Where two or more are gathered.

So, I was raised in a Christian home.  I can't remember a time in my life where we didn't pray before our meals.  We even have a family prayer... Yeah, you heard me right.  A family prayer!  Is that normal?  I have often wondered if its normal.   So do me a favor and if you have a family prayer then commen and tell me... Seriously :) I'm curious.
      Anyways... We have a family prayer... That's started with I thiiiink my great grandparents.  I could be wrong about that.  But we say it before meals.  Growing up it was the norm for us kids.  However it did make inviting a friend over for dinner slightly awkward, ha.  This is how it goes:
Ahhhheeeemmm.....
 
     Dear lord, we thank thee for our care, the food we eat and the clothes we wear.  Be present with us everywhere.  Amen.

    That's it.  Simple, easy, to the point. I like it.  Anyways, allll of that to say this.  I grew up praying. Prayers have been a part of my everyday.  My moms prayers are comforting and nurturing. My dads prayers are powerful and honest.  I always loved hearing them pray.  When I was a child they calmed me down before bed and mad sit easier to fall asleep in spite of this e monsters under my bed... :). As a teenager they kept me rooted when my heart wanted to rebel, I know y'all think I'm perfect but I had some rebellion in the day. :). And as an adult the prayers of my parents is something I seek, I ask for when times are hard.  They are something I rely on.

    Y'all know I'm living with my grandparents right now and taking care of them.  They are 89 and 90 years old.  Grandpa was in a car accident in August where he broke his neck and since then they have just needed a little extra help.  That help has come from their eight children for the last six months (which by itself is incredible... God has blessed me with such wonderful aunts and uncles).  But now they need the help of someone else so I volunteered.  I didn't feel pressured or obligated at all.  I didn't feel pushed in a corner .  I didn't do it to look good, to please my parents or any other reason other than I genuinely love them.  And selfishly, I have missed them.  I grew up down the street from them and have missed them while they have lived in Tennessee for the last 5 years.  I have enough memories of them to write a book.  I adore them.  They are simply the best people.  And they, as I mentioned in a previous blog, are my heritage.   I find it only necessary, as well as the biggest honor of my life so far, to be here with them.  Honestly, truly, from my heart.  I'm honored.


       Living with them I have been able to pray with them.  Stinking' unreal.  These people don't pray like normal people.  They don't wait till dinner time and close there eyes and say a prayer... They speak to The Lord constantly thru the day.  They call out his name.  They truly live in relationship with their God.  It's inspiring.  I have a monitor in my room so in case they need me they can just speak into the monitor and it wakes me up.

I have something to admit.     ------        I love that monitor.

   I love the songs  that come thru that monitor.  This is my favorite right now,,, sing along if you know it.

And I thank god for the lighthouse,  I owe my life to Him, for Jesus is the lighthouse, and from the rocks of sin, He as shown a light around me that I could clearly see.  If it wasn't for at lighthouse, where would my ship be?

Or the song that will forever remind me of my grandpa:

I'd rather have Jesus, then silver or gold,
I'd rather have Him then have riches untold.
I'd rather have Jesus then houses or land,
I'd rather be led by His nail pierced hands.

   And to hear them pray.  It's beautiful.

  Ill roll over in the middle of the night and possibly hear my grandpa rolling over at the same time.  He has been so sick recently and in so much pain.  Can I tell you that he has never once complained? Never once been a bad mood, never told me to stop talking to him (even though I'm sure he's been tempted). But instead I can just hear that aged, farmer boy, hard working voice call out 'Jesus, oh Jesus... Jesus......'


       I'm not sure which has rocked my world more this last week, hearing them pray or watching them physically live out what they pray.  My grandma is constantly saying 'thank you Jesus... Thankyou Jesus.'  All day long.


    My mom reached out to my grandparents church here in tn to see if some people could come pray for them and anoint them.  A crowd showed up and they did so.  There's a video on my Facebook page of it.  Sweetest thing.  My grandpa has felt so much better.  His heart is better.  He is talking and smiling.  And it's because of prayer.  It's because the gospel really is true.

   Where two or more are gathered in His name.. he will be there.

 I'm so glad.  I'm so thankful for that promise.   Everyday is precious and wonderful with them.  I know I'm supposedly here to help them... But let me tell ya people.  They are helping me.

They are changing my life.

   

Heritage

First of all I want to apologize for the serious blog posts.  I know it's not entirely like me, but I have to say that being here in Tennessee it comes natural to reflect.   My days here are mostly quiet, the house is out in the country with very little around it.  The woods are in the backyard.  It's peaceful.          I'm also spending time with my grandparents who I have been very close to my whole life.  They are getting older and I'm realizing how precious every moment is.  I've been putting in lots of mental book marks trying to remember faces, smiles, laughs and quotes.  So you'll have to bear with me if my posts seem dramatic, emotional, serious, or whatever.....  I've been in kinda a dramatic, emotional, serious (ok, not really that serious) kinda girl.  Love it or leave it people.... But please love it.

     I wanted to talk about heritage....not my dads church... Even though I love that place. (CAN I GET AN AMEN?!?). But the heritage that comes from family.   A few years back my family was here in Tennessee for thanksgiving.  We were having thanksgiving dinner and going around the table saying what we were thankful for and my cousin Doug said he was thankful for his heritage.  The words barely left his mouth before he had to choke back tears.  It was a noticeable mental book mark in my mind because it was obviously so meaningful to him.  A year or so later his mom (my aunt) mentioned the same thing, being thankful for her heritage at my grandparents 70th anniversary.   Our heritage.
 
    I've spent a few days with the centerpiece to my heritage.  Paul and Marge.  A few things have stuck out to me about these two.

   they love each other.  My parents are in love and I have been privileged enough to witness a true, whole hearted, Christ centered love my whole life.... But a couple that Met at 11, married at 18 and are still together 70 years later is a whole new ball game.  They are each others life.  They are best friends.  They are their family.  There is no one in this world that my grandpa loves more.  And same for grams, she loves, worries, trusts, honors, respects and cares for grandpa so much.

    Their bodies are older, their minds are tired at times, but their feet are always planted on that solid rock.  I try to pray with grams every night before she falls asleep.  Man I love praying near that woman.  She talks to The Lord like someone who has been doing it for 90 years.  Her prayers are beautiful.  They are humble, thankful, honest prayers.  She loves The Lord so much.  They play a piano cd every night that plays on repeat as they sleep.  Ill never hear songs like 'id rather have Jesus' or 'the lighthouse' again without thinking of them.

 

       I have spent a lot of time watching my grandpa today, he's not feeling his best today (pray for him?)and I can tell by looking at him that he is processing and thinking... There is a lot going on up in that mind of his.  My whole life I have been intimidated by him.  He is tall, with huge hands and feet.  He is a worker... Always building or fixing something.  He is stoic, quiet, hard to read (if you know my brother brandon, imagine that just bigger and older).  With that said he is also the most warm, sweet, awnery, sarcastic, loving and thankful man you'll ever meet.
      Even with their bodies hurting they are so grateful.  And even more importantly they are trusting. They are trusting The Lord with everything.  They are thankful for their blessings and at 90 years old still desire the lords will for their life.
 
     I gotta tell you that my prayer is to be like that.  To love god like that.  To not even think of an alternative way to live for one second other than fully trusting in the one that created me.

    I want to love and trust god like Paul and I want to love my husband one day like Margie.
 
  I can see my heritage when I look at them.  I'm a fire cracker sometimes like my grandma can sometimes be and  I'm a nurturer like her.  I move my feet when I'm still.... just like my grandpa.  I also can be stubborn like him.  All the things that make me who I am come from my parents and my mom came from them so they have a big role in the person I have become.  I'm proud to be theirs.  Apart of their family and story.

  And.......    I'm so proud of them.

Grandmas :)

       My whole life I have had a fascination with hands.  I have my moms hands but my dads pointer finger.   I have a vein that sticks out over the knuckle of my right pointer finger just like my mom.  i have flat finger nails like my dad.  i bite my nails like my mom. My hands remind me of my parents.  My hands have wiped a bazillion kids nose when they are sick from a cold.  They have played piano for church.  When I was in 6th or 7th grade I held My first boyfriends hand for the very first time during a basketball game.

hands tell a story.  and i love stories.

 Specifically the hands of my grandmother.  When I was a child I used to sit by her side at Sunday evening service and hold her hand.  I would try to memorize every inch.  The way her aged skin laid across the bones, The way her veins would stand up.  I would run my fingers along every road of vein on her left hand.  I would twist and turn rings placed on her fingers.   I have always treasured her.  I have always treasured them.  There has always been something inside me that knew they were exceptionally different.  On Sunday night at church I loved sitting and holding the hand of my grandma.  The maker of apples and caramel, the endless supplier of gum and pretzels,  the fiery-sarcastic-hilarious, always has a Kleenex in her hand, nurturing and sweet GRANDmother.

    I was 9 when these memories took place and here I am nearly 20 years later sitting next to that same woman.  Sitting to her left as if I'm taking my same place I did in church all those years ago.
  My hands are smaller now.  But still the same.  Her nails are perfect as always.   Of possible they have become even more beautiful.  They have lived 90 years.  They have cooked a million meals.  Made christmas divinity.  Washed clothes, cleaned dishes.  They have hugged and nurtured kids and grandkids, great grandkids and great great grandkids.  They have opened and shut a bible.  They have packed boxes for moves and unpacked boxes into homes.  They have quite a story.