...even as I am fully known.

  

Sigh.  This just happened.  

A few moments ago I was looking through my latest pictures and adding them to the program I use, Picasa, for editing purposes.  Picasa has as one of its features an identifying tool, where it labels the people in each photograph.  Depending on if there has already been a name attached to that face, Picasa will ask you to confirm that identity, create a new one, or give it a label for someone it thinks is being depicted.  Sometimes it gets it right; other times it suggests someone closely related to that soul.  Other times it can be downright comical or plain out crazy when it thinks one looks like a certain so-and-so in a given picture.

This tool from Picasa is quite handy for keeping me organized.  Sometimes I need to make a special gift or use someone’s face for something I am working on.  Being able to go to my People Album and have all of these images to choose from in a timely manner is great!

However…

However, the downside to this tool is that it wants to give a name to each face that is recognized by it and when a name isn’t assigned, it can bog down my folder, leaving me with hundreds of unidentified folks that just happened to be randomly in my pictures, or occasional photo bombers that I will probably never know, strangers, or…

Gulp.

Or folks whom I no longer wish to associate with or be reminded of later.  Those perhaps who once were important to me but now only serve as distasteful reminders of happier times or times best left in the past.  

To combat this, I have assigned--collectively--a name to these that combines them all into a one-person folder so that they don’t clog up my collection.  The name I have given to it?  Unknown.  

For the most part, it’s true.  The ones who show up in my pictures where large crowds may be are unknown to me.  And the ones who often show up but I have no relationship to are also easier to be nameless, rather than having a repertoire of hundreds of folks that I really don’t wish to have a personal file on.  Does that make sense?

So, back to the premise of today’s blog. I was struck this morning by seeing several family members that I have relegated to my “Unknown” label.  Saddened, even.  I gazed at some of these faces Picasa was trying to give an identity to and just hurt in my soul that these cousins, siblings, and others were now unknown to me.  Whether we lost touch, weren’t that close after all, or...or...whatever.  To me, for my own sanity and well-being, I put them in the “Unknown” file and wondered:  is someone out there doing this same thing to me?  Am I now a stranger when once I was so much more?  What a sad, sad state of affairs.

I Corinthians 13:12 speaks of this.  Read it with me?  “For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.”  

Friends, have you been fully known to someone who now is no longer a part of your world?  Or have you been cast aside as unworthy, no longer a vital part--or even a partial part, for that matter--of someone’s life?  Hurts, doesn’t it?  

Sigh.

Thankfully, though, we do have hope.  We have a promise.  One day, reconciliation will happen for those who are a part of the family of God.  The clouds will disappear.  The assumed and presumed will be made known, as will we.  No longer encumbered by the devil’s lies, we will know the truth and it will set us free.  Yes, I agree:  it is sad--it is maddening!!--that some of us are too stubborn and hard-hearted to get to realize these things on this side of eternity.  Too many of us have listened to the lies and the whispers that the devil spouts off, as he wreaks havoc in the lives of God’s children.  Oh the pain he has caused and still continues to maim us with!  But one day...one day, friends, we will know.  Face to face.  All will be revealed.

Until then?  Until then, we still will face hurt and we will still grieve over relationships and loved ones that prick our hearts at the most unexpected moments.  There will still be times that the devil uses these memories and Facebook postings from previous days to steal our joys.  I wish I had an answer for you for how to deal with this but it’s just different for each of us, right, the way that we handle haunts?  All I can do now is remind you again that as God’s children, one day this won’t be so.  One day all wrongs will be made right.  And as the song proclaims, what a day that will be!

Let’s pray!

Ahh, Father.  The marvels of technology continue to progress and we, Your children?  What do we do with these new-fangled “helps”?  Allow them to prick us and gouge at our already-tender hearts as we unknowingly, innocently even, go about a random act that suddenly turns into a minefield of emotions that we weren’t even aware of still existed in us?  

Lord, we have got to do better!  The devil is getting smarter and more conniving in his ways of stealing our joy so we have to be stronger and more proactive in our defense of self.  Using a tool like I just described is one way of self-preservation for me and hopefully it just might help another soul out there with hers.  Ultimately though, Lord, we know we need You to defend us, to preserve us, to save us.  When these fiery darts come out of the blue, I pray our shields of faith will be nearby to block them.  But when they aren’t, Father, will You please balm our wounds?  Will You remind us to seek You, Your Word, and talk to You about our injuries and find solace in Your care until that day, Lord, that day when we are set free?  I’d be ever so grateful if You did!

Thank You for being here for me, for my readers, for Your children.  We don’t always know how to express our feelings, God, but we thank You for the Holy Spirit Who intercedes for our groanings that are often too deep for words, as promised in Romans 8:26.  Thank You for Your Word, Father, and for Your love.  I love You too!

In the precious name of Christ Jesus I pray.  Amen!

Take a good look at my face

August 27, 2015

It’s almost that time I again.  I can already feel the dread in the pit of my stomach as the day approaches.  Seven years.  Seven years?  Yeah, tomorrow marks the anniversary of the day my sister Mary left me, left her family, and left this world.

Sigh.  I miss her.  Not just on anniversary dates and not just on her birthday or on holidays. I miss her on a daily basis.  Time has eased much of this sense of loss but there will always be a portion of my heart that also died on that date, August 28, 2008.  While in our past, Mary left me with a visual scar or two (that’s how I got my middle toe on my left foot marred), the scar on my soul is not evident, and is not easily seen with the naked eye.

Scars are fascinating things when you think about them.  If your body was revealed with all of yours, what history lessons would we learn?  I told you about my toe.  The back and top of my head have a couple as well, from my brother Billy.  He thought hitting me with a See-And-Say toy was a good idea, as well as pushing me off of the bed and accidentally knocking me into a trunk.  Stitches were required, just as they were that time Mary swung her Brownie belt round and around and nipped me in the skull way back when.  And the time my dad hit a line-drive right into my eye.  Were you to see my belly, you would see where my darling daughter was removed from me over thirty-one years ago via a C-section.  On my left arm, if you look closely enough, you can see the fading line of where our first dog, Flossie, in her exuberance to “love” me, had her mouth open, slobber fully oozing down her chops, and teeth exposed as she tried to jump up on me and welcome me.  Other scars I have include one on my neck, from when I had surgery to repair some residual damage from a car wreck that could have been so much worse than it was back in 1985.  The surgery itself wasn’t until 1999, the year I finally graduated from college.  Still more proof that I have lived, that I have survived these injuries, are on my face, my arms, back, stomach, and legs where pre-skin cancers have been removed--some more than once.  There’s this one on my right shoulder that resembles a scorpion, my astrological sign (if I went for that kind of thing, that is).  I joke and tell folks it’s my tattoo.  If you studied my face, you could see the long line on my left cheek that goes from my eye to my ear.  When I first had it and it was still so vibrant, I’d joke that I was in a bar fight.  

Okay, Stef, what in the world is all this jabbering about?  Who really wants to know about your scars, your war injuries, and the pains of your childhood?  Or from adulthood, for that matter?

Honestly?  Not many.  Not many of us want to see and hear the others’ tales of woe and such.  But you know what?  You cannot go far without someone having one to show off, some new blight on their body that they must share with someone else.  Steve had this Uncle, Sherley, who was like this.  Oh my cow!  If he had a new scar, he wanted the whole world to see it but if you tried to share with him yours?  He’d cringe, physically walk away, and avoid it all costs.  When Mary, my beloved sister, used to be beaten by her then-husband, she’d show us all her wounds, her bruises, and her injuries--almost proudly--as we all just kind of stood there and shook our heads, wondering when enough would be enough.  I guess the keys dug into her scalp and the loss of a tooth or two finally were enough to convince her that Frank was not going to change.

Okay, Stef, you are rambling again.  Can we just get on with this?  Please!

Sure; here goes.  Remember our Lord Jesus Christ?  Remember how He was beaten for crimes He was accused of but didn’t commit?  Remember how He was whipped within inches of His life?  Lastly, do you remember how He was hung on a cross for my sins and when He finally gave up the ghost, just to be sure, a sword was thrust through His side to ensure that He was really dead?  I remember.  And I cringe at these scars that His precious body underwent for the likes of me.  I try to not conjure up those images in my mind.  Watching the movie “The Passion of the Christ” is not one of my favorite past times because it shows so vividly what Christ suffered in a way that leaves its own scar on my mind.

Thomas, the doubter, though, was one of those rare people who had to see something of this magnitude to believe it.  John 20:25 tells it like this:

The other disciples therefore said unto him, We have seen the Lord. But he

said unto them, Except I shall see in His hands the print of the nails, and put

my finger into the print of the nails, and thrust my hand into His side, I will not believe.

Jesus’ response when He and Thomas were again face-to-face was this:

Then saith he to Thomas, Reach hither thy finger, and behold My hands;

and reach hither thy hand, and thrust it into My side: and be not faithless,

but believing.  And Jesus saith unto him, Thomas, because thou hast seen

Me, thou hast believed: blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed.Thomas answered and said unto him, My Lord and my God.

Friends, some of us are this way too.  We won’t believe something until we actually witness it with our own eyes, touch it with our own hands.  And some of us just have to--we cannot help ourselves--we just have to show and tell others what has damaged us.  Maybe it’s to use as a witness that we are survivors?  Maybe it’s to show that what didn’t kill us made us stronger?  Maybe it’s just as a testimony to the great grace God had in our lives that He saved us from these harms and let us live to give Him the glory?  I don’t know.  But, what I suggest, is the next time that someone wants to show you his/her blemishes, the next time someone has a story to tell that is just vital for them to share?  Listen.  Look, if you can.  For you see, you are acknowledging their pain, their purpose, and their presence.  God kept them here for a reason.  Maybe their story will have the effect on you of allowing you to see that your story might help others too.  There are lessons in those scars.  From my own, I learned many:

• Don’t mess with someone bigger than you
• Don’t go near dogs who are too excited
• Don’t play with those whose idea of fun involves weapons
• Stay out of the sun without protection
• Don’t let your husband or significant other hit you

Sigh.  It’s no use thinking we are going to escape life without a few bumps and bruises.  Studies have even proven we won’t get out alive--if you can believe that!  Seriously though, my friends, there are going to be times in life when it hurts.  And in those times, our pain can be so extreme that we must share our boo boos.  Our miracles are so miraculous that we must tell others how God brought us through.  And those scars that are bitter reminders?  Yes, they must be shared too to hopefully warn others that it doesn’t have to go that far.  

Will you pray now with me?  Thanks!  And thanks for reading this to the end.  My hope is that my blogs will be a blessing and an encouragement to you.  We aren’t in life alone, no matter what the devil whispers to us.  Remember that!

Dear Lord God, this was another of those hard to write blogs.  I pray that my words will have the desired effect of revealing to others that it’s not what happens to our bodies on the outside as much as what comes forth that is important.  From Jesus’ flowed life and water as He was pierced for us.  Healing came as the blood washed away our sins and the water provided cleansing from them.  May our wounds too ease and comfort others as we show them off--and as we listen to those whose hurts must be shared, may we let them know that we care, that we are sorry this happened and that they had to go through it, and mostly, that we acknowledge them.  Some wounds we will never see and I thank You for that.  If we truly saw each other and the things we have all survived, we might just give up.  But we aren’t quitters, Father!  No:  we are believers and fighters and with Your help, we will make it until You call us home, wounded and weary, and praising You all the way for what You have brought us through.  May it be so, Lord.  Amen.