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  • 07.09.2008 My Grandma
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    My Grandma was born Catherine Evelyn Luker, in the tiny southwest Alabama town of Aimwell. She grew up the only girl in a house overflowing with 6 brothers. Affectionately, she was known as “sister.” Sister grew up, married “Little Preacher,” and had five babies of her own. She managed to raise them without ever learning how to drive. These are some of the most simple facts about my Grandma, but there is something extraordinary about this sweet woman.

    I have never been able to really wrap my mind around all that she is, and some days my heart feels like it wants to burst to try and explain just what compels me to stand in awe of her. I think one part of it is that she can’t imagine there being anything about her worth somebody’s notice. She works hard, all the time. As I rack my memories I have a difficult time knowing what she looks like sitting down. She’s always up, always serving. The first place she goes when she walks into our house in Dothan is the laundry room. If there’s too much for her to finish during her visit, then she loads it up and takes it home. She would show up with breakfast at our house every morning if we would let her. In all honesty, I think that if the doctor told her that I needed a new heart, she would lay down on the table without one moment’s hesitation and ask him to take hers. If I protested, she would shush me angrily and say, “Well, Abby, you need it!” As though that should be explanation enough.
    She is also an accomplished seamstress. She made my Mom’s wedding gown, my prom dress, and Pace’s Christening gown. Not to mention countless dresses, outfits, curtains, and bedding for her grandchildren. I am always amazed at her appreciation for modern fashion. She can look at a new dress and marvel at the fabric and cuts. I bet she would have made a great fashion designer if she’d been given the opportunity.

    She laughs hard and loves to hear all the intimate details of our love lives, baby dramas, or friendship struggles. She has always been our allie. Begging Mom and Dad to let us spend the night with her, and then letting us uproot every closet and drawer in the house, cook in her kitchen, walk to the store down the street to buy our own treat, stay up late watching whatever we wanted on TV, giving us spoons and telling us to go ahead and make mud pies, leading us to a huge jar of pennies and encouraging us to use them to bet in card games, and watching all this chaos unfold around her with a smile on her face. You will never leave Grandma’s house in want of nourishment. She asks every 10-12 minutes if you want something to eat, and when an actual meal hour does roll around her famous phrase is, “Get up there and go to eatin’.”

    She has taught a 4th grade Sunday school class at her church for a million years and still takes the time to study her lesson and gather materials for her craft-time every Saturday night. She has GREAT faith, and it is profound in its simplicity. There have been countless times that my immediate family has been comforted by her matter-of-fact belief in her God and His sovereignty.

    In essence, she is a saint that walks among men and she can’t even fathom it. She has lived life with little in the way of worldly possessions or noble accolades. However, she has served God and others without ceasing, and that is beautiful. I hope she is with us for a long time yet, but when God does gather her into his arms I can’t wait to see the honor he gives her in her new home. I hope that she will finally allow herself to be seated and served…but I doubt it.


  • 07.08.2008 Just So You Know
    5 Comments

    I have been trying VERY hard to post a July 4th blog. I tried Friday morning, yesterday, and today…but sadly our computer is on its last leg, and it is refusing to let me download pictures from my camera. Anyway, I’ll be back as soon as I can get this dinosaur working properly!

    Also, this happens to be my 100th post! Woohoo!


  • 06.29.2008 I Miss You Father, but I Just Can’t
    13 Comments

    I was sitting in church this past Sunday, listening to Jeremiah sing “In the Valley.” If you haven’t heard it, its a moving song about how we see God most in the valleys of our lives. I felt my heart start to move as his words resounded within my soul, I felt tears start to fill my eyes, and suddenly I felt myself slamming the heavy metal door that separates my emotional and rational self. It brought to the forefront what I knew had been happening in my spiritual walk of late, without being able to quantitate it.

    I still believe in God, our Father. I still believe in His ability to work miracles in our lives–to heal the sick of body and soul. I don’t doubt Him or His power or His lovingkindness. I still not only know but feel the fact that losing Mom has been part of His plan to bring about the most glory. Despite all this, it still hurts too bad to be near Him. Its easy to go through the motions of Christianity–going to church, talking in Sunday school, even having devotions most mornings–without ever really experiencing Christ. My prayers consist of all talk and no listening. When I worship, I shut off my emotions, unwilling to stir feelings that might make me cry–I feel like I’ve had enough tears.

    As I listened to Jeremiah sing, the picture God gave me was that of a child, laying all their hope and trust in their father. A child who cried out to the bullies all around, “My Daddy can beat your Daddy! I will not be afraid of you!” And as that little child, in all their faith and vulnerability, stared down their oppressors, rocks started pelting, slowly at first, then faster, until she became reduced to a little heap with her arms thrown over her head, pleading for mercy. The father stood to the side, allowing it all to happen–knowing that the child needed to accept a few scars from the world. Scars that would make her more wise, more humble, more, more…

    So now I’m leery. Afraid to make myself vulnerable again. I miss my Father. I miss his friendship, his instruction, his love, but I’m scared to get back up and the bruises are still healing. I don’t want to make myself vulnerable again, because I’m scared of those hurtling rocks.

    Then there’s the other side. The side of me that wonders if the reason I’m having trouble renewing my relationship with Him, is because this is the first time in my mature Christian walk that I haven’t had something tangible, driving me to my knees over and over. Mom was diagnosed with cancer when I was 13, and since that age there were very few times that I went into His presence without beseeching Him on her behalf. So now there is this strange question in my heart, “Will you still seek Me in earnest, when you aren’t pleading a life and death cause? Is it really ME you wanted, or was it just what you needed from Me?”

    I hope and pray that what I want and need most is Him. That’s what I claim…I just worry that I’ve been wrong about myself.

    I don’t know whether I’m feeling hurt and vulnerable, or unworthy, or…but I do know that I miss Him, but I just can’t.