 21^st century. Among his many quotes was one from a speech he gave six years ago during his battle with pancreatic cancer. That death would come sooner rather than later was an understatement. He lasted longer than most with this diagnosis.

“Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure — these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important.”

Jobs’ statement strips away the pretenses we all live under. While the proverb above cautions against laziness, there is also the extreme of overwork while chasing dreams, fulfilling goals, and trying to please everyone around you. Somewhere in the middle of the two extremes, you’ll find yourself—the one God envisioned when He created you.

And in the quest to find the point of balance, take inventory. When was the last time you listened for a response from God when you prayed? Or sought God’s plan for your life? Or willingly laid your own plans aside for His?

“Here am I, send me,” Isaiah boldly proclaimed.

Prayer: God of the universe, grant me grace when I stumble, contentment when I desire more, clarity amidst chaos, hope during despair, and wisdom to seek the path You have designed for me.