Waiting for Death

countryside-2175353_1920Waiting for death is a strange thing.  When you know someone is going to pass; Death is coming; so you just know.  But it hasn’t hit you … yet.  You stay separated; almost disjointed from the shadowed life.  Decisions are made to try and restore life.  And we wait while dialysis is started and a heart attack ensues and then death; then revival… just barely alive.

And then decisions have to be made about what to do to continue the Life; try something; anything; the question of continued life support.  And the doctors give you time.  They give you time to think and grieve, to come to terms with the Life ending.  Even when the Life chose to drink Itself to this point of no return.  Even if the Life chose to separate Itself from everyone who loves and cares for the Life.

And we who are waiting, wait.  Not sure if there was something else we could have done.  Maybe we should have gone after and insisted on contact?  Maybe we should have forced phone calls and texts and visits? Could we have saved the Life or would we have driven It further away?

And I am thankful; thankful for a God who is right here in all of this.  And I wonder if this Life who is leaving this earth, knows that Jesus-brother was standing right there with the Life as he drank.  Did this Life know that Jesus-brother loved the Life so much that He stood right there and watched?  Watched His brother-son, drink himself into oblivion?

Does the Life know that right now Jesus-brother is in the room with him?  Does the life know that Holy Spirit-comforter resides in him, never left; even when the Life tried to push It out?  Does the Life know that Daddy-God is weeping for the pain and suffering this Life’s body went through?  That Daddy-God is weeping for the Life’s decisions to turn away from the Daddy-God’s promised journey for him?  Does the Life know that Daddy-God and Jesus-brother and Holy Spirit-Comforter are right here.  Waiting for their son-brother to come home?

Waiting for death.  How long will it take?  This waiting.

Zombie Dreams

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Why am I dreaming about zombies and in color?  I am not a fan of horror and that includes brain eating zombies.  Once I woke up I could not shake this strange dream from my mind.

I find myself out walking in a wooded area.  It is a rainy fall day that makes you think winter will be coming soon.  The trees have lost most of their leaves, and the leaves that are left are brown; but there is still green grass on the muddied ground.  It is evident it has rained and will rain again.  It’s hard to tell the time of day because the clouds are thick and grey.  I am following a set of truck tracks.  And I see this person moving towards me.  It’s a zombie.

From somewhere behind me yet in my head I hear,  “You have to kill the zombie”.  I have nothing around me to do this.  No gun, no knife, nothing.  I’m not scared at all.  There’s just this feeling of needing to kill this thing.

And since this is a dream and not done in any real story telling sequence, the zombie is on the ground and I am trying to drive this stick into it’s heart.  As I’m trying to kill this thing, it turns and looks at me and I recognize it.  It’s me, or a part of me. And once I recognize it’s me, the guy who had told me to kill it was now under the zombie.  And of course he has been bitten.  And now I have to kill both.  I just need to jam this stick through the heart of the first zombie.

What the heck does this all mean?  What I know about dream interpretation is that the person having the dream has to be the one to interpret it.  But I also know that sometimes my brain picks up on cues in the world that I didn’t even know it was absorbing.  So I do what I always do when I don’t know something – I google it.

From https://www.dreamscloud.com/en/dream-dictionary/symbol/zombies I find the following list about zombies in your dreams:

“May suggest lacking purpose or a direction in life and having no goals or plans for the future.

May suggest an inability to express yourself.

May suggest feeling unemotional, alone and disconnected from others.

May represent aspects of yourself that you have rejected.

May symbolize running away from something or denying your fears.

May represent feeling dead inside or feeling out of touch with reality.

May represent someone that does not or cannot think on their own and just follows someone’s orders – an automaton.”

From http://www.dreammoods.com/dreamdictionary/z.htm, I find,

To see or dream that you are a zombie suggests that you are physically and/or emotionally detached from people and situations that are currently surrounding you. You are feeling out of touch. Alternatively, a zombie means that you are feeling dead inside. You are just going through the motions of daily living.

To dream that you are attacked by zombies indicate that you are feeling overwhelmed by forces beyond your control. You are under tremendous stress in your waking life. Alternatively, the dream represents your fears of being helpless and overpowered.”

When I first read this I was angry.  I am no longer detached or lacking purpose, in fact I find I am moving in the opposite direction.  I am full of hope and grace and purpose.  I am finally beginning to do what I love again.  I look forward to going to work and coming home and interacting with my family.  I’m not angry or frustrated or exhausted.

But then I realized what the dream was telling me.  I was killing that part of me.  That part of me that had been dead inside for so long.  The part of me that was closed off and unwilling to be open and share feelings, even to myself.  I was killing the part of me that would not let me be happy or the part that would not allow me to be sad and cry because I just didn’t have the time or energy.  The zombie was who I was, not who I am.

I had lost hope.  Not completely, but so much hope was gone that I began to believe the lies that I just could not be the healthy, happy person God intended me to be.  In the last year I gained 20 pounds and so much more fat.  See, as an adult I have always been overweight, but I could ride 100 miles on my bike or go out and run 2-3 miles with no problem.  But last year was so stressful, I was surviving, not living.  And somewhere in that year I began to lose hope.  So I ate.  And I drank Pepsi.  And I became heavier and I became so much older. And I did not move my body at all.

Hope has been trying to make its way back into my life.  I am reconnecting to God.  I am writing and praying more regularly.  I am starting to walk again in the early morning.  I am passionately pursuing God’s purpose for my life.  Those negative nasty thoughts about giving up and not trying to be a healthy person are beginning to leave.  I take strength in God’s words, “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new.  Now all things are of God, who has reconciled Himself through Jesus Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation” (2 Corinthians 5: 17-18; NKJV).

I am a new person in Jesus Christ.  The zombie part of me, the part that became dead to living is gone.  I am alive in Christ Jesus.  I am aware I have the choice to live for Him.  Before, when I was surviving, all I was able to do was cry out to God to come and take me away or to get me out of this mess.  But that’s not how God works.  I had to trust God and be patient in His timing.  I had to leave behind my teaching profession.  I had to be patient for Him to open doors.  He had to be the one to lead me.  I was so broken, I was willing to follow.

My last year of teaching created an unhealthy body and mind.  My exterior mirrored what happening inside of me.  But I am a new person, a new woman now.  I have hope.  But oooh, how I wish this would mean my body would change into a new body right here and now, but it won’t.  And oooh how I wish there would be no issues with eating.  But this isn’t how God works.  He is not a fairy God mother coming to save me.  What He wants is a relationship with me.  He wants to be reconciled with me.  He wants me.  All of me.  No matter where I am in my life, He is right there.  In the middle of my eating addiction, He is right there.  When I break a promise to myself to not eat any candy, He is right there when I down a whole bag of peanut M&Ms.  (It’s not the small bag either!!)  When I attempt to walk a mile and am struggling, He is right there.  He doesn’t condemn me or shame me or put me down.  What He does is radical.  HE LOVES ME!!  All of me.

And this hope I have, this new woman I am becoming is because of this radical love.  And what’s even more important is that it’s not just for me.  It’s for everyone.  It doesn’t matter what you are doing or not doing.  It doesn’t matter if you go to church or sit at home watching sports tv.  It doesn’t matter if you believe in Christ Jesus or not!!  What does matter:

HE LOVES YOU!!

ALL OF YOU!!

AND THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN DO

TO ESCAPE

HIS LOVE!!

At the Feet of Jesus

This was my sermon for this morning at church.  I used an earlier blog, My Anguish with Luke 7:36-50 and Psalm 46:10-11and created this message.  I hope it inspires you and you enjoy it.

When I first started attending this church I was searching.  I came and I sat on this side, over here.  It was a good seat.  I can remember watching the children’s moment and I would begin to pray to God that I would have children, lots of them.  There were days I ached to be a mother.  I wasn’t more than 20, and I really didn’t know what being a mother meant.  I would soon find out.  See, I was dating a really great guy.  I knew him from junior high school.  We were good friends.  Between high school and me going to college, he had married, went into the Army, had two great kids and came back home divorced.   We started dating.

Do you remember the story read from scripture?  This woman was in Simon’s house.  She was not a reputable woman.  She was a sinner!!  Not just any sinner either.  She was a woman about town.  And here she was in Simon’s house.  Scripture says she was standing at Jesus’ feet behind Him.  Have you ever wondered how that could be?  I was watching a video from Adam Hamilton and he explained it/showed it.  So I want to show you.  See, they were sitting on the floor in a lounging position with their feet to one side and one arm holding the upper body.  Jesus was sitting in such a position that she could be standing behind Him and at His feet.

Jesus' Welcome

At the feet of Jesus from spindleworks.com

I want you to envision this.  She was kissing His feet.  They didn’t have socks and shoes.  People were either barefoot or wore sandels.  Can you imagine what shame, what guilt this woman must have felt in order to enter the presence of these men, of Jesus, and cry over His feet.  In order for her hair to brush His feet, she had to be low to the ground.  Yet there she was.

It was customary for a host to provide water for a guest to wash their feet.  Simon had not provided that water.  This woman did, her tears.  The towel she provided was her hair.

Here was this woman coming into Simon’s house, crying over Jesus, washing His feet with her tears and wiping them dry with her hair.  She anoints His feet with oil.  Throughout this she is kissing His feet.  She doesn’t say a word.  she comes into this room full of men and says nothing.  She cries at His feet, kissing them and pouring oil on them.  Whatever burden she was carrying, whether it was guilt, depression, loss, whatever it was put her on her knees.  She had to be desperate because at any time she could be kicked out.  She said nothing because what she was carrying inside her was so heavy.

But what is even more profound, is Jesus did not speak to her.  He did not acknowledge her.  He knew where she was but, He knew her pain to be so great, her feelings of shame and guilt to be so great that she could not speak.

Have you ever been so ashamed, in so much pain, so filled with guilt that you wanted to be alone and be comforted at the same time?  Has life bent you down low?  That’s how life is sometimes.  Sometimes all we want to do is hide ourselves and cry at the feet of Jesus kissing His feet because it’s our last stop our last hope.

I have.  I have been this woman.

I stood there in the dark silence of the chapel with the stain glass face of Christ looking in at the pews.  His hole pierced hands showing an anguish I felt.  No one was here, not in this space or time, yet sounds of a movie floated above me from the back wall.  I did not approach God straight on, I walked down the side aisle, as far away from His face, my head down with my hair falling around my face – hiding my shame.

“Why?  Why me God?  What did I do that is so different then everyone else?  What did I do that was so wrong?”  It was not a whisper but a cry that came welling up from my soul.  “How can you do this to me?  This is not supposed to happen to me!  I am a good girl.  I do not want this baby.  I cannot be pregnant.  Why me?  I didn’t do anything different than anyone else.  Take this cup from me!”

There was no answer.  The stillness crept into my porous soul, which I was trying to cement shut.  I raged at God.  I shook my fist into the air, crying out to the God who would not speak.  The stained glass Jesus said nothing, but His hole pierced hands spoke to my anguish.  The only sounds were those of my soul feeling betrayed.  My shame oozed into the very recesses of my heart and the guilt overcame me.  I found myself prostrate in front of the alter with stain glass Jesus standing over me.  His expression never changed.  His anguish bleed into my mind, reminding me of His humanness.

“Pass this cup from me Lord, if it is Your will.  I cannot do this alone.  I am so sorry for my sin,”  rippled repeatedly off of my tongue.  Time was warped.  I was there for minutes, hours, a life time.  I pulled myself off the rough carpeted floor.  I was wishing, hoping, someone would walk in and offer that act of humanness that God could not give.  No one came.

Slowly as I stood there, I felt I was not alone.  I turned around and looked into the darkness carefully, yet I couldn’t find anyone.  The very air changed.  A calmness washed over me.  I was surrounded by angels.  I could not see them but the sense of them was so palpable I could breathe it into my soul.  “Hush.  Shhh daughter.  Be still and know God is here.”

I could not hear Christ because I could not release my guilt, but I could feel His messengers.  I was single and pregnant and in college.  I felt alone because I was afraid that my parents would stop loving me.  I was afraid they would disown me.  If my parents didn’t want me, how could God want me? I was unworthy of His love.  God’s angels placed me in the protective sphere of His guardians.  I was not alone.  He had not abandoned me.  I became still.  God was there even though I didn’t feel Him.

I want to stop here and pause and go back to scripture.  During the whole conversation Jesus has with Simon, the woman is weeping, anointing Christ’s feet and kissing them.  And Christ does not say anything to her, does not acknowledge her presence.  Yet He is there.  But this is not the only time Christ was in the company of an ill-reputed woman and did not say anything to her directly.

In John 8:2-12, a woman is brought before Him by the scribes and Pharisees, caught in the act adultery.  They are ready to stone her.  For Adultry.  He writes in the sand and says, “He who is without sin among you, let him throw a stone at her first.”  He bent down again and wrote in the sand.  The men left.  And it was just Christ and this sinful person.

See, I am these women.  I find myself in their stories.  I am the woman in deep shame and guilt, crying at the feet of Jesus.  I am the woman waiting to be stoned for my sin.

Yet what is Christ’s words to these women.  Go in peace, sin no more.  Your faith has saved you.

In that darkened chapel that night, I knew Christ was present.  He calmed my spirit.  While we don’t know the rest of the story for these women in the Bible, we know where I am.  I am right here in this place and time.

God has given me peace.  It is the same peace He offers you.  What I learned in that darkened chapel that night is that Jesus is with me.  Some believe He died on the cross in place of us, or to carry our sins away.  But I believe it is more than this.  In that darkened chapel I learned that Jesus was with me.  He died so he could be with us.  He is with us when we are committing our sins.  He is with us when shame and guilt consume us.  He is with us when we confess and seed repentance.  He is with us when we celebrate our arrival out of darkness.  He is with us when we are singing and dancing and praising His name.  He is with us in our joy.

Right now the Holy Spirit may be calling to you to committ your life to Him, or maybe you’re being called to renew your committment.  For some of you, this is a time to be with Jesus, and for others this is a time to dance and celebrate.  Regardless of where you are in your walk, Be still and know God is with you.

Amen.

 

Inside the Black Box

A giant wave / Credits: Shutterstock

Life coming at me.

Overwhelming life hitting me like a tsunami wave.

cacophonous words trip upon each other in my mind.  I am lost in my own body

So I slide into this dark box of mine, hidden deep inside.

Just to rest.  Just for a quiet moment of silence.

                                                     
It’s quiet in here.  Deep down in the dark.  It’s not so bad.  I can release myself to this quiet and be still.  Nothing enters or leaves.  It’s been a long time since I entered this place.  This deep, dark, quiet place.

But it is never truly quiet.  My thoughts, like dust floating in sun beams, drift down making light, fluffy, muffled, jangling noises.  And the ruminations settle around me.

These musings of mine ease their way next to me.  Some of these thoughts want to pull me into a darker place.  A place where leaving the box becomes difficult.  A place where I bury me beyond existence.

 I push the clamour aside and wait for the other reflections to settle on top of the debris.  And they shift to the top.  Reminding me that staying in the box is not as safe as facing the crashing tsunami waves of my life.

My box shimmers and white light drifts all around me like falling snow.  Each light flake touches my skin, bringing delight.  Memories of joy in existing pull me up to the top.

I decide it is time to leave my quiet dark box.  As I come forward, the waves of life crash down upon me, and I am driven down.

But I am not alone.

I never was.

Anguish

      Image     I stood there in the dark silence of the chapel with the stain glass face of Christ looking in at the pews.  His hole pierced hands showing an anguish I felt.  No one was here, not in this space or time, yet I sounds of a movie floated above me from the back wall.  I did not approach God straight on, I walked down the side aisle, as far away from His face, my head down with my hair falling around my face – hiding my shame.

            “Why?  Why me God?  What did I do that is so different then everyone else?  What did I do that was so wrong?”  It was not a whisper but a cry that came welling up from my soul.  “How can you do this to me?  This is not suppose to happen to me!  I do not want this baby.  Take this cup from me!”

            There was no answer.  The stillness crept into my porous soul, which I was trying to cement shut.  I raged at God.  I shook my fist into the air, crying out to the God who would not speak.  The stained glass Jesus said nothing, but His hole pierced hands spoke to my anguish.  The only sounds were those of my soul feeling betrayed.  My shame oozed into the very recesses of my heart and the guilt overcame me.  I found myself prostrate in front of the alter with stain glass Jesus standing over me.  His expression never changed.  His anguish bleed into my mind, reminding me of His humanness. 

            “Pass this cup from me Lord, if it is Your will.  I cannot do this alone.  I am so sorry for my sin,”  rippled repeatedly off of my tongue.  Time was warped.  I was there for minutes, hours, a life time.  I pulled myself off the rough carpeted floor.  I was wishing, hoping, someone would walk in and offer that act of humanness that God could not give.  No one came.

            Slowly as I stood there, I felt I was not alone.  I turned around and looked into the darkness carefully, yet I couldn’t find anyone.  The very air changed.  A calmness washed over me.  I was surrounded by angels.  I could not see them but the sense of them was so palpable I could breathe it into my soul.  “Hush.  Shhh daughter.”

                                                        Image

           I could not hear God because I could not release my guilt.  I was unworthy of His love.  God’s angels placed me in the protective sphere of His guardians.  I was not alone.  He had not abandoned me.

Hands

Her hands were bony and strong.  Not the hands of youth with its demand to have power and control.  No, her hands were strong from living life and a “hold onto me” strength.  Those hands held onto me through the entire benediction.  At the end there was that extra squeeze.  I give it too.  It’s the squeeze that says, “You belong.  You are part of this community, and God will be with you this week.”

Holding hands allows you the opportunity to say more than words can.  I had a very dear friend of mine stop me to thank me for praying for her.  She had approached me several weeks ago for prayer over some medical tests she was having done.  But in the midst of her thanking me to pray for her, she appologized for not asking me how I was doing.  I took her hands in mine and told her I understood.  I held her hands because I wanted her to know how much she meant to me.  I took her hands to reassure her that she did not need to apologize to me.  I took her hands in mine to let her know I loved her and it was my privilage to pray for her.

Holding hands with my 9 year old son allows me to tell him how much I love him.  He is at an age where he does not want his mother to kiss him or hug him in front of his friends.  Yet he will let me hold his hand while we walk together … even in front of his friends.  I treasue this time.  I treasue this hand holding because it is my way of telling him he belongs; he is part of me.

It is in our hands that we offer prayer and petition to God.  It is in our hands when we are able to heal or to hurt others.  Our hands express so much of what we cannot.  Christ used His hands to heal, to touch, to heal people.  I want to reach out to others in the same way.  Sometimes I am in situations where I cannot hold someone’s hand.  But I can touch them.  I can put my hand on their arm or shoulder.  I find myself doing this with my students.  It is in my touch that I convey to them that they belong.  They are worth more than what they think.  My students are worthy of a simple touch.

Hands speak so much.  They convey strength and love and hope and trust.  Just the act of holding onto someone else’s hand can inspire someone to be more and do more.  What are your hands going to say about you this week?

  Fog

     I was on the bike path following the Mississippi River, and there was this thick fog hovering over the top of the Great Mississippi.  The fog’s tentacles reached out to the bike path trying to lure me into the river.  Fog is an amazing thing.  I’m on one side of it and can see clearly, right up to the fog.  I mean everything is crystal clear, but when I try to look into it or through it, I can’t see a thing.  I know that Iowa lays on the other side of this fog.  I’ve seen the banks of the Iowa side millions of times before this, but I have been separated, cut off.  It’s like looking into a white abyss.  I have to remember and believe what I know to be true, like knowing and believing in God.  You don’t always see Him, but He’s there.  He will never lead me down a wrong path or turn. 

     Sometimes when God talks with me, I have to remember that He is there.  He has not left me or abandoned me.  I just don’t always see the end result of what God calls me to do.  We talk, He listens, I listen, He moves me to do something, and all I see is the fog.  Sometimes I don’t know what’s on the other side of the fog either.  Not to long ago, this is what I wrote down in my quiet time with God:

               What defines you?  What dreams have I given you?  What passions have I placed deep within you, entertwined with the compossion of you?  I did not give you these passions for you to buy them. I gave come back to ask what have you done with these talents I have given you?  Do not bury you passion.  It is a GOD given gift.  My gift to you.  You are strong.  But you become weak when you block Me out of your life. 

               I love you for who you are right here and now.  But I want to be in your life all the time.  I don’t want to be a second thought.  I don’t want to be what you do last.  i want to be first.  Unburry your passion.  Unburry the gifts I have given you and trust Me.

              I’ve given you My Son to follow.  I’ve given you the Holy Spirit to guide you.  My power is available to you.  Follow Me – Pick up your gifts and follow me.  I’ll be where you are going.  I am in the beginning, the middle and end of your journey.  And I have another journey waiting and ready for you when you complete this one.  Will you follow Me?  Will you trust Me?  Will you let Me be your strength?  

 the other.  I just need to remember that He is the one who has placed these passions within me.  Oh, by the way, this conversation with God came about because I asked Him, “God, what do I need to hear from You?  What do I need to do to obey You?”  God is talking about me writing.  I had long ignored the fact He was calling me to write.  It is within me like the blood flowing through my veins. 

     I don’t like being on one side of the fog.  It is very frustrating for me to not be able to see the other side … the end result.  I’m not even sure of my own footing.  But what I do know is that God is there.  He is right with me, and if I stop worrying about all of the “what ifs”, “I can’t do that”, and “How’s that suppose to happen?”, I’ll find myself at the end of one faith journey.  God has great things in store for me, I just have to stop looking at the fog and look at God instead.

Thank You Lord Jesus for Your life and sacrifice for me. 

 

 

 

 

Communion

Have you ever served communion?  Today I helped serve communion.  There is something incredibly powerful in placing communion in someone’s hand and saying, “The Bread of Life given for you.”  See, I was raised Catholic, and the only person allowed to serve the bread and wine was the priest.  It was the actual embodiment of the body and blood of Christ.  I believe to a certain extent this is true.  When we accept communion, we accept the fact that Christ endured agonizing pain for us.  When we accept Him, we are called to be like Him.  Communion is a way to remind ourselves that Christ is forever connected to us.  We are taking in His presence in our lives.  It is that reminder I cherish.

It is strange for me to give communion.  I find myself offering this symbol of Christ to those in our congregation.  Some of them are my good friends.  It is no longer a friendship when I offer The Bread of Life, but a deeper relationship that connects us.  It is a God connection.  People who I laugh with about the antics of our children are now serious.

Then there are the elderly people.  Who am I to serve these people who have forged a lifetime of faith?  I am humbled in their presence.  I am even more humbled when I place this life giving symbol into gnarled hands that have experienced a life time of work.  As different as we may be, we are more alike in our love for Christ.

I have to hold back my smile and laughter with our children that come to kneel at the railing.  They are so serious, and yet moments before they were whispering in the pews about all kinds of kid things.  My son and his friend have been in deep conversation throughout worship, yet here at the railing, that has gone.  My son simply says, “Hi mom”, gives me a smile and accepts this simple offering.

In the midst of giving communion, are people who I do not always like.  In fact they irritate me.  We agree to disagree and stay out of each other’s way.  And yet, at this railing, there are no disagreements.  This is God’s railing and not ours.  It is this act of communion, of coming together, that makes us His children.

Each person accepts communion differently.  There are those that make no eye contact.  Their hands are open to accept the offering and not once do they look up to see who is giving the offering.  They are in their own space and time with God.  But there are those that make direct eye contact with me as I am saying to them, “This is the Body of Christ given for you.”  And I feel something more than just eye contact.

There is a God connection.  I am the giver of something greater than I have a right to give.  Yet here I am giving this precious gift that God, that Christ, has generously offered.  I am humbled.  I am truly His servent in this time and place.  He has blessed me and given me grace.  He is my Lord and Saviour.

Giving communion is a giving, an offering, a connection to God that we need.  I am honored to have given this gift today.

 

 

 

My Beloved Daughter

I quiet myself and come into the presence of the Lord.  I feel His smile reach me.  It is so warm and loving.  I look into Christ’s face and ask Him, “What do you want me to do?”

Be still my child, my beloved daughter.  Be still and bask in my embrace.  I know all you are going through.  You are my beloved daughter, and you are precious to me.  I want you to know I love you no matter what.  Whether you listen to me, walk away, deny me.  There is nothing you could ever do that would stop me from loving you. 

These are the kinds of conversations I have with God.  This one is about me, and I am willing to share it.  Lately, when I come to Him, I ask Him what He wants me to do.  Sometimes the question is different, but this is the one that has been popping up more frequently.  And usually I ask Him what He wants me to write.  Today has been no different.  So someone out there needs to here this message.  Take the time to stop and not just come at God with requests, but stop and bask in His presence.   Isn’t that what we want with our own children, spouses, partners, loved ones?  Don’t we just want them to bask in the love we have for them?  That’s what God wants for you today.  He is calling you, beloved child.